by Nancy Bush
* * *
Taft wasn’t the most domestic male when it came to housework, but he was vacuuming the furniture for all it was worth. Tommy had returned from his latest sojourn to Vegas and had picked up the pugs. After wondering if his neighbor was ever coming back and if he was, by default, now the owner of two dogs, Taft was feeling bereft that the pugs were gone. Carnoff had suffered an ankle injury on the vacation and extended his trip by a week to recover. He’d thought he’d left a message on Taft’s phone and had only learned it hadn’t gone through when he showed up at Taft’s door, wearing slippers and using a cane. His girlfriend had flown back solo.
“Sorry, Jesse,” Tommy had said, thrown from his usual panache.
“No problem. How are you doing?”
He’d lifted his cane to prove that he could stand without its help. “Damn nuisance, but it’s getting better. Thank you.”
“I like having them around,” Taft had told Tommy sincerely.
Carnoff’s eyes had twinkled. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Now Taft finished his task, put the vacuum away, then headed into the kitchen and the refrigerator. His mind was full of problems. He’d learned a few things recently about Mangella that had chilled his blood and he was still working out what to do about them. There was a thread that tied Mangella to Seth Keppler and it was that thread that had made him pull Mackenzie Laughlin off surveillance. He knew she felt like he’d abandoned her, but he didn’t want her anywhere near Keppler until he fully understood the link between the two men.
She’s an ex-cop. She knows the risks.
“Yeah, well . . . maybe . . .” He reached into the refrigerator and took out a beer. He wanted to work with her and wanted to protect her at the same time.
* * *
Things were winding up at the thrift shop when the bike donation came in. Emma watched the man wheel in the child’s bike as Theo was in the back room. “It’s just the right size,” she told him.
“Yeah? My daughter outgrew it. Can I get a receipt?”
Emma very carefully pulled out the pad of receipts. This was the tricky part. She had no idea what it was worth. Calculating amounts fell into the blank spot of her brain. Harley had told her it was her superpower that she couldn’t use numbers very well.
“It’s not a numbers game for you,” Harley had told her. “That’s brilliant.”
Emma was still trying to figure out what she’d meant.
Theo came out of the back room with Dummy trotting at her heels. Seeing him made Emma worry about Duchess. She’d left Ian, the skunky-smelling guy who had liked Harley, in charge because she didn’t have anyone else. But when she thought about it, it made her feel itchy all over.
Theo quickly scribbled out a receipt and handed it to the man, who folded it into his pocket and left, doffing his baseball cap to them on the way out. “‘Doffing’ is a good word,” Emma told Theo.
“He did doff his hat, didn’t he?” Theo smiled. Dummy started barking and standing on his hind legs. This is what he did whenever he got jealous of Theo’s attention being elsewhere.
“Stop it, Bartholomew,” Theo said, tsk-tsking the little dog in a teasing way. This only made Dummy bark and jump more.
“Should we tag the bike for Paige and Brianne?” asked Emma.
“Yeah, let’s. They’ve maybe come up with a different plan, but I’ll call Kendra and we’ll keep it for them just in case.”
Emma taped a RESERVED sign on the bike. She thought Paige and Brianne might be brats but their mom was frazzled and it would be good for them to have a bike. The bike that Emma had wanted had been purchased and was long gone. That was the way things went at Theo’s Thrift Shop.
Emma stayed till closing and Theo drove her to the bus stop as it had started to rain pretty hard. Emma rode the bus and thought about different things, her mind getting hung up on what Jewell had told her.
“Rayne’s friend is dead. It looks like her husband did it.”
Emma’s thoughts had immediately flown back to her own attack. It was always blurry but she knew what had happened. Her heart started thumping and she squeezed her eyes shut, even though she could still see inside her head. “I see his eyes!”
“Oh, shhh. Shhh!” Jewell had started flapping her hands and looking around. “I forgot, Emma. Stop it. You’re making a scene! Stop, stop!”
