by Carly Winter
And now, Nancy was going to kill her with a drug overdose. No one would catch on until Nancy was busy spending the money in Bora Bora. I personally would have chosen France or Italy, but to each their own.
“Just get this over with!” Nancy yelled as she marched toward the bathroom, Ruby right behind her muttering something about the woman’s face resembling a dog’s behind. Art wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“She’s crushing a pill!” Ruby shouted. “No! She’s crushing four! Holy cow! Bernie, don’t drink this water she’s bringing out!”
“I thought you may be thirsty,” Nancy said sweetly when she emerged from the bathroom and set the glass in front of me.
“Actually, I’m fine,” I said, pushing the glass across the table toward her.
“You look parched,” she said, sliding it back toward me.
As Ruby screamed at me, I picked up the glass and threw the water in Nancy’s face. She gasped while I raced for the door. Art quickly wrapped his arm around my waist and flung me back into the chair, sending my head against the wall with a loud thump. As stars appeared before my eyes, my phone slipped out of my back pocket and landed on the carpet with a thud.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but finally, I was able to focus on Nancy, who stood over me with another glass, her mascara in long streaks down her face. I smiled, her ruined makeup job bringing me a little bit of joy on an otherwise horrible day.
“Don’t drink it,” Ruby said, standing right next to Nancy. “She drugged it again.”
“Hold her in place,” Nancy ordered.
Art came around the side of the table and tossed it toward the door. Grabbing my ponytail, he yanked my head back while Nancy gripped my jaw and poured the water in my mouth. I struggled against Art, kicked at Nancy and tried to breathe and spit up as much of the water as possible. The horrid sensation of drowning and not being able to get enough air burned my lungs while Ruby’s screams of terror and empty threats of violence filled my ears. She couldn’t help me.
If I died, would I be trapped in this hotel room, like Ruby had been trapped in our house? Would she be confined with me?
Oh, my word… Ruby and I trapped in this hotel room for all eternity? No. Absolutely not. I loved my grandmother, but everyone had their limits.
My renewed urge to escape dimmed as my head became horribly foggy, as though a storm had suddenly moved into my brain. I’d had to swallow some of the water and it had gone directly to my head. Blackness encroached on my peripheral vision. My arms and legs became heavy and difficult to move.
The scene seemed to fade away, yet I kept on attempting to spit up as much of the water as I could. Nancy let go of my jaw as my eyes closed and my head fell to the left. I didn’t have the strength to hold it upright any longer.
“Put her on the bed,” Nancy ordered, her voice seemingly on another plane. I was lifted, unable to move, and then bounced when my body hit the mattress. Ruby’s cries and threats faded as darkness overtook me.
The last thing I remember before completely passing out was Ruby crying, “Don’t you die on me, Bernie!”
Chapter Nineteen
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I flung my arm over to my side table, searching for the stupid alarm clock. The incessant noise refused to stop and finally, I pried open my eyes. Surprisingly, there wasn't an alarm clock to be found, and I wasn't tucked into my own bed.
I was in... a hospital?
Barely able to stay awake, I glanced around the room and found Ruby perched on the end of my bed. A large grin spread over her face as our gazes met.
“Well, hello,” she said softly. “You gave this dead lady quite the scare.”
I struggled to remember how I'd come to be in a hospital hooked up to an IV, but the memories seemed just out of reach. “Why am I here?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
“Because that dog face, Nasty Nancy, drugged you. They had to pump your stomach, which was pretty gross and something I wish I didn't have to see. It was touch and go for a while. That horse face tried to kill you, Bernie.”
As I stared at the ceiling, everything slowly came back to me. I recalled being tossed on the bed, and then blackness. “Who found me?” Ruby had been helpless to do anything during that situation.
“Adam. I didn't realize you'd called him, but he heard everything. Very sneaky, Bernie. Very sneaky. Saved your hide with that move.”
The phone. I remembered dialing and the phone falling out of my pocket when Art slammed me down into the chair. “What took him so long?”
