by Sally John
“Of course.”
“She’s…” again the painful pause, “thinking about returning to California with her parents.”
Cal’s lights were on. He was a night owl even when he didn’t work the third shift. Isabel banged on his front door, too energized to simply push the doorbell.
He opened the door. “Isabel. What’s wrong? Come in.”
“Cal, you knew! Didn’t you? You knew!”
“Mendoza, calm down! I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about. Sit.”
His stern tone cut through her anguished restlessness. She sat in a worn armchair and glanced around to get her bearings. Cal’s entire home was worn—usually neatly kept—but worn. It had been his grandparents’ home. They had built it over 50 years ago and left it to their only grandchild when they passed away. The furnishings had probably been theirs, too. Doilies certainly would have adorned things at one time. No doubt he had pitched them.
He turned off the big-screen television and sat down.
Cal was a decent guy. Why couldn’t she fall for a decent guy?
“Talk to me.”
“Tony found some dirt on Brady.”
He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. “What dirt?”
“You tell me! You knew he would dig, and you knew there was something for him to find! Why didn’t you warn Brady?”
“I did.”
“Well, it was too late!”
“Isabel, I’m in the same room.”
She gasped back her screeching tone. “Gina might leave him. At least go back to California with her parents next week. Peter told Celeste, and she just told me.”
“You’re pretty close with Gina, aren’t you? Talk her out of it.”
She had already considered this. “I won’t know what I’m talking to her about! And I don’t want to know!”
“Brady’s not perfect.”
“Yes, he is!”
“Come on, Mendoza, don’t go squirrelly on me. I love the guy, but he’s got his faults.”
“Is it horrific?”
“No, of course not. It was just stupid. He chased after Nicole. This was soon after you came to town, I think. You didn’t know him well then. He was…nuts about her. I thought he was losing touch with reality. Working too hard at three jobs, teaching, farming, and writing but not getting published. Anyway, she called from California, told him goodbye, said she’d mail the ring. Next thing I know, he’s gone and it’s spring planting time. Two weeks later he shows up on my doorstep, in obvious need of a shave and a shower.”
Cal leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and muttered, “Cured me of ever wanting to get serious with a woman, let me tell you.”
“Cal!”
“He told me he found Nicole. She said she didn’t love him anymore. He realized he’d been an idiot. Then the new boyfriend appeared. Brady punched his lights out.”
Isabel gasped. Brady Olafsson punched somebody?
“He got arrested. They charged him with stalking—”
“No!”
“And assault and battery. But when he agreed to leave town, give Nicole the $10,000 ring plus damages, and never contact her again, they dropped the charges.”
“So it’s not on any records.”
Cal shook his head. “Ward went to L.A. right after the Autumn Faire. Somebody must have told him about Nicole, and he found her.”
“Dot.”
“Dot?”
“They talked at the Faire. And, Cal, you know she would. I’m sorry. She’s Tammy’s mother, but you know she would.”
He appeared to mull that over.
“You’ve known him longer than any of us. You should talk to Gina. She must be scared out of her wits, wondering what kind of weirdo he is. She hasn’t known him very long. Should we all talk to her?”
He grimaced. “I’m batting zero when it comes to women lately.”
“Cal! Brady needs you!”
“Why don’t you talk to her and I’ll talk to Ward?”
“No way.” She shook her head. “He’s mine, soon as he gets back from Chicago.” And he will pay for this.
Brady had been known to shout “Go away!” at friends and family. Anyone who disrupted his writing time by finding him out on the screened porch at his laptop was considered an intruder. Cal was no exception, but early Friday morning he braved Brady’s wrath.
He bypassed the front door and walked along the leaf-strewn stone walk around the log house to the back porch. He climbed the three deck steps and saw him. He wasn’t at his laptop.
Brady stood the other side of the screen door, coffee mug in hand. “Cal.” He opened the door and stepped aside. He needed a shave. His baseball cap was pulled low on his forehead. “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
Brady gazed at him, as if lost in a thought that had nothing to do with the coffee he just offered.
