by Renee George
We said our goodbyes, and I promised Opal I would tell her if I found out anything new about her friend. As Parker and I walked down the hall, the tension eased from his muscles as he continued to play with my hair.
I glanced up at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Just brought up some stuff for me I’d sooner forget.”
“You want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “Not now.”
“I just met Abby yesterday. She was nice. Funny. Bubbly, even.”
“Drug addicts can take all shapes. A lot of them live functional lives.”
“I know.”
“Your brother?”
“Yep.” Although, Danny had only become functional once he’d quit the hard drugs. “I wish I could have said no to Opal.”
“Chances are Abby’s death will be exactly what they suspect,” Parker said.
“They’ll have to do an autopsy. I’ll talk to Reggie.” My friend, Regina Crawford, was a general practitioner doctor in town, but also the medical examiner. Abby would have to pass through Reggie’s capable hands before a final determination of suicide. “That’s a good place to start.”
Lacy Evans was inside the medication room behind the nurses’ station. Three lights flashed on the wall, room numbers underneath them.
Mariah, the aide, hurried toward us looking frazzled.
“Busy day,” I said as she passed.
“I’m the only aide on this hall today. The other two called in sick, and they can’t find anyone to replace them.”
Lacy poked her head out of the room. “I’ll help as soon as I get the meds passed,” she said. She looked almost as haggard as the aide. She nodded to Parker and me, her eyes red like Opal’s had been. “Abby was supposed to work today. I’m covering what I can until they can find an evening shift replacement. But it’s Saturday, so I’m not holding my breath.”
“Were you friends with Abby?”
“Not outside of work, but I liked her well enough,” Lacy said. “She was fair, and she cares…cared about the residents. That’s not always the case around here.” She looked around as if afraid someone important might hear her complain. “I better get back to it or Mariah is going to quit, then I’ll be the only one on the floor.”
I wanted to ask her some questions about the missing narcotics. As a CMT, she would be in a position to know what was missing, and how much.
Before I could, though, Parker put his arm around me. “We won’t hold you up,” he said and steered me toward the hall leading to the front entrance.
When we made it outside, his whole body sagged in relief.
“Sorry,” I told him. I knew he’d been itching to get out.
“No, I’m sorry, Lily. I don’t think I can go back there.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “Pearl will need some company and folks to drive her around if you want to help. You don’t have to go back in there.”
He nodded, his expression bleak.
“When’s your next appointment with the psychologist?”
Parker gave me a startled look then smiled. “You really do know me well. Wednesday at two.” He hugged me. “I’ll be fine. Just the news of the suicide, the wheelchairs, the smell, all of it just took me back to a time I wish I could forget.”
“Do you mind dropping me off at my place? I think I’m going to drive out to see Pearl. Just to check on her.”
“Of course,” Parker said. “You want me to keep Smooshie at my place? You can pick her up after.”
I loved that I didn’t have to ask and rewarded Parker with a kiss.
He caressed my cheek. “I do like the way you say yes.”
Chapter 4
It was after five by the time I arrived at Pearl and Opal’s place. I drove down the rough gravel drive. It had several bare spots, along with some potholes, that needed filling. It cracked me up every time I passed the plastic palm trees lining the last fifty or so feet of the driveway. Opal’s sedan was parked under a three-sided carport, a newer addition to the Dixon property. The leaves on the surrounding trees had started to turn the warm colors of fall, creating an idyllic portrait of rural country living.
A white picket fence bordered the front yard along with the flock of pink flamingo lawn ornaments. The one with the broken beak and a duct-taped neck near the trash can made me smile. It might have taken Opal down, but it looked like she got some revenge on the offending fowl.
Colorful lights hung over the top of the fenced yard in a canopy of green wires with hanging yellow, red, green, and blue bulbs. I tapped the signpost pointing south that said, “Miami, 1,095 miles,” when I walked up to the white fifty-foot double-wide trailer.
I knocked on the door. When Pearl didn’t answer, I knocked harder. “Pearl,” I said loudly. “Pearl? It’s Lily. Are you in there?”
I closed my eyes and listened for any noise. I could hear Frank Sinatra singing “You Make Me Feel So Young,” along with the spray and patter sounds of a shower. What else? There was a noise… Like a screech combined with a moan. The sound someone might make if they were in pain. Was Pearl hurt? Had she fallen in the shower?
I tried the door. It was unlocked. I raised my voice. “Pearl. It’s Lily! I’m coming in.”
The music was louder now, and so was the underlying noises. Some of them sounded almost inhuman. I charged in, narrowly missing one of their wicker chairs that was blocking access to the hall. “Pearl!”
The bathroom door was open, the Sinatra tune was blaring from a speaker on the sink counter. The shower curtain was closed, but the noise had taken on a frantic, almost panicked cadence.
I threw the curtain back.
A naked older man sat on the shower chair, and Pearl, also naked, was straddling him, their bodies clasped in full-on coitus.
I yelped. Pearl screamed, grabbing the edge of the curtain and yanking it closed between us.
“What in tarnation?” the man said.
