"Who?"
"How did you meet him?" Beatrix pressed.
"Who?"
The woman's slender throat convulsed. "He... came to my office under the pretense of seeking treatment, then proceeded to repossess jewelry that Raymond had put up for collateral against loans."
"Jesus," Beatrix breathed.
The girl thrust her head between them. "Who?"
"A man who loaned Raymond a lot of money for gambling debts," Natalie answered, her cheeks aflame.
"So maybe he killed Ray."
Natalie wet her lips. "Brian—I mean, Butler was questioned by the police. He had an alibi."
"Brian?" Beatrix asked. "Sounds like the two of you are chummy."
"Is he cute?" Ruby asked, bouncing.
The SUV swerved off the shoulder, spewing gravel, then found blacktop again. Natalie's chin jerked up. "I will not dignify this discussion with a response. Need I remind you my husband was buried a few days ago?"
"Our husband," the girl amended, still bouncing.
"Did you forget to take your Ritalin?" Beatrix snapped. "Be still."
"Quincy city limits," Natalie said, sounding relieved. She stopped at a gas station so everyone could pee (at the sight of the bathroom, however, Beatrix opted for a smoke by the Coke machine) and to ask for directions to Glomby Medical Center. They threaded through a downtown area past an obscure state university before finding the astonishingly large complex. The place must employ half the people in the area.
Natalie maneuvered the Cherokee into a parking deck, then cut the engine and turned to Beatrix. "Okay, what's the plan?"
Beatrix blinked. "Plan?"
"Who are we supposed to be? What's our story?"
"We need a story?"
Natalie pursed her mouth. "How else are we going to get in to talk to this, this—"
"Chub Younger," Beatrix supplied from the schedule book.
"How else are we going to talk to him about Raymond without raising suspicion?"
"I don't know."
Natalie leaned her forehead on the steering wheel and laughed. "This is crazy. We should just go home and turn over Raymond's schedule and the information about the watch to the police."
"We've been through that," Beatrix said. "We're already here, so let's think of a way to check out these leads. If it doesn't work out, then we'll be back home by dinnertime and at least we know we tried."
Ruby's head appeared. "What if we pretend we're reporters doing a story on the hospital?"
"Fine," Natalie said. "Except they'd probably hand us off to public relations, and even if we did get to interview this Younger fellow, how would we get him to talk about Raymond specifically?"
"Well, what if we tell him we're from Ray's company and that we're taking over his arms and legs accounts?"
Beatrix scoffed. "And with that mastery of medical terminology, I'm sure he wouldn't suspect a thing."
"Besides," Natalie said, "his company would've already sent out a rep to pick up such a big account."
Snapping her fingers, Beatrix said, "Natalie, you're a doctor, for heaven's sake—you should be able to get in and talk to just about anyone. We'll split up, and keep our eyes peeled for a fading bouquet of roses on a woman's desk."
Natalie lifted her head. "You think the woman he gave the roses to is here?"
"According to the schedule, he was supposed to meet Chub at nine o'clock in the morning, and we know he spent the night here. It makes sense that he gave the flowers to someone in Quincy, maybe to someone at the medical center."
"If he bought them."
"And if he bought them," Beatrix continued, "maybe he bought them here, too. I'll see if the center has a gift or floral shop and snoop around. You try to find Chub."
She opened the door, but Natalie stopped her. "What if we get caught snooping?"
She shrugged. "Say you're lost, and don't give your real name."
"Oh, just like Charlie's Angels," Ruby cried, then clapped her hands.
"And Red goes with you," Beatrix said pointedly. "Do you have a lab coat?"
Natalie sighed and nodded.
Beatrix brightened. "How many?"
Chapter 32
"That was a cinch," Ruby said as they exited the medical center. She smoothed the sleeve of her white lab coat, marveling at how smart she felt—and looked, judging from the admiring glances she'd gotten in the halls. To look busy while Natalie made inquiries, she'd listened to her own heartbeat with the stethoscope Natalie had loaned her from her doctor bag.