Emma had forced herself to come back from that dark place. She panted hard, sat down on a chair, and put her head between her knees like she’d been told to do whenever she got upset. Get the air moving through. A lot of the fear had passed since Jamie and Harley had moved back to River Glen and she had a family. She knew how to get herself under control before she was out of control. It was a lot better now.
“I’m sorry,” said Jewell. “I shouldn’t have told you. I just wanted you to be prepared.”
Emma’s eyes had had little tears in them, but she’d swiped them away. “You just wanted to be first to tell me.”
“Well, that’s not . . . that’s kind of . . . I’m not that way.”
Jewell was kind of that way.
The bus left Emma off and she walked back to Ridge Pointe. Bob, one of the administrators, smiled at her and asked her how her day was. Emma told him it was good. That’s all he really wanted to hear. Then she walked down to her room and got Duchess on a leash, and the two of them went for a long walk around the building three times before dinner.
As Emma stopped at the edge of the dining room, surveying the area for a table—her favorite table was already taken—she saw that “tall drink of water,” as Jewell called the man, work his way into the dining room with a cane and wearing slippers. The ladies Jewell often ate with liked him a lot and they were seated at a table near the window tonight. The man pointed the cane at their table and they all smiled and tittered as he winked at them. He liked Emma, too. More than once he’d tried to sit at a table with her, but Jewell had steered him back to the ladies’ table, so Emma had never said anything to him.
His name was Tommy and he knew one of Jewell’s friends, Maureen, best. Maureen had been at Ridge Pointe Independent and Assisted Living about as long as Emma had. They said she’d had a stroke. One of her arms didn’t work too well. She’d been Tommy’s “main squeeze” before her unfortunate stroke. Now she was happy to see him, but she was kind of a drifter, too. The rumor was that if there was room in Memory Care soon, she would probably go. Mrs. Throckmorton might be going there, too. They cared for your brain there, which was good because Maureen and Mrs. Throckmorton did not seem to be able to care for their brains on their own. Emma had to keep telling them her name.
The cat rubbed against Emma’s ankles, but her attention was on the dining room. It looked like she wanted to cross the threshold and join the diners, so Emma lifted a finger to the cat and warned, “No . . .” The cat stepped back and curled herself near the wall on the invisible line to the hallway.
The older man had the ladies laughing, but then he tipped his hat to Maureen and started to head out. He saw Emma as she claimed a small table just inside the door. He smiled at her, but Emma did not smile back because Jewell and the other ladies who liked him didn’t want her to talk to him.
“It’s just not seemly,” Jewell had told her.
“Seemly?” Emma had repeated.
“It wouldn’t be right for a man his age to talk to a girl your age.”
Emma had related this conversation to Jamie and Harley over dinner one night and Harley had choked on her glass of lemonade and said, “Aren’t you like, forty?”
Jamie said, “I think what she’s saying is that Emma is a lot younger than they are.”
“Well, she’s not a girl,” Harley sniffed.
“I think they’re jealous of me,” Emma had revealed, which had made both Jamie and Harley look at her.
“I think you’re right,” said Jamie.
So now Emma didn’t talk to the man, Tommy, unless he spoke to her first. When she did answer him, Jewell and he
r friends would look at her as if she’d done something wrong. It reminded Emma of some bad things from long ago, so she wished the man wouldn’t talk to her, but today he did.
“You’re looking well, Emma.”
“You doffed your hat,” she responded.
“I did, didn’t I?” he agreed, his face wrinkling into a big smile. “How’ve you been today?”
Emma glanced over and saw everyone at Jewell’s table was watching her. Everyone except Maureen, who was picking at her banana cream pie. “Are you Maureen’s boyfriend?” she asked.
“I was, mostly, until Maureen had a . . . an unfortunate health crisis.”
“She had a stroke.”
“Yes. She doesn’t really remember me anymore now. We used to go on trips together. Halfway around the world. A couple of Mediterranean cruises. Made it to Australia once.”
“That’s an ocean away.”
“It sure is. Have you ever been to Las Vegas, Emma?”
“No.”
