I was reading a detailed account of a party Bitsy and David had attended at the British Embassy when Nina and Spike arrived. Nina’s face was flushed and she was out of breath from her run up the flight of steps to the office. Her blond hair, streaked this week with metallic purple, stood out at wild angles all over her head. Spike followed her at a more leisurely pace. Cool, calm and collected as usual, she strolled into the room with not one long brunette hair out of place.
Nina, as usual, did the talking for the two of them, her words accented by wild arm movements.
“Oh. My. God!” she cried. “I’m sorry we’re late, but ohmigod! We were at the mall, you know, and like, there was just total chaos!”
I looked past Nina to Spike for verification. She nodded, as if Nina was absolutely right and the mall was a complete mob scene.
“Really? Big sale, huh?”
Nina’s eyes widened. “No! Do you two not listen to the radio or what?”
Jake came into my office, drawn by Nina’s increasingly excited tone.
“What’s all the excitement?”
I rolled my eyes. “Nina was at the mall and it was a zoo.”
Nina stomped her foot impatiently. “No, really! We thought we’d never get out, I think every fire truck and police car in town was there. They cordoned off the entire west side of the mall parking and they were hustling people out of the area and telling them the mall was closing!”
“Bomb scare?” Jake prompted.
Nina shook her head. “No, a bomb. A real bomb!”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Turn on the news if you don’t believe me. Some lady’s car blew up with her inside it! It was like, just so totally gruesome!”
She had our complete attention now.
Spike walked over to the tiny television set that sat on my bookcase, picked up the remote and hit the power button. Sure enough, a reporter stood in front of the mall, the yellow crime-scene tape running the length of the screen behind her, fire trucks and police cruisers everywhere. She looked grim as she leaned forward to speak to her audience.
“The sedan, a late model Lexus, had diplomatic plates, but the victim, a woman in her late twenties, has not been formally identified pending a positive identification and notification of her family.”
I looked up at the clock on the wall and realized it was 2:10. Somehow time had slipped away from me. I looked back at the burnt-out shell of a car in the mall parking lot with growing apprehension. Bitsy Blankenship was ten minutes late.
Chapter 2
Back in the day when we attended Glenn Ford High School, Marygrace Llewellen was the “go-to” girl for any and all information pertaining to the comings and goings of our other classmates. She was also an expert at forging parental signatures. This added to her repository of information, as she knew who was skipping and with whom. It also gave her the capacity to blackmail any and all of us at any time, should she desire additional tidbits of gossip that had somehow eluded her.
While Marygrace never exactly extorted information from anyone, the threat was always there when she came to you for information. She was sweet about it. She never used her powers for evil, preferring mostly to matchmake her fellow classmates or gently sway them into various activities that she felt strongly about, like Save the Planet Day or Senior Skip Day. I admired Marygrace’s easy way with others. Everyone liked her while simultaneously fearing her. It was a pretty cool talent she had there and she knew it.
So when she appeared in the doorway of Valocchi Investigations the day after my Aunt Lucy fiasco and Bitsy’s probable death, I was glad to see her and also a bit apprehensive.
“Hi, guys!” She greeted me as if it hadn’t been twelve years since we’d last seen each other and as if it were the most normal and casual thing in the world for her to be stopping by. My internal alarm bell didn’t even ring.
“Marygrace!” Jake rushed over to pick her up in an affectionate bear hug. She squealed, a short butterball of exuberance and enthusiasm, her little feet dangling in the air as Jake whirled her around. “I haven’t seen you since…” He broke off, trying to remember.
“Since you married that bimbo you call your ex-wife. I gave you guys a toaster. You know, I knew you were headed down the wrong road with that one. She never even wrote me a thank-you note. I think she was threatened by me. Poor breeding will do that to you every time, won’t it?”
Jake was momentarily thrown by Marygrace’s summation, but I saw Nina grinning in agreement.
