Death Comes Knocking (The Thea Kozak Mystery Series, Book 10)

by Kate Flora

“I think I’ve got it. Shall I send it to you?”

  “That would be good.”

  She looked down at her desk and said, in a low voice, “The thing with Jason this morning. I should have told you. Warned you.”

  “Should have told me what?”

  “That he would be a dreadful employee. I live in the same town, you see, and I know his family. His history. If I’d told you what I knew, maybe I could have spared that poor girl.”

  “You didn’t because?” I asked.

  “Because I didn’t want to be that new employee who tries to undercut other people. I didn’t want you to think I was bad-mouthing him. So I didn’t say anything and now look what’s happened. The thing is that it has been such a distraction, trying to work and trying not to think about him. I’m afraid I’ve been kind of a mess about it.”

  “That’s a hard call to make,” I agreed. “Especially when you’re new. He’s gone now, so let’s hope you’ll be able to concentrate better.”

  Her smile was grateful. “I will. And of course, he made it very clear that he’d make my life miserable if I said anything.”

  “He threatened you?”

  She nodded.

  This just got worse and worse. Here we’re thinking we’ve solved our personnel problems when our office is actually a hotbed of intrigue and anxiety. How had Suzanne and I missed all this? The answer, of course, was that we were working ourselves. Balancing home and family and trying to build and sustain a business. And if Martin was right, Jason’s sordid history wasn’t there for us to find. Still, we’d have to do better.

  She held up some papers. “I’ve been working on this for Bobby, and I think I’ve got it right. He has been so kind to me.”

  Ah. Bobby. Our peacemaker. Our ray of sunshine. I wasn’t being sarcastic. Bobby was a treasure, which was why we worked hard to keep him happy when he was under constant pressure to quit from his husband, Quinn. Why we’d been looking for someone to help him with his work.

  I took the papers she was offering. One of Bobby’s projects was helping schools develop guidelines for incorporating LGBTQ history and issues into their curriculum to develop greater understanding among their students. Her desk was covered with marked-up print-outs and I was holding a draft set of guidelines. Was working on this why she’d done such a poor job on my assignment? Had Bobby and I, between us, given her too much work, and that’s why she’d been weeping? Weeping instead of telling me what the problem was?

  I understood that younger people sometimes had trouble communicating face to face, but Marlene was a middle-aged mom.

  It felt like things were spinning out of control. Maybe EDGE needed a workshop on communication?

  I gave her back the pages. “Interesting project. He should be in soon to give you feedback.”

  “About the other thing,” she said.

  I waited, because I didn’t know which other thing she was referring to.

  “The questionnaire?”

  I nodded.

  “I really didn’t try. And I’m sorry. I was caught up in this. I have…my fifteen-year-old is transitioning. I guess I let myself get too excited about the idea of schools that really want to be open and accepting.”

  She gulped, and looked me in the eyes for the first time. She was a slight woman with an eager face, rusty red hair, and a trendy haircut that didn’t suit her. We’d hired her based on good credentials and a bit of desperation. Now I was discovering more interesting things about her. We’re a small office. Very much a team. Her openness and revelations gave me hope. We needed someone to work with Bobby. With Jason gone, it looked like she was eager to step into that role.

  “That’s good to know. We really do need someone to assist Bobby. But Marlene?”

  She flinched like she was expecting criticism.

  “Next time, come talk to me. I’m not an ogre.”

  She laughed. “It’s not you, it’s me,” which made both of us laugh.

  I headed to Suzanne’s office, thinking at least this was one bright spot in a difficult day.

  She was on the phone. She waved me in and I sat while she finished her conversation. Whoever she was talking to was not a pleasant person. I could tell by the squawks coming out of the phone and the way she was frowning. I wondered who it was. Suzanne is brilliant with people. She can charm anyone.

  “No,” she said, firmly. “No, we cannot sit down and talk about this. Furthermore, your client may not enter these premises nor approach anyone on our staff, in or out of the office. Rather than arguing with me, you should be explaining this to him. Now I have someone waiting in my office. Goodbye.”

