by Carly Winter
“That's too bad,” I replied, taking the key she handed me. “It's not that far.”
“I know, but she's thinking about grandma and her sisters who don't like to drive anywhere outside a five-mile radius from their houses.”
“Well, if you change your mind, we'll be here for you,” I said. “Have a safe trip home!”
As soon as the front door closed behind them, I went to the cleaning closet, pulled out my buckets, and trotted up the stairs. Ruby materialized at the landing and I ended up walking right through her.
“Watch where you're going, Bernie!” she yelled.
“How about you watch where you appear?” I strode into the first bedroom. When I'd first been able to see Ruby, one of her favorite things to do was to scare me by revealing herself right in front of me. I'd yelp, she'd laugh. That had grown old pretty quickly, so now I usually walked right through her without a second thought, not giving her the satisfaction of showing a reaction.
“You're no fun anymore!”
I chuckled as I set down my cleaning supplies and pulled off the sheets. A moment later, Ruby joined me.
“What are we doing today?” she asked, perching on the edge of the dresser.
“I'm going to clean rooms, plant the petunias I bought yesterday, and then call Jack.” Honestly, I thought he'd phone me the previous night, but I hadn't heard from him. Did that mean he hadn't had the opportunity to speak to Darla, or had he chickened out?
The petunias had been an impulse buy on my way home from Jack's. They'd caught my eye sitting in front of the nursery and I'd remembered Ruby used to plant them every spring in the big wooden barrels out front. I decided to follow in her footsteps.
“Ugh. We need some excitement around here, Bernie. Let's go see Adam and Old Coot Carl.”
“That's not his name,” I reminded her.
“We don't know that for sure.”
“Well, based on the fact he called you Sea Hag Shirley when you did address him that way, I'm going to assume he doesn't like it when you call him that.”
“His name could be Carl. Maybe he doesn't like the Old Coot part.”
Who could blame him?
Ruby sighed. “Well, I don't recall him ever giving us his real name... only insults.”
“After you insulted him.” I turned to her. “You started it.”
“Touché. Let's go see Adam and his roomie.”
Adam and I had been playing phone tag for the past couple of days and I didn't want to show up on his doorstep unannounced. “He's busy helping the sheriff solve a murder,” I said. “We'll see his ghost when he invites us over again.”
“I'd love to know Old Coot Carl's story,” Ruby mused. “How he died and stuff.”
“We all would. However, he seems spooked by you.”
“You're a crack-up,” Ruby said, laughing. “A ghost who's spooked. Good one, Bernie.”
I smiled as I made the bed, pleased with my unintentional humor. I'd been so preoccupied thinking about Darla, I hadn't given Adam's roommate much thought.
“So what did you think about Amy and Cathy?” Ruby asked.
“They seemed nice enough,” I replied with a shrug. “It's too bad Amy won't be getting married up here, but I understand her mother's point of view. Highway 17 can get a bit tricky.”
“That's true.”
The door chimes rang downstairs and I pulled out my phone to check for notification of someone having made a reservation. Nothing. A walk-in, which I hated. Usually, it was someone who wanted to talk me down on my prices. I preferred when they paid online to secure the reservation and that way there wasn't anything to negotiate.
“Hello?” a man's deep voice called.
“I'll head down there,” Ruby said, disappearing.
After running a hand over my hair and smoothing out my T-shirt, I shut the door to the room and hurried downstairs while bracing myself to remain firm on my pricing. A balding man with a midlife paunch carrying a small suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other stood in the living room.
“Hi,” I said, smiling. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you had a room available for me,” he said, glancing all around the living room. “I was staying at one of the hotels, but I found it too noisy with all the tourists. I need somewhere quiet.”
“Of course. I do actually have one available right now,” I said. Please just take it and don't haggle with me.
“The death room,” Ruby said, her voice deep and ominous. “Let's hope this guy doesn't bite it in there like Gonzalez did.”
Yes, let's hope so. I strode over to the check-in desk and pulled out my iPad. After bringing up the reservation form, I handed the device over to him. “If you could please fill this out, we can get you that room.”
“I wonder what his story is,” Ruby mused as she strode up next to him. “Maybe a golfer? Probably not. He's too pasty. Doesn't get much sun. Based on that and the slacks and button-down shirt, he's some type of businessman who works too hard, I'd say. Probably a whisky drinker. Maybe tokes on a cigar every now and then as well.”
“I... uh, I'm not good with technology,” the man said, handing me back the iPad. “I've got fingers like sausages. Can you type in my information?”
“Oh! Sure!” I replied. “Let's start with your name.”
“Larry O'Malley.”
“Ha! I was right! A nice Irish whiskey drinker,” Ruby mused. “Ed McMahon once said, 'God invented whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world.'”
“Your address?” I kept my gaze focused on the screen instead of my grandmother spewing Irish insults.
“I need to get to Disneyland,” I said when he announced he was from Los Angeles. “I love it there.”
Ruby continued, this time in a horrible English accent. “Winston Churchill said, ‘We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English.’”
Where was she getting this stuff? I'd never heard her quote anyone but the Rolling Stones, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Janis Joplin.
