by Libby Klein
“And you didn’t think that was strange?”
“It was a little strange, but he had a point. It’s hard enough being a woman in a field dominated by men. I didn’t need the other women on staff saying I slept my way to the top.”
“Uh-huh.” I gotta give it to him. He found a good cover story.
She set the ring back on the desk in front of her. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Things weren’t working out between us and I’d told Lance I wanted a divorce. He was always off to Africa or South America with Doctors Without Borders. I felt like a part-time wife who only saw him when we went to our beach house in New Jersey.”
“So, what does his death mean for Rubinesque?”
“We’re trying to salvage our image. The press was here to do a story about the unveiling of the new UVaderm mask, but they ran the story about Lance’s accidental death instead. Clients have been canceling their appointments left and right. We’re all going to be out of work if we don’t replace him.”
“So, you think his death was accidental?”
“He was so determined to find the next big thing that he was taking unnecessary risks. He thought that stupid mask was going to be his claim to fame.”
“It sure sounded like a breakthrough.”
“You’ve been very nice. So, just between you and me, he found out a week ago that another doctor had filed a patent for the UV mask and was about to go public. It was just a matter of time before we were embroiled in another lawsuit.”
“You knew he stole the mask from Dr. Hammerstein?”
She turned the wedding ring with her finger and raised her eyes to mine. “Lance didn’t steal the mask. He had top electrical engineers develop that mask to his specifications. The problem was, he may have used Dr. Hammerstein’s research to create those specifications. So, we could be sued for stealing intellectual property. Lance was working on a plan to upgrade the design so he could make it his own. He wanted to incorporate the use of my Phoenix serum to instantly regenerate the cells. Now he’s dead, so you see where that got us.”
She thinks she’s having a bad day now. . . .
“I heard you on the phone the other day telling someone to enact the Phoenix Protocol. I thought it was some kind of corporate damage-control plan.”
She tapped her finger on a stack of papers on her desk. “I was talking to my publicist. I wanted her to move forward with the advertising campaign we’d planned. My hope was to bury the story of Lance’s death under the launch of our new spa line before the investors found out.”
“I see the Phoenix Protocol contract was miraculously signed by Dr. Rubin after I left here with my aunt yesterday.” Dr. Rubin wasn’t the only one in the family willing to break the law to succeed.
Tally blushed to the roots of her strawberry-blond bun. She turned the contract over. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that. I deserve this company. I run the cosmetic chemistry division of Rubinesque. That means I create the formulas for our exclusive skin-care line. I’ve been developing the Phoenix Protocol for two years. Lance was giving it to me in lieu of alimony to keep our divorce quiet. When he died before signing that contract I saw all my research and development being taken from me. I hope you’re not going to make trouble for me over this. Especially after I gave your aunt hundreds of dollars’ worth of products. Besides, it’s not forgery if a wife signs for her husband with his permission.”
“About that . . .”
“Wait a minute! You weren’t having an affair with him, were you? That’s why you keep asking me all these questions.”
“Me?”
“I knew he was way too interested in those muffins for it to be natural.”
“I was definitely not having an affair with Dr. Rubin. He was trying to solicit me to get liposuction.”
“I saw the way he was flirting with you. You’re just his type. First I caught him with that Shayla Rose and then you. Lance always was too charming for his own good.”
“What do you mean, you caught him with Shayla Rose?”
“I caught him coming out of her booth the other night. He said he was talking to her about luciferin in skin care, but Lance didn’t know anything about biochemistry. That was my job. He was just a surgeon. I knew he was planning on replacing me after we were divorced, but Shayla Rose? She’s been slapped with fines from the FDA for rushing her products to market.”
“That must have made you furious.”
“You have no idea. I gave that man the best work of my professional life and he was going to toss me over for that fraud with toxic ocean goo. My formulas are completely organic. I use biodynamic stem cells from fruits and plants. Every single ingredient in the Phoenix Protocol is natural.”
I wanted to point out that arsenic, anthrax, and cyanide were all natural, and every one of them would kill you if you didn’t know what you were doing. “Look, I wasn’t having an affair with Dr. Rubin, okay? I’m just here to find out what really happened to him.”
“What happened is, Lance accidentally electrocuted himself with that stupid mask.”
“Let’s say for a minute he did. How did it happen? Why not just take the mask off if it was starting to burn? Why not thrash around if you felt a shock? Dr. Rubin was just lying there peacefully on fire, like he’d fallen asleep.”
Tally’s mouth moved up and down, but no sounds came out. “I don’t know. I didn’t have those details. The UV masks have a built-in timer. They turn off automatically after twenty minutes so you can’t do any damage to your skin from prolonged exposure.”
“That didn’t work because his power supply was crushed. Did that happen by accident? And what about the glowing blue goo? What the heck was that?”
Her eyes grew very wide. “I don’t know. I just assumed Lance was running experiments with different products to see how they would react with the mask and one of them caused it to short out.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of Temarius Jackson, have you?”
“Definitely not.”
“Not a patient? Not someone who ran errands or did odd jobs for the practice?”
