He lifted a brow. ‘I came to see you.’
She felt a little flutter. Nerves? Attraction? She didn’t know. ‘No sidekick today?’
‘My partner is taking a personal day.’
She frowned. ‘With all due respect, you’ve got to be kidding me. My cousin only died thirty-six hours ago. Aren’t you supposed to hit cases hard at the start because that’s the best chance of solving them?’
Detective Ahola’s cool stare shriveled her bravado. ‘Detective Rideout’s wife is dealing with cancer. He took the day to be with her during a chemo treatment.’
‘Oh, well that’s terrible. He seemed like a nice man.’ She finished on a mumble. ‘Black coffee?’
He pasted a false-looking smile on his face. ‘Sure. A small one. Are you due for a break soon?’
‘Not for another hour. I’m here alone because we don’t get a lot of traffic at this time of day.’ She rang him up and handed him an eight-ounce cup.
He glanced around. ‘Look, Ms Meadows, I stopped by to let you know that Ryan Meadows’ death is officially being treated as a murder.’
Her vision swam with dots, even though she’d half been expecting this. Clutching the edge of the counter, she asked, ‘How can you tell?’
‘The autopsy showed his nose was cracked and there were signs he’d been punched.’
She forced herself to let go. ‘I didn’t see any of that.’
‘I would imagine you fixated on the journal. It isn’t easy for a layperson to look at a body.’
Mandy used the heels of her hands to wipe at her eyes. She had to admit to herself that she hadn’t looked at his face too closely. ‘It wasn’t a body. It was my cousin.’
‘I’m very sorry.’ He kept his cool gaze on her. ‘I hope you aren’t planning to leave town anytime soon.’
‘No.’ Mandy realized with sickening clarity that she or her daughter had to be the chief suspect since no one else was in the house. She needed to figure out what happened before she was arrested.
He handed her a couple of dollars. ‘Keep the change for your charity box.’
They weren’t allowed to take tips. Everything went into the hospital support fund. One of the downsides of working here, but Ryan had made it easy for her to get the job. It beat pounding the pavement and explaining why she hadn’t worked a day job in years.
Alcoholic or not, she already missed Ryan. He’d been her oldest friend. She didn’t think she’d gone a day without a text from him in years. And these days, between working in the same hospital and living in the same house, she was used to seeing him every day, too.
‘Umm … do you need to interview me again?’
Fannah walked out of the back room and gave her a suspicious look. Mandy stuffed the change into the plastic collection box, praying her supervisor hadn’t thought she was about to pocket the money. The detective did the lifted chin nod in Fannah’s direction and put his hand into his inner coat pocket.
‘I’ll be in touch about that. For now, we took the video recording off your phone,’ he said. ‘You can have it back.’ He handed her a plastic bag with her phone in it then walked off.
‘Now him I could go for,’ Fannah said into Mandy’s ear in her husky voice. ‘Single?’
She wiped her shaking hands on her apron front. ‘He just told me officially that Ryan was murdered, Fannah. How would I know?’
‘No ring. You have to pay attention to these things now, or you’re going to be looking for a boyfriend on apps.’
Detective Ahola was the last person she’d go for under the circumstances. Mandy forced a laugh. ‘Not looking for a boyfriend.’
‘Why not?’
‘My divorce just finalized.’
‘Your husband cheated on you.’ Fannah poked her shoulder. ‘You need to move on. This is no life for you. Find another husband.’
Mandy enjoyed Fannah’s Ethiopian-accented voice, the way she pronounced ‘th’ like ‘z’ and the musical cadence. She did not enjoy advice on how to live her life. ‘I have a right to lick my wounds, which are considerable.’
‘From a rich lady to here, working for an immigrant?’ Fannah laughed. ‘So it goes, hmmm?’
‘I’m grateful for the job,’ Mandy said earnestly, but Fannah walked off, not responding.
Would being a murder suspect get her fired?
FIVE
Mandy went to the cafeteria on her break and hid in the back-corner alcove along the windows. She could see the skeletal outlines of trees, a lot of pavement, and the I-5 freeway, never empty, even in the middle of a weekday. She’d snagged a handful of slightly burned ginger thins they couldn’t sell, and a banana that had enough brown spots to be removed from sale, plus a café au lait.
