And Death Goes to . . .

by Laura Bradford

  “No, I’m pretty sure he was inside and just chose not to come to the door.”

  “Maybe he thought you were a solicitor?”

  “No, because after I knocked, I called into him that Gertie was sick and Ms. Rapple really needed him by her side.”

  Weird.

  “Why are you so sure he was inside?”

  “Because I turned and looked back at your front window as I was getting in my car.”

  “And you saw him?” I asked.

  “I saw the curtain slide back into place real fast like he was trying to stay out of sight.”

  It made no sense.

  It also meant I needed to push my sandwich off even longer.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.” I crossed to the pet shop’s front door and then looked back at Mary Fran. “Other than an unexpected meeting that’s come up for me at five-thirty, I should be around if you need me.”

  ~Chapter Ten~

  More than anything, I wanted to steer my new car in the direction of my office and the lunch I knew would be mine no more than ten minutes later. But I couldn’t. Not without feeling intense guilt—which I hated.

  Instead I turned toward home and called JoAnna on the way. She, being the poster child of efficiency, picked up at the start of the second ring.

  “Good afternoon, Tobias Advertising Agency, how may I help you?”

  “I honestly can’t imagine a time when I won’t get a kick out of hearing you say that,” I said, stopping at the first of three stop signs between the pet store and home. “It has such a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  I could hear JoAnna’s smile through my car’s speakers. “It does, indeed. And I’ve been saying it with greater frequency over the past few months.”

  Owning my own agency had been my dream since I was a little girl. But four years of college (and business classes) had brought a little realism to my life and I realized that working for someone else’s agency was far more likely.

  That is until I spent a few years working for John Beckler and realized mini-me had been right all along. After a dicey six months, Tobias Advertising Agency had begun to gain some traction. So much so, JoAnna had gotten all her paychecks, the utilities had remained on at both the office and my home, and I no longer had to borrow wheels to get where I needed to go.

  “Tobi? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. You caught me reminiscing.”

  “Good reminiscing?”

  “The best kind.” At the second stop sign I stopped, looked both ways, and then turned left. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m all done at the pet shop and I’ll be heading back to the office in about twenty minutes or so. I just need to stop out at the house real quick to check on Grandpa Stu.”

  “So what happened with Martha’s dog?”

  It always took me a minute for my brain to catch up when someone referred to my next door neighbor by her first name, and today was no exception. So, after a second or two of cluelessness, I was back in the game. “Apparently she’s not in good shape, although Mary Fran isn’t exactly sure what’s wrong. She took Rapple and Gertie out to some vet Mary Fran thinks is the be-all-that-ends-all and dropped them off for testing and stuff like that.”

  I took the opportunity afforded by the third and final stop sign to check my glove box for anything resembling a piece of candy (or maybe a small package of snack crackers), but there was nothing. “Anyway, Mary Fran seems to think there’s a chance Gertie might not make it.”

  Audible tsking filled my car’s pristine cabin and brought me back to the task at hand and the reason I was pulling up to the curb in front of my house at two o’clock in the afternoon. “So that’s why I’m stopping at home for a second—to make sure my grandfather is up to speed on what’s going on.”

  “Wow.”

  I cut the engine, pulled my key ring from the ignition, sent the call to my cell phone, and exited my car in favor of my front walkway. “Wow what?”

  “You really took our earlier conversation to heart, didn’t you?”

  “Earlier conversation?”

  “Yes. About respecting Stu’s feelings for Martha. I think your grandfather is going to be pleased.”

  I briefly considered telling JoAnna she was giving me far too much credit, but I knew if I did, the conversation would go much longer than I wanted it to go. Besides, the sooner I got in and out here, the sooner I could get there and fed. “Well I’m here, so I’ll see you in a few, okay?”

  “Should I order your sandwich now?”

  “I’ll call you as I’m leaving, if that’s okay. That way it’s fresh in the event traffic builds up on Euclid.”

  “If you get delayed, you might just want to consider making it dinner, instead,” JoAnna suggested.

  My stomach lodged its protest of my secretary’s words via a rumble that was so loud there was no chance JoAnna hadn’t heard. Her laugh just served as confirmation I chose not to dwell upon. “Actually, I have dinner plans—odd ones, but dinner plans nonetheless.”

