Family Ties Mystery Series Box Set

by James Kipling

Ray laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Ray slumped in the passenger seat. “You’re always on my butt about getting serious with someone. And everything you’ve said in the last two days drives me closer and closer to perpetual bachelorhood.” He slipped a ball cap from under the seat and slid it over his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.

  Twenty-five minutes later, they pulled into the drive. A man answered the bell, but only after they’d rung three times.

  “’mon in,” he said. He stumbled when he turned.

  Lisa leaned into Ray. “This guy’s half in the bag,” she said.

  “Much, much farther than half,” Ray said.

  “I ‘sume youse is ‘tectives,” the man said. “I’m Arnold Lynn. Jennifer was my husband…I mean the other time around…I mean…fuck it…you know.”

  “We’re sorry for your loss, sir,” Ray said.

  Lisa pointed to a vase full of flowers. “Those are beautiful. Where did you get them?”

  “Out back,” he said. “Jennifer grows everything – grew – hell…they are from the garden.”

  “Very nice,” Ray said. Lisa rolled her eyes and mouthed “Lame.”

  “Here’s shum lemonade,” Arnold said

  Ray had watched the pour. He and Lisa got glasses full of lemonade. Arnold had filled his tumbler with vodka and splashed a little lemonade in for flavor.

  Probably the only time he’s had fruit all day, Ray thought.

  “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Lynn,” Lisa said.

  “Arnold pleash.”

  “Sorry to bother you, Arnold. When was the last time you saw your wife?”

  “Two nights ago – at the Opera House. She’d been bitchin’ ‘bout how mush I mished her dancing’ and crap. I went. Sat through an hour or that twinkle-toes, pansy-ass shit. Then, she didn’t even show up for the second act.”

  “Damn inconsiderate of her,” Ray said.

  Lisa kicked him. Arnold didn’t notice. He was having more “lemonade.”

  “You two have children?”

  “Nope.”

  “Money issues?”

  “Nope.”

  “How was the marriage?”

  “Nope,” Arnold said. Then, he giggled. “Sorry, I was on a roll. Our marriage shucked – and not in the good way. She was an eyesh queen.”

  Lisa started to ask something. Ray shook his head.

  Arnold continued. “We hadn’t done the bumpus for a couple of years – not since she shurprised me by coming home early from Italy and found me dancing the mattress mambo with one of the other ladies in the ballet company.”

  Again, Ray shook his head. He whirled his index finger in a circular motion…let him keep going.

  “She never liked schrewing anyway…just lay there like a board. After a while, she quit acting like she was into it – just let me do my thing, then got in the shower.”

  He fell silence. Ray nodded. Lisa asked, “She have any enemies?”

  “Other than all the dancin’ queen bitches who all hated each other? No.”

  He chortled. Snot ran out of his left nostril. He made no move to wipe it.

  “She used to be closh to my sister – before they decided to hate each other.”

  “You got your sister’s contact information?”

  “Sure, what kind of a brother do you think I am? Here.” He tossed a phone across the room – hard. Lisa snagged it from the air like she played shortstop for the Red Sox. “That’s Jennifer’s,” Arnold said. “The unlock code is 234234. Sissy’s name is Margaret VanHousen.”

  Lisa transferred the information.

  After a few more questions, Ray and Lisa left.

  “What a dolt,” Lisa said.

  “He’s in mourning,” Ray said.

  “Don’t think so. He’s either in shock or he’s celebrating,” Lisa said.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to a familiar building.

  “You go in,” Ray said. “I’m good without my daily dose of Yvonne Phillips.”

  “Grow a pair, Ray,” Lisa said.

  They knocked. They rang. They knocked again.

  The door across the hall opened. “Yvonne’s not there.” It was a woman’s voice coming through a three-inch opening. Go away.”

  “Police, ma’am. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  “Who knows,” the voice said. “She like to took her hand off with a kitchen knife last night. Blood everywhere.”

