by Jaden Skye
“What did Andrea say about it?” Olivia felt herself getting pulled in.
“Andrea said search for the woman in blue, Penny! How could I search for a woman in blue? I decided right then to call you instead.” Penny’s voice grew raspy.
“You did the right thing,” Olivia insisted.
“To search for a woman based on a dream is crazy, isn’t it?” Penny grew shakier.
Olivia didn’t know how to answer. “It’s certainly not something we normally do,” she replied.
“It’s crazy, it’s crazy.” Penny started crying now. “I’m losing my mind. We all are.”
“No, it’s okay,” declared Olivia. “It’s normal to think all kinds of things when someone you love dies this way. Especially when you’ve had dreams like that for a whole month before.”
Penny put her head in her hands then and started sobbing softly. “Thank you, thank you,” she managed between sobs.
Olivia slowly pushed herself back from the table.
“Don’t go, please.” Penny’s head shot up. “My Uncle Angie will be back any minute. I’d really like you to talk to him. I’m going to my room in the house to rest now,” Penny said. “You can just wait in the kitchen and he’ll come right in.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
After Penny left, Olivia took another small sandwich and some salad and began to eat slowly. She couldn’t get the image of a woman in blue out of her mind. Even though it was just a dream image, it was intriguing. Who knew what Penny might have inadvertently seen, what had struck her and lodged within? Olivia always thought that dreams held reservoirs of meanings that few had any idea of. She remembered how she’d dreamt of Paul leaving for weeks before his cancer claimed him. Night after night she would dream of him walking down a long golden corridor. Once, in the dream, she even tried to run after him, but he’d stopped her forcefully.
“You’re not coming with me, even if you want to,” Paul had told her powerfully before disappearing from sight. “You have too much work to do here.”
Olivia reached for a bottle of ginger ale that was also on the table. Just as she began to pour the soda into a paper cup, she heard a noise behind her.
“This must be Olivia,” a growly voice uttered from behind.
Olivia turned to see Angie standing there, peering in.
“Yes, it’s me.” Olivia stood up.
“Penny texted me and told me you’d be here in the kitchen waiting to speak to me,” Angie went on. He was wearing jeans and a navy shirt, looking dapper. “Should I come in and join you for lunch, or should we take a walk outside?” he asked.
“Come on in,” said Penny, glad to see him. The morning was turning out to be chock-full of people to talk to. Even though she did not yet know how it would all come together, Olivia realized that a tapestry of Mort’s life was being woven together for her.
“Christine’s my baby sister and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to take care of her,” Angie informed Olivia in a no-nonsense tone, as he sat down. “I’ll be staying here at the house with her for an unknown period of time now.”
Olivia wondered if Angie had a family or job of his own, but hesitated to ask.
“You don’t feel Christine’s safe alone?” she asked.
“She’s not.” Angie was emphatic as he grabbed two sandwiches and threw them on a plate. “No one has the least idea yet about who killed Mort. Or if they’re after Christine, too. And if you ask me, they’ll never know.”
“Why not?” Olivia felt personally challenged.
“Because this lousy killing was either a totally random job done by some nut who’s long gone from town, or something has been going on in Mort’s life that no one has the slightest idea of. Either way, how’s the truth going to surface?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” said Olivia boldly.
Angie laughed. “Forgive me for laughing, honey,” he said, “but it’s going to take a lot more than a young, beautiful woman poking around in our corners.”
Olivia decided to stay neutral in response to Angie’s tough comment.
“You can’t be sure of that,” she responded. “There are harder cases than this one that have been cracked. And I’ve been involved in cracking them.”
“I’m sure there are.” Angie was taken aback momentarily. “And I certainly didn’t mean to make light of your work. But even if you’re the best you can get in your line of work, this is a totally senseless killing.”
They were all senseless killings, thought Olivia, no matter what the supposed motive was.
“What do you think happened to Mort?” Olivia decided to turn it back on Angie.
“Frankly, I have no idea. None at all,” said Angie. “This came totally out of the blue for us all.”
“You never ever suspected anything?” Olivia kept at it.
“What was there to suspect? Mort was a fine guy, he lived his life.”
“The two of you were close?” Olivia wanted details.
“Not especially,” Angie answered truthfully. “Why should we be? He was good to my sister and that was enough.”
“And it didn’t bother Mort at all that you were so close to his wife?”
“Just the opposite.” Angie grinned at the thought of it. “He was happy about it. Mort enjoyed seeing Christine busy. He also enjoyed time to himself. He needed it, if you ask me.”
Olivia took that in. “Many men would be jealous of their wives being very close to another family member,” she added, waiting to see how Angie would react.
Angie just shook his head. “Nah, not Mort. I just told you, he liked plenty of time to himself.”
Olivia wondered about that. “What did he do with that time?”
“How would I know?” answered Angie. “You know, even though he was happy with everyone, he held a lot close to the vest. Mort was a private guy, basically.”
Olivia found that interesting and suddenly thought of the woman in blue. As far-fetched as it seemed she had to pursue it further.
“Is it possible Mort was secretly involved with someone on the side?” she continued.
