Chapter 13 - Poison Behind Bars
The high-security visitor wing at the California Institution for Women smelled of bleach, damp concrete, and despair. Behind the three-inch thick partition of reinforced ballistic glass sat Victoria, stripped of her diamond chokers, her platinum extensions, and her haughty arrogance. Her skin was sallow, her designer fingernails bitten down to the raw quick, and her orange jumpsuit hung loosely from her sunken shoulders.
Julian sat down on the metal stool, slamming the telephone receiver against his ear. On the other side, Victoria picked up her receiver with trembling hands.
"You have five minutes, Victoria," Julian said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Who gave you the cyanide formulation for Leo's birthday cake? Was it Vivienne?"
Victoria let out a shrill, manic laugh that ended in a choking cough. She leaned closer to the glass, her breath fogging the surface. "Vivienne? You fool. You blind, arrogant fool. You think Vivienne has the intellect to orchestrate a systematic poisoning?"
Julian’s grip on the receiver tightened until the plastic groaned. "Speak, before I instruct the warden to place you in solitary confinement for the remainder of your natural life."
"Solitary?" Victoria whispered, her eyes darting frantically toward the armed guards pacing the catwalk above them. "Julian, you don't understand. Solitary is where they will kill me! Look at my neck!"
She pulled down the collar of her orange jumpsuit. Encircling her throat was a bruised, jagged line of puncture marks—tiny needle pricks arranged in the shape of a blooming orchid.
"I was never the mastermind," Victoria sobbed, tears cutting lines through the grime on her cheeks. "I was in debt. Three hundred million dollars in bad real estate derivatives in Macau. A man approached me... he said if I married you, gained power of attorney, and eliminated the child, my debt would vanish and I would receive a quarter of your empire. But when the cake collapsed... when you saved Leo... he sent me a message."
"What message?" Julian demanded.
"He told me that my role in the theater was over," Victoria gasped, her eyes suddenly widening with unadulterated terror. She clutched her throat, her chest heaving violently. "He said... he said the doctor always cleans up the mess..."
"Victoria!" Julian yelled, banging his fist against the glass. "What doctor? Whose name?"
Victoria’s mouth opened, but no words came out. A dark, thick froth of crimson and black bubbled from her lips. Her eyes rolled backward into her skull as violent convulsions seized her entire body, slamming her against the steel table.
"Guard! Medical emergency!" Julian bellowed into the phone.
Through the glass, Julian watched in horror as two prison guards rushed forward, but before they could administer CPR, Victoria’s body stiffened and went completely limp. Her lifeless eyes stared through the glass directly into Julian’s soul.
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From the shadows of the catwalk, Julian caught a glimpse of an orderly in medical scrubs walking calmly out the exit door. The orderly turned slightly, tapping the lapel of his uniform where a small, silver pin shaped like a black orchid glinted beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.
***
