I approached a wide window. Out on the horizon, pinpoints of light, ships at sea, bobbed in an ocean of black. As I gazed at the view, I became aware of a strange sound coming from across the room.
I turned on a small bedside lamp and searched until I found the source of the peculiar noise. On the floor next to the master bed sat a miniature carved wooden bed. Lying upon it and snoring like a Rottweiler was Raul. I watched until a voice startled me:
“Rose! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
It was Kevin, standing in the doorway and looking like he’d been mugged. His hair jutted in all directions and his shirt hung out; his bow tie was askew. I stared at him. “What happened to you?”
Instead of answering, he motioned me to follow, disappearing down the dark hallway. I turned out the light and stood in the doorway; he was nowhere to be seen. I stared down the long corridor. “Kevin, where are you?”
“Here!” A beckoning hand emerged from the gloom. I walked to the end of the hall. He was in a small room, undoubtedly a maid’s years ago. He pulled me inside and locked the door behind me. We stood nose to nose in the dark.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
“Mrs. Phipps attacked me.”
“She what?”
“We’ve got to get out of here. The woman’s insane.”
I took his hand, guiding him to the single narrow bed. “Sit and tell me from the beginning.”
He sat, hunched. Light from a window illuminated his face. “You know how she asked me to fix the pantry light? As soon as I followed her into this tiny dark room, she was all over me like a pit bull. It was pitch black and I kept banging into pots and knocking into things. The whole time I was scared stiff the husband would open the door. He’s probably got a gun to go with that cowboy hat.”
“Kevin, I can’t believe it. What did you do?”
“It’s true. I was struggling for my life, fighting her off with one hand and with the other, searching for the doorknob. All the while she was going,‘Take me now.’” He stopped to let out a shuddering breath. Silently, I contemplated the vivid scene he’d described. Although the story was outlandish, his distress was real. He broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
I opened my mouth to speak, and a giggle emerged. It turned into wild, hysterical laughter. When I couldn’t stop, he covered my mouth with his hand and pulled me down on the bed. “Please, be quiet,” he whispered in my ear. “She’ll hear us. She’s stalking me.”
I giggled again and finally stopped. We listened, straining our ears for sounds outside the door, but all was quiet. Downstairs, the piano played “Over the Rainbow.” The music mingled with laughter from the terrace and the clinking of glassware. Remembering the platters of food warming on the buffet table, I turned to Kevin. “I’m starved. Let’s go down and eat.”
“In a minute. What’s that perfume you’re wearing?”
“It’s called Kenzo.”
“It’s wonderful.”
“It smells like fresh mown grass, don’t you think?”
“It smells sexy.”
I stared at him in the dim light. His face got closer. Soon he pressed his lips to mine. We kissed, each one lasting longer until I felt his hand tug at the zipper of my dress. I opened my eyes. “Kevin, not here.”
“Shh. The door’s locked. No one’s coming.”
“But they expect us for dinner. I’m the guest of honor.”
“Hush,” he whispered, brushing the hair from my forehead. “Hush.”
A gentle breeze stirred the window curtain, carrying in the achingly familiar smell of the sea. Outside, gentle waves lapped the rocks below. Down the hall in another darkened room, a little dog slept. Beneath us on the terrace, music and laughter floated out across the water. But in the little room at the end of the hall, Kevin and I drifted away in a world of our own.
Nine
“Rose, you’ve created some excitement with this pig story, but will Stella approve?” Yvonne, hunched at her desk, was in the process of giving our latest and biggest issue a quick preview.
“I don’t see why not,” I said, grabbing a copy from the stack. I immediately flipped to my story: “Do they Dare? Seniors Vow to Honor Prank Night.” After laboring over a feature, I still get a kick out of seeing the printed results. When I no longer feel that sense of excitement, it’s time to look for another job.
Yvonne pointed to the picture of Stella brandishing her spatula. “She looks positively menacing.” Underneath was Stella’s quote: “Whoever lays a hand on my pigs will end up in the sausage.”