“So,” she said, turning her radar my way, “I hear you two are finally an item. Good, right?” Her hazel eyes bore into mine like lie detectors, and I felt my face flame.
“It’s all good, Marygrace,” I said. “How’ve you been?”
Marygrace still wore her strawberry-blond hair the way she had in high school. It fell just below her chin in a pageboy bob that somehow suited her. When she shook her head as if putting off my question, her hair swung back and forth like a shampoo commercial. I found myself staring at it, unconcerned that she had no intention of answering me and was now asking a new question.
“How come you two are partners but it only says Valocchi Investigations on the door?”
That got my attention. Unfortunately, it got everyone else’s attention, too, including Nina’s. For some reason, she decided to save me.
“Hey, Marygrace, who was in the car at the mall?”
Marygrace almost seemed to quiver, the way a dog does when it catches scent of something really, really good.
“The police haven’t released her name to the media yet, but I already know on account of them telling her mother and calling me. It was Bitsy Blankenship,” she said, turning to me. “That’s why I’m here. See, her grandmother is a patient of mine.” Marygrace caught my puzzled expression and rushed on. “I’m a social worker now, Stella, out at Brookhaven Manor Nursing Home. I know, I know.” She held up her hand. “Why is a good social worker working in a nursing home? You think only loser social workers work in rest homes but that’s just a myth. There are some really good social workers taking care of the elderly, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Marygrace barely seemed to stop for breath between thoughts. I had to work hard to follow her.
“Bitsy’s grandmother is one of my patients.” Marygrace looked at us with an anxious furrow between her brows. “This is confidential, what I say in here, isn’t it?”
“Well, technically, Marygrace, only if you’re a client, and then only within certain parameters,” Spike said, being cautious. “Is that why you’re here? Do you want to hire us?”
Marygrace cocked her head to one side and seemed to consider the matter for a second before answering.
“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, Bitsy’s grandmother is a lost ball in high weeds. Some days she thinks we’re working at the paper mill and some days she seems just fine, but obviously she can’t hire you!”
“Huh?” Even Nina was getting lost now.
Marygrace looked around the room at the four of us. “Do I need to sign papers first or give you a check or what?” Before anyone could answer, she sped on. “Well, I’ll just tell you. It’s not like Baby Blankenship’s gonna sue me or anything. Like I said, she can’t even remember who I am half the time, so she sure won’t sue me for telling you about her! Besides, everybody knows social workers aren’t in it for the money, and Baby wouldn’t be in a nursing home if she had the money for private care, so there you are!”
“Is this about Bitsy’s death?” I asked, wishing Marygrace had a shortcut button.
Marygrace’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s why I’m here. Somebody breaks into the woman’s room and takes her stuff, then Bitsy turns up dead. Call me paranoid, but I gotta wonder.”
“Wouldn’t that be a police matter?” Jake asked.
Marygrace looked at him, hands on hips, with a frustrated frown. “Oh, yeah, right, like they’ll give a rat’s ass. Baby’s just an old lady to them. There wasn’t anything
of any real value in her room. I told you, she’s poor. Don’t you know anything about nursing homes? Stuff gets stolen out of people’s rooms all the time. If it isn’t nailed down—and sometimes even if it is—it gets stolen.”
“Okay, so, you want us to find out if there’s a connection between Bitsy and whoever’s stealing worthless stuff from Baby Blankenship’s room even though she doesn’t probably even remember what it is and probably doesn’t care?” I tried not to look as if I thought Marygrace was nuts, but I was beginning to wonder.
“Who said she doesn’t know what’s going on or what’s missing? I told you, some days she doesn’t remember who she is, but the rest of the time, Baby’s a sharp old cookie. She told me someone came into her room and believe me, when I went in after the head nurse called, Baby’s room was trashed. She said someone came in and was looking everywhere and they took something.”
“So, what did they steal?” I asked.