“I’m sorry! So sorry.” I babbled more apologies as I scrambled from the steamy room. My heart beat a mile a minute. I stumbled into the living room. That’s when I noticed the pair of men’s blue jeans on the couch, the white boxers on the coffee table, the two wine glasses, the cheese platter…
Cripes. Pearl was having a date, and I had barreled in like a pit bull in a sausage smokehouse.
Pearl walked into the room wearing her glasses now and a robe. She scowled at me.
I grimaced. “Sorry,” I said again.
She plucked up the jeans, the boxers, a white T-shirt from behind the couch, and a light-blue button-down shirt from the chair near the hallway.
Dang. “That must have been some good wine.”
Pearl pinned me with a gaze that could wilt flowers. “Make yourself at home,” she said, “you know, since you let yourself in.”
I pulled out one of the stools from the breakfast bar and sat down on the edge, my feet pointed to the door and ready to run if any household objects were thrown in my direction. About five minutes later, Pearl came back down the hall, her pink-tinted hair towel dried with the curls picked out, and she now wore a pair of white loafers, pink capris pants, and a pale-green blouse.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What in the world are you doing here, Lily?”
“I…well, I just wanted to check in on you. Make sure you were okay. You know, not lonely.”
Her gaze softened. “I’m fine. And, as you saw, not lonely.”
The man came down the hall tucking his shirt into his jeans. With clothes on, I recognized the tall, thin, gray-haired man as Bob Tolliver, a retired farmer who had started frequenting The Cat’s Meow Diner about six months earlier.
“Hello, Lily,” he said, avoiding eye contact with me. He grabbed a billed cap from an end table and put it on. He cast a slow smile at Pearl. “Walk me out.”
“You don’t have to go on my account,” I said. “I can come back later.”
Pearl gave me a stern look. “You,” she sa
id, punctuating the word with a pointed finger. “Wait right there.”
I did as I was told. Pearl wasn’t nearly as thin as Opal, but she had a pleasant shape. By the way Bob was looking at her, I could tell he thought so, too.
They left, and when Pearl finally came back inside, her cheeks were flushed. “You have the worst timing, Lily Mason.”
I tried not to laugh, and my effort turned into a snort. “I really do.” I moved the curtain aside and glanced out the window. I saw a white pickup truck heading up the drive. I hadn’t seen it when I pulled up. “Where was he parked?”
“On the other side of the carport.” She shook her head.
“So, you’re dating Bob Tolliver, huh?”
She psshed me. “People my age don’t date.”
I pointed to the wine glasses. “What do you call it?”
“Bob and I have been special friends going on a few months,” she said unapologetically.
“If I had known you’d have company, I would have called ahead. I could have avoided the nasty flamingo.” I made a circle with my thumb and index finger then poked it with my other index finger. It was a gesture she liked to use when using the phrase in conjunction with everyone else’s love lives, and it was fun to throw it back at her.
“Hah!” She laughed. “Bob’s wife died a year ago, and he’s not ready for his kids to know he’s socializing again. So, we’re, how do you kids say it, keepin’ it on the down-low.”
“I'm going to buy you a stuffed flamingo to hang on the doorknob when your entertaining company."
"Or you could just call ahead," Pearl said.
"That works, too." I laughed. "Personally, I think it’s great you have a special friend. When I found out Opal was in the nursing home, I was worried about you. It looks like you’re doing okay.”
“Buzz told me you were visiting, Opal. That’s really thoughtful. He brought out those dinners this morning and told me that you all would take turns visiting her. That makes me feel better. But I’m not as fragile as everyone thinks.” Pearl walked over and sat on the couch. “Come have a seat.”
I joined her. “Opal always just comes off as more sure of herself.”
“She likes to think she’s in charge, but I’m not the same woman I was when we left Vegas.” Pearl gave me a meaningful look. “I know she told you about our…situation.” Pearl put her hand on my arm.
“We all have pasts,” I said. “Moonrise gave me a fresh start. I was able to reinvent myself, and I’m thankful for the chance at a clean slate.”
“I’m not sure my slate will ever be clean, but we have the fresh start in common.”
“Have you talked to Opal today?”
“On the phone. I called her this morning. She was getting ready to go to breakfast, and she got a little cranky with me. She’s always grumpy before coffee.”
“So, you haven’t seen or talked to her since then?”
Pearl’s brow furrowed. “What is it, Lily? Did something happen to Opal? Is she okay? Did she fall? Something worse?” Her words grew breathy. “Is she in the hospital? Just tell me! What’s happened to my sister?”
“Nothing like that,” I assured her. “Opal is okay. It’s not her.”
“Then who?”
“How well did you know Abby Rogers?”
“I know Abby real well. Her grandmother was a close friend to Opal. Ella doted on Abby, and when Ella died, Opal and I kept in contact with her after. Why are you asking me how well I knew her? What’s happened?”
“I’m so sorry, Pearl. I hate to be the one to tell you, but Abby has died.”
Her hands trembled. “What? How? She just celebrated her thirtieth birthday. How is this even possible?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I promised Opal I’d ask around.”
“How did she die?”
“According to Opal, the police think she overdosed on narcotics.”
“She didn’t do the whacky tobaccy.”