“A lot of people call it Lost Wages and there’s a reason for that. You can lose your shirt.” He chuckled and then the smile slowly disappeared. “I can’t take Maureen with me anymore. I still go, but I go with other friends.” He glanced back at the table and Emma saw he was gazing sadly at Maureen.
“You don’t have to give me your life story,” she said soberly.
“I’m sorry if I bored you.”
“I’m not bored,” said Emma. She, too, looked again at the ladies at Jewell’s table. “They don’t like me talking to you.”
Tommy nodded. “Don’t let it stop you. I only talk to them because Maureen is with them. I’ve seen you with your dog. She’s a beauty.”
Emma frowned. “She’s a mutt.”
“I have two pugs. Maybe they can meet your dog sometime? Walk around the outside of the building here? Go to a dog park?”
Emma thought that over. “Duchess has a friend named . . . Dummy.”
“Dummy?” Tommy’s brows lifted.
“He has a dumb name.”
“Duchess is your dog?”
“She might be friends with yours. She’s friends with Dummy.”
“I’ll check back with you and maybe we can introduce them to each other sometime.”
“Okay.”
He turned and nodded to the ladies at Jewell’s table one more time before heading out. The cat batted at his foot as he went by but missed him. Emma looked at the cat, who was now gazing steadfastly into the room.
“You stay there,” Emma said to her as Jewell suddenly plopped down in the chair opposite hers.
“What did Tommy say to you?” she demanded.
Emma thought it was kind of rude of Jewell, who was always big on telling someone the rules but not so good at obeying them herself. “He said he had two pugs. Pugs are dogs.”
“I know what pugs are. Those are Maureen’s pugs. She helped him get them.” Jewell’s nostrils flared. “Did he ask you on a date?”
Emma immediately felt uncomfortable. She didn’t want to lie to Jewell, but she didn’t want to tell her that Tommy had said they would get their dogs together. “He doffed his hat,” she finally said, relieved she had some kind of answer.
“He’s a very attractive man and, I’m not saying who, but some of the women here would really like to go on a date with him. You and I both know it would be inappropriate for you to go with him, so maybe you could tell him as much. I’m not one to gossip, but he has a bit of a reputation. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, or hurt in any way.”
Emma felt her chest tighten and forced herself not to think about being hurt. Though she couldn’t feel it anymore, she knew she had a big, jagged scar on her back from a knife wound. “I don’t want to be hurt,” she agreed.
“Well, it’s just best if you keep out of Tom Carnoff’s way. He’s a regular Casanova with pretty women.”
Emma went back to her room a few minutes later. The cat followed her down the hallway and at her door, Emma held up her finger to it once more. “You stay away,” she ordered.
She didn’t want the cat sleeping with her, that was for sure. The cat cocked its head as Emma opened her door. One sharp bark from Duchess and the feline trotted away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“So, what do you do all day? I mean, what’s a typical day like?” Harley asked, stabbing lettuce and tomato bits on the tines of her fork, sticking them in her mouth and chewing the salad.
Cooper gave Jamie’s daughter a look. She’d been dogging him when he was at the house, asking questions. Jamie had noticed it, too. Now, at tonight’s dinner, she apparently was finally coming out with it.
“What do you want to know?” Jamie asked Harley now.
“Marissa and I were talking about jobs, and I just thought I’d ask what it’s like to be a police detective. Like, do you have a routine, or is it just whatever happens, happens.”
Cooper had also heard some of this from his stepdaughter. Marissa was Harley’s best friend and clearly they’d had some kind of discussion between the two of them. “A combination of both, I’d say. I check in, see what’s waiting for me, maybe write up a report, add to it. Research. Keep following an investigation. Try to answer questions that still remain unless something comes up that takes me away from the department.”
“Why are you asking?” Jamie regarded Harley intently.
Harley opened her mouth to say something and Cooper read her like he had so many others during his time as a detective. He knew she was about to lie. But she glanced at his face and he saw her course-correct.
“I think I’d be a good detective. I want a job,” she said.
Jamie made a sound of disbelief. “You’re kidding.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Harley groaned.
