As we neared the end, Bella said, “You’ll find that there are some weeks that are better than others. When a resident doesn’t feel well, he or she may not be able to respond. People won’t remember you or Sweet Marie as a rule, so don’t let that bother you. It’s just beyond them. But some of them will start to find the experience familiar. Those positive feelings are so good for our fragile residents. You’ll see it in time.”
As we exited, Bella thanked us and said she was so happy we could do this. “We’ve been waiting for a therapy dog forever. Too bad you couldn’t bring in the two of them.” Candy shook her head and I could tell they’d had that chat before.
In the hallway, Candy told me that the initial visit had gone very well and Sweet Marie had been amazing. She said she’d be glad to accompany us on another visit and I was grateful. Another barrier passed. I hoped I would be able to do it well and make a difference.
For an entire hour, I had been too busy to think about Mona.
The door to CYCotics jingled as I opened it. I was holding on to Sweet Marie’s leash and bearing two large lattes from Ciao! Ciao! I also had a small bag of dog treats for the little hero and for the poor abandoned brother, in case Jack had run out of them. Truffle jumped off the desk chair and bounded toward us barking in reproach. I trotted back to the Miata to get the beef-and-barley soup and crusty rolls that had been the day’s special. I’d had soup on the brain since my visit to Mona’s that morning. Of course, I had Mona on the brain too.
Jack was standing and examining what I knew to be a snowboard. He said, “I’m thinking about bringing in more boards next year. I had a lot of people in asking for them. We sold a couple of used ones as a favor to some friends and word started getting out. I think I’d do a good snowboarding business. The bike business is a bit too quiet in the winter. So I’m hoping it would be a complementary product line. There’s good business in gear and clothing for snowboarders too.”
While it would be nice for Jack to branch out, I thought he could use a quiet season to polish off his PhD. I knew better than to mention that.
“Jack. I need to talk to you.”
“Shoot.”
“It’s about our time at St. Jude’s.”
“Sure.” I noticed his eyes drifted toward the snowboard.
“You’ll have to pay attention.”
“Sorry.”
Jack’s three-S beginnings, “shoot, sure, and sorry,” didn’t bode well for the conversation. “I need you to help me here. And don’t say ‘swell.’ ”
To do him credit, he nodded and gave the impression of being fascinated.
“It’s about all that bullying that went on with the girls.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, except for that incident with Mona, I was only vaguely aware. Guys didn’t pay much attention to girl politics, you know. For one thing, it seemed dangerous, and for another, it wasn’t all that interesting. And for a third, I don’t think we saw much. I think people like Serena and Jasmin and Tiffanee and Haley kept their machinations secret. The kind of thing they did to Mona would turn off any decent guy.”
“I would hope so. I wonder why we misfits got off easy?”
“I suppose with me it was sports. I was good at basketball. It helped a lot. It’s when you’re perceived to be marginal that the hyenas cut you off from the pack. No one bothered you much either. Maybe because your mother was famous.”
I made a face. “You think that was it?”
“You never seemed all that vulnerable. And you were kind of bossy then too. The kind of kid who might take legal action. I think it was that.”
One of the reasons it’s not a good idea to eat soup with Jack is that he almost always makes me laugh.
“I’m worried about Mona.”
“Did you talk to Pepper?”
“Yeah. And she’s telling me to butt out.”
“Maybe you should butt out.”
“But Mona isn’t at work today. No one knows where she is. Her coworkers are worried. Her neighbors are worried. I’m worried.”
“Does this remind you of the last time?”
“Of course it does, Jack. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.”
“But, Charlotte, you have to leave it to the cops. They’ll solve it. Let them have sick feelings in their stomachs. They get paid the big bucks for that.”