"We didn't get anything concrete," Natalie said. "Our luck that Mr. Younger isn't in the office today. We should have called."
"But at least we know where to find him tonight," Ruby said. She was tempted to ask if she could keep the beautiful white lab coat, but she didn't want to be rude to Nat, who had been nice enough to loan her a long black skirt and baggy blouse to look "respectable," as Beatrix had put it.
"And we might even have fun," she added, skipping ahead two steps before she remembered that doctors didn't skip. She slowed and walked beside Natalie who remained silent, her forehead crinkled, until they reached the parking deck.
Beatrix was pacing next to the SUV, smoking a cigarette that she snubbed out as they approached. "Did you talk to Mr. Younger?"
Natalie shook her head. "No, he's at an off-site meeting. But his secretary said tonight he'd be at a place called Razor's—maybe we can catch him there."
"Razor's?"
Beatrix yanked open the door to the Cherokee. Miss Mame commenced to barking her happiness that they were back, but stopped when Beatrix hollered and bounced an empty pop can off her carrier. Beatrix rummaged around the floorboard, coming up with Ray's schedule book that was still a little dented from the weight of her big-screen TV. Boy, did she miss that TV.
Beatrix flipped through the pages furiously, then stopped. "Here it is. A note on the page for the day before Raymond died. It says 'razors.' I thought it was a shopping list, but maybe he was supposed to meet someone there."
The phantom woman they kept talking about? Ruby bit into her lip. Wives were one thing, but she was really going to be ticked off if Ray had a girlfriend on the side. "Did you find a flower shop?" she asked Beatrix.
Ray's wife looked at her for perhaps the first time without complete disgust in her expression. Ruby swallowed—the woman actually looked excited.
"Yes, and I hit pay dirt. Raymond did buy the roses there—a dozen red ones. The woman couldn't remember the exact day, but she remembers he bought them late in the day and that he paid cash."
For a few seconds Natalie looked as if she might start bawling, but suddenly her chest expanded, then she exhaled. "Guess we might as well check into the hotel and see what we can find out there."
Ruby smiled—someday she wanted to be smart and strong like Nat. "Can we share a room?" she whispered as they climbed inside the SUV. "I don't have very much money."
Natalie gave her a small smile and nodded. "I don't have very much money, either."
And as it turned out, Beatrix had to stay with them too because there was only one room available, one with two double beds. Beatrix was super irritated and demanded that she at least have her own bed. And they had to put down an extra fifty-dollar deposit so Miss Mame could stay in the room with them. It was almost all the money Ruby had, but they promised she'd get it back if Mame behaved. Once they got to the room, she sat her pet on her lap and had a little talk with her. Then, just to show her she was still mama's precious little lovebug, Ruby changed her hair bow to pink with white polka-dots.
Afterward, she went into the bathroom and gave herself an insulin shot, then unpacked her gym bag so the medicine could work before they left to find something to eat. The other women had already unpacked, and Beatrix's stuff was everywhere. She'd used all the hangers, and left one little drawer for her and Nat to share. As she compared their clothing, embarrassment burned in her stomach. Next to Beatrix's plain, expensive flats and Nat's comfortable-
looking loafers, her white plastic high-heeled sandals looked cheap. Beatrix had brought slacks, Nat, khakis, and she, short shorts. Beatrix had hung a bag made out of soft leather on the back of the bathroom door to hold her toiletries. Natalie's cloth bag with clear pouches that held her bathroom items sat on the vanity. She, on the other hand, had crammed her stuff into a Ziploc freezer bag. How did these women know what to buy? Who taught them how to be classy? Was it something they were just born being? If so, she was sunk.
Nat appeared in the open door. "Ruby, are you feeling okay?"
She nodded. "Just unpacking."
"How is your blood sugar level?"
"Normal. I checked it a few minutes ago."
Nat tilted her head. "That skirt suits you."
"Really?" Ruby breathed. "It's nice and soft."
"Keep it."
"But I didn't get it dirty or anything."
"That's not what I meant. I want you to have it."
Her jaw dropped. "Really?"