I studied the layout, the work of a small Midwestern printing company. The bigger commercial presses had gotten too expensive for our small town paper, and no wonder, considering the rising cost of pulp. Our publisher keeps expenses down by hiring college interns and other money-saving measures.
“What do you think of Cal’s picture?” I asked. Behind the mirrored sunglasses his expression was inscrutable, although the set of his jaw said don’t screw with me.
“He can put those handcuffs on me any day,” Yvonne said. I turned to stare at her, open mouthed. She looked up, annoyed. “Don’t give me that look. Just because I’m a widow doesn’t mean I lack… feelings.”
“Of course not.”
She folded the issue. “All in all I think it’s effective. Maybe the young people will read it and forget about this prank nonsense.” She peered at me over the top of her glasses. “Your tone was somewhat taunting, Rose. Was that your intention?”
“I don’t know. Prank Night comes once in a kid’s life. I’m all for letting them have a little fun before joining the real world.”
“That’s all well and good, but it won’t pay to antagonize Stella. She’s a tough cookie. Once I took Mother to her restaurant for breakfast. When I inquired about the sodium content of an entree, Stella indicated we could leave.”
“She’s not into the healthy eating craze, but in answer to your question, Stella doesn’t mind getting publicity. It’s good for business. And regardless of what happens, Cal will be guarding the pigs during Prank Night. He claims that violators will spend the night in jail, courtesy of the Granite Cove Police Department.”
Yvonne shook her head. “I just don’t understand young people today. Don’t they have anything constructive to do?”
“Yvonne, don’t you remember that period in your life before high school graduation? You knew things would soon change. Nothing would ever be the same again. Friends you spent every moment with for the last four years would go their separate ways. Didn’t it make you want to do something crazy, if only for one night?”
She gave me a blank look. I realized it was a foolish question to ask of someone who wears lavender espadrilles. “Don’t forget I went to Catholic schools,” she said, “where we got probation for swearing. If you think Stella is tough, you should have met Sister Florene. When she spotted a hickey on Sherry Moscarelli’s neck, she made that girl scrub it with holy water in front of the entire parish.”
“My mother tried sending me to Catholic school,” I said. “It was the only time my dad stood up to her.”
“That’s too bad. It would have benefitted you in many areas.”
Before I could ask which areas, she said, “By the way, did I thank you for being such a good sport about attending the Phipps’s party?”
In my opinion, enjoying champagne and lobster at a seaside mansion did not add up to heavy lifting. “Somebody’s gotta do it,” I said. “Speaking of the party, I had a talk with Spencer Farley that night.”
“A most attractive man, n’est pas?”
“Right. We talked about Settlers Dunes. Maybe you don’t know, but things are moving fast. The land could slip right through the town’s hands.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not surprised. This town bungles everything. For instance, when I looked into home health services for Mother, I learned they’ve cut back on senior care. Now I have to scrimp just to have
a PCA five evenings a week.”
“Every department is feeling pinched,” I said, “but can we talk about Settlers Dunes for a minute? It’s our heritage. It’s where the original Granite Cove settlers built their homes. It’s also where the Native Americans put up their fishing shacks. On this sacred land Martha Farley intends to build a bunch of villas called Cormorant Cove.”
“I told you we would cover the hearings, which I understand are starting next week.”
“Good, at last we’ll get things out in the open.”
“I’ve asked Coral to cover it.”
I stared at her. “What? Coral’s a gardening columnist. Not only that, you said she’s afraid to go out at night.”
“Stewart’s going with her.”
I stood up. “Yvonne, I don’t understand. For some reason you’ve been avoiding the Settlers Dunes issue. Now you’re trying to keep me out of it. Are you afraid I’ll ruffle Martha Farley’s feathers?”
“Of course not, although it’s mandatory to maintain good relations with our advertisers.”
“Don’t you trust me to behave civilly?”
“I trust you, Rose.” She stopped and studied her bitten nails. After a moment she continued. “Maybe I’m too old for this job. I worry too much about things. Right now I’m Mother’s guardian and sole caregiver. If something were to happen to me, she’d have to go to a home.”