“I'm not sure, but when he arrived with the two beefy security guards we'd run into the previous day, it was like the cavalry or a band of superheroes crashed through the door.”
“Thank goodness,” I whispered and closed my eyes.
A cold feeling settled over my hand, and I knew Ruby had laid hers on top of mine. Despite the chill, I found it comforting, and drifted off to sleep.
The next time I woke, Adam was sitting on my bed in his tan sheriff’s uniform, staring at me with a furrowed brow. “Hey,” he said softly. “I'm so glad to see you. Are you okay?”
Since I could barely keep my eyes open and I had an IV, I assumed that perhaps I was okay? I also didn't have the energy to answer, so I shrugged in response.
“I'm so sorry, Bernie,” he said, taking my palm in his. “I can't... I can't begin to tell you how awful I feel. I never should have agreed to allow you to help me.”
“Don't be silly,” I said. “I wanted to.”
He shook his head and looked away. I noted his jaw grinding. Was it anger? Distress? Whatever it was, I hated seeing him that way.
“Hey,” I said. “We caught the bad guys, right?”
“Darn tootin' we did,” Ruby said. I hadn't noticed her standing on the other side of my bed by my head. And she shouldn't have startled me considering she was tied to me, but she had.
“We did,” Adam said. “It was smart calling me and leaving the phone on. I have to admit, I almost hung up because I thought you'd accidently dialed, but something told me not to.”
“I'm glad you didn't.” A chill ran down my spine when I considered that I could be dead instead of staring into his pretty green eyes. I squeezed his fingers.
“My guilt runs pretty deep on this one, Bernie,” he said. “I'm not going to lie. I was so scared.”
“Guilt is a wasted emotion,” Ruby said. “Not worth the energy.”
I disagreed, but in this case, the guilt was unwarranted. “Please don't feel bad, Adam. I was on board and wanted to help you. It's not like you did anything. They did.”
“You were there because of me.”
“I was there because I wanted to be. Now, tell me what happened.”
When Adam received the phone call and realized what he was listening to, he ran across the lobby for the elevators. Security stopped him and demanded to see some ID while questioning why he was on the property. As he explained himself, he also set the phone to speaker and the three of them listened while Nancy and Art confessed, then tossed me around. They joined him in the race to the hotel room. Security opened the door for Adam and stopped Art from trying to escape while Adam called an ambulance and subdued the hysterical Nancy. “She kept screaming about how she'd worked so hard for the money, how much she'd endured, and how she didn't deserve to go to jail,” Adam said. “Then she had the nerve to blame Art and Trevor for everything.”
“Trevor?”
“Yes. Trevor was in on it, mainly along for the ride. He and Art met in prison in Seattle.”
Prison! The new knowledge shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. “What were they in for?”
“One for armed robbery, the other for extortion.”
“Why didn't any of that come up during their background checks after the murder?” Ruby asked. “Or did the police botch that one up and not do a background check?”
Great question, which I repeated.
“No, we ran them. Art and Trevor gave us fake la
st names and social security numbers. They had thought ahead and came prepared.”
Interesting. But it still didn't explain how Nancy had become acquainted with Art. She didn't seem to be one who associated with men in jail, especially ones located two states away. I didn't understand how they’d all ended up finding each other.
“How did she meet Art?”
“Her stepbrother, a guy named Phillip, was in the same prison and became friendly with Art. Nancy sent some family photos, and Art happened to notice them. He thought she was pretty and they started corresponding. Art and Trevor were both released within the last year. The rest is history.”
I couldn't help but wonder if Nancy had recruited Art for her scheme, or if she had really liked him.
“How long had they been planning the murder?”
“Well, from what I gather, at least three months. When Belinda invited Nancy to travel with them, Nancy saw the opportunity. She had to stay close to Belinda and Harold, so she asked to bunk with them, claiming she was scared of sleeping by herself in a strange hotel. They agreed to the arrangement, and she was able to keep Belinda mildly drugged during their stay until after Harold died. That way, she had proof that Belinda had been acting strange for a while, not just after the death of her husband.