“I’ll get it, Brade.” Cal hurried into the kitchen, noted it wasn’t in its usual neat shape, grabbed a mug from the cupboard, and helped himself to what remained in the carafe. He’d make some more before he left.
Back on the porch, Brady hadn’t moved. “Well, you warned me.”
“Too late. I’m sorry. I liked the guy. Underestimated his ability to backstab.”
Brady gave him a tiny smile. “I like him too, but I could have done without this little episode. Gina feels like she’s been through the wringer. I feel like I’ve been clothespinned to a line, hung out to dry.” His voice faded.
Cal looked for signs. Brady was in a bad way, but not strung out the way he was when Nicole left. “You okay?”
“No, but we’ll be okay. I think. I mean, she can’t believe it. She has to, though, because it’s true. All of it. Tony hinted, she sensed something was left unsaid, I told her Tuesday night. How’d you find out, anyway?”
“Peter told Celeste—no details, bud. Just that Tony had information to hurt you. Celeste told Isabel. Isabel told me.”
Brady took off his cap, scratched his forehead, and replaced the hat. “That’s the kind of stuff that drives Gina up the wall.”
“I, uh, I told Isabel the details. She needed to know in case Gina wants to talk with her. And then there’s her relationship with Ward. Seemed best to level the playing field.”
Brady nodded. “Isabel should know. How do you think Tony found Nicole?”
“Dot. Well, anybody could have given him Nicole’s name and that she was last known to be in the Los Angeles area. But according to Isabel, Dot had the opportunity.”
“And the motive.” They exchanged a knowing glance. “Cal, I know she’s an attractive girl, but Tammy is…immature, with no help on the parent front.”
“No problem. I don’t intend to get serious.” Cal shrugged. “So how goes it?”
Brady gazed through the screen, toward the pond. “Reece is having second thoughts. Maggie is unusually quiet. Gina and I…” he let out a breath, “have some issues to work through. At least, I think they can be worked through.”
Twenty-Two
Late Friday night Lia stood alone in the dimly lit pharmacy. In the back corner, where the lights were brighter, she stared at the tall shelves that came out from the wall, shaped like a giant “E.” They held her large array of drugs. Tablets and capsules neatly alphabetized…topicals in their section…orals in theirs…children’s medications separate…the refrigerated items.
Her thoughts raced in every direction and then halted, too scattered to grasp their conclusion. It was incomprehensible. Dread flooded through her. She braced herself against a shelf.
The phone at her shoulder rang. She jumped.
Not now!
It rang again. Again. And again.
The machine picked up. Her message played, then, “Lia, it’s Cal. You there?”
She grabbed the phone. “Cal! Oh, Cal! Are you nearby?”
“On the sidewalk. What’s wrong?”
“Something…something’s not quite right. I think I need a policem
an.”
There was a knock on the front door. “At your service.” He must be on his cell.
She hung up and rushed down the aisle. As the big brown teddy bear in uniform strode inside, she felt a rush of relief and clutched his arm.
“What’s wrong?”
Gulping for breath, she turned, motioning him to follow. They stepped through the half door that joined two counters. She went between the shelves and stared.
He touched her shoulder. “Lia?”
“I don’t understand it,” she whispered. “I think I’ve been robbed.”
“What happened?”
“I was just putting away the drugs that were delivered today. See this?” She reached up and tapped empty spots, and then she turned to face him. “Morphine and everything containing codeine.”
Cal’s eyebrows shot up.
“I had a full supply.”
“You’re sure—Of course you’re sure.” He studied the shelves up behind her shoulder, his peppermint gum-scented breath filling the tiny space between them. “Maybe they were accidentally moved out of place. Let’s search through all the drugs.”
“I already did that!”
“Well, we’ll do it again. And then probably again. Hey, don’t worry, China Doll.” He lightly touched her forehead and pressed away the frown.
