With Baited Breath

by Lorraine Bartlett

  “Okay,” Tori said, and left her friend, who’d seemed to be getting antsy. She ambled over to the visitor and looked back. Kathy had already whipped out her cell phone. No doubt calling the real estate office about the wreck across the road. She shrugged and started back toward the newcomer. “Can I help you?” she called.

  The woman turned to look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she rubbed the back of her hand across the right one. “Just looking,” she said, and turned back to look at the motel.

  Tori stepped closer. “Anissa?” she called.

  The woman turned and nodded.

  “It’s me, Tori.”

  “Shut up,” the woman said and somehow managed a soggy laugh.

  Tori wasn’t sure if her childhood friend would be receptive to a hug, but she held out her arms. Anissa practically fell into her embrace and began to weep, great heaving sobs.

  “I’m so sorry,” Tori whispered into her ear and patted her back.

  “My daddy’s dead,” Anissa managed between ragged breaths.

  “I’m so, so sorry,” Tori murmured, not knowing what else to say to ease Anissa’s sorrow.

  Eventually, the sobs grew more quiet, and Anissa pulled away. “Sorry about that,” she managed, dug into the big pocket on the left side of her overalls, and came up with a balled-up tissue. She blew her nose—loudly—and let out a shaky breath. “How long has it been?” she asked Tori.

  “More than twenty years.”

  “You don’t look at all like you did as a kid,” Anissa said.

  “Neither do you,” Tori said, and they both laughed.

  Anissa’s smile was short lived. “The detective I spoke to said that a woman found my daddy. Was that you?”

  Tori nodded, finding it hard to meet Anissa’s gaze. “Me and my Gramps.”

  “How could someone kill my daddy and nobody saw it happen?” Anissa demanded.

  “We buried my grandma that day. We were gone from nine in the morning until late in the afternoon.”

  Anissa nodded and turned back to the motel. “What a dump.”

  Tori let out a breath. “Yeah.”

  “I mean, it’s a terrible place for someone to die.”

  “Do the police have any clue what happened?”

  “Do you think they care about a dead old black dude?” Anissa asked with disdain.

  “I sure hope they do. I’m trying to breathe some life into the business.”

  “Oh, so my daddy being killed here is bad for business?” Anissa asked hotly.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Tori said, defending herself.

  Anissa turned away. “I’m sorry. I’m angry and I guess I just want to blame someone for this.”

  “I can understand that,” Tori said with sympathy. “When did you find out?”

  “Last night. It took the cops that long to track me down. I guess it didn’t occur to them to look in the phone book.”

  “Do you live in Rochester?” Tori asked.

  Anissa nodded, then she shrugged. “Sort of. I’ve got an apartment in half a house, but my lease is up and I haven’t had a chance to find a new place. I was going to put my stuff in storage and move in with a friend for a while. I’m between jobs and money is kind of tight,” she admitted.

  “I can relate to that,” Tori said, but wasn’t about to go into details.

  “I was actually thinking I might stay in daddy’s house for a while—at least until the cops figure out what happened. He had a will. He left the place to my brother and me.”

  “How is James?” Tori asked, looking back at the bait shop; Kathy was still on the phone.

  “Probably pulling teeth.”

  “Oh?” Tori asked, confused.

  “He’s an oral surgeon. I’m my mother’s greatest disappointment. I didn’t want to go to college. I followed in my daddy’s footsteps and found a job in construction, mostly working on houses. Despite my appearance,” she said, taking in her battered truck with a wave of her hand, “it can pay quite well. I just have the unfortunate habit of shooting off my big mouth at the wrong moment and screwing myself in the process.”

  “Been there, done that,” Tori admitted.

  “My mother expects me to have a debilitating accident just like daddy. So far, I’ve been lucky. I’ve stepped on a few rusty nails, and nearly crushed a toe or two, but that’s about the extent of the accidents I’ve had. Not like my daddy, whose leg was pretty mangled. It put him out of work for a long time and led to my parents’ breakup.”

