“Evelyn has only been here for a couple of days, Gloria,” Doctor Yielding said. “You have to give her more time.”
“Samuel Waters was here on the fifteenth.” The detective interrupted.
“Not when I was here.” Drew jotted down the measurements onto his hand. “He Facebooked me about the job. I had posted on the town’s group page that I was looking for handyman jobs.”
I turned my mother to face me. “Mom, why did you call Samuel for help? I would’ve fixed it for you.”
She tilted her head to the side, confusion clouding her gaze for a minute before she smiled lovingly at me and patted my cheek. “It must’ve been because you were busy with your business, Baby Girl. I know how important it is to you.”
A heaviness entered my heart. I blinked to stop the developing tears from sneaking out. “Not more than you. I would’ve made fixing your unit a priority.”
“The staff would’ve taken care of it for you.” Doctor Yielding was as upset as me.
“Samuel said he knew a young man who needed a job. I love to help people and there’s not much I can do now. This was something I could do.” My mother’s voice was strong. “I will not be a burden. I am a capable woman.”
Independence. That was why my mom reached out to someone who wouldn’t make all the decisions for her. “Don’t you like it here?” My voice was soft.
“Don’t be sad my Merry Christmas.” My mom kissed my cheek. “All is well with me. I agreed to live here after your father died. It was what I wanted. I’m not a pushover. I can go to the library, or the movies, or get my hair done when I want. I don’t have to wait for someone to take me.”
Gloria Winters was a strong woman. The first sign my mom’s health was declining was when she grew anxious about everything. She called me numerous times a day from a hiding place in her house telling me someone was trying to force themselves into her home. My mother hadn’t wanted to live with me as stairs were hard for her to navigate, and she wanted her own place—not to live in someone else’s, even her own daughter’s house. The unit she lived in had efficiency apartments rather than hospital rooms, though that option was available for residents with those needs.
Drew used the toe of his leather work boot to move the tape away from the detective. “I hope I’m not causing any problem. I asked Samuel’s lady friend if it was okay that I was here, and she said it was.”
Bonnie. I shot a glare over at Doctor Yielding.
“Why did you ask her?” Doctor Yielding asked. Unlike me, she wasn’t willing to jump to conclusions.
Drew withdrew a tape measure from his back pocket and measured along the sections of tape. “Because she works here.”
“You were here on Thursday talking with Gloria Winters and Samuel Waters?” Detective Grayson asked, trying to reel us all back to his topic of conversation.
“I was here in the apartment with Mrs. Winters. She showed me where she needed the rug. I taped out the area on the kitchen floor then measured it.”
“You talked with Samuel and Mrs. Winters on Thursday. Just not at the same time in the apartment.” The detective was trying to make sense of Drew’s statements.
Good luck with that. Drew was a rambler. The few times he visited my house, Drew hung out in the kitchen with me while I cooked dinner. I found out that he preferred to chit chat with me rather than play video games with Scotland. I also wondered why my son didn’t check on his friend. I had my answer soon enough; Scotland’s ears needed a break from the constant chatter. Drew talked about everything and nothing all at the same time. It was a unique gift.
“When did you talk to him? Was it Thursday morning?” Grayson asked.
My mother rubbed her temples. “You’re confusing me with all the questions. What day? What time? Who else was here? I don’t know. I thought I spoke to Samuel on Thursday. This young man says no.”
Sometime during our loopy-loop conversation with Drew, Evelyn walked back into the apartment and handed Doctor Yielding a red folder, dipping her head and causing her hair to cascade over her face before scurrying out of the room. The words “visitor’s log” were stamped on the front.
“I can clear this up.” Yielding opened the folder and flipped back a few sheets. She frowned. “Samuel was here that day.”
“Bonnie let him see my mom. She should be fired.” I clenched my hands.
“Merry, I promise, I’ll check into this incident and find out exactly who allowed Samuel to visit with your mother,” Yielding said.
