by Jada Ryker
Clay soothingly stroked her small hand. “Don’t worry, Althea, we’ll keep her safe and sound.” He turned her hand over, scrutinizing her palm. “Althea...such a lovely name, yet so formal. I shall call you Thea.”
Shock replaced the fear on Althea’s elegantly bony face. “You may certainly not call me Thea! What a ridiculous and frivolous nickname!”
Clay’s gray eyes lit with laughter. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s fun. My dear Thea—” he emphasized the diminutive, “—you and I are going to put an end to Mrs. Carter’s nefarious activities. Once we turn the thieving and murderous nurse over to the police, your Marisa will be perfectly safe.”
Clay stiffened, suddenly on the alert.
Althea stared at him in surprise.
He frowned and shook his head quickly. He motioned for her to continue talking.
Bewildered but game, Althea continued the conversation as Clay stealthily rose from his seat. “Marisa is so vulnerable...we have to protect her. Granted, we can’t follow her around and take care of her.” As Clay slipped out the door, Althea cleared her throat and continued her conversation with his empty chair. “For one thing, she is so fiercely independent, she wouldn’t stand for it.”
Althea stifled a cry as Clay staggered into the room with a woman trapped in his arm, and one hand clapped across her mouth. As he wheeled his mewling captive to the center of his room, Althea rushed to shut the door behind them and inspected Clay’s prisoner. “Clay! What have you done! Mrs. Hill will classify snatching an innocent resident and holding her against her will in your room as unacceptable behavior.”
“If you call out, I’ll gag you immediately.” Clay removed a snowy white handkerchief from his pocket. Then, to Althea’s surprise, he pulled off his captive’s bat wing-shaped glasses from her venomous eyes and he untied the pretty pink bow under her angry chin. He lifted the pink bonnet, cylindrical curlers, and gray hair off her head. Beneath it, the short golden hair was crushed. Around the edges of her face, where the bonnet had covered it, the skin was smooth and tanned. Beyond, the skin was obviously covered in make-up to cause it to appear wrinkled and lined with age. Clay whipped aside the thick, flowered robe and revealed a white blouse, khaki shorts, and shapely tanned legs.
Althea’s hand flew to her mouth. She met the icy cool blue eyes. “Who are you?”
The woman’s mouth curved into a tiny smile. She looked up at Clay. “What gave me away?”
Clay indicated the blue plastic identification bracelet on the slim wrist. “When I caught you in the hallway listening to us, the first thing I did was check your arm band. The bracelet says ‘Irma Morton.’ However, I know you are not Irma Morton. The real Mrs. Morton was in the room next door to a friend of mine who is also a resident here. A few days ago, Mrs. Morton passed away in her sleep. The funeral home hearse picked her up before the residents were up and about, but I happened to be next door in my friend’s room.” He leaned down until he was nearly nose to nose with her. “Why were you listening to our conversation and why are you posing as a dead woman?”
The room was silent. The woman slid into Clay’s empty chair. Clay stood motionless, waiting like a cat outside a mouse hole. Althea forced herself not to fidget.
“My name is Esther Pendleton. The girl found murdered in the cemetery was my granddaughter, Zoe. I am here to discover clues to help me solve her murder.”
Althea frowned. “How did you manage to sneak in here and take the place of a resident?”
Esther smiled, showing even, white teeth. “Actually, it was not at all difficult. While everyone was busy with lunch, I teetered into the common room as if I belonged there. I wore that tatty bathrobe, with a scarf over my wig. No one questioned the presence of an old lady in a nursing home. I found the arm band on the floor while I was sitting in the common room. It was an easy matter to slip it on, in case anyone asked questions. Obviously, no one here really looks at the patients.” She laughed. “One of the nurses wanted to give me an enema. I had to convince the determined woman it’s against my religion.” She shuddered delicately. “When I saw you two kids skulk into this room together for a conference, I decided to listen.”
Althea wondered if she imagined the glance that seemed to pass between Clay and Esther. His brows rose and Esther seemed to smirk in response.