Cooper intervened before things got heated. “You have good instincts. Both you and your mom read people really well. So, work toward it.”
“I mean I need a job now,” Harley said, dropping all pretense. “I want to earn some money. I thought I could maybe help you somehow.”
“The department has a budget and it’s pretty tight right now. Overtime’s been cut back and . . .” He didn’t finish. The disappointment on her face said she’d gotten the message.
“Emma said you talked about working at Ridge Pointe,” Jamie reminded. She’d stopped eating her own plate of chicken and rice and salad to gaze at her daughter, but now picked up her fork again.
“Well . . .” Harley pushed her plate aside. Cooper noticed the way she’d moved the chicken around without eating it and only nibbled at the rice. Jamie had said she was flirting with vegetarianism but after a few days she would dig into burgers, chicken, pork, whatever. That was Harley through and through these days. Trying to figure out the person she wanted to be. Marissa was the same way.
Cooper thought about Bibi Engstrom’s death. The Crime Lab hadn’t fully ruled it a homicide, but it wasn’t an accident, and suicide, not by carbon monoxide poisoning but by smoke and fire from the candle—taken from inside the house, according to Hank Engstrom—was outside the norm, to say the least. And though Bibi’s husband had explained about the candle and was an emotional mess, Cooper wasn’t completely convinced it was real grief. Verbena had discovered another woman, and Engstrom had immediately lied about her, claiming she was just a friend, which was incriminating. Maybe she was a friend, and maybe she wasn’t. The investigation continued.
Detective Elena Verbena, his partner, of sorts, as she’d never been fully named as such, was now heading up the case. Cooper had ceded control, mainly to get Ricky Richards out of the scene. Verbena understood, and they’d basically closed ranks to protect the investigation. Richards was all over the place and Cooper had thought of alerting the chief, but Bennihof wasn’t known for backing up his detectives. As chief of police, he was better at schmoozing with the mayor of River Glen and other local government notables. He was a political choice who had mostly been hands off, metaphorically speaking, with his departme
nt. However, there were recent rumors that he was “hands on” in other ways. Cooper had yet to verify those rumors. Bennihof hadn’t come on to Verbena, but then Verbena was secure in her position. She was a tough, forty-something Latina who took no prisoners. When she got the bit in her teeth she ran until she dropped. If Verbena took on the chief, Cooper was betting on her.
One bit of detail they’d learned was that a blue car had been seen driving out of the cul-de-sac road about forty-five minutes before the explosion that the witness, who lived on the street, didn’t recognize. “A Cadillac, I think,” he’d told them. It wasn’t any of the neighbors’, and it had just caught his eye because it reminded him of one his parents had once owned. Maybe it was nothing, but currently it was about all they had.
And then Mackenzie Laughlin was still investigating Rayne Sealy’s death. The ex-cop seemed to think it might be linked in some way to Bibi Engstrom’s. The department had closed the books on that one, but had she really climbed over that railing to take a picture? It wasn’t as if she would be getting a better shot of the chasm and river below, and nothing about her other online pictures read “daredevil.” She wasn’t into the great outdoors. She was into people and partying.
What had she been doing at the overlook? Had she planned to meet someone? It didn’t seem like the kind of place she’d go alone. Cooper had spent a difficult hour with Rayne’s mother and sister, breaking the news of her death, and even though they’d been in shock, the sister had burst out that Rayne was selfish and mean-spirited and probably got what she deserved. Then she’d broken into a flood of tears and remorse and said she loved her anyway. The mother had just shaken her head and held her hand to her mouth while tears flowed. Alerting families to tragedy was one of the hardest parts of Cooper’s job.
Harley took her plate to the sink and said, “Those old people are crazy at Ridge Pointe,” bringing Cooper out of his reverie.
Jamie said dryly, “Not the best attitude if you want a job there.”
“I think you said I wanted a job there.”
“Because that’s what you said.”
Harley snorted and headed out of the kitchen. Jamie watched her go, then looked at Cooper. “Let it be said, I do not want her to become a cop. I have enough angst dealing with your job.”
