Without thinking, I blurted, “Oh, no. You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Are you kidding?” She was dumbfounded and rightly so. “Do you honestly think I’d do that to you?”
“I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.”
“Yes, it was, but you’re up way early, so I’ll give you a pass. Hold on.” She took another swallow. “I told her I had no idea who’d made the petition.”
“Yesterday you said you thought she might be a little crazy.”
“How do I put this?” Samantha paused. “I understand that she was stressed out with her daughter being in labor and all, and it had to be very upsetting to see the petition, but I think most people would’ve chosen not to call attention to themselves considering what he was convicted for. But I definitely think there’s a screw loose. There was a look in her eyes that was really off. She gave me the willies.”
“Are you working today?” I asked, hoping it was her day off.
“Unfortunately, yes. I hope no one on staff told her I was the one who brought in the petition.”
“What will you do if she confronts you?”
“Well, it’s pointless to lie if she already knows, so I guess I would tell her that most people feel her son hasn’t paid his debt, and that’s why I brought the petition in. With any luck, it won’t come to that. Hold on.” She put me on hold for a few seconds. “Spencer’s on the other line. He’s in Albuquerque. Talk to you later, okay?”
I dumped my coffee in the sink, no longer able to stomach it, and showered and dressed in my daily ensemble, topped off with my favorite pink floral scarf.
It was 6:20. I curled up in the chair by the French doors and thought about Mrs. Hobart. Had I put my best friend in danger? A shiver ran down my spine and I chided myself about watching too many of those “women in peril” movies on the Lifetime channel. Mrs. Hobart had to realize the community was not going to welcome her son back with open arms. My thoughts started to drift, so I pulled a throw over me and snuggled into the cushions and closed my eyes for a quick power nap.
Daisy nudged me awake, begging for brunch since breakfast time was long past. It was almost 11:00 so I fed my girls and rummaged in the fridge for something to satisfy my rumbling tummy, but nothing was inspiring me. I decided to go by the hospital and see if Samantha could take a break for an early lunch with me in the cafeteria. Yes, I know. Hospital food? Really?
Truth be told, my curiosity was getting the better of me. I wanted to know what was going on with Christy and her mother. I thought I might quit worrying once I saw them—from afar. I couldn’t think of any good reason for Penny Hobart to know who I was.
The maternity ward is on the second floor. I went to the nurse’s station and asked the nurse staffing the desk to tell Samantha I was there and then sat in the waiting area. I thumbed through a Parents magazine and felt my heart tugging at the smiling babies looking adoringly at their mommas.
I want one of those. I chewed a nail that was threatening to grow, dreaming of my own perfect someday-baby. My musings slid to Chad and Heather’s impending triplets, and an intense spike of jealousy slammed me in the gut. It should have been me—but with only one baby, not triplets—no way could I handle that. And certainly not with Chad-the-cad. I tossed the magazine on the table just as Samantha buzzed through the locked door.
“I saw that,” she said, standing with hands on hips. “Your time will come, and you are so lucky you didn’t have any babies with Chad. The marriage wouldn’t have lasted, and you would’ve been tethered to that loser for years to come. Birthdays, holidays, weddings. Look at Spencer and me. Chelsea’s mother couldn’t care less what her daughter is doing, but even though Spencer has full custody, there she is, constantly stirring up trouble and confusing Chelsea. It just drives me up the wall.” She stopped abruptly and sat down next to me. “Claudia is such a bitch.”
An elderly woman sitting in a corner chair knitting something pink cleared her throat and cocked a reproachful eyebrow at us.
Sam saw her disapproval and apologized, then turned back to me. “She called and told me she’s breaking her promise to take Chelsea to Disneyland when school lets out, and I get to be the one to tell her. So not fair.”
I stood up and slung my purse over my shoulder. “Maybe we can move this to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Sounds like you could use something sweet.”
“I could use some cake. Preferably chocolate.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she stood up to join me. “What’s going on with your nose?”
I touched the bandage covering it. “It’s actually a funny story and I’ll share it with you over cake.”