  She hung up and sighed. “Jason’s lawyer. She says the situation was misunderstood, and she and Jason want to sit down and sort things out. I told her there is nothing to sort out, and both we and Lindsay are getting restraining orders.”

  She ran her fingers through her neat blonde bob. “How is Lindsay doing?”

  “I don’t think it has hit her yet. We’re supposed to go down to the station and give statements. I suppose we’d better get that over with so it won’t be hanging over her head.”

  She shook her head. “I keep thinking, what if you hadn’t come in early?”

  I shivered.

  “How did we get that so wrong, Thea?”

  “Bulldozer parents who have kept his record clean. Probably leaned on people to give him good references. Marlene says his presence here made her very nervous. She lives in the same town.”

  “But she didn’t say anything.”

  “For two reasons. She was trying to be a good employee and not badmouth him. And he threatened her.”

  We sat and stared at each other. How had it come to this?

  “Guess we’ll have to find someone to replace Jason,” I said. “Here’s a bit of good news, though. Marlene has been working on a project for Bobby. It’s good. I mean, she’s done a good job and he’s going to be happy.”

  She shook her head. “If this weren’t our business, I’d quit.”

  “Me, too. Just as soon as I finish the six things on my desk and make a little trip to the police department. Got to get moving. Jonetta’s coming this afternoon.”

  She looked at me like I’d suddenly started speaking a foreign language. “Jonetta? Did I hear that right?”

  “She said she needs a vacation.”

  “Right. For the last six years.”

  “Just what she said. So you and Paul and the kids should come over tomorrow. We’ll get the big guy to make burgers or steaks or something. He’s becoming a grilling champ. We’ve got a big back yard for the kids to run around in. And you can drink.”

  She eyed the beach ball. “Soon, you can, too.”

  “Soon, I’ll need to think about a nanny.”

  “Right,” Suzanne agreed. “In that department, I may have good news. My nanny just told me that she has a cousin who is looking for a job.”

  “Impossible. There are no responsible young people looking for a job.”

  Suzanne shrugged. “It was just a suggestion.”

  “Do we know anything about this girl?”

  “Not yet. But I can ask. I will ask.”

  I wasn’t ready for any of this, but it would be foolish to pass up the opportunity to at least explore. I’d found Suzanne’s nanny at a client school, and she had worked out very well. “Okay. Get me the details and I’ll talk to her.”

  I checked my watch. I had to get down to the police station soon so I could be home in time for Jonetta.

  “You should take a look at Lindsay’s video. It’s pretty brilliant. I’ll have her send you a copy.”

  “Too bad she has to finish school.”

  “Right. But it’s only one semester, and then, unless that jerk Jason has driven her away, she’ll be coming back to us.”

  Suzanne smiled. “A bit of good news in the midst of all the bad.”

  “We’ve seen worse.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  One of t
hose casual things people say, except she really meant it.

  Her phone rang. Our attorney needed to speak with Lindsay to finalize her request for a restraining order.

  “I’ll get her,” I offered.

  As I led her to Suzanne’s office, I said, “When that’s done, let’s ask if Martin can see us. I’d like to get these formalities over with.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “Hard to concentrate with this hanging over my head.”

  Officer Martin could see us, so Lindsay and I drove down to the station and gave our formal statements. I could tell, when we were finished, that she was done in. It had been an awful day for her.

  “Why don’t you take the rest of the day,” I suggested. “Is there someone who can stay with you?”

  She shook her head. “This is the summer of me striking out on my own. I don’t really know a lot of people around here. And…uh…to tell the truth, my place is pretty much only somewhere to sleep. It won’t be comforting. I guess…” She considered. “I guess I could go to a bar. But I’d only have to drive home after, so I couldn’t get stupid drunk like I want to.” She stopped, a nervous hand to her mouth. “Oops. I don’t often…or ever…do that. It’s just…right now, I don’t feel like…”

  I couldn’t leave her like this. She was trying to be brave and grownup when she was clearly so in need of someone to look after her.

