TIL DEATH

by Annette Dashofy

  “Have you looked at the report?”

  “Briefly.” She glanced around the room. “I’ve been busy.”

  Pete nodded. “Yes, you have.” He crossed to another box.

  “What I want to know is what isn’t in the report that has Frattini spooked?”

  Without answering, Pete stacked two boxes, hefted both, and carried them out to the others.

  Zoe blocked his path before he could make a third trip. “You’re avoiding my question.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He met her gaze with his stern icy blues. “Frattini’s right.”

  “About what?”

  “In this case, a lot.” Pete held up a finger. “Your boss nearly blew the case against Landis based only on his opinion.” He held up a second finger. “You should come to your own conclusions drawn from the evidence.” He held up a third. “I should keep my mouth shut and let you and Baronick look at this case with an unvarnished eye.” He closed his hand and let it drop to his side.

  “In other words, you aren’t gonna tell me.”

  “Not now.”

  “When?”

  “Later.”

  “You’re not being helpful.”

  Pete’s mouth slanted into that cockeyed grin that made her want to crawl into his arms and into his bed. “I’m helping you schlep boxes. Isn’t that enough?”

  She glowered at him in mock irritation. “I guess it’ll have to be.”

  “I’m going to move the Explorer around to the back door so we can start loading.”

  “Okay. The Edge is already out there, but you may want to turn it around and back it in toward the door.” Since the smaller Ford SUV was Pete’s personal vehicle, she knew he had a set of keys.

  “By the way, I talked to Melvin. Your truck’s ready.”

  “Good.” She’d grown to like the Edge but would never admit it to Pete.

  “Have you spoken to your brother about helping us move stuff this weekend?”

  “Not yet.” She didn’t want to overuse the too-busy excuse even though it was true.

  Pete headed for the door, keys in hand. He pointed at her. “Do it now.”

  Zoe looked around at the boxes of files and stacks of books. Alone in a funeral home. Five years ago, if anyone had said she’d voluntarily be spending time in a place like this, never mind alone, she’d have told them they were out of their friggin’ mind. Granted, it still freaked her out to an extent, but in the last couple of months, this basement office had grown on her, sales displays of urns notwithstanding.

  But the silence tonight felt colder than a grave. Franklin was gone. His ex was taking over his family business—at least Loretta claimed to be. Everything related to the coroner’s office had been stripped from the file cabinets, shelves, and closet.

  Wayne was right. She needed a new office. She simply preferred the move to happen on her terms instead of Loretta’s. And after having ample opportunity to scope out what was available.

  Zoe shook her head, clearing it of all the things she couldn’t control. She picked up her phone and scrolled to Scott’s number. Before she had a chance to hit the send button, Pete slammed through the back door and into the office, his face pale.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got a call from Golden Oaks. Pop fell.”

  Zoe’s brain chilled. Boxes, books, and offices forgotten, she strode to Pete. “I’ll drive.”

  Zoe had to jog to keep up with Pete’s long strides as they headed down Golden Oaks Assisted Living’s second-floor hallway. They found Harry sitting on his bed, cradling his arm protectively, a stern frown on his face, which thankfully was unmarred.

  Jenna, the aide, stood over him and looked up as Zoe trailed Pete into the room.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” Harry said defiantly. “I’m fine.”

  Ashen, Jenna faced them. “Miss Barbara’s the one who called for us on her pendant.” Jenna mimed a necklace, indicating the alert button all residents wore around their necks. “She said Harry’d fallen. We—me and the nurse—found him on the floor, stuck next to the wall.” Jenna shot a glance at the narrow space between the other side of Harry’s bed and the room’s only window. “Miss Barbara said he’d been looking out and got dizzy.”

  “I did not get dizzy.” Harry hugged his arm tighter. “My big feet got tangled up in the bedspread.”

  Pete pulled the room’s lone guest chair closer to his father. “Are you hurt, Pop?” he asked softly.