“Of course it’s possible, anything’s possible.” Angie rolled his eyes. “Guys have been known to do things like that before, haven’t they? It doesn’t usually get them killed, though.”
“I’m not speaking hypothetically.” Olivia got tougher. “Do you have any knowledge of something like that going on in Mort’s life? Was there another woman?”
Angie paused for a long moment. Too long, Olivia thought. “A long time ago, maybe,” Angie answered. “But over the years when I knew him, no.”
“What happened a long time ago?” Olivia was intrigued.
“Is this really important? Does it really matter?” Angie was reluctant to take it further. “People do things when they’re young and then they grow up and forget about them.”
“Of course it’s important,” Olivia answered swiftly. “Whatever you tell me about Mort adds to the picture. If you want to find his killer, speak up.”
“It was just before Mort and my sister got married.” Angie’s voice dropped low. “You’re sure this is going to make a difference?”
“I’m not sure,” Olivia answered frankly, “but tell me, and I’ll let you know.”
“Mort cheated on my sister right before the wedding. It was with someone he’d dated before. Just a last-minute fling, something like that. I’m sure bachelors do it all the time. It’s a way of saying good-bye to their freedom, one last blast.”
Olivia cringed. “How do you know about this?”
“I happened to find out about it from the woman’s girlfriend,” said Angie. “The girlfriend was even more upset than you are right now. She thought Christine should call off the marriage. I thought that was complete nonsense.”
“You told Christine, of course?” asked Olivia.
“Of course I didn’t,” Angie proclaimed. “Why would I? You think I wanted to break my sister’s heart?”
“Wasn’t it her
right to know and her choice about whether she wanted to go on with the marriage?” Olivia was disturbed.
“It was her right to be happy with the man she loved,” Angie proclaimed. “Guys make mistakes all the time, honey. That’s no reason to tear their lives apart.”
“So you didn’t tell Christine about it?”
“I didn’t talk to Christine, but I did talk to Mort. I gave him hell, actually. He swore again and again he wouldn’t repeat it. He said he didn’t know what came over him, begged me not to tell Christine. I promised that I wouldn’t. And I never did. I’m a man of my word.”
Olivia felt heartsick hearing the story. It reminded her of Todd sleeping with an old girlfriend just as he and Olivia were getting engaged. Did this really happen regularly? Was there no one who could be trusted?
“So there, now you have the story,” Angie continued. “Feel any better because of it? Do you know anything more about who could have killed Mort now?”
Angie was mocking her and Olivia felt it. She decided to remain completely professional.
“One piece after another completes the puzzle,” she remarked simply. “You never know where any piece of information will lead.”
“You’re not going to tell my sister either, are you?” Angie’s face suddenly turned red. “I sure hope you aren’t, or honey, I don’t know what I would do. But I tell you it wouldn’t be pretty.”
“Are you threatening me, Angie?” Olivia got tight.
“I’m not threatening, just warning,” he barked. “Do you plan on telling Christine?”
“No, of course not,” Olivia spoke strongly. “It happened too many years ago.”
*
Fortunately, Angie left shortly and Olivia decided to go back to the hotel and unwind. The morning had been strangely grueling and she needed time to process what had happened.
On the way back in the cab, Olivia’s phone rang. She picked up immediately, and as she hoped, thankfully, Wayne was on the other end.
“How’s it going?” Wayne asked, seemingly pleased that she answered.
“What an intense morning,” Olivia breathed.
“Really? I wish I’d been there. Anything new?” he replied.
“I spoke to Christine, her brother Angie, and also the police sent that young cop Justin over to see what I’d found out.”
“Justin? Why?” Wayne sounded slightly miffed.
“They’re just keeping connected to what we’re doing,” said Olivia, “and also letting me know I’ve got all the support I need while you’re out of town.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous, I’d say,” Wayne responded. “I’m just a phone call away.”
“They mean well,” Olivia insisted. “How about you? What’s it like there? Anything to report?”
“Not yet,” Wayne said. “I’ve just settled in and am about to visit the head administrator at the clinic down here.”
“Wonderful,” said Olivia. “Please let me know how it goes along.”
“Of course I will,” Wayne answered briskly. “I always do, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do, you’re great at that,” said Olivia.
“Thanks,” said Wayne, quietly, a tinge of emotion in his voice. “At least I’m great at something.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Nashville was beautiful, warm, alive, exciting, the capital of Tennessee and home to Vanderbilt University and legendary country music. Honky-tonks lined the streets, alive with music. As Wayne walked along the trendy streets, he felt the whole place rocking. Olivia would love it here, he thought as he headed downtown to Mort’s clinics. It almost felt odd to be here without Olivia. He’d gotten so used to working together, it was like part of him was missing.
Wayne picked up his pace. It was good to be here alone, he quickly reminded himself. The skies were bright blue and there was a softness in the air that relaxed him. He’d needed the break. Things had gone too far too fast between him and Olivia. Fortunately, both had come to their senses and pulled back into professional mode. Wayne knew it was the right decision too, especially as he so strongly felt her absence now.