  Tori nodded. “Do you still have friends in the area?”

  Anissa shook her head. “I lost track of all of them years ago. I hadn’t even seen daddy in a couple of months, but I talked to him every few days on the phone.”

  “Did he mention having any trouble?” Tori asked.

  “You mean apart from annoying that witch Lucinda Bloomfield up on the hill?”

  “Yeah.”

  Anissa shrugged. “My daddy wasn’t one to complain. All he wanted to do was watch a little TV, fish a little, and live his life in peace. But he didn’t sound his usual cheerful self when we last talked. He was distracted—like he had other things on his—mind, and that wasn’t like him. He was always happy to hear from me, but that night he ended our conversation pretty quick.”

  “Did you tell the police this?”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything to them.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears once again. “How does that get a good man killed?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  Again, Tori had no idea what to say, how to comfort the woman. Her grandmother had died unaware, but Michael Jackson’s death had been violent—and his body dragged and dumped not ten feet from where she now stood.

  Anissa wiped her eyes and blew her nose once more, staring off in the direction of the bait shop. “You doing some fixing up for your grandfather?”

  Tori nodded. “Yeah. Trying to see if I can help him get this place back in the black. He took care of my grandma the last couple of years and things kind of got away from him.”

  Anissa nodded and sniffed. “If you need some odd jobs done, I’m available. I can do demo, drywall, electrical, and plumbing.”

  “Right now the budget is practically nil, which is why my friend, Kathy, is here to help me paint the bait shop. She’s got it in her head that I should try to reopen the Lotus Lodge.”

  Anissa turned back to look at the motel. “Girl, if that’s your plan, you’ve got your hands full. Still, if you decide you want to do even a little sprucing up so it doesn’t look like such an eyesore, you know where to find me—at least for the next week or so.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” Tori said.

  Anissa started back for her truck. She opened the door and climbed inside. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “I hope so,” Tori said.

  Anissa started the engine and backed up, leaving the lot and heading up Resort Road. Tori watched until she was out of sight, then started back for the bait shop. Kathy had finished her call and was already up the stepladder, slapping paint on the now-dried cinder blocks.

  “Who was that?” she asked, not bothering to look away from her task.

  “Mr. Jackson’s daughter, Anissa.”

  “I had a feeling,” Kathy said.

  “How did your phone call to the realtor go?”

  Kathy kept her gaze fixed on her paintbrush. “Fine.”

  “When do you get to see the wreck?”

  “This afternoon around four. Want to come?”

  “Sure. In fact, you might want to invite Anissa to come along with you. She’s into fixing up old houses.”

  Kathy’s head turned so fast she was in danger of whiplash. “Really? Is she a contractor?”

  “I don’t think so. But it sounds like she’s worked for a few.”

  “Do you have her number?”

  Tori shook her head. “But she’s going to stay at her father’s house for the next couple of days. We could driv
e over there and see if she’s interested. Maybe you could offer to pay her a few bucks for an opinion on the place. I think she could use the money.”

  Kathy nodded and dipped her brush back into the can that sat on the stepladder’s little shelf. “Maybe we can head over to her place after lunch. In the meantime, grab a brush and let’s get this sucker painted. We’ve got lots of other stuff to do today.”

  Tori glanced at her watch before she stooped to grab one of the four-inch brushes that sat on the tarp. It was a little after ten. That didn’t give them much time to paint, visit Anissa, and head over to the wreck. Then again, the June days were long and the sun was shining. Perhaps they could finish the first coat today. Perhaps.

  #

  Irene didn’t leave for another twenty minutes. It was ten minutes after that when Herb poked his head out of the bait shop and hollered, “What in God’s name have you done?”

  “Great color, huh, Mr. Cannon?” Kathy said enthusiastically.

  “In the tropics. Girl, don’t you know this is Western New York?” His angry glare was aimed straight at Tori.

  “Kathy thinks, and I agree, that we need to stand out from our competition.”