Marygrace shrugged and for the first time seemed a little bit disconcerted. “She doesn’t know. She can’t remember. That’s what you guys are supposed to find out. You’re detectives aren’t you?”
“Whoa!” Nina said softly. “Now that’s totally a case to sink your teeth into!”
“You think?” I said reflexively.
“Aw, come on, man!” Marygrace said impatiently. “She’s an old woman. Her granddaughter’s just been killed, maybe by terrorists, and someone came into her room and took something. I’m asking you guys to do something, as a public service. It’ll be good publicity. Don’t you need to get the word out about your agency?”
I shook my head, hoping to clear the confusion of facts and questions in Marygrace’s rapid-fire statement.
“Hold up here, girlfriend,” I said, hoping to apply the brakes to Marygrace’s mouth before I became eternally lost in her next rush of words. “Let me just get a few things straight.”
“What makes you think it was a terrorist?” Jake interrupted me and set Marygrace off again.
“Hey, I watch TV. I can read between the lines. Her husband’s a diplomat. Bitsy’s car was just sitting there. It’s not like she threw a match in the gas tank or anything. It had to be terrorists. Who else? I hear Bitsy’s mama is just all to pieces.” Marygrace turned bright red and clapped a hand over her wayward mouth. “Oh, Lord, I mean she’s upset, not all to…pieces!”
Jake looked at me over the top of Marygrace’s head. She would have no way of knowing about Bitsy’s urgent phone call. It had been almost the only thing Jake and I had thought about since hearing of the mysterious explosion at the mall. Now here was Marygrace saying Bitsy had definitely been the one in the car and her grandmother was the victim of petty larceny. Maybe that’s why Bitsy had called for an appointment. Maybe she’d wanted us to look into her grandmother’s problem. If there was a connection, we’d need to make sure the authorities took it seriously.
A wave of relief washed over me. The load of guilt that had been sitting on my shoulders since I’d heard about the explosion lifted a tiny bit. Maybe Bitsy hadn’t been calling me about a matter of life and death. She probably wanted her grandmother to feel as if something was being done. Bitsy wasn’t dead because I spitefully put her appointment off when I could’ve met her earlier.
Except—Bitsy had called me before going to the nursing home. How could she have known about the theft?
“Sure, Marygrace,” I said. At that point, with my roller coaster of emotions, I would’ve promised Marygrace anything. “I would be more than happy to investigate Baby Blankenship’s missing belongings, whatever they are.” I sobered up, thinking of Bitsy and how much her death would affect her family. “She must be devastated by Bitsy’s death. How’s she doing with that?”
Marygrace sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I hate to say it, but I doubt Baby even remembers Bitsy. She hadn’t seen her in years before yesterday. If Baby remembered Bitsy at all, it was as a little girl.”
Well, at least Baby got to see Bitsy grown-up one time. Poor Bitsy. Wonder what made her decide to stop by and see her grandmother after so many years? I glanced over at my cousin, the believer in all things New Age. She’d probably tell me Bitsy had unconsciously sensed her impending demise and wanted to tie up loose ends.
“So, why did Bitsy stop by to see her grandmother yesterday, I mean, after so many years?” I voiced my question.
Marygrace just shook her head. “Who knows? She came racing in, barely said ‘Hi’ to me, asked what room her granny was in and took off down the hallway. You’d have thought it was a race to the finish line. And then, she only stayed for like, five minutes before she took off! I just never could figure that Bitsy out. For someone so smart, she sure was stupid.”
Spike had been listening to Marygrace’s tale with growing interest. “How was she stupid?” she asked.
“Well, she had book sense but the girl didn’t have a bit of common sense. Look at that geek she married.” Marygrace’s eyes twinkled as she looked around the room, drawing us in to her story. “She eloped, you know.”
“But I read about her…”
Marygrace nodded. “Oh, they had a wedding, all right. Brenda, her mama, threatened to disown her if they didn’t come back and put on a show. Otherwise, people would’ve thought the worst.”
