by Meg London
“I happened to park next to a car with a large dent in the front right bumper,” Emma said with sudden inspiration. It certainly sounded better than what she’d really been doing.
“Where was this?” Walker swiped a napkin across his mouth.
“The Sunny Days retirement community.”
“Did you get the license plate number?”
Emma could have kicked herself. If she’d taken down the number she wouldn’t have to admit to knowing whose car it was.
“No, but I recognized the car.”
A wary look came across Walker’s handsome, dark features.
Emma felt the heat rising toward her face and tried desperately to control it. “There aren’t many people in town who drive a late-model Mercedes.”
“True. A pickup truck or an old beater, for sure. But a Mercedes?” Walker shrugged.
“It belongs to a Charlotte Fanning.” Emma twisted a lock of hair around her finger. If she were wrong, and Charlotte was totally innocent…It was too late to back out now.
Walker pulled a pad of paper toward him and scribbled down the name. “We’ll check into it.”
“You won’t mention that I—”
He shook his head. “We’ll be discreet. Your name won’t be mentioned at all. No one would ever come forward with information if we went around blabbing about where it came from.” He leaned back in his chair, and it creaked loudly. “Probably have a lot more dead bodies on our hands, too.”
Emma nodded.
“Listen.” Walker leaned forward, folding his hands together in front of him on his desk. “Would you like to maybe go out sometime…” He let the rest of the sentence dangle in the air.
Emma gave what she hoped was a rueful smile. “That would be lovely, but at the moment I’m seeing someone.”
But was that true? she wondered. Brian still hadn’t decided about meeting Amy one last time. What if she managed to get him back again?
EMMA headed back to Sweet Nothings to finish out the afternoon. Around four o’clock she decided that she absolutely had to have a cupcake. Preferably one of Bitsy’s carrot cake ones with the cream cheese frosting.
“Anyone up for a cupcake?” she asked Sylvia and Arabella.
“Sure, why not.” Sylvia’s deep rumbling voice came from behind the counter. “It’s not as if I have to watch my figure anymore.”
“I’ll have one, too.” Arabella smiled. “I’m still watching my figure, but that’s about all I’m doing…watching!”
Emma grabbed her sweater and headed around the corner to Sprinkles. She was pleased to see that a handful of people were standing in front of the counter.
“Emma! So good to see you,” Bitsy said when Emma got to the front of the line.
“It looks as if business is improving.”
Bitsy made a face. “Slightly, but nothing like before. I had to take out a loan to make my mortgage payment this month.”
“I have an idea,” Emma said as something suddenly occurred to her. “I’ll buy a couple of dozen from you and hand them out at Sweet Nothings along with your card. A lot of our clients come from Jackson or even Memphis or Nashville. They won’t have heard all about the nasty business with Jessica and perhaps they’ll stop by to take some cupcakes home.”
Bitsy’s face brightened. “It’s worth a try.”
Emma glanced at her watch. “It’s kind of late now, but if you can bring two dozen by tomorrow morning, I’ll see that they’re given out.”
“Great.”
“Right now, though, I’ll take a carrot cake”—Emma pointed to the last carrot cupcake in the case—“along with one coconut and one red velvet.”
Bitsy retrieved the cupcakes and carefully placed them in a white paper bag. “Can you believe the police are still coming around asking questions?” she said as she folded the top of the bag over and handed it to Emma.
“Liz said they’d been out to UT talking to her old advisor, of all things.”
Bitsy nodded. “Yes. I heard from an old sorority sister that they’d been contacted, too. I guess they’ve ferreted out the story about me and Jessica by now. But”—she put her hands together and held them out toward Emma—“See? No handcuffs. I haven’t been arrested yet.”
Emma carried her bag of cupcakes back to Sweet Nothings. She hoped her scheme would help turn Bitsy’s business around. If she could hang on a little longer, the case would be solved, and it would be proven that she’d had nothing to do with Jessica’s death.
