“Miss Richardson,” Anna Keane said warmly, but her gaze slid past Enid to Kate. Surprise and something else flashed through her eyes before she shook Enid’s hand and ushered them all in. “You said on the phone that you had a change of mind?” she asked, leading them to her office.
“Yes, we need to discuss some things,” Enid said briskly. “I brought my lawyer with me.”
Anna Keane threw a startled glance at Kate. “Ms. Lange is your lawyer?”
“You know her?” Enid asked.
“I’ve met Ms. Keane on a different business matter,” Kate said. She kept her tone casual, warm. She didn’t want the meeting to get off on the wrong foot.
They filed into Anna Keane’s office. This time the flower arrangement on the conference table was a grouping of pale yellow daffodils. Their petals wilted in the warm, airless room.
“Please, have a seat,” Anna Keane said. “May I offer you some tea or coffee?” Kate watched Anna Keane go smoothly through the motions of making her “guests” comfortable.
“No, thank you,” Enid said. She pulled out a set of papers from her purse. “Ms. Keane, I would like to cancel my contract with you and get a full refund.”
Kate watched Anna Keane’s face closely. She gave nothing away. She was probably used to having irate customers. Death was a touchy subject for some people.
“I’m sorry you have changed your mind, Miss Richardson.” Her eyes searched Enid’s face. “May I inquire why?”
Kate held her breath. Enid was working herself into a snit. Bright spots of color burned under her carefully applied face powder. “Because you tried to trick me into signing over my sister’s body!”
Muriel blinked. “My body? You are taking my body?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “No, no. You can’t do that!”
Enid placed a hand on her arm. “No, Mil, it’s okay. That’s not what I meant.” She turned her gaze to Anna Keane. “A poor choice of words on my part. But according to my lawyer—” she threw a quick glance at Kate, her eyes seeking reassurance “—I cannot sign a consent form to donate my sister’s—” she jerked her head in Muriel’s direction “—you know.”
Kate nodded. “That’s correct—”
“I never suggested you could,” Anna Keane shot back.
“Pardon me?” Enid recoiled. “You most certainly did. You said that since I had power of attorney for my sister I could sign the consent form.”
“I am afraid you misunderstood me, Miss Richardson,” Anna Keane said. Her tone was gentle, patient. She threw Kate a concerned look. “I said that Miss Richardson could sign a form for herself. I never suggested she sign one for her sister.”
“That’s not true!” Enid glared at her, then turned to Kate. “I told you she was trying to deceive me!”
Anna Keane threw Kate another concerned look. Her brows rose meaningfully. Neither Kate nor Enid could miss the implication that Anna Keane thought Enid was suffering from the same disease as her sister.
Surprise shot through Kate. She thought the funeral director had more empathy than that. She returned Anna Keane’s look with a cool frown. But the funeral director’s implication wormed its way into her mind. Was Enid showing the first signs of dementia? Alzheimer’s ran in families, didn’t it?
Kate glanced sideways at Enid. Her cheeks were pink, her mouth a tight line. She didn’t look as if she was suffering from dementia…but didn’t these things creep up slowly?
She gave herself a mental shake. Enid was as sharp as she was. Probably sharper.
“I can assure you that I acted in good faith, Miss Richardson,” Anna Keane said. “I apologize if you misunderstood me. But I never, ever counsel family members to donate their relatives’ bodies to science. That would be unethical.” She folded her hands in front of her. “If you would like me to refund your deposit, I would be happy to do so.” Her tone suggested that not only would she be happy to refund the money, she would be relieved to get rid of them.
Enid stood. “I did not misunderstand you, Ms. Keane,” she said stiffly. “I can see you are unwilling to admit to your deceit.” Kate flinched inwardly at Enid’s choice of words. The funeral director continued to give Enid the same concerned, patient look.
Enid scowled. “You can send the check in the mail.” She picked up her bag. “Come on, Muriel, we need to go.”