After eating two cookies for courage, she turned on her phone, hoping it would have some battery life left. The newest model, it held a charge well, and she still had twenty percent. She sent Vellum a quick text to let her know she had her phone again, then plugged in her headphones and went into her pictures.
The video they had started that night was still on her phone. She didn’t want to listen but she needed to. After squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she hit the play button.
She watched their fingers, and the start of their inking process. Pride washed over her as she heard how grown-up Vellum sounded when she spoke. Then she heard those muffled bumps. She saw her torso move in front of the screen, then the video ended. She’d turned off the phone at that point. Unfortunate.
Noticing her battery had dropped a few percentage points, she closed the video and hit the button to call Vellum’s father.
‘Babe!’ Cory crooned into the phone.
Mandy tried to ignore the muscle memory that had her melting at the sound of that old endearment. She’d met her ex-husband at eighteen at the University of Washington. He’d been in her Spanish 101 class and she’d literally met him on the first day of school. The pregnancy had been an accident but they’d married over their parents’ objections and moved in together. He’d finished school; she hadn’t. She’d thought they had a love story; he’d gone looking for greener pastures in the mid-life crisis zone. Two years older than her, he’d tired of his routine and annihilated it a year ago. ‘I keep hoping you’ll block my number.’
‘Never,’ he said. ‘You’re like a favorite pair of shoes. I’ll never toss you out.’
‘That’s incredibly insulting, but I’m not rising to the bait. Did you hear the news about Ryan?’
‘Haven’t heard from Vellum lately,’ he said. ‘I took a cruise down to Mexico. Got some sun.’
‘Lovely,’ she muttered. On Mommy’s dime, of course. ‘Ryan was murdered in the basement on Wednesday. The police took my phone into evidence and just gave it back to me.’
His voice went low, intimate. ‘Do they think you took him out?’
‘It’s not funny. You need to be prepared to take Vellum if I’m arrested.’
He went back to his normal tone, but he still didn’t sound concerned. ‘Don’t you have an alibi?’
‘I’ve thought hard about that. Vellum is my alibi, but she’s my daughter. And there’s my phone, too.’
‘What’s on it?’
‘We had just started filming. You can hear the bumps, which must have been Ryan falling. My hands are visible so I obviously have an alibi for the fall, unless they think the noises were some kind of fake-out.’
‘How long was the video?’
‘Maybe four minutes?’
He made a noise in the back of his throat. ‘It isn’t much of an alibi.’
Mandy’s hand shook, knocking the phone against her ear. ‘No. I suppose he could have been dead before he fell. I’m sure I’m a suspect.’
‘As is Vellum.’
Neither of them spoke for a moment, as they contemplated that. Finally, Cory said, ‘He always had your back. I know you liked him and I accepted that, even if I didn’t want him as a tenant.’
‘It’s not your house anymore.’
‘That
’s still my daughter in that house,’ Cory said.
‘It’s not like someone new is moving in tomorrow. I have to deal with everything Ryan left.’
‘You’d better let me take a look at anyone you try to move in,’ Cory said.
She wanted to make a biting comment about how rare it was for him to take any responsibility, but if he was willing to do something, she had to be supportive of it. How had she turned into the grownup of this relationship? The alarm went off on her phone. It was set to go off on workdays, to remind her that lunch break was over in five minutes. Like Pavlov’s dog, she got up instantly.
‘What?’ Cory asked.
‘I need to get my charger out of my car. Battery’s almost dead.’
‘I just got you the phone for Christmas. The battery should last all day.’
‘Thanks again for that,’ she said. ‘But the police aren’t in the business of charging up suspects’ phones.’
‘Can’t have my daughter without an adult to contact,’ he said easily. ‘You have her call me after school, OK? I can’t keep her all weekend, but she can spend the night tonight.’