Clay settled on the neatly made bed, and then turned to Althea. “My vote is to join forces with her. She has a motivation to help us catch the killer…”
“And she seems very proficient at skullduggery!”
Clay seemed not to notice Althea’s sharp tone. Esther smiled.
Althea did not care for the other woman’s smile. It seemed much too knowing. Determined to get back on track and not dwell on the ease at which Clay had allowed the woman to join them in their mission, Althea quickly introduced herself and Clay. She declared, “Since you may have missed some key elements in your hallway sleuthing, Ms. Pendleton, we’ll run through the highlights with you now.”
When Althea finished the briefing, Esther took a deep breath. “That was a very concise summary, Ms. Flaxton. One would think you’re a wordsmith of some sort.”
Althea forced herself to keep her face blank and to sit perfectly still.
Clay interjected, “With the staff out in the patient rooms and Mrs. Hill busy in her office, we can easily sneak into the nurse’s lounge and look at the work schedule they keep posted in there.”
“Excellent idea! We’ll know which nights to expect the ghost, and set our trap.”
Esther frowned. “A trap? What kind of trap?”
Clay brow furrowed. “I haven’t exactly come up with a plan for capturing it. Since we don’t have the physical strength and dexterity to run after it and send it tumbling to the ground with a flying tackle, we have to think of a way to get it on the floor. Then, I can jump on top of it and subdue it.”
Althea was beginning to feel crowded by the close proximity of the other two. Clay sat on the side of the bed, with his legs stretched out and his foot nearly touching hers. In the chair, Esther slouched on her spine, completely at ease. As if she read Althea’s thoughts, Esther’s eyes twinkled with subdued humor. Althea clenched her fists and vowed to herself not to budge an inch. “I remember years ago when I was a schoolteacher, we had one student who was a class clown. There’s always one in every class, but he took it to the extreme. He was particularly fond of planning and implementing practical jokes. If the boy had put that much work and preparation into his lessons, he’d have been at the top of the class.
“One day, the jokester decided to embarrass his best friend by causing him to stumble down the front steps of the school. He tied a rope to the railing at the steps and trailed the rope across the step. He then crouched down out of sight in the bushy hedges, holding the other end of the rope in his hand. When the bell rang and students streamed down the steps, he watched for the distinctive green pants of his friend. When they were in his line of vision, the boy pulled the rope taunt, sending people tumbling down the steps like lemmings over a cliff.”
Esther stretched like a cat. “What a dangerous and irresponsible thing to do! I hope no one was hurt by his thoughtless prank.”
“None of the students were hurt, thank goodness. However, in addition to the students he sent sprawling, the boy had also inadvertently caught the principal in his trap. Mr. Harding was not in the least amused. Neither were the boy’s parents when they were told of their son’s little trick.”
Clay cocked his head. “Are you suggesting we use a similar tactic to catch the ghost?”
Althea nodded eagerly. “We stretch a line across the hall. In the dimness of the corridor, the ghost doesn’t see it. When the ghost steps close to it, we pull it tight and trip it. It then falls to the ground.”
“Then, I jump on top of it, subdue it, and reveal the identity of the ghost!”
Althea pursed her lips. “That’s terribly dangerous, Clay. The ghost is bound to fight back.” Her mind worked frantically,
seeking a way to minimize his risk. She snapped her fingers. “What if we have a sheet handy? As the ghost lies on the floor, hopefully stunned, you quickly spread out the sheet next to it. Then, quick as a flash, Esther and I roll the prone body up in the sheet, pinning its arms to its sides.”
“I then whip off the ghostly head covering and we shriek in unison, ‘Just as we suspected! Mrs. Carter!’”
Althea couldn’t help bursting into laughter.
Even Esther smiled.
“You’re very confident our ghost is Mrs. Carter, Clay.”
Clay waved his hands. “We’ve neatly deduced it is Mrs. Carter, therefore, that’s the face we’ll reveal.” He frowned. “What if this goes beyond a drug ring? Remember, Starla mentioned after the ghost is sighted, a resident dies.”
