by Jeff Shelby
My mind was full of all things Bryce.
What had he meant by his last remark? Why would he choose to stay in Niceville when a much more desirable job was waiting for him in Jacksonville? And why had he looked at me so…so suggestively when he’d said those words?
I thought about his comments about happy hour, his questions regarding whether or not I was going out on a date tonight.
Did those things mean he was interested in me?
Billie Applegate’s words wormed their way back into my mind. I swallowed and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as I backtracked to Anne’s house.
If it did mean that he was interested, how did I feel about it?
I didn’t know, but my thoughts instantly went to Aidan.
If I were being honest with myself, he was the guy I was interested in, the person I wanted to get to know better. Fate and schedules just hadn’t really worked out to make that happen. And it wasn’t as if Aidan was in hot pursuit of me. He was taking his time, which I didn’t mind.
But now…
What if Bryce was suggesting what I thought he was?
How did I feel about that?
He was definitely handsome. And we had our jobs in common, which might be an added benefit. Aidan was working at Oasis Ridge while he finished school. Once he was armed with that plant biology degree, there was no telling where he might end up. Bryce, on the other hand, had literally just vocalized wanting to stay at Oasis Ridge.
And, by default, with me.
A shiver ran down my spine.
I shook my head.
I was probably reading way more into what had happened than what was actually there.
Bryce was a nice guy. Friendly. He liked everyone.
Sure, he was a little flirtatious with me, but maybe he treated everyone that way. I made a mental note to pay attention when I returned to work on Monday.
I finally pulled up to Anne’s house, a cute, single-story stucco surrounded by hibiscus plants and miniature palms. What little lawn she had was bright green, without a single dandelion or patch of crabgrass marring the perfect carpet of grass. This in no way surprised me.
I made my way up the sidewalk and pressed the doorbell. A shrill ring sounded from inside, followed by the sound of footsteps padding down the hall.
Anne flung the door open. “Sunny.” Relief filled her voice, surprising me. I’d expected her to sound like her snippy, usual self.
She showed me into the living room, an open space filled with rattan furniture that sported white cushions and bright orange and red throw pillows. Paintings of sunsets and colorful tropical birds dotted the walls. It looked more like a hotel room than a space where someone actually lived. There wasn’t a single personal touch visible in the room: no knickknacks, no photos, no dog-eared paperbacks tossed on the coffee table or end tables. To me, it appeared lifeless.
It felt fitting, considering who lived there.
Anne motioned to the couch. “Have a seat.”
I sat down slowly, terrified I’d manage to sully the pristine cushions.
Anne sat in a lounge chair across from me. She looked marginally better than she had when I visited her in the hospital. It looked as though she’d showered and put on make-up, but her eyes were tired, her mouth pinched tight.
I had to admit, her appearance caught me a little off guard.
We sat there in silence for a few minutes, to the point where it grew awkward. I stole a glance at Anne. She was staring down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Was she expecting me to start the conversation even though she’d been the one to demand I come to her house?
Apparently, she was.
I cleared my throat. “So, you said on the phone that you wanted my help…”
She looked up. “Yes.”
I waited.
She said nothing.
I bit back a sigh. She clearly wasn’t going to make this easy by volunteering information. Part of me felt like standing up and walking right out the door, inventing an excuse so I could just head home and wash my hands of whatever mess she wanted to involve me in, but I knew I wouldn’t.
I didn’t want to admit it but I was intrigued by what she’d said over the phone.
I wanted details.
I decided to cut to the chase. “Why do you think someone drugged you?”
“I don’t think. I know,” she said pointedly.
“How?”
Her brow furrowed. “Because the hospital ran some tests.”
She was talking. So I was going to keep asking questions.
“And they found drugs in your system?”
“Sleeping pills,” she said. “They wanted to know the last time I’d taken one.”
“And when did you? Last take one, I mean?”
“I didn’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never taken an entire sleeping pill in my life.”
It was my turn to frown.
“I told them I hadn’t taken any,” she said. “But the doctor said the quick tox scan they ran picked up trace amounts in my system.”
I had to admit, that was weird. But maybe there was another explanation than jumping to the conclusion that someone had drugged her.
“Any chance they didn’t give you the right test results?”
“I suppose there’s always a chance,” Anne said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“What do you think happened?” I asked quietly.
Her eyes rolled behind her glasses, a dark maroon pair today. “I told you. Someone drugged me!”
It still seemed like a pretty big leap to me, but I didn’t argue. “How, though? And when?”
She slumped back against the cushions. “I don’t know. Maybe whoever drugged me did it the same way they got to Arthur.”
“By putting it in your food?”
“Or my coffee,” she said. “I drink a lot of coffee. It would be easy to do.”
I didn’t think it would be easy. Doable, perhaps, but not necessarily easy. “So you think someone at Oasis Ridge put sleeping pills in your food or your coffee?”