  “We’ll sure as hell stand out—and be the laughing stock of the bay.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kathy said. “Give it a couple of weeks. If you’re not making double your money on sales, I’ll come back and paint it white—and all by myself, too.”

  Herb smiled. He was a gambling man if the stack of losing lottery tickets they’d found while cleaning the night before was any indication. “You’re on.”

  “You want to give us a hand, Gramps?” Tori asked.

  Herb reached a hand around to rub his back. “I’d like to, girls, but that old sciatica has set in again.”

  “Uh-huh,” Tori muttered. “How did your visit with Irene go?” Tori asked.

  Herb grimaced. “She hinted that we should hook up.”

  “What?” Tori asked, appalled. “Grandma’s only been in the ground a few days.”

  “Yeah, well, Irene’s been a widow for a while. I expect every widow in the county will be after me now.”

  “Are you interested in…” she swallowed, “hooking up?”

  “Hell, no! Not with what’s available locally, anyway. Besides, your grandma seemed to think Irene nagged her last husband to death.” He cleared his throat. “I thought I’d make me a sandwich. It’s just about lunchtime. Want me to make you something, too?”

  “What did you have in mind?” Kathy asked.

  “Egg salad.”

  Tori grinned. “Nobody makes egg salad like my Gramps. He chops up green olives and mixes them in.”

  “Sounds great to me,” Kathy said.

  “Watch the store, willya?” Herb asked. It wouldn’t be hard to do. He hadn’t had a customer the entire time they’d been painting. They’d made good progress. Tori estimated they’d be finished with the first coat by the time the sandwiches were made.

  Sure enough, by the time they wrapped the brushes in plastic and batted the lids onto the paint cans, Herb returned. “I already ate. Your lunch is in the fridge.”

  “Thanks, Gramps.”

  “Any customers?” he asked, looking out over the bay.

  “Not so far,” Kathy said. “But soon they’ll be coming in droves.”

  “Hmmm,” was Herb’s only reply as he went back into the shop.

  Tori looked at her hands, which were a mess with splatters. “I wonder if Gramps has a scrub brush handy.”

  “Totally unnecessary,” Kathy said, as she started toward the house. “Got any baby oil?”

  “I think there’s some in the bathroom, though God only knows how old it is.”

  “It should work. Come on. I’m starved.”

  The baby oil worked like magic—once they employed a scrub brush--and soon the women were sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch.

  “This is the best egg salad sandwich I’ve ever had,” Kathy said between bites.

  “Told you.” Tori poured more iced tea from the sweating pitcher. “So you want to run up to Anissa’s place after this?”

  “Uh-huh. I also want to take a look at the Bloomfield house. Everyone around here talks about it like it’s some kind of mansion.”

  “Not exactly. It’s a big house, but had a lot of money poured into it over the years.”

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “Nobody I know has ever been inside, although supposedly it’s been featured in a bunch of magazines.”

  “They don’t have help who talk?”

  Tori shrugged. “I haven’t been a part of the scene around here for years. I wouldn’t even know where to hear the latest gossip.”

  “Perhaps in your grandfather’s bait shop?”

  “Well, maybe if we could get a few customers to come in we might hear something.”

  “Just wait,” Kathy said with confidence.

  “If the paint’s still tacky when we get back From Anissa’s, we’ll attack the signs. Have you got a steady hand?”

  “You mean for outlining the letters?” Kathy shrugged. “I’ll give it a try. It can’t look much worse than it does now.”

  They polished off the last of the sandwiches, loaded the dishwasher, and headed out the door. “I’ll drive,” Kathy said after Tori had told Herb where they were going and why, and then they piled into Kathy’s car.

  It had been at least a decade, maybe more, since Tori had gone up the Resort Road. Back then, it had been populated with summer cottages and a singlewide trailer or two. Now, the cottages were gone, and in their places were an assortment of year-round homes, from log cabins to a McMansion or two. At the top of the hill was the Bloomfield estate.