“But also remember Flora May pointed out the uncomfortable fact people do die here quite frequently.”
Esther nodded thoughtfully. “But what if those patients were some sort of threat to Mrs. Carter and her drug ring? What if they knew too much and were deliberately gotten out of the way?”
Althea shook her head doubtfully. “I came here to recuperate and to go through the physical therapy regimen. I never imagined I’d be conspiring to catch a murderer! ”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Marisa stood in the center of her locked office and stared down at herself. Her one-piece swim suit was fashioned to look like a sexy superhero’s outfit. Her legs were smooth in the nude hose, and ended in calf-hugging, white, high-heeled boots. Perfect.
As she reached for her tiara next to her printer, she suddenly remembered the pages from the employee records she’d sent to her printer. With all of the excitement of the murders, she’d completely forgotten them.
They were gone.
She tucked her tiara in her purse. Quickly, she searched her desk. Plenty of papers, but not the ones she needed. She looked between her desk and the wall. Dust bunnies, but no papers.
What happened to them? Did those papers have anything to do with the murders? Or did they simply slide off her printer and get picked up by a thorough custodian? Regardless, she didn’t have enough time to reprint them now.
As she reached over to power down her computer, Marisa took a cautious sniff. Since the killing in her office, the antiseptic smell had faded and the carpet in her office had completely dried. As she pushed her keyboard tray under her desktop, Marisa wondered about the murders. She, Russell, and Esther had found the brochures for the Church of the Eternal Devotion, but she’d been too busy to think about those papers on the counter. What was it about the church and her last support group meeting?
Marisa snapped her fingers. Dustin! He attended meetings in disguise. At the last meeting, they’d all been upset over the online exposé of their support group, but Dustin had been nearly hysterical. What had he said? He had jabbered something about a group member who was also a prominent member of the community, well known for his philanthropic attitude and his eternal devotion to God…What else did he say? Oh, something about his pesky habit of paying for sex from male prostitutes. What if Dustin was the head of the large, showy church? She had also wondered if Russell and Dustin was the same person. She had not gotten a chance to test her theory. And what if Dustin, who could possibly be Russell, had been blackmailed by Jonah? What if Russell had been at Jonah’s condo looking for incriminating information? And didn’t Jonah’s computer files have one about—
At the knock on her office door, Marisa jumped. She was thankful the blind was securely closed, blocking any view through the window. She quickly pulled on her red, summer weight, dress-length overcoat, jerked it closed, and cinched the belt.
As a second, more insistent tap sounded, Marisa threw the door open.
Alex Caldwell, the hospital’s Chief Financial Officer, stood in the doorway. He was motionless, yet he radiated energy. He was potential energy, ready to be set in motion any second.
During work hours, he wore suits. She had thought him skinny. Runty. Puny.
On this Friday evening, the trauma hospital’s Chief Financial Officer had eschewed his expensive suit for more casual clothes. Alex was wearing a snug black t-shirt, which showed off the sculpted muscles in his arms and chest. His waist tapered trimly into black jeans. Black boots completed his outfit. The angles of his thin face were sharp and predatory. With his short hair spiky on top and his impassive dark blue eyes, Alex looked attractive and dangerous.
Marisa looked down at him, taking in his compact, muscled form. With her six-inch spike-heeled boots, she was taller than he was. The difference struck her as primordially sexy.
Marisa shook herself. This was Alex, for God’s sake. They had gone through eight years of elementary school together. Then their paths had diverged for decades, and then merged here at the hospital when he’d accepted the position as the CFO. With his support for Payton’s cheeseparing ways and his constant insistence on no budget variances, he was also a pain in the ass.
Marisa smiled impersonally. “Hi, Alex. Are you here to inventory my office supplies and scold me for using too many paper clips?”
“Your office expense could use some slimming, Marisa. Especially given your online system for dealing with applicants and your other system for keeping personnel files in electronic form, neither of which system was cheap, I might add, why on earth do you go through so many reams of paper?” Alex frowned. “How did we get on this subject? Never mind about your spendthrift ways and extravagant office expenditures, I don’t have time to go over those with you. At least, not right now. I need to talk to you.”