"If you want it. Are you ready to get something to eat?"
Stunned at her generosity, Ruby could only nod. A knock sounded at their room door. "I called housekeeping for more hangers," Nat said, then disappeared.
When Ruby emerged from the bathroom, a maid was putting extra towels and hangers on the foot of a bed. Beatrix stood close by, holding a twenty-dollar bill in her hand the same way a customer at the club would hold a tip if he wanted her to see it and do something special to get it.
The woman looked all around at the three women, her eyes wide. "Did you need anything else?"
"Information," Beatrix said, unfolding her wallet to show a picture of Raymond. "Do you remember this man? His name is Raymond Carmichael."
The maid nodded. "Mr. Carmichael comes here every few weeks for a night or two. He always asks for extra towels, too."
"Is he always alone?"
The maid looked nervous. "You'll have to ask the front desk about that."
"We did, but we thought you might know more... details." Beatrix put away the picture and waved the twenty.
"Are you the police or something? Is this man a criminal?"
"We're gathering information for the police," Beatrix said with a straight face.
Wow, she was an excellent liar.
"And, yes, Mr. Carmichael might be a criminal. If you know anything, you have to tell. But the police don't tip."
Ruby almost felt sorry for the woman, who looked as scared as a chicken the day before Thanksgiving.
"Mr. Carmichael does have a visitor sometimes," the maid said. "That's why he needs extra towels."
Natalie covered her mouth with her hand. Beatrix looked shaken, too, but asked, "Have you ever seen his visitor?"
The maid shook her head. "The person is always in the bathroom when I come to his room. I just know it's a woman, I smelled perfume."
"Did Mr. Carmichael have company the last time he stayed here, a couple of weeks ago? It would have been on a Tuesday night."
The woman licked her lips. "I was working, and I delivered extra towels. He was alone... but he was expecting someone."
"How do you know?"
"There was a vase of red roses on the table. I made a joke about someone sending them to him, but he laughed and said it was a special occasion—he was going to propose."
Her heart squeezed painfully at the news. Nat's eyes watered. Beatrix sat down heavily on the bed, jangling the hangers. "D-Do you know if this woman arrived?"
"No. But when I came to clean the room the next day, it was a mess. The roses were all broken up, petals everywhere. Shame, all that money wasted. But I didn't tell my boss because I didn't want to cause trouble for Mr. Carmichael."
"Was there a card with the flowers?"
"Not that I remember."
Beatrix extended the twenty-dollar bill, which shook like a leaf in December. "Thank you."
The woman vamoosed, and for a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the newscaster on the twenty-four-hour-a-day news channel that Natalie had turned on. Why anyone would want to watch news all the time was beyond her. Not when the Cartoon Network was available.
"And now to state-by-state news," the anchor said. "In Tulsa, Oklahoma, a farmer has harvested an apple that weighs in at nearly fifteen pounds. In Paducah, Kentucky, the three wives of a bigamist have been charged with his murder. In Tecumseh, Washington, a festival..."
Nat stabbed a button on the TV and the picture went black.
"I can't believe the bastard was going to marry again," Beatrix murmured. "The man had gonads the size of bowling balls."
Looking deathly pale, Nat hugged herself. "At least we can go home now."
Beatrix frowned. "Go home?"
"We have enough evidence to give to the police—there was another woman in Raymond's life, and something happened between them the day he died. Let Detective Aldrich sort it out, I just want the conspiracy charges dropped, so my life can get back to normal."
Beatrix's laugh was raw. "Let Detective Aldrich sort it out? I say we keep digging until we find out something concrete about this woman—a description, a name. We know she was here with Raymond, so there has to be someone in this town who saw them together. Maybe she lives here." She stood, a little wobbly. "Besides, I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."
"I'd like to take a shower," Nat said, heading toward the bathroom. "Suddenly I feel very dirty."
The bathroom door closed and Ruby swallowed at the prospect of spending time alone with Beatrix. The woman could strike at any time. But Beatrix sat at the table squeezed in the corner of the room and studied Ray's schedule book—it was as if she and Mame weren't even there. Which allowed her to give Ray's wife a good looky-loo.