As Wayne got closer to the clinic, he paused and looked around. Since he’d spoken to Olivia on the phone, he’d been uneasy. It bothered him that Justin turned up right after he’d left town. Of course it was routine; the police sent him to check on things. But Wayne didn’t like it anyhow. Olivia hadn’t said too much about it, either. Maybe the guy probably hadn’t made much of an impression.
Or, of course, it was entirely possible that the opposite was true. It could have been that Olivia thought the world of Justin. Wayne knew that Olivia was prone to jumping into relationships quickly, especially exciting ones. She’d done exactly that with her second fiancé, Todd. She’d never even looked into his background. Wayne thought about how he and Olivia met when he’d been assigned to investigate Todd’s shocking murder. Even though Olivia had been devastated she’d been amazingly strong, determined to jump in and help. Now Olivia had grown into a truly professional detective. The work was good for her, and she was amazing at it, too. It startled Wayne to realize how much had changed for both of them in such a short period of time.
Wayne now turned the corner and arrived at the long, low building that Mort’s clinic was housed in. It was fascinating to notice the way Mort had duplicated his health care model and how well they were doing both in Nashville and in Key Biscayne. Wayne’s appointment with Len Radson, the chief administrator, was scheduled for ten minutes from now. Wayne had arrived just in time.
Wayne entered the building and walked directly to the office number he’d been given and knocked on the closed door.
The door opened promptly and a tall, formal, well-dressed man in his late forties stood there looking at Wayne carefully.
“Len Radson?” asked Wayne.
“Yes, that’s right,” the man said. “Wayne Darrington, I assume?”
“Exactly,” said Wayne.
“Good, please come in.” Len ushered Wayne into a beautifully decorated room with wooden file cabinets lining one wall, and a large conference table in the center.
“Quite an impressive operation you have here,” Wayne said, as they sat down opposite one another.
“All of this is thanks to Mort,” Len responded. “He was the brains behind everything. And he was responsible for finding the cutting-edge treatments.”
“It’s a terrible loss,” Wayne replied.
“That’s putting it mildly,” said Len. “And people are just barely beginning to find out about it, as well. Naturally, they’re in total shock.”
“Naturally,” said Wayne.
“I just found out myself. All I knew in the beginning was that Mort hadn’t shown up. I’ve only told a few people here the whole truth. Mort didn’t like personal information about his life to be discussed. He even kept his clinics in Nashville and Key Biscayne separate. We hardly talked to each other at all.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Wayne. “I’m sure Mort was liked by all.”
“Absolutely,” Len spoke definitively. “Why did it take so long to let us know and have the investigation branch out into Nashville?”
“The murder took place in Key Biscayne,” said Wayne. “The search always first centers in the location of the crime. At first the police thought they had the killer. They were waiting to be sure before moving forward. And probably they were also waiting to see what surfaced by itself in Nashville when Mort didn’t return.”
“This is horrible, awful, gruesome!” Len exclaimed. “We saw each other all the time Mort was here. He checked in with me every day. Mort trusted me.”
“Did he spend a lot of time in the office when he was in Nashville?” Wayne continued.
“As much time as needed,” Len answered crisply. “Mort had a lot to do to oversee the clinics. When he came to Nashville he was here, there, and everywhere.”
“Where? Where did he go? What did he do?” Wayne was interested.
Len sudden
ly looked ruffled. “I didn’t follow him around exactly.” His tone suddenly turned scruffy. “And I didn’t ask him personal questions, either. He wouldn’t have liked that at all.”
Obviously, Len didn’t like that he was being asked personal questions either, thought Wayne.
“Why not?” asked Wayne, perplexed.
“He wasn’t the kind of guy you’d ask personal questions to,” was all Len would reply.
“Well, even if you didn’t ask Mort personal questions, I’m sure you were familiar with his schedule?” Wayne wouldn’t be stopped.
“Sometimes I was, sometimes I wasn’t,” Len responded. “Mort was a private guy. He told me what he had to. And I let it go at that. That’s why we did well together. I took him at face value.”
This was the first time Wayne had heard that Mort was a private guy. That wasn’t the impression he’d had of him in Key Biscayne. Actually, Wayne had heard the opposite, that Mort was a pillar of the community, a great father, husband, and very socially engaged.
“What do you mean he was private?” Wayne had to take this further. “Mort was secretive?”
“No. He was private, quiet!” said Len. “His business was his. He wasn’t blasting it all over town. He liked time alone, too. Sometimes he’d be off the grid for a whole day.”
“Why?” Wayne felt uneasy. It was almost as if two different people were being described.
“Why not?” Len adamantly defended him. “We all need downtime, don’t we?”
“Some more than others,” Wayne commented. “Some don’t like it at all, can’t be alone. Some need lots of company. That was my impression of Mort.”
“Well, you were wrong. That wasn’t him,” grumbled Len. “Sometimes Mort would be in the mood for company, but not often. Other times he’d suddenly turn quiet and remote.”
“What was bothering him?” Wayne’s voice lowered.
“I wouldn’t say something was bothering Mort,” Len replied. “He had a lot on his mind, that’s for sure. And he wasn’t about to talk to everyone about it.”
