18

Cope

Reading Domenica's full autopsy report had made Cope sick to his stomach. In order to speak with Rothschild, Cope needed to be familiar with everything that had been done to his wife leading up to her untimely death if he was going to face off with Vic Rothschild.

Fitzgibbon had contacted the jail and asked to have him transferred back to the Salem Police Station for questioning before his arraignment for his attack on Cope. The ride back to town had been mostly silent with the detectives processing the details of Domenica's death on their own.

"Remind me again why Domenica's psychiatric hospital records were never entered as part of her official autopsy." Cope hadn't really understood what happened with those reports.

"The medical examiner had requested Domenica's records for a number of reasons. The first being to measure the amount of drugs in her system against the dosages prescribed and also as a means of determining if her mental illness was a contributing factor in her death. Since the manner of death was ruled inconclusive, I'm guessing the ME didn't include her hospitalization records because they were a moot point." Fitzgibbon didn't sound at all happy with his conclusion. "I've got a lot of questions for Mr. Rothschild."

"Yeah, same," Jude agreed.

Fitzgibbon parked the SUV in the lot and turned to face Jude in the back seat. "I know I don't need to say this to any of you, but we need to keep our composure in there. This could be the last chance we have to get Rothschild for the murder of Domenica. I don't want your emotions over what he did to her or to Cope to muddy those waters. Got it?"

"Got it," Jude muttered.

"You also need to decide if you want to press charges against him, Cope. Don't let what he tells us in this interview affect your views on what happened yesterday."

Cope nodded. "He'll be restrained, right?"

"That's what I requested, but I have a feeling his high-priced attorney will have a thing or two to say about that." Fitz climbed out of the driver's seat.

"Are you going to be okay in there?" Jude asked. "There's no shame in watching the interview from behind the one-way glass."

Cope had considered doing that very thing but in the end had decided he would be much more useful in the room with Rothschild. "I'll be okay. I need to be in that room for Domenica. The three of you will be doing everything you can to get him to admit to pushing her off that cliff. I'll be there to make sure Domenica's spirit doesn't get lost in the shuffle. My goal to get her to cross over hasn't changed. After all these years, Domenica deserves to rest in peace."

With a nod, Jude opened the door to the station and ushered Cope inside. They caught up to Ronan and Fitz, who were watching the interaction between Rothschild and his lawyer. Cope noticed Rothschild was dressed in a navy suit and was not handcuffed. He was about to bring that fact to Fitzgibbon's attention but knew the three detectives would be able to protect him if Rothschild tried to attack him again.

"We're ready to do this," Jude said.

"Why does that lawyer look familiar?" Cope asked. He had absolutely no experience with criminal defense attorneys and was sure he'd never met her before.

"That's Saffron Butler from the Butler Did It commercials." Ronan rolled his eyes. "Attorneys who advertise their services and their record on television are the lowest of the low."

Cope recognized her now. Her commercials were broadcast during the evening news, usually after a story about a violent murder. "It's a catchy slogan."

Fitzgibbon rolled his green eyes and knocked on the door before entering the room. "I'm Captain Kevin Fitzgibbon from the Cold Case Unit. These are my detectives, Ronan O'Mara, Jude Byrne, and Copeland Forbes."

Cope noticed Butler's left eyebrow arch high, which wasn't good for him.

Butler crossed her arms over her impeccably tailored dark grey jacket. "If Mr. Forbes is a detective, I'll eat my briefcase."

"Mr. Forbes is consulting on this case." Fitzgibbon took the seat directly across from Rothschild.

"I see nepotism is alive and well. Do you always allow your detectives' spouses to be involved in your casework, Captain?"

"It doesn't matter that Cope has psychic gifts or that he's Jude's husband. We're here to speak with your client about the death of his wife. Let's stay on subject here, as Mr. Rothschild has a date with the arraignment judge in an hour. I wouldn't want him to be late for court."

"For the last time, I didn't kill my wife!" Rothschild shouted, his words echoing around the room.

Fitzgibbon took a deep breath. "Some new evidence has come to light, Mr. Rothschild. I'd like to discuss it with you, but first, I need you to calm down. Domenica's psychiatric hospital records were in her autopsy file, and I have questions about what's in them. Secondly, I'd like you to tell me in your own words what happened that last night."

Rothschild leaned in close to his attorney. They whispered for a few moments before he nodded.

"You're on a short leash, Captain," Butler said.