In her younger days, she must have been a head-turner, because she actually was pretty decent-looking—when she wasn't frowning.
"What?" Beatrix asked, startling her.
"What?"
Beatrix sighed. "What are you looking at?"
"Your hair. It's really nice—what color do you use?"
"It's natural."
"Oh, come on."
She patted her hair. "Viva Ashe, number seventeen."
"Can I feel it?"
"What?"
"Your hair."
She sighed again. "Christ, go ahead."
Ruby fingered the strands, squinting to pick up all the highlights. "Wow, no split ends, and your scalp is so nice and pink—do you use a conditioner?"
"Er, yes."
"Great texture. Have you always been blond?"
"Yes."
"Did you know that blondes have thirty percent more hairs on their heads than brunettes?"
"No."
"Well, they do. Have you had plastic surgery?"
"That is so none of your business."
"I wondered because you look pretty good, considering your age and all."
"Gee, thanks."
"How old are you?"
"Didn't you bring a coloring book or something to play with?"
Ruby retreated and lay on her stomach on the bed closest to the window that looked out over the parking lot of a Laundromat. Mame whined until she put her on the bed with her, and the dog snuggled next to her ribcage.
"That just became your bed," Beatrix muttered. "Keep that mutt off the other one, which is mine."
Ruby shifted to find a more comfortable spot on the mattress. The baby moved a couple of times a day now, little flutters like bubbles being blown into a glass of milk. Too bad Ray wouldn't be around to see his own little girl, but if he was planning to marry someone else anyhow, he wouldn't have had much time to spare. She sighed heavily, hurt that he would take another wife after he'd said vows with her only two months ago. She loved Ray—their wedding had been the happiest day of her life. She'd felt special in her white satin dress and with a big bow in her hair. Now she only felt... discarded. Like trash. Like always. She sighed again.
"Stop that," Beatrix said, not looking up.
; "Stop what?"
"Stop making that pitiful little sound—Natalie isn't here to fall for it."
Ruby lifted herself on her elbows, cupping her chin in her palms. "Why do you hate me?"
Beatrix finally glanced up. And frowned, of course. "I don't hate you."
"Yes, you do."
She shrugged. "Okay, I hate you."
"But why do you hate me?"
Beatrix looked up, her eyebrows knitted. "Because you talk too much, you're too young, and you're not very bright."
"I know," Ruby said, then bit into her lower lip. "I'll bet you were smart when you were my age, weren't you?"
Beatrix got the strangest look on her face for the longest time, then she looked away. "No." Her voice suddenly sounded weak and a little scary. "No, I wasn't very smart when I was your age. In fact" —a small laugh escaped her—"I'm not very smart now."
Ruby stared. "How could you say that? You're rich—you live in a mansion and you drive a ritzy car. I bet you even went to college."
Beatrix nodded, but her smile was wry. "To get an M.R.S. degree."
She knew her eyes were bugging, but she couldn't help it. "That sounds really important."
But the woman only laughed. "M-R-S, as in 'Mrs.' I went to college to find a husband."
"Oh."
"But I didn't. I dated a few young men, but they all were more interested in my Daddy's money and influence than in me."
"Until you met Ray?"
She nodded, then puffed up her cheeks and exhaled. "I thought he was different, but turns out he was simply a better actor."
Actor was a classier word than liar, she supposed. "Are your parents both gone, Beatrix?"
"Yes. Yours?"
"I never knew my father, but my mom is still kicking. She hasn't much cared for me, though, not since she thought I killed Ham Jackson. We don't talk, unless she needs money."
"That's... terrible. Does she know you're having a baby?"
"Oh, yes, I told her right away. Invited her to my wedding, too, but she didn't come."
"What kind of wedding did you have?" Beatrix asked, and really looked interested.
"We went to a justice of the peace—it was over in about six minutes. But I wore a white dress, and Ray looked so handsome, I thought I would die." She closed her eyes, remembering. "He had this way of looking at you—"
Our Husband Page 23