  “Accident?”

  “Hardly. Poor thing’s so torn up, she tried to kill herself.”

  The door closed an inch.

  Lisa stepped closer. “One more thing, ma’am. Please.”

  “What?”

  “Where did they take her?”

  “Saint Andrews Hospital.” The door shut.

  Ray was halfway down the hall. “Let’s go,” he said over his shoulder.

  11

  Yvonne stirred and instinctively reached across the bed for Nicholas. Nothing – not even a lot of bed – this was a twin, not the king-sized one in her apartment. She opened her eyes – confused. Her head throbbed. The constant beeping from the machine next to the bed did not help. Her skin was frigid; there were IV’s in her arm and electrical leads attached to her chest.

  She knew a hospital room when she saw one.

  She rang the call button.

  “Well, hello there, Sleepy Head,” the nurse said. She was so happy, Yvonne wanted to snap her neck like a dry pretzel stick. “How are we feeling today?”

  “I’d have to feel better to die,” Yvonne said.

  The nurse was making notations on a chart. “Your vitals are much better. I’ll get the doctor.”

  Ten minutes elapsed when a tall man in a white lab coat breezed into the room like he owned it.

  “Yvonne,” he said, “I’m Dr. David Sam. We’ve been worried about you.”

  “Why am I here?”

  Sam acted as if he had not heard the question. “You’ve been sedated for a while, but a light dose. We knew you’d come around when you felt better. Glad you finally swam to the top.”

  “Finally?”

  “Three days, Ms. Phillips. But, we were monitoring you all the time. Once we got you in here and stabilized, you weren’t going anywhere.”

  “Again,” Yvonne said. “Why am I here?”

  She looked at the leads…the screens…and the bandages on her throbbing left wrist. “Did I have an accident?”

  Nurse and doctor exchanged glances. “Yes,” the doctor said, “One in the kitchen. Looks like you might have…ah…over-indulged a little and had a mishap. You lost a lot of blood.”

  “How much?”

  The doctor shook his head. “We’ll let your insurance worry about the charges,”

  “How much blood?”

  “A good bit.”

  “Dr. Sam, I’m a nurse – a damn good nurse. I need the information.”

  Sam bit his lip. “Almost four units.”

  Yvonne closed her eyes. “That’s almost forty percent. How close was it?”

  “Another five minutes and we would not have been able to do anything.”

  “Has anyone called Nicholas?” Yvonne asked in a concerned voice. “Is he here?”

  Dr. Sam leaned close. “Yvonne, do you know what day it is?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “But, you said I’d been out a while. It’s somewhere around the twelfth or thirteenth of the month.”

  “Which month?”

  “August.”

  The doctor nodded. “Very good. I’ve asked them to bring you some food – special menu. We need to get your strength up. I want you to rest and we’ll have you out of here in a day or two.”

  Outside the door, the nurse was waiting.

  “I heard,” she said.

  “She’s lost about six months’ worth of memory. That’s not good.”

  “No,
it’s not,” the nurse said. “But what’s worse is she has no recollection that her Nicholas is dead.”

  ***

  Lisa and Ray were back at the hospital for the third day in a row. They flashed their badges at the desk.

  “Have a seat,” the desk nurse said.

  “We’re here on police business,” Ray said.

  “And this is a hospital where we do medical business,” the nurse said.

  “It’s a murder investigation.”

  The nurse looked over her half-glasses. “And there may be another homicide if you keep bothering me. Now, wait your turn, young man.”

  They sat.

  “Ouch,” Lisa said. “You have a way with the women.”

  “Shut your pie hole,” Ray said.

  “Smooth talkin’ devil,” Lisa said – and she laughed.

  “We should have called ahead," Ray said.

  "I called this morning, but they won't tell me anything over the phone. What's your hurry? It’s not like you're rushing home to a wife,” Lisa said. “Besides, you are getting past Brunhilde over there until she’s good and ready.”