When Emma got back to the shop, Arabella was changing a mannequin, and Sylvia was sitting on the love seat, resting.
“Isn’t that the set we showed at Deirdre Porter’s trunk show?” Sylvia pointed a finger in Arabella’s direction.
“Yes, I believe it is.” Arabella straightened the bow on the peignoir.
“You know what I’m wondering?” Emma looked at Arabella and Sylvia, who both shook their heads. “I’m wondering what happened at that trunk show to put the murderer over the edge. Because the whole thing couldn’t have been planned in advance.”
“True.” Sylvia took a deep breath and coughed briefly. “They had no way of knowing that Deirdre would be serving Bitsy’s cupcakes.”
“Or that she’d have foxglove growing in her garden,” Arabella added.
“You haven’t heard any more about that Crystal Davis, have you?” Sylvia asked.
“No.” Emma shook her head and took a bite of her cupcake. “I asked the guy next door if he would call me when she came back, but nothing. Of course, he may have forgotten.”
“Or lost your number.” Arabella had finished with the mannequin and was digging in the bakery bag for her red velvet cupcake.
“I think it’s that Fanning woman.” Sylvia finished her cupcake and tossed the wrapper in the trash can. “She’s the one who has a dent in her car, after all.”
“I did go and tell the police about that,” Emma said. “Of course, Liz and Bitsy both said the police were still asking questions about them.”
“Oh, did I tell you about my new gig?” Sylvia said.
“No,” Arabella and Emma chorused.
“They talked me into volunteering at Sunny Days. I’m taking the bookmobile around. I kind of enjoy it. It gives me a chance to talk to some of the nursing residents. They’re an interesting bunch. That old lady, the one who was in the coma, has been coming in and out of consciousness. She woke up a bit when I got there yesterday. Not that she had any interest in the books. Poor thing, I doubt she can see all that well. But she did tell me she used to be a nurse at the Henry County Hospital. Seemed to think she was still there. Kept calling me doctor.”
* * *
BY the time she got up to her apartment after Sweet Nothings closed, Emma was almost too tired to cook. She put a pot of water on the stove to boil some eggs. She’d make some deviled eggs and throw together a salad. As she passed the refrigerator, she noticed the slip of paper from the fortune cookies she’d shared with Brian taped to the front. It had been a nice evening, and the thought made her smile.
Unfortunately thoughts of Jessica’s and Gladys’s murders intruded. Emma frowned. It all started at that trunk show. But what had caused the murderer to strike right then? She tried to remember everything that had happened, but it was all such a muddle. She was dropping the eggs into the boiling water when she thought about what Sylvia had told them about the old woman on the nursing floor. Someone had tried to smother her. Why? As far as Sylvia had been able to find out, she had almost no family and certainly no money to leave. Nursing care cost hundreds of dollars a day. Even if she’d had a small estate, it wouldn’t take long for it to be eaten up.
Steam from the boiling pot wafted into Emma’s face, and she stepped back from the stove. Could the three cases be connected somehow? Jessica’s death and Gladys’s hit-and run and someone trying to kill this old woman?
As she washed and tore some lettuce leaves, she thought about the story Jessica had told at the trunk show. Jessica�
��s story had been about a nurse. The old woman whom someone had inexplicably tried to kill had been a nurse. Could they possibly be one and the same?
She felt her heart race with excitement. She was onto something. Definitely. She had to call Liz right away and see what she thought.
Liz sounded quite glum when she answered the phone, but her tone perked up when she heard Emma’s voice.
Emma explained about the ideas she’d had.
“I’m not sure I get it,” Liz said when Emma had finished.
“What if Jessica was murdered because of that story about the babies being switched? Obviously it was never meant to come out. I imagine the mothers themselves carried the secret to their graves. And then all of a sudden, Jessica knows all about it from this old nurse who’s now a resident at Sunny Days.”
“But Jessica didn’t know the women’s names. Just a nickname—Cat, wasn’t it?”