"Mr. Rothschild, whenever you're ready." Fitzgibbon's complete attention was on Domenica's widower.

Rothschild ducked his head and took a deep breath. When he looked up at Fitzgibbon, all his anger was gone. "I never wanted to have Domenica involuntarily committed. It wasn't my choice. My wife was a free spirit. She was artistic and creative. There were so many nights I'd find her up in the widow's walk, painting by the light of the full moon. We knew there was something that fueled her erratic mood swings and the depression that would keep her in bed for days at a time, but we were content not knowing what that thing was."

"If it wasn't your choice to send her to Danvers State Hospital, whose was it?" Ronan asked.

"My mother, Rebecca. In the early '80s, she spent the cold winter months in the south of France. Our family has a house in Nice. Mother traveled around the US during the summer, visiting friends in New York City, on the Cape, and in Maine. We also have a house in Kennebunkport near the Bush Compound. It was rare for her to be at the cliff house. She'd taken an instant dislike to Domenica because of her Italian peasant roots, but I think the dislike went deeper than that. She knew my wife wouldn't let her control me."

"Tale as old as time," Jude said. "Wife versus mother-in-law."

Rothschild nodded. "I'd made the mistake of mentioning one of Domenica's manic moments to her, and she cut her plans short in Maine to come to Rothschild Manor. I think she saw the opportunity to drive a wedge between my wife and me. That's exactly what she did. Mother talked me into committing my wife. When she was released from the hospital, my mother undermined Domenica at every turn. Two weeks after she came home, I noticed my wife was more tired than usual. She spent time in bed when she was depressed, but Dom had been in good spirits, despite my mother dogging her every move. I think my mother was drugging her."

"Wasn't Domenica on a heavily medicated regimen to begin with?" Jude asked.

"She was. Haloperidol and Valium. I kept the meds in a lockbox, and I had the only key. I checked Domenica's body for additional needle marks, and there were none that I could find." Rothschild sat up straighter in his seat. "My mother was on a never-ending rant that my wife was no good for me. That there were American heiresses that I could marry that would bring money into our family and a better breeding pedigree than Domenica's. I wasn't having any of it. I was in love with my wife. I wouldn't have divorced her for anything."

Jude flipped through his copy of the autopsy report. "Was Domenica on any other drugs besides the two you named?"

"Yes. She was on birth control pills and had been taking Tylenol for headaches. There were no other prescriptions."

Jude underlined something on the report and showed it to Fitzgibbon, who nodded. "What happened the night Domenica died?"

"We had dinner. Steak and potatoes, with a green salad. With the hurricane ramping up, Domenica went to bed early. She had a headache she blamed on the drop in air pressure because of the storm. My mother also went to bed early, around eight or so, I think. Soon after, the power went out. The house wasn't equipped with generators, so I went to bed and read by candlelight. I checked in on Domenica, and she was sleeping soundly. We had separate bedrooms since my wife was often restless in the night." Rothschild took a deep breath. "I woke up around midnight, but I don't know why. It could have been a crack of thunder or something else. I got up to check on Domenica, and she was gone. I ran into the hallway and saw her on the landing. A flash of lightning illuminated her. She started to shout at me, telling me to stay away from her. She was unsteady on her feet, and I was afraid she'd fall down the stairs, so I went after her. I begged her to stop running from me. She ran outside into the storm. Rain was coming down in sheets. I couldn't see more than a few inches in front of me. Thankfully, the lighting illuminated the backyard. Domenica was standing near the edge of the cliff. I ran to her and reached out to grab her and pull her back from the edge, but she wouldn't take my hand." Tears fell from Rothschild's eyes. He took a moment to get himself back under control.

Cope was spellbound by the story Rothschild was weaving. He'd spoken about the night Domenica died in the podcast interview, but not in this much detail. As the man told his story, Cope read him and found he was telling the truth. The proof of that would lie in what happened next. He leaned closer to Jude to whisper. "He's telling the truth. The emotion he's feeling is real too."

Jude nodded and leaned closer to Fitzgibbon, passing the message along to him.

"What happened next, Mr. Rothschild?" Fitz asked.

"I was trying to get Domenica to take my hand. I was begging and pleading with her. She kept shouting that I was poisoning her. That I was trying to kill her. I wasn't. I would never. But she didn't believe me. I promised that if she just came away from the cliff's edge, I'd give her anything. I'd give her a divorce and all the money she wanted to go back to Italy. I'd give her the house if she stayed in the US. I was desperate and willing to do anything I could to save her life." Rothschild wiped his tears. His attorney leaned close to him and whispered something. He vehemently shook his head. "No, Saffron. It's time I tell the story. The real story."