“Samuel said he’d pay me today.” Drew unfurled the rug, continuing with the job as if nothing was going on around him. “I’m meeting him at Wing King tonight. Said if it was done before you found out, Ms. Winters, he’d give me a big tip.” Drew sat back on his heels, sad puppy-dog eyes on me. “You won’t tell him? I just found out my girlfriend is pregnant. We can use the extra money.”
“Haven’t you been following the conversation?” Grayson asked.
“Probably not,” I muttered, “Drew is a talker not a listener.”
“Sure. You wanted to know if Mrs. Winters saw Samuel on Thursday. He wasn’t here when I was in her place. I talked to him outside, in the parking lot. I don’t know why everyone is upset about him being here. He didn’t come into her apartment.”
“He signed the guest book,” Doctor Yielding said.
Drew adjusted the rug by an inch then sat back on his heels to study it. He tugged it back a millimeter. “Maybe once he signed his name someone checked it against a list and told him he couldn’t visit Mrs. Winters. I’m telling you, he met me outside in the parking lot. Said it was best he didn’t go in after all.”
“What time was this?” Grayson asked.
Drew heaved out a sigh, scratching his head with the tip of a pencil. “Right before lunch time, I was ticked because I had plans to meet my girl for lunch at my mom’s diner and Samuel said no. He said how could a man feed his girl if he didn’t have money. I can’t mooch food off my mom forever.”
“The time.” Grayson’s irritation was obvious.
“I was here for probably about an hour. Maybe two. Mrs. Winters made me lunch.” He smiled fondly at my mom. “Great old gal.”
“What time did you talk with Samuel on Thursday the fifteenth?”
“Why do you need to know that? I thought you wanted to know if he was talking to Mrs. Winters not me.”
“Because I’m trying to find out who saw Samuel last.”
“The police?” Drew offered a guess.
“Samuel’s dead. Someone killed the man.” My mother, on the other hand, was tired of Drew’s cluelessness and had no qualms blurting out the truth. “You might have been the last person to see him alive.”
Slowly, Drew’s eyes widened, comprehension finally smacking him upside the head. “I can check my phone. I got here about fifteen minutes after he called me.”
“Do that.” From the expression on Grayson’s face, the last thread of his patience was almost completely unraveled.
Drew swiped his finger across and up and down. “Samuel texted at 11:14. I probably got here around 11:29. It takes me fifteen minutes to get here from my house. Unless there’s traffic. He told me he had to get to the post office before it closed for lunch and I don’t remember Samuel yelling at me for being late, so I had to have gotten here at that time.”
“Then you worked in Gloria’s apartment for two hours. Putting tape on a carpet,” Grayson said.
“And eating lunch,” Drew added with a helpful smile.
“Yes, and lunch. It took you quite a while to accomplish one small task,” Grayson said.
“The boy loves to talk. Like the rest of you. My head is aching.” Gloria rubbed her temples.
Her face was pale. Dark circles were under her eyes. “Let’s get you to bed, Mom.”
She opened her mouth to argue then closed it, a
protective gleam in her eyes. “Yes, help me to my room. If the detective has any other questions, he can ask me later.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Grayson said.
“It never was.” I cupped my mother’s elbow and led her down the hall. The front door opened and closed. I let go of the anger I clung to, knowing the detective was out of my mother’s apartment
She paused in front of her bedroom door and frowned at it. “Why would I do that?”
My mother never closed her door. Never. Even when I was child, she left it open. It was the one disagreement she had continuously with my father. He preferred a closed door at night, for privacy. She wanted it open. She hated feeling caged in. The compromise was that my door was closed at night and a walkie-talkie was on my night stand in case I needed them in the middle of the night. Though, there was one reason my mother closed a bedroom door.
“I bet your clean laundry is sorted on the bed like you always do before you put it in the drawers. You closed the door when the detective knocked.”