  “I don't like to be kept waiting,” Ray said. “And I don’t need a wife.”

  “You’ll never know ‘til you try.”

  “You're only happy that you'll get home late, again,” Ray said. “And wipe that goofy smile off your face.”

  Lisa thumbed through a six-month old Newsweek. “Wow,” she said, “According to this, some very brave young men are battling to the death at some place in Texas called The Alamo.”

  “They don’t stay very current in here, do they?”

  “Nope. Why by the way?”

  “I don’t know anything about their magazine subscriptions.”

  “No, silly, why aren’t you married?”

  Ray’s mouth gaped. “On what planet is that any of your business?”

  “You haven’t met the right woman?” Lisa asked. “Or are you looking for Mr. Right?”

  Ray clamped his hand on Lisa’s knee and squeezed until she flinched and begged for mercy.

  “Okay, okay, okay…I was out of line. Geez, you are sensitive. And lethal. How did the CIA miss you for their Rendition Teams?”

  “They asked,” Ray said. “I told ‘em they were a bunch of candy asses.”

  A doctor approached. They stood. Andrews and Jones met Dr. David Sam.

  “She’s a lucky young woman,” Sam said. “She sliced her ulnar artery pretty badly. If someone had not visited her house, she wouldn’t have made it.”

  “Who brought her in?”

  “The gentleman declined to leave his name.”

  They were gliding down the hall. “Have you met Yvonne before?” the doctor asked.

  Ray grimaced. “Right after her boyfriend died. It was not the most pleasant visit.”

  “I have to warn you,” the doctor had stopped in the middle of the hall and was speaking in a low voice. “She has no memory of Nicholas’s death. She thinks we’re in mid-August. She’s lost about six months of memory. I don’t think you can barge in there and begin to bombard her with questions about the death of a man she still thinks is alive.”

  Lisa and Ray exchanged glances. “Is the memory loss permanent?”

  “Probably not – most likely trauma induced. She should eventually come around. But, I would prefer to see a gradual progression instead of something abrupt.”

  “We will exercise caution,” Lisa said.

  “Extreme caution, please,” Sam said.

  “Yvonne, are you awake?” Dr. Sam touched Yvonne very lightly on the arm,

  Yvonne stirred, purred and opened her eyes. She scooched into a sitting position.

  “Some of your friends are here to see you,” the doctor said. Yvonne eyed Lisa and Ray like she was a cat and they were fish in a nearby bowl.

  “Are you cops?” Yvonne asked.

  They showed their badges. “What gave us away?” Lisa asked. “The snappy clothes?”

  Yvonne let out an easy laugh. “Something like that,” she said. “I didn't know that I had cop friends,” Yvonne said excitedly. “Protect and serve all the way…”

  “We go way back, my dear,” Lisa said and walked over to the bed. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Slightly drowsy but okay.”

  “That is good to know,” Lisa said. She took both of Yvonne’s hands in hers. Yvonne’s skin was cold and dry.

  “You have warm hands,” Yvonne said.

  “Thank you.”

  “If you know me, then you must know Nicholas, too,” Yvonne said.

  Ray felt his throat tighten, but Lisa breezed on ahead. “Not well, but we do.”

  “We’re talking about starting a family together and having a baby.” She grinned brightly.

  Lisa looked up at the doctor and the slight headshake that he gave her was enough to warn her not to say anything else.

  “Where is he?” Yvonne asked. “I’m a little confused. He’s supposed to be in Europe some time. Is he there now?”

  No one answered, and Yvonne quickly forgot she’d asked the question.

  “We have to let you get some rest now,” Doctor Sam said gently and pulled the curtain into place.

  “I'll come back to visit,” Lisa said, waving as she left.

  “I feel sorry for her,” Lisa said.

  Ray shrugged. “I’ll withhold judgment until we know she’s not the shooter.”