Marisa gritted her teeth. “We’re on this subject because you always bring it up whenever we’re in the same room. In case you have forgotten, the Federal government is not as modernized in its outlook as yourself. They require the Employment Eligibility documents on paper.”
“The Government Accountability Office released an important new report on gaining efficiencies through online or internet work flows and activities…”
“I don’t have time for a lecture on government efficiencies, which sounds like an oxymoron anyway.” She slung her large purse over her shoulder. “I’m running late.” She pushed past him, and waited impatiently for him to exit her office so she could lock her door.
Alex followed her through the lobby. “It’s important.”
“Perhaps you could put together a presentation for our next management meeting…”
Alex growled, “Not efficiencies! Well, not right now, anyway. I need to talk to you about something else.”
“Sorry. I have a commitment I can’t break. Let’s talk first thing Monday morning.” Marisa hit the parking lot at a fast walk.
When she reached her car, Marisa growled in frustration. Her driver’s side front tire was flat.
Alex materialized at her side. “Bad luck! I’ll give you a lift.”
Marisa’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He couldn’t have flattened her tire…could he? Of course not.
As they roared through the busy city streets, Marisa put her mouth close to Alex’s ear. “When you offered me a lift, I didn’t realize you meant on a motorcycle.” Marisa’s coat flapped at her thighs. Her booted feet were on the passenger pegs.
When Alex checked his side mirror, Marisa sincerely hoped her flapping coat was only showing her knees.
He turned his head and smiled, his teeth flashing white against his tan. “I promise I’ll get you there in one piece. We’re nearing the outskirts of the city. Is it much further?”
Marisa hoped no bugs would fly in her mouth. “About twenty minutes.”
Once they left the city, the landscape became more rural. Cows in fields looked up from their grazing to watch them whiz past. Marisa pointed to a large, steel building, surrounded by acres of cars, trucks, and vans. Men and women, of all ages and dressed in shorts and jeans, were converging on the open doors in the front. On one side, a huge pile of dirt, orange barrels and barricades, and idle earth moving equipment were mute evidence
of construction.
“That’s it. Drive around to the back, away from the construction. The operation has grown so dramatically, the owners are expanding.”
Near an opening in the building large enough to accommodate a big rig, Alex brought his motorcycle to a smooth halt. He turned his head and switched off the machine. “You still haven’t told me what ‘the operation’ is, Marisa.”
Marisa held down the edges of her coat as she hopped off the motorcycle. “Thanks for the lift, Alex, I’ll find my way back.” She ran impatient fingers through her wind-blown hair, hitched up her purse, and ran to the open doors. She pushed through the crowd of milling people.
“You made it! Thank goodness! I didn’t think you were coming. It’s almost show time!” The smoothly bald man was as wide as a tanker truck and at least six-and-a-half feet tall. He was dressed in a black and silver spandex body suit fashioned to resemble chain mail and red knee boots. He grabbed Marisa’s arm with a hand the size of a grizzly bear’s paw and steered her to a waiting horse, its saddle festooned with streamers and ribbons and its bobbing head topped by glittering feathers. He tossed Marisa up into the saddle as if she was a five-pound sack of sugar, and vaulted up next to her. “Time for our grand entrance! Let’s see if this nag can find her way to the ring!”
Inside, Marisa leaned against the corded wire of the ring, waiting for the emcee to make it through his overview of the upcoming program. “Wanda Bra Woman?” Marisa jumped guiltily when Alex hissed fiercely in her ear, and nearly lost her balance.
“Alex! You startled me! You’re not supposed to stand on the wrestling ring. How did you get past security?”
Holding tight to the turnbuckle, Alex continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re the girlfriend of the Knight in Shining Armor, an amateur wrestler?”
His bald head gleaming in the bright lights, the Knight smiled winningly into Alex’s angry glare. “Are you a fan? Do you want my autograph?” His wide nose wrinkled in disgust. “Shit!”