“No. And it’s a name I would remember.”
I was afraid of that.
One of the bun heads came to the door and swung it open. “Tally, your eleven o’clock is here.”
Tally placed the wedding ring in her purse. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m interviewing a cosmetic surgeon to replace Lance. If we have any hope of Rubinesque moving forward, we need to be able to perform breast implants. I don’t know the answers to any of your questions, but I’d sure love to hear them when you find out.”
I picked a pen off her desk and wrote the names of Rita and Faelynn on a drug company promotional tablet. “Before I go, here are two ladies you need to talk to. And I mean tonight.”
Tally took the tablet and read their names.
“Send them a message through your Facebook group, and tell them you’re India. They’ll know what it means. Trust me on this, you need to hear what they have to say. And be nice. One of them is very likely the new owner of Rubinesque.”
CHAPTER 47
I walked past Shayla’s booth, scanning to see if she was inside. Her cousins Jimmy and Leo guarded the front like stone sentries, their arms crossed to push out their biceps, their scowls following me. I’m coming for you, Shayla. One way or another, I was getting answers tonight.
I spotted Tim at the La Dolce Vita booth having a furious discussion with Gia. Gia slammed the coupon down and said, “This stops now!”
I spun around to head in the opposite direction but ran into Gigi at my tail.
“Not so fast. We have someone who needs to talk to you.” She grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the fracas. “I got her.”
Neither Tim nor Gia looked my way. They were too busy measuring up. I took their preoccupation with each other as my chance to escape again. “I’ll come back later.”
Tim called after me, “Poppy! You accused Gigi and me of vandalizing you
r boyfriend’s booth the other day.”
I slowly turned back around. Was this going to be a fight? Did I have to take off my earrings?
“I have someone who wants to tell you something. Chuck!”
Tim’s sous chef had been standing a few feet away. I hadn’t even noticed him before he squeaked and shuffled toward me. He hung his head, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. “Hey, Chef Poppy.”
Gigi grumbled, “She’s not a chef.”
Tim held his hand up in her face.
Chuck lifted his eyes and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I vandalized your booth. I was hoping you would leave the coffee shop and come back to Maxine’s if this Paleo thing wasn’t working out.”
“How did you get in here?”
“I borrowed Chef Tim’s pass and told the security guard I was a sub. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
I was feeling a mixture of compassion, flattery, and embarrassment for blaming Tim. “Aw, Chuck. That’s so sweet and so foolish. Why would you do that?”
“Tim has been miserable. Plus, I miss you coming into Maxine’s to make the desserts. You make the kitchen more fun. It’s not the same without you.” He flicked his eyes to Gigi and made a slight, reflexive jerk away from her.
Gigi clamped her jaw and narrowed her eyes at Chuck. “If you don’t like it, you can always leave.”
Tim ignored their exchange. “I noticed Chuck was missing a button last night when I showed up for closing and asked him about your booth. I had no idea he was going to do that. You can press charges if you want to, but Maxine’s will pay for the damages to your stuff. And I have not been miserable.”
Chuck breathed out a wobbly sigh and gave me a slight nod.
Gia gave Chuck a smile. “Do not worry about the damages. I will cover them. And I understand. I would go crazy if Poppy left me too. You cannot replace that kind of love so easily. She is far too precious.”
That last bit was clearly for my benefit. I felt like my feet had left the floor. Gia gave me a look of such intensity, it was all I could do not to get lost in his eyes.
Gigi thrust her arm through Tim’s.
Tim chewed his lip and looked at me. “As you wish . . . Come on, Chuck.”
Chuck gave me a sad grin and a finger wave. “Bye, Poppy.”
“Bye, Chuck. Drop in for coffee sometime.”
His face lit up. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Chuck!”
I squeezed Gia’s hand. “Thank you.”
Gia tipped my chin, and our eyes met. “Do you regret being here with me?”
“No. I regret that our timing is off.”
“We are almost at the end.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have a plan.”
“Is this plan something I want to hear?”
“The only way to get rid of Alex is to give her what she wants.”
“Yeah, but she wants you.”
“Exactly.”
Oh, I do not like the sound of this plan. “So, this is it? You and I are over before we even start?”
Gia kissed my forehead. “Do you trust me?”
I searched my heart for the answer. “I don’t know. Every time I take a leap of faith, I fall.”
“My love, if you leap, I promise to catch you.”
“Then I will trust you.”
CHAPTER 48
I left the Expo to clear my head. I walked home and told Aunt Ginny I needed the keys to Bessie, her 1958 red-and-white Corvette. I drove over the bridge into North Cape May and stopped at Destiny’s Nails. There was a table set up on the sidewalk with stacks of Girl Scout cookies and a very aggressive after-school enterprise. Three Brownies ran the table like they were on the floor of the stock exchange. The pile of Thin Mints was shrinking fast and I was fourth in line. I was afraid they’d start a bidding war and I didn’t bring my checkbook.