It was when he brushed strands of hair back from her face that something shifted between them, as if a veil were yanked away, abruptly bringing into focus a nameless emotion. He stopped smoothing her hair. Surprise registered in his eyes, and she sensed hers reflected the same. Slowly he tilted his head downward until only a hair’s breadth separated them.
“Lia.” His lips moved the air against hers. “This is not a good idea.”
“Right,” she breathed, relief and disappointment weaving a tangled mess in her throat.
Cal straightened. “Let’s go, uh—” They bumped into each other, unable to turn simultaneously. “You go first.”
Wobbly legs carried her to the grouping of wicker chairs. She sank onto one.
He joined her. “Sorry about that. What was that?”
“I don’t know, but I completely forgot why you’re here.”
He laughed, tugging at his collar. “Keep the victims calm, I always say.”
“Well, you’re effective, Deputy.”
“Okay, down to business?”
“Okay.
The veil was back in place.
Cal pulled out his pen and notebook from his shirt pocket, trying to keep just superficial eye contact with Lia. A few moments ago he’d totally lost himself in those jet black pools that matched her unbelievably thick long hair. “You just discovered the drugs missing tonight?”
“Just before you called. What timing, huh?”
He nodded, scratching notes on his pad, avoiding the sight of her mouth. It was a perfectly shaped mouth, reminding him of a perky little bow tie. Small, full, velvety. She was trying to smile bravely, and his heart was thumping like crazy. Still. Thank God he had caught himself in time. Yes, thank You, God.
“Mr. Swanson picked up his morphine for his cancer pain on Tuesday. I ordered more, but I wasn’t completely out. I’m sure I would have noticed that Wednesday when I stocked. Or Thursday—Maybe not Thursday. There was the book club and…other things going on. Today was too busy to stock yesterday’s shipment.”
“Can you get your records together? Copies of order forms and so forth?”
She jumped up.
He reached out and pulled her back down. “Not this minute.”
“Oh, what are they going to think when I order more and haven’t filled any prescriptions? It sometimes takes a week to get morphine delivered. There’s the DEA paperwork and—”
“Lia, it’s okay. Relax. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Cal! Nobody’s broken in! No alarm in the middle of the night! No mess back there! No broken window!”
“But your door has been open during business hours.”
“This counter is never left unattended.”
“Who has access behind it?”
“Dot. Isabel on Mondays. Britte used to work, but not since school started. Addie was here Wednesday. Anne helps on Fridays. Chelsea, sometimes on Saturdays. Chloe has been helping more, but not with the drugs. She wouldn’t know anything.”
“Does she come in with friends?”
“They’re eight and nine years old! And when we’re not here in the store, I keep the door between it and the back room locked. Always.”
“With the key in the desk drawer beside it.”
“Right.”
“Which would be easy for anyone to find. Does Chloe know where you keep it?”
“Yes. Oh, no!” She slumped. “Chelsea baby-sat Thursday night. But she wouldn’t, would she?”
“Chelsea’s a good kid. Kind of artsy, like her mom. Some of her friends are on the fringe, but… Ask Chloe if Chelsea had any friends over that night. Who else has a key to the place?”
“Just Dot. She’s here full time and is the only one who really works with me on the prescriptions. Oh, Cal, I can’t blame this on Dot or Chelsea or any of my friends!”
“Don’t worry about conclusions yet. What else has been going on? Any unusual prescription requests?”
“No.”
“We could check prints, but there would be everybody’s around the store, and it’s doubtful we could match any without fingerprinting half the town. We’d have to shut you down—”
“Oh, please don’t shut me down. I don’t know how I’m going to make ends meet as it is!”
“All right. I’m going to take a quick look around the back room, and then I’ll file a report. Lia, I don’t want to frighten you, but if someone did waltz in here and swipe the drugs without being detected, they may try again.”
Her eyes widened.
He stood and squeezed her shoulder. “Just be on the lookout. You know I’m close by.”