“Phone number?” I asked.
“Let me give you my cell,” he said.
Once the form was completed and I'd run his credit card, I grabbed the key to his room, or the death room, as Ruby liked to call it.
“I'm in town on business,” Mr. O'Malley said. “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to conduct a meeting or two in the living room. It's such a comfortable space.”
“Of course,” I said. “That's fine.”
“My meetings need to be private. Is that going to be an issue?”
I wasn't sure what he expected me to say. That I'd be happy to leave the house? I wouldn't repeat anything I heard?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out three-hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the desk. “This would be for your trouble.”
I stared at the bills. Three hundred bucks would help me out a lot. Business had been brisk and I wasn't in bad shape financially, but the money could buy a lot of peanut butter and chocolate smoothies.
“You can put that toward a new ATV!” Ruby yelled. “Take the bribe! Grab the cash!”
She was right. Forget the smoothies. I'd been saving up for an ATV since I had to get rid of Ruby's, and the money would definitely move up the buy date.
However, I didn't want any trouble, and the situation reeked of it.
But, dang. The cash would be nice.
“Are you... are your meetings about illegal matters?” I asked. The last thing I needed or wanted was drug deals or something just as sinister taking place in my home.
“No. I assure you that everything is very legal. I'm a lawyer with a license to practice here in Arizona. Everything is very much on the up and up.”
“I've known crooked lawyers,” Ruby muttered. “In fact, they're all dirty in some way, shape or form. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't take the money. Grab it before he changes his mind, Bernie!”
“Your meetings aren't any of my business,” I said, palming the
cash and stuffing it into my jeans pocket. “I'm happy to tuck myself away in my private quarters or leave the house. Just give me some notice.”
Mr. O'Malley sighed and nodded, then smiled. His relief was evident. “Great. Thank you for your understanding. I'll only be here a couple of nights, so I won't trouble you for very long.”
“I'll show you to your room,” I said. “Follow me.”
After I led him up the stairs, I stopped at the death room. “This is yours. If there's anything you need, let me know.”
He opened the door, glanced around the space then turned to me and nodded. “I will. This is perfect. Thank you.” No sense in telling him a drug trafficker had met his demise in there.
I nodded as he shut the door, then returned to my cleaning across the hall.
I scrubbed down the bathroom and made the bed. Next came the vacuuming and dusting. Surprisingly, Ruby didn't join me. An hour passed and I moved on to the next room.
Once I finished cleaning, I examined both rooms with a critical eye, searching for anything I may have missed. The wooden furniture gleamed, the comforter and pillows sat neatly on the bed, the bathrooms showed no sign of a wayward hair, and the towels hung with precision from the racks. I didn't find anything else that needed to be done, but I'd check again tomorrow.
As I carried my supplies out into the hallway, I heard Mr. O'Malley's voice from the death room. The urge to listen in hit, but I kept walking and hurried downstairs.
Ruby followed me outside to the garage where I found my gloves and hand shovel. When we returned to the front of the house, she plopped down on the cement walkway and tilted her head up to the sun. “I can't feel it, but I bet it's a warm, beautiful day.”
“It is,” I said, wishing I had worn my hat. “A perfect day for sunscreen.”
“The sun's good for you, Bernie.”
“The sun gives you skin cancer and wrinkles,” I retorted while plunging my shovel into the first barrel. “I don't know why you continue to argue with me about that. It's fact.”
I glanced over my shoulder to find her watching me, a small grin on her ghostly face.
“It warms my cold, dead heart to see you keeping the barrels full of beautiful flowers,” she said. “It's such a simple thing but brings so much happiness. Rule-eight-hundred-and-fifty-six of life: always plant the flowers.”
“You're getting a little more sentimental the deader you become,” I replied, smiling.
Ruby threw her head back and laughed. “Wouldn't that be something? Your old grandma becoming syrupy?”
“Yes, yes it would.” I looked around the neighborhood. Surely at least half the town thought I was nuts because they'd seen me have conversations with an invisible person.
I planted four of the six barrels while Ruby remained seated on the concrete, humming softly. The lull of the neighborhood, the birds chirping in the distance, and Ruby's song relaxed me to the point that I almost screamed when my phone rang in my pocket.
Muttering a curse, I pulled off my gloves and dropped them to the ground. I answered without glancing at the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, Bernie. It's Jack.”
“Oh, my gosh.” My shoulders sagged as I sank down to the concrete next to Ruby. “I've been waiting for you to call. Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“What happened?”
Chapter Ten
“Well, I went over to the diner and it was closed, but the door wasn't locked,” Jack began. “So I went in, figuring she'd gone upstairs and forgotten to close up.” Darla lived in a small apartment above the diner, a cute space that always smelled like roses and bacon. An odd combination, but somehow quite comforting. “She was lying on the couch, staring at the television. When I called her name, she barely glanced at me. For a second, I thought she was drunk or on drugs.”
“Darla would never do drugs and the most I've seen her drink is a glass of wine on a Friday night,” I replied. “She'd never—”
“I know, Bernie. I realized there was something wrong with her. I ended up calling for an ambulance. She was completely out of it.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I pursed my lips together. “What's wrong with her?”
