“We already knew that,” Bel laughed. Old Lady Hubbard was a harmless woman who thought every minor and often self-inflicted inconvenience was 911-worthy, so the entire police department was well acquainted with her. Most stations would ignore her requests for an officer, but the Bajka officers took turns checking in on her. She might be overly paranoid, but she was a lovely person who always had a story, a cup of tea, and a sweet treat to offer. Mrs. Hubbard was the one 911 call they wanted to receive.
“All right, I guess I’ll visit the aquarium by myself then,” Bel told her boss Eamon’s idea about how the caretakers disposing of the dead fish and mammals might be the key to their embalming questions.
“Keep me posted,” Griffin said. “But before you head out that way, can you stop by the Triton’s? The missus called. She wants to talk to you.”
“Any idea what about?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Okay. I’ll call when I finish with her.”
“Thanks, Emerson.”
Bel gathered her things and drove to the secluded family home, texting Olivia an update before she knocked on the front door.
“Detective, thank you for coming.” Mrs. Triton ushered her into the kitchen, and Bel couldn’t stop herself from scanning what seemed to be an empty house. Her hostess was nervous.
“I made a fresh pot of coffee,” Mrs. Triton said. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, please.” Bel stopped before the kitchen table, opting not to sit in favor of keeping the exits in her line of sight. “So, what can I help you with?”
“I wasn’t sure I should mention it.” The woman placed the mugs, milk, and sugar onto the table. “It feels ridiculous in light of everything, but it’s been nagging at me ever since we ran into each other at the grocery store. I can’t get it out of my head.”
“Okay.” Bel finally took a seat.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Well, tell me, and we’ll decide that together.” Bel leaned forward, interest officially piqued.
“It’s about the day you and your partner stopped by,” the woman started. “The grogginess, the memory loss… that wasn’t the first time that’s happened. I’ve experienced it before, but that day was the worst. I think it’s because your visit woke me up rather than letting me wake naturally. I’ve always assumed I just had a weird relationship with sleep since it happens periodically, but then I saw you at the grocery store…” Mrs. Triton fiddled with her coffee cup. “You said my husband implied he’d given me something to relax, that I’d been so inconsolable that I needed help, and you were right. I needed an intervention. Iwasn’t sleeping. I was screaming and raging and crying. My husband did the right thing... or I would believe that if this had been my first experience, but I don’t think it was.” She met Bel’s gaze with a plea in her eyes. “I’ve felt this high before. I didn’t know what it was, but this isn’t the first time I’ve woken with memory issues.”
“I don’t want to put words in your mouth,” Bel said. “So what exactly are you trying to tell me?”
“My husband has been drugging me.” Mrs. Triton shoved to her feet. “I haven’t been able to get that thought out of my mind. I love him. I really do. And I trust him with my life, but the grogginess. It isn’t normal. Deep down, I’ve always known that, and if he was slipping me something, he probably had a good reason, but why didn’t he tell me? Why hide this? So when he left for work yesterday, I searched the house. Come with me.”
Mrs. Triton led Bel upstairs to her bedroom, where a solitary pill bottle sat on the shining wood of the vintage dresser. “I wasn’t going to look. I wasn’t, but I reasoned it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek. I didn’t find anything at first, and I told myself I’d satisfied my curiosity. There was nothing here, but I couldn’t stop myself. I kept looking until a casual search turned into a manic rush… and that’s when I found this.” She plucked the bottle of Ambien from its resting spot as if it were scalding coals and shoved it into Bel’s hand. “It’s a prescription with my name on it… only this isn’t mine.”
“Is there a chance you were prescribed this and forgot or didn’t fill the script, so your husband filled it for you?” Bel accepted the bottle from the woman, and to her untrained medical eye, it looked legitimate despite it being a high dose. “Were you ever in the hospital, and your husband had to act as your power of attorney?”
“No… I can’t imagine any reason he’d have this prescription in my name.”
“Why are you bringing this to me?” Bel asked. “Why didn’t you confront your husband first? By involving a cop, I could potentially arrest you for illegal drug possession if this turns out to be fraud.”
“I know.” Mrs. Triton snatched the pill bottle back as if that would somehow erase it from Bel’s mind.
“So why call me?”
“Because my husband told you he’d given me something.” Mrs. Triton crossed the floor and sank to the edge of her mattress.
“He implied it,” Bel corrected.
“Regardless, he’s clearly hiding it from me. I don’t have anyone to talk to about this, and you’re the only person who knows. Do I get night terrors that I’m unaware of? Do I sleepwalk and put myself in danger? What’s wrong with me that he feels the need to act on my behalf?”
“Can you remember when…” Bel froze as the walk-in closet caught her attention, and before she realized that she was moving, she had the garment in her hands. “I didn’t know your husband worked at the aquarium?” She extended the maintenance uniform for her companion’s benefit. She’d seen this exact attire once before. The maintenance man blocking their view of their mermaid victim’s conversation from the surveillance cameras had been wearing it. The employee captured on the footage was inconsequential, but his uniform? Its design had been burned into Bel’s memory.
“He doesn’t.” Mrs. Triton answered.
“But this is an aquarium uniform.”