My mother narrowed her eyes on me. “I don’t need you to tell me how I like to do my laundry. Stop reminding me about everything.”
I lowered my head. I had embarrassed her today by telling the detective and Drew she had memory problems. I was glad her fighting spirit was back, but saddened I hurt her. It wasn’t my intention.
She sighed and hugged me. “I’m sorry I snapped. This is hard for you. It’s hard for me. I don’t like the new me. I don’t like forgetting.”
“I love you, Mom. Always.”
“No matter what.” She pressed her forehead to mine. “You promise?”
I blinked back the tears and wrapped my arms around her. “I promise. No matter what.”
She stood, squared her shoulders and walked into the bedroom. Her clothes were laid out on the bed. “I have to finish hanging my clothes before I nap.” Her voice was lighter. There was a normal, true-to-her reason for the door being closed. Her clothes, including her unmentionables, were displayed on the bed. My mom liked to lay out her bras and underwear as if she going to wear them.
“I’ll help.”
She shooed me toward the closet. “You hang, I’ll put away my garments into the drawers.”
Even at my age, my mom didn’t want me seeing her delicates. Holding in a giggle, I picked up an armload of blouses and slacks and went to the closet. Slacks on the purple hangers, blouses on the pink. In the corner was a laundry basket filled with crumbled clothes. Men’s clothes.
Gloria hummed “Silent Night” as she arranged her lingerie in the drawer. Quietly, I knelt and looked through the clothes. I yanked my hand back. I recognized one of the shirts. Samuel’s. Why was my ex-husband’s laundry in my mother’s closet? I snagged a pillow case from the top of the closet. I was moving on instinct, not rational thought, every fiber of my being screamed to get the clothes out of my mother’s apartment before the detective saw them and made something of it.
I shoved the clothes into the pillow case. How would I get them out? My cart. I’d leave the Christmas décor here and take out the bag of clothes.
“Mom, I brought a Christmas tree to put up. Would you like me to do that today or tomorrow?”
“I don’t have space for a tree,” her voice was wistful.
“It’s a vinyl decal, Mom. It’ll go on the wall of your living room. I also have ornament decals to put on the tree.”
Gloria clapped her hands. “That sounds wonderful, Merry. Can we do it tomorrow? Or on Friday when the grandchildren are visiting. Let’s make a whole day of it. Bake cookies. Decorate the tree. Craft each other a present. Just like when you were little.”
Mentally, I rearranged my decorating schedule, planning to do my house tomorrow and Wednesday. “Absolutely. I brought everything with me, so I’ll just unload it now. Can I leave it in here?”
“No, the living room.” My mother walked over to me and whispered, “Things keep moving around in here.”
“Moving?”
“Dresses on the pant hangers. Things just aren’t where they should be. I couldn’t find your father’s picture on my table this morning.”
Frantically, my gaze went to the bedside table where my mother kept her favorite framed photograph of her husband. She wanted the first thing she saw in the morning and the last image at night to be my father. The love of her life. And right there, near the edge of the table, was my father’s photo. His mouth curved in that special smile of his that said he adored you above all else.
I adjusted the picture. “Here it is.”
“Thank you so much for finding it for me.” My mother sighed in relief as I fought back tears. “Since the day we got you, you’ve always been the one who made our lives better.”
Eighteen
I yanked open the front door of Season’s Living and stepped outside. The cold air cooled my heated skin. The detective had riled me up good. Cha-ching. The sound made me smile. It signaled that Merry and Bright Handcrafted Christmas received an Etsy order. I hadn’t heard the noise all weekend. I was certain word was getting around about my alleged felonious behavior. I pulled out my phone. Wine glass order. Need before Christmas was in the note section. The date fell within our two-week time frame for completing orders. Good. I hated having to message customers and letting them know their order wouldn’t reach them by the date they requested unless they purchased the rush option. Most felt it was a way to nickel and dime them rather than considering that they weren’t the only open orders on our books.