“I’m not sure the bucks are that big and trust me, I’d love to be able to leave it to them. I am not trying to solve a crime. I just want to find Mona and help her. She told me she was going into hiding because someone is trying to implicate her in these hit-and-runs. And yet, the other day, I could have sworn she was mad enough to run down any of these women. She’s acting very strange. I think she’s having some kind of breakdown and she needs help. I should have done more when I was at school. Now I feel like crap that I didn’t.”
“You were always kind to her, Charlotte. You were nice to everyone.”
“You just said I was bossy.”
“That too. But in a kind way.”
“She turned to me this time. I think her crazy talk is a cry for help. I can’t refuse to get involved.”
“Yeah, you can.”
I didn’t hang around to argue with Jack anymore. It was definitely a lose-lose situation. And I could see his point. I just couldn’t get Mona and her problem out of my mind, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
Truffle decided to go back to the one real chair. Jack hopped out to make room for him. He didn’t seem to mind. “I’ve got lots to do standing up. He’s barky today, so I haven’t had any worries about burglars. It’s too bad he couldn’t go with you. I think he might have been offended that you left him behind.”
“He’s a dog, Jack. He doesn’t have human emotions. And even if they did let me take two dogs there, I don’t think I could manage them. You have to make sure the dogs are comfortable and not stressed. And you have to talk to the residents and take care that everything’s going all right. I’ll just have to alternate them.”
Jack said, “I could always come with you.”
“What?”
“I could come with you. We could each have one and that would be a real party.”
“But what about the shop?”
“I’m here six days a week, on Saturdays and plenty of evenings, even Sunday morning this week. Whatever your regular schedule is, I’ll just open a bit later on that day. Do you want to ask Candy if that would be all right? I did go to the orientation sessions so that I could help you with the training, if you remember. It seems a shame to leave one of the little guys alone.”
“I’ll check with Candy. I’m sure she’d love it if you came along with Truffle. As you said, you were there for the sessions too. You’d have to join Woodbridge Therapy Dogs.”
Of course, there are few dog-related organizations in Woodbridge that Jack is not a member of. I didn’t see this as much of an impediment.
Jack said, “I’m up for it. I’ll get one of my repair guys to cover the shop if I have to. Find out if we can do it.”
Jack of course didn’t worry about a thing. He didn’t ask himself what could go wrong. He didn’t worry and plan. He was always just ready to roll.
Five minutes later we had a date with Candy and Bella for the next morning. Our regular schedule to be determined. I raced home to try to catch up on the day’s business.
As I was getting ready to leave for my Monday course, Lilith called back to say she’d love to work on Hannah Yalden’s kitchen.
“Are you kidding?” she said. “I’ve been dying to get inside one of those places. They look gorgeous. This is the only way I’m going to do it. I managed to rejig my schedule tomorrow and Thursday so we can go there early. Is that right? I love the kitchen cupboard cleanups. Maybe I’ll score some of those utensils for the youth center. They always need cooking gear. Okay, gotta go. I’m seeing Seth tonight before the bedtime shift at Belleview.”
Now that brought a smile to my face. Li
lith was the opposite of the shy Seth, but their unlikely romance had blossomed during one of our organizing projects. It was a good news story.
I wasn’t so lucky with Mona. She did not call back and say that she had been just overwrought and didn’t feel murderous toward Serena and her friends or that she’d been mistaken about someone trying to implicate her or even that she had changed her mind about going into hiding. Luckily, I had that course to take my mind off Bethann’s and Tiffanee’s deaths and Mona’s bizarre behavior. I knew I couldn’t actually go searching for Mona. I still had Pepper’s warning ringing in my ears. I settled the pooches comfortably on the sofa and made my way out to the winter wonderland.