We walked down the hallway to the elevator. The doors opened and we stepped aside to allow the passengers to exit.
“You!” screamed a gray frazzle-haired woman in the elevator, pointing at Samantha. “You bitch! You lied to me. You’re the one who brought that vile petition into this hospital. How dare you?”
“Oh God,” muttered Sam. “It’s Penny Hobart. Guess she hasn’t calmed down.”
The other passengers quickly distanced themselves from the angry woman, although a few stopped to record the scene on their smartphones from down the hall.
Mrs. Hobart rushed at Samantha swinging a humongous, red patent-leather purse. Sam ducked and deflected the blow with her forearm.
I yanked the heavy purse away from the wacko and flung it across the floor shouting, “I did it. Not her.”
Hobart turned to me. “Who the hell are you?”
That was where I lost all reason as I dredged up my righteous, stupid indignation and declared, “Katy McKenna. Someone who wants to make sure your son pays his debt in full. Someone who knew Lindsay Moore—a sweet kid who died because of your son. Someone who doesn’t think fifteen years in prison can even begin to right that wrong. Some—”
Her eyes bulged, her lips curled back revealing ugly brown, smoker’s teeth, and she lunged at me shrieking, “Shut up! Shut up!”
She shut me up by grabbing the pink silk scarf looped around my neck and yanking it into a lethal hangman’s noose. I tried to dig my fingers under the cloth, but she had a death-grip on it and jerked harder. At that point, everything was in blurry slow motion, but in my surreal fog I heard Sam screaming for help, while Hobart kept shrieking, “Shut up! Shut up!”
Sam punched Mrs. Hobart in the chin just as a burly security guard ran up and grabbed Hobart from behind. The tenacious crazy woman still gripped my scarf, jerking me toward her like a dog on a choke chain. White sparkles twinkled around me as I sank to my knees. Sam finally pried the scarf from Hobart’s locked fingers and I crumpled to the floor, sucking in delicious oxygen as she removed the killer scarf from my neck.
I peeped up from my sprawled position on the cold terrazzo floor, afraid to make eye contact with the lunatic lady. I was relieved to see the security guard had her restrained. Samantha was right. Penny Hobart was nuts.
Sam helped me sit up, and with the assistance of another nurse, they got me on my feet and to a bench on the wall.
“Mom?” A beautiful, ivory-skinned, raven-haired woman wearing a blue satin robe approached the group. “What’s going on?”
“Christy! She’s the one who brought the petition here,” Mrs. Hobart hissed, glaring at me. “It’s all her fault.”
Samantha was sitting next to me checking my pulse, but she corrected Hobart. “No. I’m the one who brought it here, not her.”
“But she said she did it,” said Hobart, jutting her scraped, swelling chin at me.
“I...” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat and squeaked, “I made the petition.”
“And I brought it here because I agree with her,” said Samantha. “Fifteen years is not enough punishment for killing Lindsay. Not by a long shot.”
Christy was a little wobbly and sat on the bench next to me.
Hobart screamed at her daughter, “Get away from that bitch-liar.”
I tried to speak to Christy, but
my voice was raspy. “I’m sorry for all this. I read the news article about your brother’s parole and remembered Lindsay and—”
“I can barely understand you.” She put her hand over mine. “But I know what you’re trying to say and it’s okay. I get it. But my mother never will.”
“Do you want to press charges?” the security guard asked me.
Hell, yes! “No,” I croaked. How could I do that to Christy? “I don’t think she really meant to hurt me.”
“Like hell I didn’t!” Hobart snarled as the guard released her. “You and your lies are the reason my son’s in prison!”
“Mother!” shouted Christy. “The reason Phil’s in prison is because of the crimes he committed.” She dropped her voice. “Please, Mother. Just let it be.”
Mrs. Hobart stepped closer. I involuntarily cowered behind her daughter and pulled my cardigan up over my nearly-garroted throat. Sam stood, shielding me with her body as the guard moved towards Hobart, ready to grab her if she went berserk again.