Her voice trailed off. It was the second time Yvonne had expressed that particular fear. “If what happened to you?” I asked. When she didn’t look at me, I said, “Does it have anything to do with Bunny Alfano?”
She closed her eyes. “A despicable man.”
“He told me you two go way back.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve had dealings in the past, newspaper related, of course. Today I go out of my way to avoid him.” She glanced at me. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. Did you hear about the call girl ring in Saugus? Bunny was involved in that. Some people claim he set up the whole operation. It got national attention because the women were local housewives earning extra money while their kids were in school. One even drove a big yellow school bus that she parked in front of the house. They were typical suburban soccer moms with car pools and mortgages.
“What happened to Bunny?”
“They had nothing on him that would stick. He’s cagey and totally immoral.”
“How do you know him?”
“I met him years ago when I lived in Dudley and was women’s editor at The Dudley Daily. It was a nice little town, not particularly prosperous. They welcomed Bunny’s generosity. When the YMCA needed a new swimming pool and the high school needed bleachers for the stadium, guess who offered to raise the funds?
“At the time, he owned a bar in town called The Nite Owl. It attracted a bad crowd and was frequently written up in the police notes for fighting and underage drinking. Weekends were like Dodge City.
“When the mayor’s nephew got beaten up outside the bar, the licensing board was pressured to do something. After issuing numerous warnings, they finally scheduled a hearing. The head of the licensing board at the time was a man named Clarence Nutting, a lovely man. He used to play Santa Claus at the nursing home’s annual Christmas party.
“The day before the hearing, Clarence appeared in town wearing a sling. He claimed he’d fallen off a ladder at home and as a result, he had to quit the licensing board. He was adamant. Then he and his wife took a long cruise. He didn’t even return for his retirement party.” She looked at me. “Do you understand why I’m reluctant to interfere in anything involving Bunny Alfano?”
“But you’re friends with his brother, the police chief.”
Her face flushed. “That’s a professional relationship. Not only that, Victor barely acknowledges Bunny.”
The way Yvonne said “Victor” told me her feelings were more than professional. Come to think of it, they made the perfect geeky pair. Too bad there was a Mrs. Alfano in the picture.
I left work early to get ready for my date with Betty Ann and Tiny. Before leaving the office, I left a message on Kevin’s answering machine saying we’d pick him up at six-thirty. I refrained from telling him to behave himself.
When Chester didn’t greet me at the door, I hurried inside and searched the downstairs. I finally found him upstairs on my bed, looking guilty. I’ve banned him from the bed. Like many old dogs—and old men—he leaks. I kissed the top of his head. “If you really like sleeping here, I’ll put the old comforter back on.”
In response, he wagged his stubby tail. Chester’s hearing was getting worse. Likewise his aging joints. Eleven in Lab years is comparable to a man in his eighties. I wondered what I’d do when Chester no longer greeted me at the door. The thought made me so depressed, I decided to fix myself a drink.
Before heading to the kitchen, I checked my messages on the answering machine. I pressed the play button and was surprised to hear the booming voice of Frank, my landlord.
“Rose, you won’t believe this. I was sitting at my bar last night talking to a nice couple from Wickford, Rhode Island. When I mentioned living in Granite Cove, they became quite animated about a murder. I confessed that the only news I read on the island is the local rag. The handful of TV stations here play nothing but reruns.
“Therefore, I was shocked to hear about Dr. Klinger, of all people. She used to speak at our Rotary meetings. I hope they’ve found the killer. Just make sure you lock the doors and windows at night, and don’t go out alone. On the other hand, knowing you, you’re probably right in the middle of it.”
Frank knew me pretty well, although his implication that I was in the middle of it was just that, an implication. My quasi-investigation could be compared to kayaking on the salt marsh. There’s no central route, just bogs that veer off. Some bogs will take you nowhere, but unless you’re familiar with the marsh, you have to navigate each until you find the one that will lead you to the source.