“It’s the only place it could have happened,” she said. “It’s the only time I’m around other people. I live alone.”
“And you don’t go out?” I asked. “Like with friends? See family?”
Her answer was an abrupt, “No.”
This did not surprise me.
“Okay,” I said, drumming my fingers on the couch cushion. “If you really think someone did this on purpose, you should probably go to the police.”
Her eyebrows lifted sky-high. “The police? Absolutely not!”
“Anne, you think someone tried to hurt you,” I said. “This needs to be reported.”
“How can you be so obtuse? How have you not learned anything?”
I stared at her. “What?”
She practically exploded. “The publicity! Do you know how bad this will look if I file a police report about someone drugging me at Oasis Ridge?” She sucked in a breath. “We’ve already gotten enough bad publicity over Arthur’s death, and with June’s situation…well, I don’t know what would have happened if that would’ve gotten out to local media. So, no, this cannot go public.”
“You believe that someone poisoned you,” I said bluntly. It felt like the only rebuttal needed to make her reconsider. “That would be a crime if that's what happened.”
She nodded. “I’m well aware of that, Sunny.” She glared at me. “But here’s another thing to think about: if I go public with this, the person who did it will know I’m on to them. I don’t want them getting tipped off.”
I had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that her logic made some sense. But I knew that wasn’t what she was most concerned about.
“You can poke around, can’t you?” Anne asked. “See if you can find out anything?”
I shifted uneasily. It felt as though she was putting far too much confidence in my amateur sleuthing abilities, a confidence I absolutely did not share.
�
��I don’t know…” I said.
“You’ve already solved two cases,” Anne pointed out. “Can’t you at least try?”
I knew I could try; I just wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I felt bad that someone had allegedly slipped Anne a sleeping pill, but I didn’t feel this overwhelming urge to help her. Actually, I felt no urge at all.
Because I didn’t like Anne.
She was a horrible boss, and I wasn’t even sure she was a nice person. That didn’t mean I wanted to see any harm come to her—despite my earlier thoughts about her being in a car accident—but it also didn’t mean I would jump at the chance to help figure out who was responsible for drugging her. If someone was responsible.
I swallowed. That probably made me a horrible person.
I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. “Can I use your bathroom for a moment?”
Annoyance flashed across her face. “Down the hall, on your right.”
I stood quickly and followed her directions down the milk carton-white hallway and found the small bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
I leaned against the sink and took a deep breath. I needed to get ahold of myself. Anne had a way of just steamrolling right over me and I felt like I was in her path again, about to get flattened. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and how I wanted to handle Anne.
I looked in the mirror. “You can handle her.”
But not with a piece of lettuce stuck in my teeth.
I leaned closer to the mirror. A small remnant from my lunchtime salad was lodged between my two front teeth.
I shook my head. “Smooth, Sunny.”
I tried to use my fingernail to dig it out, but failed. I didn't have any toothpicks in my car. I hesitated, then opened the medicine cabinet beside the mirror, in hopes of finding some dental floss.
I didn't find floss, but I did find something else.
Everything was arranged perfectly. Ibuprofen, eye drops, over the counter allergy meds. All of the containers turned outward so you could see all of the labels.
And right smack in the middle of all the over the counter stuff was a prescription bottle.
For sleeping pills.
My stomach tightened and I leaned closer.
It had been prescribed sixty days earlier, so it was current. Looking through the opaque orange bottle, it looked to be about half full.
Anne had lied about the sleeping pills.
But why?
She cleared her throat loudly out in the living room and I shut the medicine cabinet. I flushed the toilet and then turned on the faucet, pretending to wash my hands.
Maybe she'd just forgotten because of the concussion. I wasn't sure. But she said she'd never taken an entire pill.
Entire pill.
I opened the cabinet again, grabbed the bottle, and unscrewed the top.
Sure enough, all of the pills were cut in half.
Technically, she'd been telling the truth.
I screwed the top back on, set the bottle back in the cabinet, and closed the door. I took another deep breath and walked back out to the living room.
“You know, there’s something in this for you if you do it,” she said, a small smile spreading across her face before I could even sit down.
I arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She folded her arms. “I’ll approve your December calendar. As is. No changes.”
I actually smiled. “Bryce has already done that. He said as the acting director, he felt that responsibility fell to him.”
Her eyes darkened and she scowled. But soon enough, she rearranged her features into a grim smile. “How about a promotion?”
I eyed her warily. There were no promotions available to me at Oasis Ridge; she and I both knew that.
She unfolded her arms and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her dark slacks. “The new facility in Jacksonville is still looking for an Activities Director. I could put in a good word for you…”
I straightened.
The new facility? The one that was bound to have an enormous budget, the one that would serve as the flagship property for our company?
She smiled. “I see that idea appeals to you.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sure you realize how much sway I have with corporate. After all, they sent Bryce to train with me, didn’t they?”