  “No.” Harry made a sheepish face. “Maybe my pride.”

  Zoe edged to one side, checking the quilt covering the twin-sized bed. It wasn’t rumpled, nor did it hang low enough to cause a hazard.

  “He won’t let me look at his arm,” Jenna said.

  “Did you call for an ambulance?” Pete asked.

  “I don’t need an ambulance. My arm is fine.”

  Jenna gave Harry an exasperated look. “If he’d hit his head, we’d have to send him to the hospital. State regulations. But he says he didn’t.”

  “He also claims his arm is fine, but from the way he’s holding it, I have my doubts,” Pete said.

  “Hey,” Harry protested. “I’m right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m some piece of furniture.”

  “Sorry, Pop.”

  Zoe moved to Pete’s side and placed a hand on his arm.

  He ignored her. “Where’s the nurse?” he asked the aide.

  “She got called to another emergency at the other end of the floor. It looks like one of those nights. She’ll be back in a few minutes.” Jenna didn’t tack on “I hope,” but her tone implied it. “As far as hitting his head is concerned, Miss Barbara was here when it happened and confirmed he didn’t.”

  Zoe squeezed until Pete looked at her. “Why don’t you two go talk to Barbara, and I’ll stay with Harry.” Pete always said Zoe had a way with his dad.

  He held her gaze, then nodded. “Good idea.”

  Zoe turned to Jenna and lowered her voice. “If you could bring me a few first aid supplies, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Once Pete and Jenna had left, Zoe took a seat next to Harry. She tipped her head toward the window behind them. “What were you looking at out there?”

  He lowered his face. “The stars. Isn’t much else worth looking at. Bunch of cars in a parking lot.”

  Zoe nudged him with her shoulder. “Not exactly a room with a view, huh?”

  “I wonder…if I called the front desk and complained, would they move me to another room in this hotel?”

  Harry only grasped his true living conditions during sporadic lucid moments. Most of the time he thought he was in a hotel or at a restaurant. “I can check,” Zoe said, knowing he’d forget he’d asked within minutes.

  “I’d sure appreciate it.”

  Feigning surprise, she brushed her fingers over his plaid flannel shirtsleeve. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  He looked down at his arm and appeared surprised. “It does hurt some.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “You a doctor?”

  Afraid the mention of her work as a paramedic might be met with the same resistance as he’d expressed earlier, she smiled. “No. But I know my way around a Band-Aid.”

  He thought about it, then relaxed his grip on the afflicted limb and extended his arm to her.

  Not broken. No obvious blood seeping through the fabric. “How about we take your shirt off.”

  “You getting fresh with me, Sunshine?” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his pale blue eyes. “I’ll have to tell on you to my son.”

  The fact Harry recognized her as Pete’s girlfriend made her laugh. “Behave yourself. All I really need is this one arm out of the sleeve. You can keep the rest of the s
hirt on to maintain decorum.”

  He allowed her to tug on the shirt’s cuff as he withdrew the arm with a pained grimace.

  His elbow already showed signs of discoloration and swelling while his forearm suffered a bad case of road rash. Or in this case, wall rash. Zoe suspected he’d fallen against the wall and slid down, catching the windowsill with his elbow on the way to the floor. She took his hand. “Squeeze,” she told him. He complied with a little too much enthusiasm. “Nothing wrong with your grip.”

  He grinned, pleased with himself. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “Nope. I’m tough.”

  “Wanna arm wrestle?”

  “Maybe later. Let me get some antibiotic ointment and a bandage so you don’t get blood on your sheets.”

  “No hospital?”

  She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No hospital.”

  “I knew I liked you.”

  Zoe rose and crossed to the door in search of the bandaging materials she’d asked for. As she neared, hushed voices—one of them Pete’s—in the hallway stopped her.

  “Yes, I’m afraid you will have to testify,” he said. “But don’t worry about it. Just tell your story, the same as you did the first time.”