I knew it was going to be one of those nights when Kevin appeared outside his house wearing the chicken hat. The weather, too, was inauspicious. A slushy drizzle oozed from the sky when B.A. and Tiny picked me up at precisely six-fifteen.
“Hello, lovebirds,” I said, climbing into the back seat.
They muttered a response I couldn’t hear. Betty Ann turned to me and rolled her eyes, a telltale crease etched between her brows. Tiny backed down the driveway and shifted into drive, glumly staring straight ahead.
The atmosphere inside was so tense I would have opened a window if not for the weather. I searched for something to say and then noticed B.A.’s hair. “Did you get a perm?” The curls were tighter than a showdog poodle’s.
She groaned. “Uh huh. My regular stylist was out, so a newcomer offered to take her place. She looked like a professional, wearing a white jacket and all. I figured, what harm could she do?”
“It’ll loosen up,” I said. “Just you wait.”
B.A. grunted, and we lapsed into silence again. Kevin will lift the mood, I thought, eager to reach his house. But one glimpse of the chicken hat, and I knew it wouldn’t happen. The hat is an orange and yellow knitted affair. The chicken’s legs hang in long flaps over his ears. It’s a novelty item he wears when he sings a barnyard song. The hat and song always get a laugh from the crowd. Unfortunately, it wasn’t having that effect tonight.
He opened the passenger door, holding a can of Sam Adams. “Anyone want a roader?”
“No, thanks,” Tiny said, “I’m driving.”
“You want to drink, I’ll drive,” he offered.
“Kevin, just get in the car,” I said, yanking his sleeve.
He climbed into the back seat of the tiny car, folded his long legs and put an arm around me. “Hi, babe. You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
As we headed out, Kevin turned to me, a questioning look on his face. I shook my head. Finally Betty Ann broke the silence. “You were a big hit Monday at the nursing home, Kevin. The residents were still singing ‘Ga
lway Bay’ when they got back to their rooms.”
“Thanks, Betty Ann. I appreciate the gig.”
“You know, you’re the only entertainer who keeps them awake.”
“Maybe I could use that on my brochure: Kevin Healey, the Mad Fiddler. He’ll keep you awake.”
“You keep the nurses awake, too,” she said.
“They like my music, do they?”
“They like you, darlin.’ It’s the only time they show their faces in the activities room,” she said.
“Tell me more, Betty Ann,” I said.
Kevin turned to me. “Are you jealous, babe?”
“It’s true,” B.A. said. “Sometimes a resident needs nursing assistance. They’re delusional and being disruptive. We call the floor and request a nurse to come down and check on their patient. They always say they’ll send someone right down, yet they never do. But when Kevin is playing, the nurses not only show up, they hang around until the show is over.”
“They always request something tough, like ‘Danny Boy,’” Kevin said.
I nudged him. “You’re getting off the subject. Betty Ann was talking about the nurses’ interest in you.”
He grinned. “You’ve got to get up before the rooster gets his pants on to fool Rosie.”
“Speaking of roosters,” I said. “I hope you’re not planning to wear that hat inside the restaurant.”
“I thought you liked it.”
“I’ve got my reputation to consider.”
Betty Ann stole a glance at Tiny hunched over the steering wheel. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer at first. Then he glanced at us in the rear view mirror, “I wanted to say something, but you’re all talking a mile a minute. I couldn’t get a word in.”
“You’ve got the floor, man,” Kevin said.
“I wanted to comment on the nurses,” he said.
“What about them?” B.A. asked.
“They’re a horny bunch.” With that, Betty Ann jabbed him with her elbow. “Easy, honey,” he said, laughing, “I’m talking about the ones I see while tending bar at The Sacred Cod. A group from the hospital rents the banquet room for retirement parties. I always warn the bus boys to watch out. After a couple drinks those nurses start playing grab ass. The married ones are the worst.”
Sharon Love Cook - Granite Cove 01 - A Nose for Hanky Panky Page 14