She leaned into her daughter’s face. “You have never understood what my poor baby went through. You and your father. Both the same. Have you ever, ever given one thought to what it has been like for your brother? Ever?”
Christy didn’t flinch under her mother’s icy glare. “Dad’s dead. Remember? He died from the stress of the trial.” She narrowed her eyes and returned the glare. “Have you ever thought about what it was like for me? Your daughter? Ever?”
Hobart straightened up and adjusted her sweater. “You were fine.”
Christy laughed as she teared up. “That must be why I tried to kill myself when I was sixteen. Because I was so fine.”
Samantha whispered to the security guard, “She needs to leave now, but before you escort her out of the building...” She turned to me. “Are you certain you don’t want to press charges? She assaulted you.” Sam bent and whispered in my ear, “Katy, she’s certifiable.”
“How long can they hold her?”
“Seventy-two hours, I think.”
“Then she’ll really be pissed off,” I said. “Take a look at your arm. She assaulted you, too.”
There was a nasty red welt on the underside of her forearm caused by the gold buckle on Mrs. Hobart’s tacky purse. Samantha twisted her arm around and inspected it, and then flexed the sore, grazed knuckles that had connected with Hobart’s chin. “Against my better judgment, I’ll let this go.” She moved close to Hobart, locking eyes with her. “You need to understand how lucky you are that we’re letting you go. But understand this—you are barred from this hospital. If I see you in here again, I will have you arrested.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I’ll sue you for hitting me. And the hospital, too.” Hobart swiveled her deranged eyes over to me. “And you most of all. This is all your fault.”
Sam pointed down the hall. “You leave now, or I’m calling the cops.”
The guard took Mrs. Hobart’s arm and she tried to jerk away. “Let go of me.”
“Please, Mother,” said Christy. “You’ve done enough damage, please just go.”
“All right, Christy, I’m going. But don’t think for one minute you can keep me away from my grandson. I have grandparental rights, you know. You’ll probably be a lousy mother and I’ll sue you for custody of Baby Phil.”
Sam followed the guard and Mrs. Hobart down the hall. I watched until they were out of sight, then croaked to Christy, “I don’t know what to say. If I’d known this could happen, I never would have done the petition.”
“Your poor throat.” She swiped at the tears dribbling down her cheeks. “As far as my mother goes, there’s nothing left to say. Phil was the light of her life, and his imprisonment broke her. The trial, losing all her friends,” she shook her head, “My father had a heart attack during the trial and died. And then I tried to kill myself with aspirin—so stupid...” Her voice faltered, and she paused to collect herself. “Phil tried to make her understand that he deserved to go to prison. That he wanted to go to prison, but in her mind, it was everyone else’s fault. Not his.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “This is supposed to be a happy day.” A shy smile lit her face and she whispered, “I have a baby boy.”
“Oh. This is a happy day,” I said, suddenly hit with a rush of pure delight for a woman I’d just met but already felt close to, in spite of the odd circumstance. “What’s his name?” I knew it couldn’t be Baby Phil.
“Neo,” she said, beaming. “Neo Adam Sutherland. It means ‘gift’ or ‘the one.’”
Her eyes shifted to the hall and her smile widened. I looked to the source of her smile and saw a cute, nerdy guy wearing horn rims and a goofy grin approaching, lugging an enormous teddy bear. Samantha followed behind him with a wheelchair.
“Hey, little mama.” He kissed her cheek, and then backed away and scrutinized her face. “You been crying?”
“I’m fine now. Devin, this is Katy and...” She looked at Samantha who was pushing down the footrests on the wheel chair. “You remember Samantha from last night?”
“Hi, Samantha. Didn’t see you behind me. Have you met Neo yet?”
“Not formally. Why don’t we wheel Christy back to the room and you can introduce us.”
Christy climbed into the chair and said to me, “If you’re feeling okay, I’d love it if you came, too.”
Devin looked perplexed. “Why do I feel like I missed out on something here?”
Christy said, “Mother.”