  The big two-story brick home sat at the top of the hill. Thick columns held up the roof of a wide porch that ran across the front of the house. The lawns were as meticulously groomed as the fairways of an exclusive country club. The landscaping around the front of the home was a riot of reds and pinks. Were they Lucinda Bloomfield’s favorite colors?

  The road’s only eyesore was the ramshackle little home of the man who’d been found in the Lotus Lodge just days before. One might call Mr. Jackson’s house a bungalow, but it was hard to see thanks to the knee-high grass and unkempt bushes that nearly hid it from view.

  Anissa’s truck was parked outside, and they could see she’d attempted to cut the grass with a rusty hand mower, the likes of which Tori hadn’t seen since she’d been at least ten. It was totally unsuitable for the task and Anissa had obviously given up after only managing to cut a swath about a foot wide and ten feet long.

  “I can see why old Lady Bloomfield doesn’t like the view at the bottom of her drive,” Tori muttered.

  “Nothing a little pruning, paint, and elbow grease couldn’t rectify.”

  Kathy was such an optimist.

  As they approached the side door, they saw a rusty power mower sitting under the plastic canopy that covered the cracked concrete patio. “Maybe I could offer to loan her our mower.”

  “Hey, if she’ll come to look at the house with me, I’ll offer to cut the grass for her.”

  Tori knocked on the door. They looked around self-consciously as they waited.

  “Knock again,” Kathy whispered.

  Tori knocked harder this time, and soon the door swung back. “Ready for some company?”

  Anissa filled the doorframe. She’d been crying again. She looked over her shoulder. “Not really, but … Oh, what the hell. Come on in.”

  She moved aside and Tori stepped in. “Oh, my,” she said with awe as she took in the kitchen, which was not what she was expecting.

  “It’s beautiful,” Kathy said as her gaze traveled around the room to the apron sink and granite counters.

  “Sorry about the mess. I was having lunch,” Anissa apologized. “I found some bread in the freezer. Care for a peanut butter sandwich?”

  “No, thanks. We just ate,” Tori said, still taking in t
he details of the kitchen. A small stainless steel dishwasher stood next to a wine fridge. The cabinets were cherry, sporting polished nickel hardware.

  “Wow. Noreen over at The Bay Bar said your father was a gifted carpenter. She wasn’t kidding,” Kathy murmured.

  “The place looks a wreck on the outside. I don’t suppose Daddy entertained much, but he did like to putter around and fix things up. And you are?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Anissa Jackson, this is my friend, Kathy Grant,” Tori said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Kathy said and offered her hand. They shook. ”I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Yeah, well … so am I,” Anissa said, her voice wavering. “What can I do for you?”

  “I told Kathy about your building and construction experience. We were wondering if we might barter for your expertise.”

  Anissa’s eyes widened. “That sounds interesting.”

  “I’m going to look at a house this afternoon. I’m in the market for a fixer-upper. I’m from Batavia and don’t know any contractors in the area. Tori thought you might be able to advise me.”

  “And in return?” Anissa asked.

  “We’d cut your grass and maybe take a whack at some of those bushes out front.”

  “Sounds like I’d be getting the better end of the bargain, but I’ll take you up on it. Where and when?”

  “Meet us outside the Lotus Lodge just before four and we’ll walk over.”

  Anissa’s eyes narrowed. “Walk?”

  “Yeah, there’s a house for sale on the other side of The Bay Bar.”

  “That horrible wreck?” Anissa asked.

  “That’s the one,” Tori said. “It doesn’t seem worth looking at, let alone contemplating saving, but Kathy’s a sucker for hard-luck cases.”

  “That’s why we’ve been friends so long,” Kathy said with a sidelong glance at Tori.

  “When can you cut the grass?” Anissa asked.

  “We’ve got to finish painting the bait shop, but if it’s not too damp this evening, we could cut the grass after six. Either that or first thing tomorrow.”

  “Works for me,” Anissa said.

  “Great.”

  “We’d better get going. The bait shop isn’t going to paint itself,” Kathy said. “See you around four.”

  “You got it.”