‘Have fun with that conversation. You should be more appreciative that she actually wants to spend your two weekends a month with you.’ She hung up, wounded by his total lack of concern over what she’d been through. But they were divorced. That was the point. He didn’t have to care anymore, but every time he made it completely clear he didn’t, it still hurt.
She raced to the parking garage and grabbed her emergency charger from the glove compartment. She made it back to the coffee bar just in time to clock in.
Fannah left work at two. She came out of the back room, flipping her keys around just before that. ‘I apologize for the staff shortage today but you’ll have to close at three.’
‘We get a rush right about then. Do you really want me to stop everything and do the closing before that? We’ll anger some of our best customers.’
Fannah sighed loudly. ‘You want the overtime?’
‘Sure. Lawyers don’t come cheap, if I need one.’
‘Mmm. Very good. Make sure you sign out by six-fifteen. You must finish the close by then.’
Mandy nodded. ‘You got it.’ She mentally pumped a fist into the air. Three hours of overtime at the end of a full week meant time and a half!
She contemplated their staffing shortage as she filled orders for the next forty-five minutes. Fannah had a hard time hiring good people with the wages she had to offer. Seattle had lots of openings in entry-level jobs right now.
Should she try to find a new position? Mandy laughed at herself while she made a sixteen-ounce white chocolate mocha with caramel sauce for a hospital chaplain. Most companies wouldn’t be very tolerant of an employee who received visits from the police.
She set up cups for her usual orders this time of day, then took a second to text Vellum about Cory’s plan. He would drop her off at home in the morning, which was fine from Mandy’s perspective. They had plenty to do on Mandy’s Plan and now she could afford to pay Vellum for the hours thanks to her overtime check.
She’d just finished with her two nurse regulars when Jeanie Christie trotted in from the ER. Not in the clique of nurses who were addicted to caffeine, Mandy only saw her a couple of times a week when she used a café table for her lunch break. She’d order a drink on those days and eat a salad she brought from home. Mandy admired the willpower demonstrated by her healthy lunch.
She made a quick note on her notepad app to play with the idea of a salad-themed journal month. How cute would that be?
‘Hi, Jeanie,’ she greeted. ‘How fun to see you at a different time of day!’
Jeanie fumbled for her employee card. Her hand trembled as she extended it from her lanyard.
Why was she getting more coffee when she was so overloaded, visibly shaking already? ‘Everything OK, hun? Just your usual short coffee?’
‘Double shift,’ Jeanie said.
‘Ah,’ Mandy said. ‘I’m on OT, too. What can I get you?’
‘Double Americano.’
Mandy blinked. Now this was a day for surprises. Once she had someone pegged as a regular, they rarely switched it up. ‘You got it.’
‘Are there sugar packets somewhere?’
‘Behind you, next to the napkins.’
Jeanie swiped her card and Mandy hurried to make her order before a trio of techs she saw coming reached the counter. She handed the cup to the nurse and she sped off again, double-time.
Mandy considered the usual horrifying reason for overtime in the Emergency Department. Flu season. Had the ER been hit with a new batch of cases, cutting breaks short? Every year there were weeks where flu victims were all over the main floor of the hospital. Thank goodness the employee bathroom was nowhere near the germs on the ER end of the floor.
Mandy’s feet were dragging by the time six came around. The insanity of the week had crept up on her and her phone had been dinging with messages because people expected her to be off work by now.
Scott popped out of his maintenance den just as she started washing up. ‘Where’s Kit?’
‘She didn’t work today. I think we might need to hire a fourth person for weekdays, though I love the overtime.’
‘Aren’t you busy with your calligraphy or whatever?’
‘I can always fill my time.’ She smiled at him, remembering he’d complimented her on the inspirational quote T-shirt she’d designed and worn over the summer, hoping it was a subtle way to promote her business. The quote was from Oscar Wilde: ‘Be Yourself. Everyone else is already taken.’
‘You’re pretty good,’ he said, taking out his employee card. ‘I’ll take a coffee with room for the road, but Kit always adds vanilla soy milk for me.’
‘Sure thing. Does she charge you the extra fifty cents?’
‘Now, Mandy, you can’t ask me a question like that.’ He winked at her.