  Zoe crept closer and peeked out. Jenna hugged herself, shoulders hunched. “I thought that awful part of my life was behind me. I was never so embarrassed. And to have to talk about it in front of God and everyone…Now you’re saying I have to do it again?” Her sigh sounded tear-laden. “Surely there has to be a way to keep him behind bars without my help.”

  Pete put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m afraid there isn’t. After all this time, a few of the prosecution’s witnesses can’t be tracked down or have died. You may be the best shot we have.”

  Zoe ducked out of their view. Frattini wasn’t the only one keeping details about the case from her. Pete might not want to clue her in on Franklin’s findings, but she’d darned well get Jenna’s part of the story from him.

  Just not in front of Harry. She marched into the hall as if she’d overheard nothing. “Oh. There you are. Did you get the first aid stuff I asked for?”

  Flustered, Jenna brushed her bangs from her face. “I’ll get it now.” She took a step away and stopped, pivoting back. “Did Harry let you check his arm?”

  “A bump on his elbow and some scrapes. Nothing broken.”

  The aide exhaled. “Good.” She shot a glance at Pete before telling Zoe she’d be right back.

  As Jenna bustled away, Zoe looked at him. “Did you talk to Barbara?”

  “She confirmed Pop didn’t hit his head. He seemed unsteady and fell against the wall, slid down to the floor, and got wedged. Otherwise, the old coot would’ve picked himself up and probably never said a word.” Pete gazed at his father’s doorway. “Makes me wonder if he’s fallen before, and we never knew.”

  The thought had occurred to Zoe too. But Harry was all right—this time—so her immediate concern lay elsewhere. “Just like I never knew you were acquainted with Jenna from somewhere besides here.”

  Pete put off telling Zoe the story at Golden Oaks. The last thing he wanted was someone else to overhear.

  No. The last thing he’d wanted was Zoe to overhear and think he was keeping something from her.

  That ship had sailed.

  He beat her to the driver’s door of his Ford Edge, knowing she’d refuse to leave the parking lot until he spilled all he knew.

  From the passenger seat, she faced him. “Well?” Her breath raised a veil of fog between them.

  “We still have all those boxes to load.”

  He could see her clenched jaw in the glow of the dashboard lights.

  Across town and back in Franklin Marshall’s office, Zoe waited until he scooped up a stack of books before closing the door, standing against it, arms crossed. She didn’t say a word this time.

  She didn’t need to.

  Resigned, Pete set the books on the desk. He faced her and debated how much to say.

  “Jenna’s involved in the Landis case?” Zoe posed it as a question, but her tone said she already knew that much.

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Since the first time I investigated Elizabeth’s murder.”

  Eighteen

  Nine years earlier

  Jenna Haggerty phoned Pete, saying her landlord had given her his card, and agreed to allow Pete to come to her apartment to talk. A petite young woman, whose blonde ponytailed head barely came up to his chest, opened the door.

  “Chief Adams?” Her voice quivered with nerves.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She stepped aside, allowing him to enter a pristine kitchen. Dressed in sweats the color of the clear morning sky, she reminded him of the girl in that cartoon with the blue garden gnome things. She led him to a small table that had seen better days and offered him a seat and a cup of coffee. He accepted the seat but not the coffee.

  He opened his notebook and clicked his pen. “Do you know why I’m here?”

  She perched uneasily on the edge of the second chair, her hands clenching the table in front of her. “Dustin?”

  “That’s right.” When she didn’t say more, he said, “I understand you were friends.”

  A shy smile crossed her lips. “You’re being kind, Chief. We were a little more than ‘friends.’ We were…intimate.” The smile faded. “And no, I didn’t know he was married.”

  Pete eyed her. “You didn’t?”