The Monday night session was Taking the Nightmare out of Your Mornings. I was expecting mostly moms of young children and teens, and that was what I got. I figured that the organized moms wouldn’t be at my session. They wouldn’t need to be. I glanced around the room and saw a number of tired and frazzled folks. I had tons of tips for them, mostly involving small changes to routines and habits, as well as for preparation the night before. I knew even without having children that if every child has a central place for school permission sheets, schedules, notes from the teacher, and any paper that might be needed, life might still not be perfect, but would be less stressful. For every parent who knew that, there seemed to be one who’d never thought of it. I was keen to pass on my own habits of preparing all but the last-minute bits of breakfast the night before, of setting the table and having lunches ready to go. Kids can do a lot of that on their own. I also recommended having every family member set out what they would wear—right down to the underwear. I said cheerfully, “If you watch television, use the ad time to knock off these little chores. Somehow four minutes the night before saves twenty in the morning. Don’t ask me to explain why time behaves like that, but it does.”
Not being a parent, I was naturally surprised by some of the situations people live with. Parents late for work, kids late for school, mismatched shoes, unbrushed teeth, temper tantrums, and missed meals. I know you have to pick your battles, but I also know lives can be better.
At the end, I handed everyone my top-five tips on small cards I’d had laminated. “If you adopt even one of these a month, you’ll find life improves,” I said at the end. “Any last questions?”
“Do you think these hit-and-runs are murder?” This came from the most frazzled woman in the room, the one whose child refused to get dressed in the morning and would only eat white food on white plates while standing up.
“The police are calling them hit-and-runs,” I said. “And I know that they are investigating.”
“People are saying you knew the victims,” a small intense woman said.
“We went to the same school,” I admitted, “but I didn’t know Bethann then and I haven’t seen her since. I do remember Tiffanee Dupont.”
The very pregnant redhead in the last row said, “She was two years ahead of me at St. Jude’s and she was very scary.”
A beautiful gaunt woman wearing a periwinkle-blue sweater began to cry. “How can you say that? She was my yoga teacher. She was so wonderful. So kind and helpful. She helped me so much after my chemo.”
“I don’t know about that Bethann, but Tiffanee was a bitch. And I know that personally,” the redhead said, resting her hand on her “bump” and sticking to her guns.
“People change.” Tears rolled down the cheeks of Tiffanee’s defender.
“If you say so, but I doubt it in this case.” That redhead liked to have the last word.
I didn’t want to get into this. “Please e-mail me or contact me on Facebook if you want to follow up on any of the tips and techniques from tonight. I’d love to hear from you. We’ll keep the group going to share successes and help each other overcome setbacks.”
As they filed out of the room, the woman in the periwinkle sweater stayed behind. “I’m sorry for getting emotional. I just hated the idea of someone refusing to accept that Tiffanee was a wonderful person.” She shot a poisonous glance at the retreating redhead.
This was a tricky situation. I’d had the same reaction as the redhead when I saw the tearful interviews on WINY. They didn’t match up with the Tiffanee I’d known.
“It’s hard to judge,” I said. “People have their own experiences.”
“And you don’t think it was possible for her to change?”
I touched her arm and said, “I am glad you had a lovely experience with Tiffanee and that she helped you. That’s good to hear.”
I didn’t see how the Tiffanee I remembered could have gone from the bully to the nurturing yoga teacher. But I saw no reason to ruin the memory for this kind person.
She sniffed. “Thank you. She mentioned once that she wasn’t at all proud of her past. She’d had a lot of therapy, and it had helped her develop her spiritual side. She said she had some bad Karma to deal with.”
I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept dreaming about Tiffanee, the beautiful, cruel girl I remembered and this new version, the kind, gentle yoga teacher. Bad Karma indeed. They were separate people in my dreams, one with the waist-length black hair and the other with the close-cropped do and the serene expression. Both Tiffanees were terrified of Mona. The dream started out with Mona weeping hysterically in a school locker, but for some reason when Jack opened it, she emerged dressed as a firefighter, only with stainless steel retractable claws; all very Wolfman. She was also about seven feet tall and very vengeful and very superhero-like. I woke up gasping as the stainless steel claws clicked out and slashed at the Tiffanees. And Mona shrieked, “You won’t be the last two!”