Emma silenced the timer pinging on the stove and turned the gas off under her eggs. “Yes. But presumably the nurse knows the names. Or at least the murderer must be afraid she does. And that’s why they tried to smother her.”
“But didn’t Jessica say that the babies who had been switched were boys? There weren’t any men at that trunk show.”
“Maybe it was someone’s brother or husband?” Emma carried the pan of eggs to the sink and ran cold water over them.
“But why would anyone care after all these years?”
“Maybe there’s money involved.” Emma turned off the tap and fished the boiled eggs from the water. She started to put them on the counter, but one nearly rolled off. She grabbed it in the nick of time.
“Could be. So, what next?”
“I’d like to see if that nurse who is now at Sunny Days was working at the Henry County Hospital in 1954. That’s the year the switch supposedly took place. I’m sure Sylvia can get her name for me.”
“I’ll go with you. I know someone who works in the human resources department there. She’s the wife of a friend of Matt’s. Maybe she’ll help us out.”
* * *
TUESDAY the shop was fairly calm. No outbursts from Mr. Zimmerman, no escapades by Pierre and no deliveries. Arabella was unusually quiet. Emma knew she was worried about Francis. With nothing new to report, the story had slipped from the front pages of the newspaper. Arabella was worried that Francis would be forgotten. Emma assured her that the police were no doubt working overtime to secure his release from the robbers.
Emma was a little concerned about leaving Arabella alone in the shop, but Liz was picking her up at eleven o’clock to swing by the Henry County Medical Center, as it was now known, to see if they could find out more about that nurse living at Sunny Days. Sylvia had managed to discover her name—Rosalind Newell. The nurse Jessica had talked about was named Rose—it seemed perfectly possible that that might be a nickname for Rosalind.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Emma asked as she slipped into her sweater.
Arabella made a face. “You worry way too much for such a young girl. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m dying to know what you’ll find out.”
Emma kissed her aunt on the cheek. A horn sounded outside Sweet Nothings—Liz. Emma went out the front door and slid into the passenger seat of Liz’s station wagon.
“Don’t you feel we’re getting close to an answer?” Liz said as she pulled away from the curb.
“I hope so. I’m only concerned as to whether or not the records at the Henry County Medical Center go back to 1954.”
“Fingers crossed,” Liz said as she turned into the hospital parking lot. They parked Liz’s car and headed toward the modern glass and steel entrance.
A blue-haired woman sat behind the information desk. She was wearing an old-fashioned flowered dress with a large starburst brooch on the right shoulder. Emma guessed they were both almost as vintage as the lingerie Arabella found for the shop.
“We’re looking for the human resources department.”
The woman scribbled some directions on a piece of paper with Henry County Medical Center printed at the top and handed it to Emma.
They followed the rights and lefts until they came to their destination. “Cross your fingers again,” Liz said to Emma, “that Tammy hasn’t gone out to lunch.”
A pleasant young woman behind the desk looked up inquiringly as they entered. Liz approached her with a smile.
“I’m Liz Banning, and I was wondering if Tammy Cole is here.”
“I think I saw her a minute ago,” the girl said, picking up the telephone on her desk.
She spoke a few words into the receiver then looked up at Liz. “She’ll be right out.”
A woman with short blond hair came down the hallway. She was tall and trim with an athletic gait. She smiled when she saw Liz.
“Liz!” They shook hands. “Good to see you. How are Matt and the kids?”
“Fine, just great.” Liz turned toward Emma. “This is my friend, Emma.”
“Come on down to my office.” Tammy waved an arm, and her cluster of bracelets tinkled melodically.
“What can I do for you?” she asked when they were seated in her rather cramped office.
“We’re trying to find out whether or not a nurse by the name of Rosalind Newell worked here in 1954,” Liz said.
“Rosalind Newell? Does this have anything to do with all that stuff that’s been going on at Sunny Days? Your father’s there, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. And yes, it’s somewhat related. And rather complicated.”