“I’m not sure you can OD from marijuana. I suspect it will be some kind of opioid, like hydrocodone.”
Pearl shook her head emphatically. “I just can’t believe that of Abby.”
“Are you sure?”
Her skin had taken on a ghastly pallor that aged her beyond her seventy-something years. She nodded. “As sure as I can be about anyone who isn’t living in my head.”
“Do you want me to fix you some coffee? Tea?”
“There’s a bottle of brandy under the sink.”
The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a breakfast bar covered with a Formica countertop with a travel sticker design. I navigated around it to the sink and took the bottle of brandy from the space below.
“Cups are to the right,” Pearl instructed. “Two fingers, please.”
I unscrewed the cap on the half-empty bottle of brandy. The aroma of fermented sweet apricots burned my nostrils. Pouring enough to climb the skinny glass about an inch and a half from the base, I held it up for Pearl’s approval.
“That’s fine,” she said. She immediately sipped it when I handed her the drink. “Abby’s had her troubles. I know Opal worries about her.” She took another drink. “Worried. Oh, poor Opal. She’s got to be devastated.”
“Why did she worry about Abby?”
“The usual.” Pearl set the glass on the coffee table and wrung her hands. “Abby had terrible taste in men. Her ex-husband, a radiologist at the hospital, had some anger issues. Abby confided in us that she’d taken comfort with a doctor friend. Dale, her ex-husband, found out, and he threatened to tell anyone who would listen if she fought him in the divorce. She ended up with nothing, not even an alimony settlement.”
“How awful. I think I would have called him on his threats.”
“The doctor was married. Maybe he still is. She hadn’t wanted to ruin his life.”
“Jane Davidson said Abby was seeing her grandson. Michael Lowell.”
“I know about Michael. Abby said he was…nice. That’s always the kiss of death in a new relationship.”
“I think Parker’s nice,” I said.
Pearl sniffed then chuckled. “But that’s not how you would describe him to a friend, right? You’d say things like built for dipping his crane in your turbulent waters, making the beast with two backs, doing the horizontal mambo, and—”
“The nasty flamingo?” I choked on a laugh. “Just for the record, I would never say any of that to anyone, not even a friend, but I get your point.”
“I’m afraid Michael never had a real shot.”
“Do you think he would have done something to Abby? Opal is sure she didn’t take her own life and a spurned lover is as good a motive as it gets.” People, regardless of species, could do some really awful things out of jealousy.
“Maybe. But Michael’s a kindergarten teacher, for the love of Pete. I just don’t see it.”
“What about that doctor she was seeing?”
She shook her head. “What reason would he have to kill her?”
“Maybe she got tired of waiting for him to leave his wife?”
“As far as I know they ended things.” Opal sighed her frustration. “Have you talked to that friend of yours? The one that cuts up dead bodies?”
“Reggie Crawford.”
“That’s the one. I’m sure glad to see Greer Knowles has a new gal pal in his life, but her profession sure is ghoulish.”
“She’s a regular doctor most of the time,” I said in Reggie’s defense.
“Well, did you talk to her? She’d be taking care of Abby, wouldn’t she?”
“Not yet. I came here to check on you first.”
“Well, get your pocket phone and call her. Land sakes. What kind of detective are you?”
“The kind that’s not a detective,” I said. But I got out my cell phone. “She might not have any results in. Final reports can take weeks.”
“She strikes me as a smart cookie. I’m sure she’ll have an opinion or two.”
I could see I wasn’t going to get away without calling Reggie before I left. I brought up my contacts and touched a picture of her sticking out her tongue at me. She always looked so put together, her clothes tailored, her hair and makeup just right, which is why I loved the picture. To me, it was the only one that really captured Reggie’s personality.
The phone rang on her end. She picked up. “Hey, Lils,” she answered. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Reg,” I said. “Did you get called about a death today? Young woman named Abby—”
“Abigail,” Pearl interjected.
“—Abigail Rogers?”
Reggie was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “Please don’t tell me you found her body.”
“I did not find the body,” I said, a little too triumphantly, but I was seriously getting tired of being called a dead body magnet. “She’s a good friend of Opal Dixon’s. I told her I’d ask around. She doesn’t think it was an accident.”
“Suicide isn’t an accident,” Reggie said.
“So, you think she took her own life?”
“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I'm getting ready to examine the stomach contents, and I’ve sent blood and urine samples out for analysis.”
“Did anything look suspicious when you were called to the scene?”
“I was over at a St. Louis seminar for medical examiners when I got the call. Another doctor did the initial exam before they transported the body over to the hospital morgue.”
“Okay.” Well, double damn. “Do you know where she died?”
“Her bedroom at her apartment, according to the initial report. There wasn’t a note, but there were a few pills that I have confirmed as oxycodone hydrochloride. I won’t know if she had a lethal dose in her system until after the blood tests.”
“She was found in the bedroom of her apartment?”
“Yes.”
Pearl got up from the couch and wandered down the hall out of sight, but I focused on my phone call. “That’s not a lot to go on.”
Reggie sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not more help.”
“You’ve been great, Reg. I appreciate your candor.”
“If I learn anything else, I’ll let you know.”