Pausing on the sidewalk, I texted Bright. Have an order. My phone has been silent since this incident with Samuel started. Starting to think shoppers were avoiding us.
A few moments later, Bright responded. Honey, we were on vacation mode. We voted to put the shop on vacation when either of us are doing a vendor event. Especially during the high season. Since it was a slow event, I knew it was safe to open for custom orders as we didn’t have to replenish stock for the event in two weeks.
Being accused of murder had my brain in a tailspin. I headed for my vehicle. I totally forgot the shop was shifted into vacation mode, thereby not allowing us to receive orders. It was the best choice for us. Can’t believe I forgot.
Understandable. Hope we get some more cha-chings today.
Me too.
I dropped my phone into my pocket and folded up the utility cart. I started to wrangle it into the back of my SUV when I felt someone breathing down my neck. Jerking around, it slipped from my hand and landed on my foot. I yelped and glared at my potential stalker. Bonnie. My big toe throbbed. A tip of the folded cart had smashed onto it. Thankfully, I was wearing boots, or my toe would’ve likely been broken. I couldn’t afford a foot injury. I had a roof to decorate. It was a heck of a time getting up the ladder with a wreath and Santa, his sleigh, and eight not so tiny reindeer with two good feet. I hated to envision the project with a broken foot.
“Sorry,” she said, not appearing the least bit apologetic.
“It’s not good to sneak up on people.”
“Maybe that’s what happened to Samuel. Snuck up on someone and she…I mean he or she…killed him in their frightened state.”
That’s how she was going to play this. Fine. She wasn’t in her work uniform. “Or someone got in trouble for allowing her husband to see a patient he was forbidden to visit and was fired for it and now has time to accost people in a parking lot.” Take that.
Tears filled her eyes. “My husband was found murdered Friday night. I was given leave.”
I was a horrible person. It was my turn to apologize. “I’m sorry, Bonnie, that was uncalled for. It’s been stressful lately. Probably more so for you. Samuel visited my mom on Thursday and upset her.”
“Who let him?” Fire burned in her eyes. “It’s in Gloria’s chart that Samuel and strangers aren’t permitted to speak with her one on one. I
will talk to human resources and the patient care team and have it investigated for Gloria.”
Either she was good actress, or I had it all wrong. The woman was livid on behalf of my mother. “Doctor Yielding is checking into what happened. You came over to talk with me because…” I trailed off.
“To ask for a copy of the divorce decree. The insurance agent is still stone-walling me. The date and signatures on the wedding license are blurred. I was going to make a fresh copy of our wedding license, but Samuel sent it to get framed, and the two places in town that do framing don’t have it. If I can get a copy of the decree, the date on it could help settle everything.”
“Knowing Samuel, he found a cheaper place online and sent it. Did you check his computer?”
“Can’t. Detective Grayson took it as evidence.”
My curiosity overtook good judgment. “What else did he take?”
“Lock box where we kept our documents. Financial records he kept at the house. Can I stop by your house to get a copy?”
I hated admitting the truth especially since Bonnie stood up for my mom. “I don’t have one.”
Rage sparked in her eyes. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging through my coat into my arm. Those things were a weapon. “Then get one.”
“When I have time.” I gripped her wrist. “Let me go.”
Bonnie stared at her hand as if she didn’t know how it got there. She shoved her hands into her coat pocket. “I’ll keep asking you until you do.”
“Call Milton.” I threw my attorney to the she-devil. I had paid him a small fortune for the divorce since Samuel dragged it out.
“I have. He won’t return my calls.”
Couldn’t say I blamed him if she left a message using the same tone of voice. It was Thanksgiving week. The beginning of hunting season. “He’s out hunting. He usually comes back home Wednesday as his wife would kill…” The ugly word stopped me cold. How easy it was said. I was going to work on taking it out of my everyday vocabulary. “Would be very upset if he wasn’t home for Thanksgiving.”
NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING Page 16