  “No. I didn’t,” she said firmly. Then sighed. “Okay, so I didn’t want to know. Dustin was so charming and funny. And kind. He wasn’t like all the other jerks I’d been dating. He was…” She searched for the word. “He was a gentleman. And he treated me like a lady. No one had ever done that before. I never suspected he had a wife. I should’ve, but I didn’t.” Jenna’s eyes gleamed. “I’m not a homewrecker, Chief. At least, I never wanted to be.”

  Pete leaned back, intentionally striking a relaxed pose to set her at ease. “How did you meet?”

  “At the coffee shop in Brunswick. The one near the college. I was reading. Or trying to. A jock was hitting on me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Dustin came to my rescue. He can be an intimidating presence when he wants to be.”

  The girl didn’t appear aware of what she’d said, but Pete drew a mental picture of Dustin, tall and athletic, intimidating his wife.

  “Once he ran the guy off, Dustin made sure I was okay and then went back to his own table.”

  “He didn’t hit on you too?” Pete asked, using Jenna’s choice of words.

  “No. Not at first. But he was cute. I kept glancing over at him and caught him watching me. He smiled. I smiled. Flirting. You know? Then when I was packing up my stuff to leave, he came over and asked if I came there often.” She looked down at her hands, and Pete could tell she was back in that bittersweet moment. “It was such a corny opening line, we both laughed. But it worked. We met there for coffee the following day and went out to dinner the next.” She met Pete’s gaze. “I’m sure you can fill in what happened afterwards.”

  “How long did you date before you found out about his marriage?”

  She thought about it. “About six weeks, but it felt like we’d been together forever. I was totally in love with Dustin.” She lowered her eyes again. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “How did you find out he was married?”

  “He told me. He said his wife had found out about our affair. I was shocked. I mean, wife?” Jenna shook her head as if she still didn’t quite believe it. “He told me we had to stop seeing each other.”

  “How’d that make you feel?”

  “Feel?” she echoed. “Dirty. Used.”

  “You must’ve been upset he chose his wife over you.”

  “What?” Jenna�
�s gaze snapped up to meet his. “No. I was upset that he was married. But once I knew, I’d have broken it off if he hadn’t. I told you. I’m not a homewrecker.”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile, knowing his next question might bring a demand to have her attorney present. “Can you tell me where you were the night of May second?”

  Her eyes widened. “You think I killed Dustin’s wife?”

  He didn’t. Jenna was neither tall nor athletic and, even in a dark hoodie, her curvy figure would never allow her to be mistaken for a man. “I have to ask. It’s my job.”

  She stood, and Pete thought she was about to usher him to the door. Instead, she crossed to a desk, opened a drawer, and, after a moment of sifting through papers, removed several paperclipped sheets. Returning to the table, she placed them in front of him. “I was in Chicago for the last three weeks. I left shortly after Dustin and I ended it and didn’t get back until earlier today.” She tapped the papers with one rounded, unpolished fingernail. “These are my airline confirmations, my hotel bill, and my receipts. I’m sure there’s something in there placing me at a restaurant that day.”

  Pete thumbed through the pages, noting the hotel and frequented eateries.

  “I can give you names of the people I was with if you need them.”

  “Not right now.” He looked up at Jenna, who hadn’t reclaimed her seat. “What were you doing there?”

  She crossed her arms under her well-rounded chest, which was, at the moment, at Pete’s eye level. “An internship. I’m working on my master’s in social work.”

  He forced himself to keep his gaze on her face, wishing she’d sit the hell down. “Impressive. But isn’t three weeks rather short for an internship?”

  “I was supposed to be there for twelve, but my mother became ill. She’s in the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes registered an even higher level of worry. “What isn’t wrong? My mother’s been in poor health since before I was born. She’s getting older and her issues are getting worse.” Jenna brushed an arm over her face and returned to her chair. “I spoke with her doctor today and we hope she can come home in a few days. Once I get her squared away, I hope I can go back and finish what I started in Chicago.”