  “Come to my house. We’ve got room, and I’ve got the best person in the world coming for the weekend. Andre will cook steaks on the grill, and we’ll have salad and corn and chocolate cake. Wine or beer.”

  She hesitated. I thought she was going to say no. Then she said, “You mean, stay over?”

  “If you want.”

  “Then yes. I’ll go home and get my things. I’d love to come to your house.” Another hesitation. “I don’t care if it makes me seem like a big baby, Thea. The idea of being alone spooks me. What if he gets out on bail?”

  I’d been alone after a scary experience. I knew how easy it was to dwell on it, rehash it, and begin to think it was my own fault, even when I knew that wasn’t true.

  “Great. Get out your phone and put in my address. Your GPS can find me easily.”

  Now that this was underway, I was a bit nervous about letting her go home alone, even to get her things.

  “Do you want me to follow you home?”

  “With your history of scary black SUVs?” she said. “That’s okay. I’ll see you there.” She hesitated. “We will have police protection, right?”

  With all the commotion of the last twenty-four hours, I’d forgotten about the car that had menaced us on the highway. I decided I’d call Andre before I left. Even if he didn’t answer, it meant someone would know where I was and be concerned if I didn’t show up at home. I wasn’t scared, exactly, just wary.

  “Cops or special forces,” I said.

  “Wow. You sure are a full-service employer.”

  “I try.”

  I watched her leave with a mingled sense of pity and admiration. She’d held herself together beautifully. Finished her work. Barely let us see how shaken she was. Maybe I was seeing myself in her?

  I went and told Suzanne what the plan was, then I left, too, pausing in the parking lot to make two calls. The first to Andre to update him on the events of the day and tell him I was on my way home. He answered this time, said he’d be home soon.

  “Will Malcolm Kinsman be there?” I asked.

  “I think so. He wasn’t sure about his plans.”

  I skipped any sarcasm. It was unproductive. For all I knew, having a highly trained special forces guy around might be useful.

  My second call was to Officer Bonnie Martin to ask about bail for Jason. I thought I detected some satisfaction in her voice when she said that he’d be held at least over the weekend, and they would let Lindsay know if he was released.

  I hoped she was right and strings wouldn’t be pulled on his behalf. We’d all breathe more easily if there was no prospect of him appearing on the horizon. Restraining orders help, but bullies who’ve escaped consequences in the past have a tendency to believe those orders don’t apply to them.

  The drive home was uneventful. When I passed my favorite farmstand, I realized that I’d been so busy I’d forgotten to eat lunch, despite my newly reformed habits. I stopped, thinking that some fresh fruit would be nice. I ended up with a fresh raspberry pie, plus berries, a melon, and a loaf of homemade bread. Nutritional rules be damned, I got a white chocolate and raspberry scone that I knew I’d eat in the car even though it meant I’d arrive home covered in crumbs.

  I drove with the windows down, the scented August air surrounding me. I ate the scone. Got covered with crumbs and didn’t care. I stopped at the market and got more corn and chicken to barbeque, and gave in to the temptation of a key lime pie. In Andre’s opinion, there can never be too much pie. Now we had two pies and a chocolate cake.

  I arrived home in a very mellow mood. It lasted until I turned into my driveway and found a shiny black SUV waiting for me.

  Twenty-Seven

  Fred and Alice were lounging in Adirondack chairs on my back deck, watching the deer and her fawn, who were staring at the lettuce like they were starving. There was no one on this human and herbivore welcoming committee I wanted to see, and I didn’t know whether Malcolm Kinsman was somewhere inside my house.

  No one can say that I am indecisive, yet at this moment, I didn’t know what to do. I stood there, briefcase and purse draped over my shoulder, my arms around a cardboard box full of farmstand produce and bags from the market draped over my forearm. Tears welled up in my eyes—those darned pregnancy hormones again—as I stared at them.