“Yes, Enie.” Muriel rose and held out her hand to Kate. “It was a pleasure.” Kate took her hand and led her gently to the door.
Kate glanced back at the table. “Did you want to keep the book, Ms. Keane?” It was lying off to the side.
“No. Thank you. I don’t require it.” Anna Keane smiled again at Kate. The message was clear: it wasn’t Anna who had gotten things wrong.
Enid’s shoulders stiffened. She hooked her arm through Muriel’s and the two women headed toward the main entrance.
Kate strode back to the table and picked up the book, aware of Anna Keane’s eyes on her. The funeral director had let her down today with her blatant condescension toward the elderly ladies.
As if she sensed Kate’s irritation, Anna Keane stepped around the table and laid a hand on her arm. “I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I think Miss Richardson may have some problems herself.”
Kate studied Anna Keane’s face. Her expression was bland, but her eyes looked tired. A sheen of sweat gleamed on her forehead. The air was stifling. Today’s heat had been unexpected. The air conditioners hadn’t caught up to it.
“These things happen,” Kate said. It was entirely feasible that Enid had misunderstood Anna Keane. But she didn’t think so. Enid was a pretty sharp bird. Anna Keane hadn’t said anything to convince Kate that Enid was wrong.
She gently removed her arm from Anna Keane’s grasp and walked to the door. “Goodbye, Ms. Keane. I hope you get to enjoy the sun while it lasts.”
Anna Keane glanced through her window. The sun had performed its final magic trick for the day, transforming into a fiery orange ball, its rays gilding the roofs of the cars driving by. “By the time I get out of here, the sun will be gone.”
Her words echoed in Kate’s ears as she hurried to the entrance. The walls of the foyer pressed in on her. She needed to feel the sun one final time today. She flung open the main door, forcing herself not to run down the stairs. Sunshine warmed her hair as she strode to her car. Enid and Muriel were already there, waiting for her.
“That woman!” Enid said as soon as Kate was close enough to hear. “She’s a liar!” She gripped her purse with white fingers.
“I know.” Kate opened the door for her. “I think she made a mistake and she can’t own up to it.”
Enid guided Muriel into the backseat and slid in next to her. “Oh, no, it wasn’t just a mistake.” She looked up at Kate. “She tried to trick me.”
Kate studied her face. “Are you sure?”
Enid pulled a folded paper out of her purse. “I picked this up on my way out.” She waved it in front of Kate’s nose. Kate unfolded the document—making sure she stood behind the open door of the car so Anna Keane couldn’t see her from her window.
She scanned the text. Enid had taken a consent form for donating bodies. Kate silently admired the elderly lady’s gumption. When she reached the final words at the bottom, she had to reread them to make sure she had understood them correctly: You can make your loved one’s final act benefit the good of mankind. Donate his or her body to the Neuromuscular Motor Study, headed by renowned Hollis University researcher Dr. Ronald Gill, and help change people’s lives.
“What did I tell you?” Enid said. “She’s a liar.”
“Where did you get this?” Kate asked. She hadn’t seen this in the funeral literature displayed in the foyer.
“There’s a drawer in the table that holds the usual brochures. I saw Anna Keane get the form out of there the first time so I knew where to look. She thinks I’m losing my marbles, but there’s still juice left in this old noggin.” She tapped her head.
“May I ke
ep this?” Kate asked. “I’d like to pay a visit to Dr. Gill.”
Enid’s eyes gleamed. “You do that. See what he has to say for himself.” She glanced at her sister, who gave her a tremulous smile. “And make it clear that no matter what greatness he thinks he’s doing for mankind, he is doing it at the expense of vulnerable people like us.” Enid took Muriel’s hand in hers.
Kate closed the back door of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. It was stuffy in the car. She rolled down the window, then, remembering the ladies in her backseat, rolled it up halfway. She eased out into traffic, her mind on their meeting with Anna Keane.
The funeral director must have been lying. Man, she was good. Kate had completely fallen for her compassionate funeral director shtick. And yet, was it all an act? She really thought she had glimpsed some empathy warming Anna Keane’s eyes.