“Before the ambulance came, I asked her if she wanted me to call someone. She shook her head, but just kept staring at the TV. I found her phone in the kitchen and used her finger to unlock it. She didn't fight me. It was like she didn't even realize what I was doing. When the EMTs took her to the hospital, I called her mother. She's coming out. But she told me that Darla suffers from schizophrenia. Did she ever tell you?”
My breath caught in my throat and I glanced over at Ruby who studied me carefully.
“What's he saying?” she whispered.
“No,” I said. “She never shared that with me.”
“Her mom said she's supposed to be on medication to help control it, and she asked me to search the apartment for the bottles. I found them, but they were full, and the date of the prescription was a month ago. It looked to me like she quit taking her meds.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Good question. Her mother said she's done it before.”
I thought I knew Darla, but apparently she'd been harboring a big secret. Why hadn't she shared this with me?
“Her mom asked me how she's been acting,” Jack said. “I told her about her thinking you were out to get her and how she thought she and I were dating. Her mom said schizophrenia caused delusions and it only reaffirmed that Darla had gone off her meds.”
“Oh, my word,” I muttered, a wave of helplessness washing over me. The new information explained so much. Guilt settled in my chest as I recalled our last conversation. I hadn't exactly been nice. “What can we do to help?”
“Well, I'm not fully sure. After they'd taken her to the hospital and I finished up the phone call with her mom, I took a look around. The kitchen in the diner is a mess... rotting vegetables in the refrigerator and everything just looks dirty.”
“Why aren't her employees picking up the slack?”
“Again, I don't have an answer, Bernie. The diner was closed when I got there. But even her house was messy.”
“That's not like Darla,” I muttered. The desire for neat and orderly surroundings was one thing we both shared.
“Her mom's flying in from Idaho tomorrow. I gave her your phone number and mine. For now, I don't know what else to do.”
My mind spun with ways to help Darla and the best thing would be to start simple. Clean up her place. I had no idea what to do with the restaurant, though. I was happy to go in and scrub it down, but I lacked knowledge on how to run one. “What about the diner?” I asked. “If there's bad food and the kitchen's dirty, it could be a lawsuit waiting to happen if someone becomes sick. Or, if the inspectors come in, they could close her down.”
“Agreed. I'm going over to talk to a couple employees right now, but in the end, I think the decision is up to Darla's mom.”
“This is just... unbelievable, Jack. I had no idea.”
“No one did, Bernie,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I'll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sounds good.” I set my phone down on the pavement and stared at it a moment.
“For the love of everything holy, what the heck happened?!” Ruby yelled. “Don't keep me in suspense!”
After I recapped the phone call, Ruby shook her head. “Crazier than a four-dollar bill.”
“No,” I snapped. “She has a mental illness that isn't any different from a physical illness. It's just in her brain instead of her body. Would you be saying such things if I announced she had cancer? Or a heart problem? I hope not. Don't talk about her that way again.”
I stood and clenched my fists in anger at both Ruby and myself. Rather than sulk in my own bitterness and despair, I should have realized something was wrong with my friend much earlier.
“Okay, okay,” Ruby said, getting to her feet. “Message received and understood. Sheesh.”
She turned and glanced down at the street. “And by the way, you've got company.”
I looked over my shoulder to see Adam pulling up in a sheriff cruiser. I grinned as my anger faded and my heart pattered. What a wonderful surprise.
He exited the vehicle and waved, but his usual smile was gone.
“He's either got bad news, or he's going to arrest you, or that is one depressed man,” Ruby muttered.
“Hi,” I greeted him as he approached, noting Ruby had been correct. With his sagging shoulders and tired gaze, he seemed defeated. “What's up?”
“Not a lot,” he muttered. “I need to be cheered up so I thought I'd come see you.”
I'd just found out my friend had a mental illness, so I wasn't quite sure I was capable of giving him what he needed, but I'd give it a shot. “Sure. Come on in.”
He followed me inside and I remembered I had a guest upstairs. Mr. O'Malley may have wanted privacy, but so did I. “Let's go into my bedroom,” I said. Our voices wouldn't carry throughout the house from there.
As Adam sat on the bed, I closed the door and sank into my rocking chair. “What's going on?” I asked.
“We're at a standstill on Harold's murder,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I seriously have no idea what to do next. To make matters worse, the sheriff has put me in charge.”
“Isn't that kind of a conflict since you were a witness?” I asked.
“Yeah, it is, but our caseload is so high, he says he doesn't have a choice. We’ve got a robbery at the grocery store, some kids spray painting stop signs, and the governor just announced some new police policies that we have to follow. Training manuals need to be written and classes need to be designed to make sure we comply with the order. The sheriff wants me to figure out who killed Harold, and either he or another deputy will make the arrest.”
“So, I take it you've interviewed everyone?”
Adam nodded. “I've been over the reports a dozen times and nothing sticks out to me. Belinda and Nancy have some fancy-pants lawyer from California representing them, and he's not allowing them to say much.”