  12

  Arnold woke up with a throbbing hangover and a sore throat. About the time he got to the bathroom, he realized he was naked from the waist down. He walked out into the bedroom.

  “Morning, lover.”

  The voice startled him – he did not know she was there. Or, he had forgotten.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “And good morning to you too,” she said.

  Arnold crawled into bed and pulled up the sheet.

  “You’re only supposed to use my house key for emergencies,” he said.

  “You sounded pretty bad last night when you called,” she said. Her hand slid across the sheet and rested on the upper part of his thigh.

  “Stop it,” he said.

  “We both know you like it,” she said.

  “Stop it,” he said again. Then he groaned.

  “Quit the tent you have there, Arnold,” she said. She slid the sheet back. “And quite the tent pole.”

  She pulled up her skirt and straddled him, guiding him inside of her with practiced excellence.

  “Like that?” she asked.

  Arnold’s eyes were shut.

  She placed her forearm across his windpipe. “I said, do you like that?”

  His eyes bulged, and he nodded.

  “Do it,” she said.

  She rode him until she shrieked. He finished five seconds later with a grunt.

  She got off the bed, straightened her skirt and stepped off the bed.

  “You look like shit,” she said.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Arnold fished under the bed, found a robe, stood, and slipped it on.

  “What do you want, Margaret?” Arnold asked.

  “Is that how you say hello to your favorite sister?”

  “Step-sister” he said.

  “Tomato – tomahto – we’re family. I wanted to check on you in your grief,” she said.

  “I'm okay.”

  “Tell that to the bus that hit you,” she said. “Why don’t you go take a shower as I make you something to eat?”

  Arnold started towards the bath. “The police were here,” he said.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “When they asked about anyone with a grudge against Jennifer, I mentioned your name.”

  “Okay,” she said. “That’s something they would have found out. Better not to hide anything.”

  Arnold had expected an explosion. Margaret baffled him.
/>   ***

  Lisa sat at the dining table stirring her tea and going through her phone. She was so engrossed in the information Ray had just emailed her that she did not hear Jane walk into the room.

  “Good morning,” Jane said.

  “Good morning,” Lisa said. “Sorry I only made tea for one.”

  “Wouldn’t expect you to remember anyone else lives here,” Jane said.

  “I just didn’t know if you wanted any.”

  Jane never turned. “I only drink a cup every morning,” she said.

  Lisa knew when Jane was spoiling for a fight. Not today. She just sipped her tea and looked at the wall clock.

  Lisa knew that she was itching for a fight and decided to remain silent and not fuel it. She went on to sip from her cup as she checked the time on the wall clock. She got to her feet and headed for the door.

  “Lisa.”

  “Yes?” Maybe Jane was going to apologize – get all this shit fixed. Maybe they would make love all day. Lisa was willing to call in sick.

  “Did you hire a maid to come by today?”

  Odd question. “No, Jane. Why?”

  “Because that’s the only way your fuckin’ cup won’t be there on the table when you get back.”

  Lisa walked back into the kitchen, picked up the cup, and hurled it against the cabinets. Porcelain rained all over the tile floor.

  “Mind you don’t cut your foot,” Lisa said.

  Lisa cried in the car for five minutes, then headed to the Station. Ray was already at his desk.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “So, what's the plan today?”

  “Divide and conquer,” he said. “You take Margaret, the sister. See what’s the deal with Jennifer. I’m going to the hospital, then I’ll take another run at Mr. Sunshine at the Morgue.”

  They hit the hall. “I’ll give the dead folks your regards,” he said.

  She waved at him with her middle finger.

  ***

  “Good morning, Doctor,” Ray said.

  “Detective.”

  “How’s Yvonne Phillips?”

  “Improving physically, but still confused about the time. Want to go see her?”

  They moved down the hall, Ray almost trotting to keep up with the doctor’s long strides.

  “You move fast, Doc,” he said.