Butler threw her hands in the air as if to say, "It's your funeral."

"When I told Domenica I'd give her the house, I heard a scream from behind me. It was filled with rage and made my blood run cold. My mother knocked me to the ground and shoved Domenica off the cliff. I swear I heard her scream the whole way down. I knew there was nothing I could do to save my wife, but I could save my mother. When I called 911, I told the dispatcher that Domenica jumped. I made my mother hide in the passageway between the living room and the solarium until the police left the house. I know what I did was wrong, and I deserve to pay for lying to the cops for the last forty years, but I couldn't lose my mother too." Rothschild began to weep. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed. His attorney, who looked relieved, patted his back.

When Rothschild regained his composure, Fitzgibbon tapped the autopsy report. "There was Rohypnol in Domenica's bloodstream when she died."

"That can't be right. She was never prescribed that drug. How did it get into her—" Rothschild gasped. "My mother was giving it to her."

"Rohypnol was never legalized for use in the US, but it is approved in France, where you said your mother spent her winters," Ronan said softly. "I'm guessing the medical examiner thought the medication was part of her drug regime. Drugs that aren't FDA approved are used all the time."

"Cope, is he telling the truth?" Jude asked.

Cope nodded. "Yeah, he is. Rothschild had some kind of block up before that I couldn't get past with my gift. He had that bit of information about his mother locked down tighter than Fort Knox."

"I had to protect my mother. It was the last thing my father said to me before he died." Rothschild met Cope's gaze head-on. "I'm sorry for the way I acted the other day. I was afraid that you'd discover my secret, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I hope you can forgive me. I'm willing to accept whatever the judge rules in terms of punishment."

"I don't want to see you punished, Mr. Rothschild. I just wish you could have opened up to me instead."

"I knew if the cops pursued Domenica's death, they'd finally figure out what happened. There have been so many advances in DNA and other types of evidence. I was certain new evidence would reveal the mystery behind my wife's death."

"Why did you decide to tell the truth now?" Jude asked.

"My mother has been dead for ten years. Her sisters are dead too. I'm the only surviving Rothschild left. Cope said something to me about wanting Domenica to rest in peace. I agree. Tell me what I can do to make sure that happens."

Cope opened his mouth to answer when movement caught his attention. Standing behind Vic Rothschild was Domenica. "Your wife is here now. I can see Domenica. She's wearing a red cocktail dress." He also saw the white light appear behind her. A shaft of it hit Rothschild's left shoulder.

Vic smiled. "She wore that dress at the wedding reception my mother threw for us when we came home to Salem. It caused quite a stir. I think—" Vic gasped. "My shoulder is hot. Is Domenica touching me?"

Cope shook his head. "That's the white light. Domenica, is there anything you'd like to say to Vic?"

"Thank you for setting me free." Domenica's words caused Ronan and Fitz to jump.

"I heard that. How is this possible?" Vic's eyes widened. "I've never stopped loving you. Will I see you again?"

"Yes, mi amore." With those words, Domenica turned and walked into the light.

"She's gone." Cope felt like crying himself. Jude had been right earlier when he said that new wife versus mother-in-law was a tale as old as time, only this time, it resulted in a forty-year murder mystery.

"Now that Mr. Forbes has finished his magic trick, we're done here. I'll see you at the arraignment." The attorney stood and gathered her things.

"Miss Butler?" Cope called before the hard-nosed attorney walked out the door. "Did you hear Domenica's voice?"

"No, Mr. Forbes, I heard your voice coming through the PA or something. You should be ashamed of yourself for tricking people the way you do." With those words, Saffron Butler left the room.

A uniformed police officer came into the room and helped Vic Rothschild to his feet. With a nod, he walked toward the door. "Thank you, Cope. I'll never forget what you did for me today."

"It's time for your soul to be at peace too, Vic. You've suffered under the burden of your secret for the last forty years. Set yourself free."

With a nod, Rothschild followed the officer out of the room.

"How do you feel now that you have your first case under your belt?" Ronan asked with a grin.

"I'm one hundred percent sure I don't want to do that again!" Cope shook his head while the others laughed.

Cope might not have the desire to solve crimes, but what he did want was to get back home to his babies, who needed him. From now on, Tennyson could be the cold case psychic.