‘Hmmm,’ Mandy said. She guessed not.
‘Everything going as well as it can be with Ryan’s death?’
She charged his card for the order, minus the alternative milk. ‘The cleanup is done. Vellum comes home tomorrow, I think.’
‘And you have to get a new tenant? What a pain.’
She grabbed a cup and went to the refrigerator to pour his milk. ‘Yeah. Do you still have your rental house?’
‘You bet. If you need any advice, let me know. You haven’t tried to rent to a stranger yet.’
She grimaced instinctively, then turned back and handed him the cup so he could get his coffee. ‘I need to talk to Ryan’s sister and remove his possessions first. And then paint.’
‘How long did he live with you?’
‘A few months. He moved in to help me with expenses after Cory quit his job, but we don’t need to talk about that again.’
‘Cheer up, Mandy,’ Scott said, walking over to the coffee urns. ‘I bet you can get more hours here.’
Already, someone else was walking toward her to make an order and she had to clock out in fifteen minutes no matter what. Scott might be right about that overtime.
Mandy recognized her neighbor and friendly rival, Reese O’Leary-Sett, approaching. A nurse in a podiatry practice in the attached office building, she lived across the street from Mandy.
‘I hear you’re the bad news girl,’ Reese said. She had her wealthy Bengali father’s large dark eyes and her Irish mother’s stunning bone structure. Mostly, Mandy envied Reese for her loose, dark curls, which never seemed to have the frizz of her own hair.
Reese, however, loudly envied Mandy for her social media career success, completely ironic given their relative positions here at the hospital.
‘What can I get you?’ Mandy asked. ‘Less than five minutes until I close.’
Scott held up his cup toward Mandy in a salute as he walked out of the coffee bar area and toward the escalator that opened onto the skybridge to the parking garage.
‘I never see you at this time of night,’ Re
ese said.
‘Overtime.’
Reese made a pout with her glossy lips. ‘I’m glad your boss is helping you out.’
Mandy suspected Reese had injected fillers to augment her cheeks and lips. She had started her online presence as a makeup re-creator, using her face as a canvas for iconic movie looks, but had moved into journaling when that didn’t take off.
In fact, they’d enjoyed their first journal class together, a workshop at North Seattle College, back last January, when Mandy was still a stay-at-home mom. Mandy had posted her first monthly ‘Plan With Me’ video the previous March, a couple of weeks after Cory had moved out. Reese’s rival ‘Plan With Me’ video showed up in April.
‘Would you like tea, Reese?’ Whenever Mandy had been at Reese’s house, she’d been offered tea.
‘I have my own.’ Reese lifted a logo-free metal cup. ‘But I would like one of those ginger thins for the road.’
‘Ginger thin coming up.’ After Mandy took Reese’s payment, she bagged up the cookie and handed it to her.
Reese put out her hand but didn’t clasp the bag. ‘I want to help you, Mandy, really I do.’
‘You haven’t even offered condolences yet,’ Mandy said. ‘Unlike half of the local population.’
‘Oh.’ The nurse smiled. ‘I am so sorry you pushed your deadbeat cousin down your stairs.’
‘Reese!’ Mandy exclaimed. ‘You don’t really think that, do you?’
‘I know you loved him.’ Reese snapped her fingers around the white waxed pastry bag. ‘But I wouldn’t mind if you had. I’d be happy to buy your little sticker business so you can afford a lawyer.’
‘My business?’ The phrase burst out of Mandy’s mouth, instead of more sensible words of self-defense. ‘You can’t buy a lifestyle business.’
‘I can take over the social media accounts and your online shop, receive payments for the old stuff moving forward, and merge our presences together,’ Reese said.
Mandy thought of a bad word, unworthy of someone who believed women had to support each other. Reese had obviously been thinking about this. ‘Really,’ she drawled.
‘You make, what, about two hundred a month per video at your level? Then there’s the shop. I don’t know how much volume you do.’ Reese warmed to her theme. ‘I have a guy who can value the online presence, and there are formulas for the retail shop. I can even buy your cutting machines and such, though I probably have better ones than you do.’
Journaled to Death Page 6