“What's interesting is Nancy, Art, and Trevor weren't sure exactly when Harold would be killed. The Jeep tour turned out to be the perfect time to murder him, so Nancy had Art and Trevor book the tour at the same time as them. They wanted it to look like an accident, and it would have been considered one if we hadn't witnessed the whole thing.”
“Talk about being in the right place at the right time,” Ruby muttered, shaking her head.
“Guess Art pushed Harold then, right?”
“Yes. He ran across that terrain we thought would be too difficult to navigate and shoved him over the edge.”
Huh. Interesting. Art had threatened to send me over a railing and down four flights of stairs. Not too different from tossing someone off a cliff. “And what did Trevor get out of all this?”
Adam smirked and shook his head. “His job was to travel with Art, to make them look like two guys on a golfing trip. He'd receive a small cut once Nancy had cleaned out Belinda's accounts. Now he's been the most helpful of the group because he doesn't want to go back to prison.”
“Belinda!” Oh my gosh. In my haze, I'd almost forgotten about her. “Is she okay?”
“She's got a long road ahead of her,” Adam said. “Nancy had been drugging her for at least a week that we know of. She's detoxing, but at least she's alive.”
“And she's got all her money,” Ruby said. “So she can afford to detox in comfort and luxury.”
With a groan, I attempted to sit up and immediately became dizzy and nauseous.
“Put some pillows behind her head, copper!” Ruby yelled, causing my head to pound.
“Let me help you,” Adam murmured. He leaned over and arranged the pillows behind me so I was propped up a bit.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Do you want some water?” he asked.
I nodded and glanced around at my sterile white room. The blank television screen stared down at me from the ceiling, the window had the curtains drawn. The smell of disinfectant hung in the air and the low hum of doctors and nurses talking in the hallway was almost as irritating as the beeping machine next to my bed. As a general rule, I hated hospitals and the urge to leave was strong. How was anyone supposed to rest in this environment?
Ruby sat down on my bed and laid her hand over mine again. “I know you aren't feeling well, and I want you to get better. But I was just wondering if you could do it fast because this place gives me the creeps and I want to go home.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” I said, also wondering what this stay would do to my bank account. “I want to go home, too.”
“Do you know that while I was alive, I went to the doctor a total of twice in my adult life?”
I shook my head, surprised by the revelation. Who in the world received medical care only twice in her life? “You're kidding me. For what? If you only went two times, it must have been for something pretty serious.”
“Oh, yes. First was when I had your mom,” she said, holding up her pointer finger. “I walked into the hospital in labor. The next time was after I broke my arm while trying to skateboard when I was fifty.” The second finger went up. “Otherwise, I made it through pretty healthy.”
“Except for the heart attack that killed you,” I reminded her.
“Yeah... except for that.”
I wondered if she'd have actually gone to the doctor if the heart attack could have been avoided. With her lifestyle and unwillingness to change, I doubted it.
“I hate doctors,” Ruby muttered. “I always believed laughter was the best medicine. It's a fantastic cure. Speaking of which… when you get out of here, let’s go to Tip ‘Em Back and see Jezebel. She’s always good for a hoot.”
Tip ‘Em Back was the local dive bar Ruby had liked while alive. Owned by Ruby’s friend Janis, who died a few years before Ruby, it had been passed down to her granddaughter, a woman named Jezebel.
I’d never visited the place until Ruby suggested we join a poker game there. The night hadn’t gone well, and Jezebel had almost kicked me out for cheating. But in the end, we’d bonded over the love for our crazy grandmothers. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again. The woman taught self-defense classes on the side, and I made a mental note to contact her.