“What?” Nina asked. “What’s worse than getting married?”
Jake sputtered, choking on the coffee he’d been trying to drink, and turned red. I figured it was only his karma paying him back. After all, the man had abandoned me at the altar when we were in high school and scheduled to elope ourselves.
“Yeah, Marygrace,” I echoed. “What’s worse than getting married?”
“Aw, come on, man. You know. Her mama said people would think she was knocked up!”
“Damn!” Nina breathed. “I just like, totally don’t get some people.”
“When did Bitsy stop by the nursing home?” Jake asked, pulling us back to the matter at hand.
“It had to be after she called me,” I muttered to Jake.
Marygrace cocked her head to one side and appeared to be giving Jake’s question serious consideration. “Let’s see. It was after ten o’clock bingo and a little before lunch. Yeah, that’s right. I remember because old Mrs. Maxwell expired around four and I was trying to take care of the arrangements when all hell broke loose in Baby’s room.”
Marygrace twitched, clutched her side and reached inside her brightly colored jacket. A moment later she pulled a tiny cell phone out and flipped it open.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m on call. I have to take this.”
As we watched, Marygrace listened, the frown on her face deepening with each passing moment.
“Don’t give me that!” she cried. “How can it happen again without anybody seeing anything? Where were you people?”
Marygrace looked up from her conversation and mouthed the word, “Baby” before returning to the conversation.
“Where’s Darren? Well, tell him I’m coming back right now, and this time we’re calling the police. If one of those CNAs laid a hand on Baby, I’ll have their job and their ass. Call Stephanie and get her in to see Baby right now. If she can’t come, call a fucking ambulance and have her transported to the E.R.”
There was a brief hesitation as the person on the other end apparently questioned Marygrace’s orders. I watched her eyes darken and her scowl deepen, thinking only a fool would ignore a dynamo like Marygrace when she was riled up.
“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what Medicaid’ll pay for. Get her there and get her there now!”
Marygrace slammed the lid shut on her tiny phone.
“Let’s go!” Marygrace was already halfway out the door. When nobody moved to follow her, she spun back around. “Well? Come on! Baby’s room got hit again and this time she got hurt. Are you guys gonna sit around with your thumbs up your butts or are you coming?”
“We’ll be right behind you, Marygrace,” I answered. “I’ve got to ge
t a couple of things started before we head out, that’s all. We’re coming.”
Marygrace’s eyes glittered with unshed tears and her face and neck flushed. She clenched and unclenched her fists. In that one moment I understood her feelings completely and saw the woman she’d become. Marygrace had simply taken all the skills she’d used for fun and diversion in high school and channeled them into her career as a social worker.
She was no longer the champion of her fellow fun-loving teenagers. She had evolved into a champion of lost causes and underdogs. Marygrace fought for her patients with the same fervor and intensity I’d had on the police force. I hated to think what would happen if she were the one to encounter Baby Blankenship’s abuser.
“Just hurry up, okay?” she said finally. “This scares me.”
She was gone before I could answer her. I swallowed hard, ignoring the tight feeling in my throat and the naked emotion in Nina’s eyes. “All right, you two, Jake and I will take the nursing home. While we’re there, I want you to get me some background information.”
Spike nodded, her chin resting on Nina’s head. “What do you need?”
“I know you still have contacts in the police department,” I said. “I want to know what they know about Bitsy’s death. I want to know everything you can find out.”
Spike looked momentarily puzzled. “Okay. As soon as they ID’d the car, the feds wouldn’ve taken over.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m covering all the bases. Bitsy was coming to see us and she’d said it was urgent. She never made it, and I want to know why. I’ll take any bit of information I can get.”
“What do you want me to do?” Nina asked, her voice muffled by Spike’s shoulder.
“As soon as I can get a list of employees on duty today and at the time of the first incident, I’ll call you. I want you and Spike to do the background checks.”
What Stella Wants Page 3