  A decent person, someone with manners, would have jumped up and offered to take the box out of my hands so I could let myself in. Neither of them moved. They just sat and stared at me. I sighed. Set down the box. Unlocked the door. I pushed the door open, bent awkwardly and picked up the box, and staggered inside with my burdens. They rose from their chairs, intending to follow.

  They could forget that. They were not getting inside unless Andre was home. Kinsman thought they weren’t for real. Andre was still checking. And I’d already had my fill of them. I had nothing to offer.

  I quickly shoved the box onto the nearest surface, turned to them, and said a single word, “Stay.” Then I closed the door behind me and locked it. I stowed the chicken, corn, and the key lime pie in my crowded fridge. In my office, I put down my briefcase and purse, relieved to see that even though the shades were still drawn, there was no semi-conscious man lying on the couch.

  I checked the rest of the downstairs—empty—and went upstairs. The guestroom was tidy and the bed was made. There was no one in our room or the baby’s room. The door to the other guestroom, the one that was still under construction, was closed. I decided that if Andre had parked Kinsman in there, I didn’t want to know. That way, if I ended up having to talk to my unwanted guests, I’d have deniability.

  How had my life come to this?

  The clock said Jonetta was due to arrive any time now. She’d texted about forty minutes ago that she was getting off the highway. I didn’t know when Lindsay would arrive, but I should be ready. I checked the daybed in MOC’s room. Clean sheets and a soft quilt in blues and greens. I got a second pillow from the closet. Andre is bemused by all the pillows we have on the beds, but I like to sleep with two, and believe we should offer that option to our guests. We are not a hotel. We don’t ask if people would like feather or alternative pillows. But we do have lots of pillows.

  I called Andre to alert him to the presence of Fred and Alice. Then I changed back into the cut-off sweats and a tee-shirt, kicked off my sandals, and padded barefoot down to the kitchen. Alice was peering through the door like a stray cat hoping to be let in.

  Right now, what I wanted was a stray German Shepherd trained in bite work eager to be let out.

  Someone in the helping professions would ask where all this hostility w
as coming from. Probably with some questions about how I felt about these persistent intruders in an effort to make me explore my negativity. I thought the answer was embedded in that question. I was feeling hostile because my life was under constant siege. These were my last few weeks before motherhood swallowed me up. I wanted to enjoy them. I wanted peace and quiet. Instead, I had two dead bodies and mysterious twins impinging on my peace and quiet. Not to mention two annoying government agents, a sexual assault victim, and an overworked headmistress from a New York school.

  I’ve been going ahead full tilt for years. It’s still a surprise when I have an attack of “I don’t wanna,” but that’s what this felt like. It felt like the poor mother-to-be should turn a fan toward herself, lie down on her living room floor, and close her eyes. Rude or not, Alice and Fred could cool their heels until Andre got home, and he could deal with them.

  Tires crunched on the driveway and I looked out to see Jonetta’s electric blue Kia Soul fly up my driveway. She parked beside the SUV, got out, grabbed her bags, and headed for the door. If she found the two federal agents lounging in chairs disconcerting, she didn’t show it. She just nodded as she passed.

  I unlocked the door, and she came into the room, dropped her cases, closed the door on Fred and Alice, and wrapped me in a hug. When we unwrapped, she tilted her chin toward the door and said, “Unwanted visitors? That why you’ve left them outside?”

  “Yes. Very much so. I’ve decided to leave them to my beloved spouse.”

  “’Bout time you learned to delegate.” She moved on. Jonetta lived in a world where her students, fairly or unfairly, had frequent unwanted visits from the constabulary. She recognized cops, PIs, and others of their ilk easily and was used to brushing them off like specks of dust.

  After inspecting me and finding me satisfactory, she said, “Pity about those people out there. I was looking forward to sitting on your porch and unwinding.” She sighed the sigh of someone who had just driven from New York in summer traffic, making me wish I had a magic wand I could wave to make Fred and Alice disappear.

  “We have a front porch, too,” I said. “And it is shaded. Let’s get your things upstairs, and then we can sit out there.”