Allyn Allyn: Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. Vol. 135, No. 1. Whole No. 821, January 2010

Molly digested that information for a minute, and then said, “But for some reason she recently decided to see not just any doctor, but an infertility specialist. This from a woman who supposedly has known for years that she’s infertile.” She turned to Danny and explained, “Her family blames it on a curse.”

He blinked and shrugged. “Maybe she’d been in the U.S. long enough to stop believing in curses. Maybe she just wanted to know why she couldn’t have children.”

Molly nodded. “Why don’t you get friendly with one of Dr. Blackman’s nurses? Don’t ask about Ramona specifically, but inquire about some of the unusual genetic reasons for female infertility. Ask if they’ve seen any such cases lately.”

As he headed for the door, Molly added, “And check out the backgrounds of the servants and anyone else who might have had access to the house that night.”

As Danny was leaving, Lindsey buzzed to say the medical examiner was on the line. Molly picked up and said, “Hey, Jim.”

“What can I do for you, Molly?”

“I know you did the autopsy on Ramona Wiley.”

He drew an audible breath. “Those records have been sealed. I can’t discuss them with you.”

“I realize that. But you did have a press conference regarding the case. You said it was definitely suicide.”

“No doubt about it, Molly. Pills and liquor. If you’re wondering whether someone else killed her, you’re wasting your time.”

“Can you tell me whether you know why she killed herself?”

Silence. At last he said, “She didn’t leave a note, if that’s what you mean.”

Molly persisted. “But you do know why?”

“I can’t talk about it, Molly. It’s just tragic.”

“Doesn’t her family have the right to know?”

He sighed. “The situation is complex, and it’s not my decision. The court has ruled.”

“One last question,” Molly said. “Was she dying?”

“No. She was healthy as a horse.”

Molly hung up and buried her face in her hands. What on earth could be so terrible as to make Ramona kill herself, and why was it so important that it be kept secret?

Rosa called that afternoon, her voice pleading and impatient. “Have you learned anything?”

Molly drew a deep breath and considered how best to word what she had to say. “So far, Miss Hernandez, there’s no indication that your sister was murdered.”

“So you found nothing?” she asked.

“On the contrary.” Molly tried to keep her voice mild. “Everything we’ve discovered points to her suicide.”

There was a long silence on the phone, so long that she wondered whether Rosa had simply left the phone off the hook and walked away. But at last she said, “If my sister really did kill herself, I need to know why. ”

Molly assured her that she and her staff were still working on it.

That night Molly fell asleep on the sofa listening to Ramona’s CDs. Her voice was soft and throaty in the low registers, clear and crystalline in the upper ones. Both carried an undertone of wisdom and sorrow that tugged at heart strings. Molly dreamed of a small dark-eyed girl who whispered sadly, “There is no escape.”

In the morning, Danny dropped a sheaf of papers on her desk. “First, all of the servants checked out. The housekeeper was the only one in the place the night Ramona died, and she’s clean. They’ve got a state-of-the-art burglar system, and the housekeeper swears she set it that night, so no one else could have broken in.”

He looked at her with tired eyes. “I did what you told me to. Made friends with Blackman’s nurse. She was eager to tell me that Blackman treated a lot of celebrities, and that Ramona was one of them. I tried to be as casual as possible and suggested that the singer and her husband might be trying to start a family. She said she couldn’t tell me, of course. That was confidential. But she admitted she’d been curious herself, and tried to peek into Ramona’s medical records, and here’s the strange thing: The records were never returned to the files after her visits. Blackman must have kept them.”

“Why would he do that?”

“That’s what I asked. She said sometimes he holds onto them in order to consult with another doctor, but she didn’t think that was the reason, because even after Ramona’s death, the records never showed up.”

Molly frowned. “So what did you do?”

“I’d convinced her I was a journalist doing research on the causes of infertility, and she gave me a lot of references. I spent the night on the Internet. The results are in front of you. I think the pages on top have the answer, although the first time through, I overlooked that condition. It didn’t seem to apply. Later I got to thinking and I reconsidered.”

“So?”

He grinned widely. “It’s complicated. Read for yourself.”

She spent the next hour reading and rereading the tract he’d found, trying to assimilate the scientific aspects. Then she looked through the rest of the material Danny had collected and came to the conclusion that he was right. She was pretty sure she now knew why Ramona killed herself and why Tony had hushed it up. But she needed to speak with Wiley to make certain. She glanced at the clock on her desk. Rosa was due in a couple of hours.

Molly found Tony Wiley in his luxurious fourteenth-floor office. His secretary insisted Mr. Wiley couldn’t be disturbed, but Molly pushed past her. She found him behind a huge cherrywood desk piled with manila folders, the phone ringing, the fax machine spewing out paper. He looked up, annoyed, and said, “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Okay. Just listen,” Molly said. “I think I know everything anyway. You see, I’ve learned about AIS.”

He paled and waved at the secretary who was still standing in the doorway, looking apologetic. “Hold all my calls, Christine.” To Molly, he said, “Sit down.” He waited.

She drew a deep breath and began. “You first took Ramona to Dr. Blackman shortly after you were married. I assume she had some difficulty with her — shall we say — wifely duties?”

He looked irritated. “Blackman said she had a birth defect, easily corrected with a nonsurgical procedure, which he performed. At the time, I assumed that was what the so-called curse was about.”

“Did he say anything else? Recommend further tests?”

“As a matter of fact,” he said slowly, “he did. He took me aside and said that he suspected she had a rare genetic condition. That there might be a small increased possibility of cancer. He wanted to do more tests. He said even if the tests were positive, relatively minor surgery could prevent the cancer. But when I explained this to Ramona, she was adamant. No more doctors, no tests, and above all, no surgery. You have to understand she grew up in circumstances where people rarely consulted doctors. They were associated with death.”

“And she wasn’t worried about cancer?”

Wiley shook his head. “She said there were lots of women in her family who had the same condition and none of them had ever gotten cancer.”

“I assume something changed lately that made her go back to Blackman.”

He chewed on his lower lip. “She didn’t tell me she’d made an appointment. I found out her hairdresser was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of months ago. That’s probably what started her worrying.”

“And this time the doctor did the tests and told her she had AIS.”

Tony Wiley covered his eyes with his hands. “Damn fool doctor,” he muttered. “He should have told me , too. I should have been with her, but I had no idea.”

“So how did you find out?”

“She told me. She was in tears, freaked out, actually. I said it didn’t matter. She was the same person she’d always been. I wasn’t going to divorce her.”