But empathy only went so far. She had tried to trick Enid into signing over Muriel’s body to Dr. Gill’s research program. Was it just an overzealous attempt to help medical research? Or was there some other agenda in play?
Kate glanced in her rearview mirror. Enid was brushing some lint off Muriel’s old black coat. Muriel must be boiling. She bit back a smile when she saw Enid roll her window down all the way. No frail old ladies in her car, at least not in the typical sense.
Twenty minutes later she pulled her car into the Richardson sisters’ driveway.
“Would you like to come in for tea?” Enid held Muriel’s door open for her.
“Could we have tea on the weekend?” Kate asked. “I really need to get home right now.” She was longing for a shower. She wanted to stand under the stream of warm water and wash off the sweat of the day, the rankness of her meeting with John Lyons, the sourness of her encounter with Anna Keane.
“Of course, dear.” Enid touched Kate’s arm. “Thank you for coming.” She pulled Muriel’s hand. “Come on, Mil. It’s time for supper.”
Kate watched them walk together into their house. The front porch, although sagging in a few spots, was framed by a vibrant show of spring flowers. Muriel’s handiwork, Kate guessed.
She drove to her home, a scant three houses away. She was struck by the contrast of her property with the Richardsons’. There were no spring bulbs in front of her home to refresh the drab olive paint. She really needed to get the house painted. Of course, she really needed to have the money for it.
Then she noticed the gleaming black truck of Alaska’s dog walker. It was parked by the curb. She sighed and swiped her hair off her forehead. She wasn’t in the mood for Finn. What she really wanted was to take that shower, have a glass of wine, relax over a magazine. And figure out how she could have been such a dupe.
Her lips twisted as she put the key into her lock. She was angry with herself. Angry that she had let herself be swayed by John Lyons’ big promises—didn’t she know better? Angry that she’d been fooled by Anna Keane’s brown eyes.
Chapter 35
Kate unlocked the door. Alaska came bounding through the kitchen doorway, his tongue lolling. He stuck his damp nose in her hand. She patted him, staring through the empty doorway. Everything was silent.
She walked into the kitchen. “Finn, are you in here?”
An off-key whistle made her jump. Geez. Any and every little thing was spooking her. She needed to relax. Finn still hadn’t seen her. He was leaning into the closet. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt had hiked up around a strong, muscular waist. The whistle changed into a cheerful version of “California Dreamin’.”
“Hi, Finn,” she said loudly.
“Oh, hi.” He turned, swinging a paint can in each large hand. Kate noted he still wore the leather thong around his wrist. It emphasized the corded muscles and tendons in his forearm.
She glanced at the pantry. Her mop and broom leaned obediently against the wall. The bucket and dustpan were pushed to the side. “You’ve been busy.”
She knew she should feel grateful that Finn was helping clean up Muriel’s mess. But instead, her stomach was a tight ball. It hadn’t occurred to her when she gave Finn her house key a week ago that he would go inside her home. But of course he would. He had to get Alaska, find his leash, make sure he was okay. But still…did he just go into the kitchen when he picked up Alaska?
Or did he stroll through the upstairs, checking out her medicine cabinet, her filing cabinet, her underwear?
Stop it. This was Finn, not some psychopath.
And yet her unease remained. She eyed him. He looked his usual laid-back self. How could a guy like Finn be a creep? Then again, how could her mentor screw her like that? How could Anna Keane deceive vulnerable elderly ladies?
Had Finn deceived her, too, when he denied seeing her at Lisa’s funeral? But if so, why?
“I brought Alaska back. He was really thirsty since it was so hot out. I went to fill up his water bowl and then I saw all this stuff—” He jerked his head in the direction of the mess. “I couldn’t leave him alone.” Finn kept his tone light but there was reproof in his gaze.
“I was in a rush.” She felt as if she’d just been caught for being a delinquent mother. Was that how Judge Carson felt? The thought flashed like quicksilver through her mind, startling her. She banished it. She wouldn’t think about Lisa MacAdam or her mother anymore. Case closed, at least for her.