She leaned her head against his arm. “Cal, why is it I need a cop so often in Valley Oaks?”
Saturday morning Cal stepped inside the Valley Oaks Pharmacy, the tinkling sound of the bell above the front door announcing his arrival. All heads turned toward him.
From the rear counter, Lia gave a little wave. He did a quick mental checkup. Last night when he— Whew! What had come over him? He’d never responded to a victim like that before. The china doll was a friend. She was also a great cook, enjoyable to be around, her demeanor and looks always keeping him just a little bit on edge…or off balance. That feeling that kept you…interested. Intriguing dark eyes, unlike any he’d encountered. Sweet bow tie of a mouth. Long, long hair, but not a color that attracted him in that way. She didn’t attract him in that way…except last night…for a brief moment… And now? He stood still and listened. His heart beat normally. Good. He was back in the saddle.
Beside Lia now, Dot frowned. In the center aisle, Mr. and Mrs. Jennings called out a greeting. To the right, Chelsea Chandler and Chloe looked up from behind the cash register.
Cal shut the door and ducked down the left aisle. Where was the toothpaste? He felt Dot’s eyes on him. Nuts, he’d have to send Tammy more flowers just for doing his job.
“Cal,” Chelsea sang out across the store, “need some help?”
“Uh, no,” he called back. “Thanks.”
He hated shopping. He especially hated shopping for personal hygiene products—and Lia’s store was all personal hygiene—where the entire town of Valley Oaks would know what brand of toothpaste he used in his bathroom.
He rotated his shoulders, shaking off the discomfort. It was prudent that he visit the scene of the crime, even if it meant revealing the contents of his bathroom.
He thought of Chelsea. He liked the kid…in recent years anyway, once she got into high school and behaved more like a regular person. To Cal, anyone younger than 15 was a foreigner to the human race.
Chelsea resembled her mother, almost a 60s-style hippie. Plain, broa
d but not unattractive faces, no makeup. They had long, wavy dark blonde hair worn often in braids. He glanced across the tops of the shelving units. Actually, her hair was orange today. Must be the Halloween season.
She was an artist, like her mom, and wore strange, flowing outfits. Some of the art students were troublemakers. He picked them up regularly for underage drinking. Never Chelsea, though. She seemed to prefer church activities. He hoped she wasn’t mixed up with the underside, but he’d have to ask around.
Cal found the toothpaste. It didn’t seem like much to spend. It didn’t add much support for a local business. He clenched his jaw and studied the dental floss selection.
What was it Lia had said last night about making ends meet? That hadn’t sounded promising.
He strolled around the corner. There were greeting cards. Shoot, it wouldn’t hurt to send his mom a card.
He noted four people hanging around the pharmacy counter, talking with each other and Dot as she made change for Hattie Miers. Lia intently studied the computer screen. The phone rang near her. She flinched, but didn’t reach for it. It rang again before she answered it. After a moment, her body visibly relaxed, and she pulled a pen from behind her ear.
The store was small. It wouldn’t be possible for someone to open the half door in the center of the pharmacy counter, go up one step and back to the drugs without rubbing shoulders with someone else.
He chose the first flowery card that said “Thinking of You” on its cover. Down the center aisle he spotted stationery. He could use a pen. At the end of that aisle he saw Brady’s books. Brady always gave him a copy. But if he bought one, it would support Brady and Lia. Instead of sending his copy to his mom, he could buy one for her. Stick the card in it. There were large padded envelopes located with the pens.
Chloe appeared before him, holding out a bright yellow plastic basket.
He blinked.
“For your stuff.”
“Oh.” He dumped his purchases in it, accepted the handle, then turned down the last aisle, pretending he didn’t feel as if he were carrying a purse.
Candy bars. Hmm…
He eventually made his way to the front register. Chloe took care of ringing things up while Chelsea bagged them and chatted. “Did you see the fall wreaths? They’re on sale. One of those would look great on your front door.”