I gave a faint nod.
“So here’s what I can do.” She leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine. “You find out just what happened to me and I will make it worth your while. I’ll make sure your name is the only one corporate considers for the Jacksonville job.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was pretty sure she was offering me my dream job. A chance to leave Oasis Ridge and the stifling environment she’d created and to strike out fresh.
Anne smiled. “Do we have a deal?”
I still couldn’t speak.
But I could nod.
Which is exactly what I did.
TEN
Bryce was in Anne’s office when I got to work Monday morning.
I didn’t bother trying to hide my surprise.
“What are you doing in here?” I blurted out.
He grinned at me. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
He’d gotten a haircut. A trim, actually, since it was still a little on the long side. He brushed his bangs off his forehead. “How was your weekend?”
“Fine,” I said. “Yours?”
He picked up a folder and opened it. “Busy. I actually came in to work both days.”
“You did?” I asked. “Is that when you decided to move into Anne’s office?”
I wasn’t going to lie; it struck me as a little odd that he’d parked himself behind her desk.
“Oh, I’m not in here permanently,” he said. “But it just didn’t make sense to work out of my office when all the files I need are in here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Figured it would be best if I just set up camp in here while Anne is away. I won't mess things up for her.”
It was a perfectly logical answer.
But I still didn’t like it.
Mostly because having Bryce in the office was thwarting my plans.
I’d spent a good part of my weekend thinking over my conversation with Anne and what I knew about what had happened to her. Of course, a better portion of my weekend had been spent researching the Jacksonville area, especially considering Anne was willing to recommend me for the job there. But I knew she’d want results, and the only way I was going to get them was to at least try to figure out if someone had indeed drugged her.
I’d immediately remembered the pillbox on Anne’s desk. She was using it for vitamins, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t have slipped a sleeping pill in with them. It probably would have been far easier to do that than to spike her coffee or her food. And with the amount of vitamins and supplements she swallowed each day, she might not have noticed an extra pill. It was even conceivable that she'd inadvertently included one of her own pills. I’d seen how she just shoveled them into her mouth. It was a definite possibility.
“I’m actually here to grab that,” I said, pointing to the plastic box on the edge of Anne’s desk.
Bryce glanced at it, then held it up. “This?”
I nodded. “I told Anne I would bring it to her. It has all of her vitamins in it.”
He held it out to me and I took it. It wasn’t lost on me that he handed it over without reservation. Without any concern at all, really.
“How’s she doing, by the way?” he asked. “We’ve exchanged a couple of emails but mostly about work issues. She didn’t seem to want to talk too much about how she was feeling and I didn't want to pry.”
“I think she’s feeling a little better. I’m not sure.” I knew I was being evasive, but I didn’t know how much I could trust Bryce. If Anne thought someone had drugged her, didn’t that mean everyone was a potential suspect?
“Well, that’s good news.” His smile was still on his face, but I saw it waver just a l
ittle. “Any idea when she might be heading back to work?”
“I don’t really know.” I shrugged. “Maybe soon, maybe not. She didn’t say anything about that. I assume the doctors will let her know.”
He nodded. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
I tucked the pillbox under my arm and readjusted my purse. “I better get to work,” I said.
“Me, too.” He motioned toward the pile of folders on Anne’s desk. “Anne is one busy woman. I have my work cut out for me.”
I smiled. “Good luck with everything.”
“I won’t need luck,” he said. “I have you.”
“Me?” My voice squeaked.
He chuckled. “I have you to ask questions. To show me the ropes. You know, with Anne gone.”
I felt my face redden. Of course. What was I thinking?
But I knew exactly what I was thinking. As soon as he’d said it, I’d immediately flashbacked to his comments from Friday. About going out for happy hour. I’d spent so much time obsessing about what he’d meant by it that I’d lost my way to Anne’s house, despite my phone telling me exactly where to go.
Inwardly, I sighed. I wanted to shake my head to clear the thoughts rattling around inside. Bryce was just being friendly. Nothing more.
I excused myself and headed to my office. I needed to refocus, which meant taking the box to my desk poking around to see what was inside. I didn’t know if I’d be able to identify all the pills in the compartments, or even if there would be any pills in there that shouldn’t be, but at least it was a place to start.
Ethel was leaving her apartment as I approached my office.
“Oh, hello,” she said. She’d gotten her hair done over the weekend, and it was now dyed a soft white, almost lavender. Her curls lay in soft waves against her scalp, almost like a flapper’s. “How are you, dear?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Where are you headed this morning?”
She was dressed in tan slacks and a pale blue sweater, with a handbag clutched between her gnarled fingers. She’d doused herself with a generous amount of perfume, and the pearl earrings and necklace she wore were a step up from her usual accessories.
“I have a breakfast date,” she announced. “Well, more of a brunch date.”