She picked up a can from the floor and smiled sheepishly. “You’re right. I should’ve thought of that. I’m still new at this.”
He glanced around, his gaze falling on the collapsed bookcase. “So were you practicing your karate moves?”
A laugh escaped her. It had the unmistakable note of unease in it. “No, my neighbors did this.”
“Fierce neighbors.”
The thought of Enid and Muriel karate chopping the bookcase made Kate smile. “They used to play in this house when they were little. They’re elderly now. Anyway, they wanted to show me—” She stopped. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone about the secret passage. Certainly not Finn.
“This?” he asked. He stepped into the closet.
“Yeah.” She nodded. The door was pretty obvious now that it wasn’t hidden behind paint cans.
Finn tugged at it. It swung completely open.
“Cool.” He stuck his head in the opening. “Holy crow, there’s a set of stairs!”
He pulled back and faced Kate. Boyish excitement shone from his eyes. “Have you gone up there yet?”
“No.” She peered through the opening. Stale, musty air tinged with a rotting smell—she bet there was at least one dead mouse in there—met her nostrils. It was dark. Gloomy. In the dimness she could make out the first three steps. “I’m not sure I want to go up. It just leads to the linen closet.”
“Oh, come on, Kate.”
She did not have the energy for this today. She was still in major piss-off mode. “No.” She added for good measure, “In fact, I’m going to nail it shut.”
He eyed the doorway with a final, longing glance. “You sure I can’t convince you?”
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was caving in. The tension eased out of her neck. She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll help you board it up.”
“Finn, you don’t need to do this. I can handle this.” She wanted to be alone. “Besides, I don’t have any nails.”
He gave her a little smile. “Hang on a sec. I’ve got some supplies in my truck.”
He came back a minute later with a box of nails, a hammer and a handsaw. The hammer was paint splattered and obviously an old favorite. The saw, however, gleamed with the pristine shininess of new ownership.
He put them down carefully and retrieved a long plank from the broken bookcase.
“You’re going to use that?” Kate eyed the busted board.
“Once I clean up the edges it’ll be perfectly fine,” he said. He braced the plank on the edge of the counter and picked up the saw. “Isn’t it a beauty?” he asked her. “I just got it.”
He carefully sliced off the ragged edges of the plank, humming “California Dreamin’” under his breath. “There,” he said, carrying it to the closet. “I need your help,” he added pointedly.
“All right,” she groaned. She followed him reluctantly into the cramped cupboard.
Finn handed her the plank. It was heavy. “Now, if you just hold this up against the door, I can nail it shut.”
She bent over and held the plank against the door with one hand.
He stood behind her. “No, I need you to brace it, like this.” He knelt down in front of the door and held the plank against it, his arms spread-eagled.
He got up. “Got it?”
“Yes.” Sir, she almost murmured. It was easier for him—he wasn’t in a skirt. She got down on her knees, and held the plank the way he demonstrated. I better start doing weights again. This is harder than it looks. Her cheek was pressed against the plank, her arms spread-eagled against each edge.
He backed away. She heard him breathe deeply.
From the very corner of her eye, she saw him pick up the saw.
He fingered the blade. The humming stopped.
He turned. And, in the silence, Kate suddenly thought of Lisa MacAdam. Her limbs had been cut off.
As had the killer’s other victims.
There was a blond guy, Shonda had said. With dogs. Asking about Lisa.
And the funeral… Hadn’t Ethan said the killer was there?
He stepped toward her.
There was something in the air between them, something that sucked the oxygen out.
It was fear.
She dropped the plank, scrambling to her feet as the board crashed to the ground.
He jumped. The saw jerked in his hand. “What the hell?” He looked at Kate in alarm. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
She backed out of the closet and rubbed her hand. Blood welled in a scratch on her palm. “I snagged it on a nail, I think.”
[Kate Lange 01.0] Damaged Page 24