Adam brought over a small paper cup, then sat down across from Ruby. I sipped greedily, my gaze darting from one to the other. The two people I cared for the most—and one who also drove me absolutely batty—were at my side. Belinda had no one. Her husband had been killed and her so-called best friend had betrayed and hurt her. I couldn't imagine the ache in her heart. Maybe I could go visit her at some point. I wasn't sure what I'd say, but perhaps she'd appreciate the company from someone who had no ill-will toward her.
“Ask the copper how old Nutjob Ned's doing,” Ruby said.
I stared at my ghost for a moment, surprised once again she cared. But then I recalled she'd been very diplomatic with Ned and interested in finding out why they were both on this plane. I relayed her question to Adam.
“He's been really quiet,” Adam replied, his gaze set firmly in Ruby's direction. “I haven't been home much, but I haven't sensed any trace of him while I've been there.”
Ruby's gaze narrowed. “Did the copper chase off the nutjob?”
“He said he hasn't been home, Ruby,” I said. “He hasn't had time to chase off Ned. There was a murder that needed to be solved.”
I still found it endearing that Adam talked in the general direction of Ruby, even though he couldn't see or hear her. Acknowledging that she existed meant a lot to my grandmother, and frankly, it did to me, too. Adam and I shared our knowledge of her existence, and he didn't think I was crazy.
“You better get some sleep,” he said. “The more you rest, the sooner you'll be able to leave.”
“If that's the case, close those eyes,” Ruby encouraged. “I'll stand guard. Get better, Bernie, so we can go home.”
Adam kissed my forehead and waved as he walked out the door. With a sigh, I shut my eyes. Even with my noisy environment, I did hope to sleep with my crazy, dead grandmother standing over me.
I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
Epilogue
Two months had gone by, and I’d seen Darla three times. She wasn’t quite back to her old self, but she had reopened Darling’s Diner and no longer thought I was out to sabotage her life in any way. We’d had a couple of good talks where I’d made it clear that I was her friend and only wanted what was best for her. She’d apologized for her behavior, although it hadn’t been necessary. Slowly and surely, we were rebuilding our friendship while Darla worked on getting better.
Per Ruby’s request, I had started self-defense classes with Jezebel, the owner of Tip ‘Em Back.
In her forties, she’d wanted to be a professional MMA fighter, but was never quite good enough. She wore her blonde hair in a ponytail, her body chiseled and her stare intimidating. With her gruff voice, full sleeve tattoo on her left arm, and lack of a smile, she’d actually scared me during our first session, but I reminded myself she wasn’t going to beat me up: she was there to teach me how to do that to others. After a few weeks, I considered her a new friend and we often went together to get smoothies after our workouts. I certainly felt stronger, but I wasn’t sure I had the confidence to actually use the moves I was learning if the situation were to arise. I hoped I’d never have to find out.
I had been in the process of cleaning guest rooms when a knock sounded at my door. For a moment, I panicked, thinking I’d forgotten a reservation. I checked my phone for a notification of someone checking in, but there wasn’t one. For a brief second, relief flooded through me, quickly followed by dread. I hated walk-ins.
To my surprise, Darla was standing on my doorstep, tears rolling down her face, her whole body trembling.
“Darla, what’s wrong?” I said, taking her hand and pulling her inside to the couches. Once we sat down, she couldn’t meet my gaze, but she continued to cry as she tucked her blonde hair behind her ears.
“Take some deep breaths,” I coaxed, gently laying my hand on her shoulder.
She stared off into space and breathed in and out, long and slow. After a moment, she turned to me. “I’m in trouble.”
“Tell me what’s the matter.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring half-smile.
“I need your help, Bernie. Please tell me you’ll help me.”
Dread filled me at her tone. “You know I will, Darla. Please! What’s wrong?! I’ll do anything for you.”
“I went to open the diner this morning.”
Staring at her expectantly, I waited for her to state the horrible, awful thing she wanted me to help her with. A spider? The cooler had gone down? A plugged-up dishwasher? She ran out of ketchup?
“And the police were there,” she said.