Devin frowned and nodded. The love in his eyes for Christy touched me, and in that moment, I knew what I would be looking for in a man. Someday, when I finally see that love shining in a man’s eyes for me, I’ll be done looking.
After my near-death experience at the hands of crazy Penny Hobart, I was too rattled to get behind the wheel, so Samantha took a break and drove me home.
She settled me on the couch and while Daisy bestowed soothing kisses on my face, Sam fetched me a whopping glass of cabernet. I attempted a sip and sloshed half the glass down my shirt. “Guess I’m a little shaky.”
Sam dashed to the kitchen for a towel as I tried to set the glass on the coffee table and wound up chipping the base. It was a super expensive Waterford crystal wedding gift, so no biggie. My post-war, I mean, post-marriage Pier One glasses are more my style.
As she blotted my shirt, I thought about investing in a set of sippy cups for special occasions like this.
“I really hate to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” I spoke through chattering teeth. “It’s freezing in here.”
“You’re a little shocky. Let me help you change.” She hustled me into my bedroom and I didn’t argue. Would have been a waste of energy, anyway. She got me into sweats and warm, woolly socks. I was still icy cold. “You’ll warm up when the shock wears off.” She plunked a beanie on my head.
“I’ll throw the shirt in the wash before the wine sets, while you rest on the couch with Daisy and Tabitha.”
I heard the washing machine filling and Sam called, “I might as well do a full load.”
The lid thudded and a few minutes later she handed me a plastic cup—filled halfway with chardonnay. “We never had lunch, so I’ll get you a snack before I leave.”
Daisy’s ears perked to attention at the magic word “snack” and Sam assured her there’d be something tasty for her, too.
I leaned into the cushions and sipped my wine, though swallowing was painful. That was okay. The pain meant I was alive.
“This’ll go down easy.” Sam set a bowl of yogurt and sliced bananas on the table, and gave Daisy a dog cookie. “You don’t have any ice cream, so you’ll have to make do. Do you want soup?”
“No, I’m fine. You need to get back to work.”
She covered the kids and me with the comforter from my bed and handed me the TV remote. “Knowing you, you have an old movie recorded.”
“Sam. I’ll be okay. Go back to work.”
Her big blue eyes
reddened and brimmed with tears. “It’s starting to hit me, how close I came to losing my best friend. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
I choked up (bad choice of words) and shared a good, grateful cry with my dear best friend.
I always keep a few favorites recorded on the DVR for rainy days, and though it was a sunny, cloudless day, I sure felt dismal. I had a choice between Rebecca—an old Alfred Hitchcock movie, Bridget Jones’s Diary, and Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn.
Rebecca won. It is a gloomy, romantic mystery set on the rocky coast of England. I have watched it countless times and can practically recite the dialog line for line.
“Tabitha, you’re in for a treat, huh, Daisy?”
Daisy gave me a patient look and settled her chin on her paws with a long sigh, while Tabitha burrowed her noggin into my thigh and purred. I pressed play and settled back to relax.
During the opening credits, the doorbell rang and Daisy went ballistic, leaping off the couch and tearing to the door like Santa Claus was on the porch. Tabitha followed at a more dignified “who cares” pace.
I hit pause, grumbling about being interrupted, and then had an unnerving thought. What if it’s Penny Hobart and she’s come to finish me off?
I stood at the door wishing I had a peephole and too afraid to look out the shuttered side window when Mom shouted, “Hey, honey. It’s Mom and Grandma.”
Relief washed through me as I opened the door and burst into tears. “Mommy. Gramma.”
“Samantha called us.” Mom set a grocery bag on the entry table before group-hugging me with Ruby. Daisy and Tabitha did their best to scrunch in between our legs for the love-fest.
Mom pulled back and inspected my wounded neck. There wasn’t much to see since Samantha had bandaged it, but a rainbow of bruises was blooming on the exposed skin. “My poor baby.”
“That bitch could have killed you,” said Ruby. “Did you report this to the police?”
“No,” I sniffled. Should I have?
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 21