Tammy leaned back in her chair. “Unfortunately the records from that far back are no longer here. They’re in storage…”—she waved her hands around—“somewhere.”
“I was afraid of that,” Liz said as she picked up her purse.
The phone on Tammy’s desk rang, and her hand went toward it reflexively.
“We won’t keep you any longer. Come on over with Dan some night for a drink, okay?”
Tammy gave Liz a thumbs-up as they left her office.
“We didn’t really expect to find out anything,” Emma said soothingly as they retraced their steps back down the corridor.
“True. Still, it would have been nice to have had confirmation.”
They were going through the lobby when Emma grabbed Liz by the arm.
“Look!” She pointed at a series of gold plaques on the wall. Large gold letters at the top read Employees of the Year. “You don’t suppose…”
Liz was already reading through the names.
“There!” She pointed toward the plaque for 1954.
Engraved in the gold was the name Rosalind Newell.
“WHAT’S our next step?” Liz asked as she leaned on the counter at Sweet Nothings.
“Is there any way you can get in to see this nurse? Rosalind, you said her name was?” Arabella put down her mending and took off her silver-framed half-glasses.
“People are used to seeing you around Sunny Days. You might be able to pop into her room without being noticed.”
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “They’re quite careful about things like that up on the nursing floor.”
“Say you’re a friend or relative.” Arabella smiled. “Use your charm.” She patted Emma on the arm.
Emma made a face. “Very funny.”
“You could go over now,” Liz suggested. “I can stay here in case Arabella needs a hand.”
“I’m afraid I can’t pay more than minimum wage,” Arabella quipped.
A shadow crossed Liz’s face. “Right now even that would be a blessing.”
“Still no news on Matt’s contract?” Emma frowned. She’d hoped that Liz’s situation would have improved by now.
Liz shook her head. “No. Soon, though. Hopefully by the end of the week. He’s pretty sure he’s got it, but you know how these things go.”
“Well, are you going or not?” Arabella put the piece she’d been working on under the counter and turned to Emma. “I can’t wait to hear what you find out.”
“I guess I’ll go then.”
Emma was thinking hard as she walked to her car. Should she try to sneak into Rose’s room or claim to be a relative? By the time she’d slid behind the wheel of the Bug, she’d decided that honesty was the best policy. Besides, she wasn’t much of an actress and was likely to be busted by the first person to come along.
Emma parked at the back of the Sunny Days lot. She really, really didn’t want to do this. She should have sent Liz instead. She dragged her feet as much as possible, but eventually she still found herself at the front door of the retirement community. She threw back her shoulders, raised her chin, pushed open the front door and approached the front desk.
The woman sitting there smiled helpfully.
Emma tried to control the quaver in her voice. “I’m here to visit Rosalind Newell. She’s on fourth-floor nursing.”
The woman’s expression of interest turned to boredom. She pointed toward the elevators. “Take the elevator to the fourth floor.”
Emma’s stomach did a little victory leap. She couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy! She stabbed the elevator button and waited impatiently as the car crawled downward from the fourth floor.
The doors opened and Emma stepped inside. They closed so slowly she found herself clenching her teeth in frustration. She really felt as if she were about to find the one thread that would unravel this whole mystery. If she could only manage to get to the fourth floor!
Finally, the car began its slow ascent. Emma studied the numbers on the indicator, trying to focus on what questions she would ask Rosalind Newell when she got there. According to Sylvia, she was in room 403, which was a right off the elevator and a left turn at the end of the corridor.
Emma wiped her palms on her slacks as the elevator doors swung open. The corridor was quiet and empty. She tried to step out as boldly as possible. As if she belonged. Of course it didn’t matter, since there was no one there to see her.
She followed Sylvia’s directions and took a right off the elevator and headed down the hall. Room 403 was easy enough to find. Emma counted off the rooms…397…399…401…and finally she was approaching number 403.