Thank God two of the moms were running late for karate practice and I was bumped up a couple of spaces. When a bossy nine-year-old in braces called me up to the table, I bought four boxes of Tagalongs and four boxes of Thin Mints. I also picked up two boxes of Do-si-Dos for Aunt Ginny. She had a sixth sense about peanut butter and I didn’t want to face the firing squad if I came home empty-handed.
I drove into the Villas to see Mrs. Rotnitzky and parked in the back lot. I don’t know why they named this the Bay Vista Apartments. You couldn’t see the bay from here if you used a telescope. I found the elevator this time, but it smelled like pee, so I walked up the three flights of stairs to apartment 411. Temarius’s apartment was still barred with police crime-scene tape. I rapped twice on Mrs. Rotnitzky’s door.
“Who is it?”
I knew she was looking through the peephole, so I held up a box of cookies. “It’s me.”
“Hee-hee!”
I waited for her to click through the series of locks and finally open the door. I handed her the bag of cookies. “I just wanted to thank you again for all your help the other day.”
“Of course, of course, anytime.” She dug through the bag. “What? No S’mores?”
“You only said Tagalongs.”
She hugged the bag to her chest and patted it. “Next time.” She took the cookies to the kitchen counter and stashed them in a wooden breadbox. I could not help but notice that she didn’t open a box to offer me any, which I believe is customary. I would have said no, but still . . .
“So, what are you here for? I know you didn’t just come to bring me sweets.”
She was a sharp one, even dressed in her purple, polyester, old-lady slacks and two different-colored shoes. Hopefully, she still believed I was a social worker. “I wanted to ask you a couple questions about Temarius.”
She picked up a glass of something red and rocked in her chair. “Oh-kaaay.”
“No Jack and Coke today?”
“Pssh. It’s too early for Jack and Coke. I’m not an alcoholic. This is vodka and Hawaiian Punch. It’s practically a vitamin. So, what do you want to know?”
“Did you ever meet any of Temarius’s friends?”
“I don’t think he had any. I know his nana was worried that he was running with the wrong crowd, but it’s not like anyone came home with him after school.”
“Did he ever mention working with someone? Maybe against his will? Anyone named Kieran Dunne from Internal Affairs? Or maybe a Chinese woman with pink hair?”
She thought so hard her curls vibrated. “No, I don’t believe he did. And I woulda noticed the Chinese.”
After the blonde-with-the-corgi false alarm, I had serious doubts that Mrs. Rotnitzky could have distinguished Shayla and her cousins from the Hunan Palace delivery driver, but I didn’t push.
“I know he was working on getting his GED, but he did that on the computer at the library.”
“Did you know Temarius had a drug problem?”
Mrs. Rotnitzky nodded. “He struggled for years. Losing a mother so young like that . . . His nana took him to a program in her church and got him off the stuff, but it didn’t last. I know he was going to meetings again here recently because he showed me his ninety-day chip last week.”
“I’m surprised his nana isn’t home from Tallahassee yet. I would have thought the police would have broken the news to her by now, but the crime-scene tape is still up.”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s dead. Orlena died a couple of years ago. She fell on the ice and hit her head down in the KMart parking lot. Died instantly.”
“You’re saying Temarius’s grandmother died two years ago?”
Mrs. Rotnitzky nodded. “She and I used to walk down to the bay at sunset to watch the ferry come in. There’s too many tourists there now.”
“If his grandmother has passed, then who was Temarius living with?”
“No one.”
“But he was seventeen. How had he been living all by himself for two years?”
Mrs. Rotnitzky sat forward in her cha
ir and threw her hands up over her head. “You’re the social worker; you tell me! That’s why I told you you were too late the first time you came here.”
“I thought you were just rambling.”
“I expected someone to come around after Orlena passed to check on the boy, but no one did until you.”
“How was he supporting himself?”
“Orlena’s Social Security. Her checks were direct deposited, like mine. He never reported her death, so they kept coming.”
“How’d he pay the bills?”
Mrs. Rotnitzky shrugged. “He used her debit card for groceries. I showed him how to write a check, but these kids pay everything on the computer nowadays. You do what you gotta do.”
That’s what they had on him. Whoever was threatening Temarius found out that he was a minor living on his own, committing Social Security fraud. They must have threatened to turn him in if he didn’t do what they wanted. He had gotten away with fraud for two years. Why was he caught now?
Outside Mrs. Rotnitzky’s door, we could hear that Olivander was going down to the yard for a piddle. “Thank you, Mrs. Rotnitzky. I have to go.” I shot out of the apartment to catch the neighbor with the blond ponytail.
I turned the corner just as the elevator doors slid shut. I flew down the stairs and waited. The bell chimed and the door slid open. “Hi. Remember me?”
The man fell against the back of the car and reached for his belt.
“Please don’t mace me.”
“Oh, it’s you. Stop jumping out at me. Olivander has a nervous bladder.”
The evidence of that was in the elevator. “Remember when you told me you had to call 9-1-1 when you first moved in?”
“I remember. That boy was smoking pot.”
“Did you happen to see the officers when they arrived?”
“Yes. I had to give a statement.”
“What did they look like?”