I found myself wide-awake in a tangle of sheets. I knew I had to get up and shake those bad feelings out of my mind. I headed for the kitchen, warmed some milk in the microwave, and put a bit of vanilla in it. As Truffle and Sweet Marie joined me on the sofa for a reassuring cuddle, I sipped my warm milk slowly and thought about the situation. Could there have been enough therapy in the world to change Tiffanee? On the other hand, Haley had certainly changed; perhaps the hard time her family was going through helped her to be more empathetic. But what did I know about therapy and bullies? Nothing. Maybe it was time to learn. I made a note on my pristine To Do list: Check out therapists!
Morning produced no more calls from Mona. I bundled Truffle and Sweet Marie into their warm sweaters, and after the quickest of outside visits—their hurry, not mine—I actually clicked on the WINY news to see if anything bad had happened to anyone else. The news was good in a way: no new fatalities. On the bad side, the police were still coming up empty on the two hit-and-runs. Todd Tyrell flashed a shot of Pepper whenever he brought the viewers’ attention to the fact that the Woodbridge Police had no leads. He chose the clip where she looks like she’s just left the hair salon. But never mind, no one else had died, even though an elderly couple had hit the guardrail on the top of Hemlock Hill and narrowly missed going over the thirty-foot embankment. They were lucky to have escaped with bruises and shock. The guardrail had been pretty much flattened. The day was off to a good start, even if I was groggy and yawning. Jack bounded up the stairs and greeted me with a grin. He wolfed down his breakfast and finished mine. I wasn’t that hungry. I had a jam-packed day, starting with an eight o’clock appointment with Lilith at Hannah’s.
When I arrived at Hannah’s place at five to eight, Lilith was already waiting for me in Rose Skipowski’s ancient car, bins stashed in the backseat, and a good supply of plastic utensil drawers as well.
“I can’t wait to see this place,” she said, as we knocked on the glossy door right on the hour. It’s best not to be even a minute early at that time of morning.
Lilith’s hair was bubblegum pink this week. I wondered if it would glow in the dark. Hannah blinked, maybe at the hair, maybe at Lilith’s nose ring and that parade of earrings. Alarm flitted across her face. It evaporated when I introduced Lilith in glowing terms. “Lilith is the best,” I added to reinforce her confidence, once
we’d shed our clumpy boots and headed for the kitchen.
“Amazing,” Lilith said, glancing around. “This is the kitchen? Where is everything?”
“Hidden,” I said. “Drawers below, no cabinets.”
“No clutter.” Lilith nodded. “It is gorgeous. Very elegant. Goes with the house.” I could see her mentally calculating storage space. She turned to Hannah and said with a grin, “You’ll always have to be vigilant if you want it to stay like this.”
Hannah said, “We’ve already had a problem. That’s why I called Charlotte.” She smiled and added, “And you.”
I glanced around at the gleaming empty counters. “How did the utensil reduction go?”
She shook her head. “I did find a bit of time to give it a try. I got rid of a lot of stuff. So now we seem to be down to four of everything. Not good, but I am sure we had eight potato mashers when we started.”
“Uh-oh. You only have room for one potato masher. Only keep doubles when it’s essential.”
“We just couldn’t do it. We’re too worried about needing things. What if we throw them away and then have to buy them?”
I said, “Give them to charity. You’ll get a tax receipt and if you have to buy one or two items, it won’t be the end of the world. That happens. You’ll still be way ahead.”
Lilith piped up. “I volunteer at youth services and Charlotte’s plugged into a women’s shelter. You have no idea how welcome those donations would be.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of it that way. But I don’t think my husband will agree. He gets very . . . attached to things. And anxious.” Hannah was an elegant woman who ran her own business, but she was a bit unhinged by the kitchen. She fluttered around like a moth.
“Does that happen a lot?” I said. “Is he around? He should be part of this discussion.”
The Busy Woman's Guide to Murder Page 11