  “Odd ones?”

  I told her about the call to Ben and the cagey way he’d acted even before suggesting we meet at some no-name restaurant on Brentwood Boulevard. JoAnna, of course, wanted to know more specifics in case she needed to send out a search party if I didn’t return (I swear, sometimes I think she’s on my mom’s payroll), so I gave her what I knew.

  “Oh! I know that place. It’s called Vinny’s, although I’m not sure there’s actually any sort of signage on the building.”

  “A restaurant with no sign? Huh… Maybe you should get me two sandwiches when I call, since I obviously won’t be ordering anything.”

  JoAnna sucked in a breath that echoed inside my ear. “No! You have to order something. The food is incredible. In fact, you should get the chicken marsala—it’s divine.”

  “I’m finding it hard to believe you with the description of this place.”

  “Have I steered you wrong yet, Tobi? About anything?”

  I tried to think of a time, but I came up empty. “No.”

  “Get the marsala tonight, and I’ll get your sandwich when you call. In the meantime, I probably should get back to the task at hand.”

  I started to hang up but stopped. “Hey, before you go, did you happen to get that list of Deidre’s campaigns together for me?”

  “That’s what I’m working on now. You didn’t tell me how prolific she was.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Deidre Ryan has been part of a lot of campaigns over the years.”

  In lieu of a chair, I wandered over to the lone tree in my front yard and leaned against its trunk. “How? She’s only been with Whitestone since the fall, when her youngest started full-time kindergarten.”

  “Most of these aren’t for Whitestone.”

  “Who then?”

  “Ross Jackson.”

  A squirrel who, only seconds earlier had been running across the grass oblivious to my presence, stopped dead in his tracks at my answering gasp. “Ross Jackson? Seriously?” Then, before she could answer, I spat out, “When?”

  “Over a three year time period that ended about seven and a half years ago.”

  “Seven and a half…wait.” I pushed off the tree and made my way back to the front walkway. “That actually makes sense. She probably left Ross Jackson when she had her first—”

  “Tobi? I hate to cut you off, but there’s a call coming in on the other line and I should probably get that.” I slid my phone into the front pocket of my purse as I stepped onto my porch and headed straight for the first of my two front doors—one I shared with Carter (which was unlocked), and the other that was specifically for my apartment. With practiced fingers, I picked through the keys on my ring and inserted the correct one into the lock.

&n
bsp; “Grandpa Stu? I’m—”

  I stopped on the two-by-two piece of linoleum that doubled as my entryway and took in my grandfather in his most ratty pair of sweat pants and a flannel shirt I was pretty sure hadn’t been washed since last worn. He sat in the center of my couch, his eyes directed at the TV even though it wasn’t on. “Grandpa Stu?”

  “Is it five fifteen, already?” he asked without so much as a glance in my direction.

  I stepped all the way into my living room, soaking up all the non-wardrobe parts of my lifelong partner in crime—like the shadows around his eyes and the paler than normal coloring of his unsmiling face. The look certainly fit the wooden, almost lifeless tone of his voice, but none of it fit my Grandpa Stu.

  “No. It’s only a little after two.”

  “Something happen at the office?” he asked.

  Still holding my keys, I sat down on the couch and turned so I was facing him. “No. Nothing like that. I came to check on you. To make sure everything is okay.”

  “Everything’s fine. Peachy, even.”

  “Then why are you sitting here…dressed like that…watching nothing?”

  “Why? Did I miss a Grandpa-Do list or something? Because I didn’t see one in its usual place.”

  “Grandpa, why are you acting like this?”

  Slowly, he moved his gaze to me. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know…almost sad.”

  He shrugged. “I get sad sometimes. It’s hard being without your grandmother. Has been since the second she took her last breath.”

  I lurched forward and buried my face in his shoulder while I worked to get my sudden, yet all too familiar surge of emotions under control. When I was sure I could speak without crying, I sat back up. “I miss her, too, Grandpa. All the time. But she’d be the first person to say she doesn’t want you sitting around, being sad. You know that.”

  He said nothing for a few moments and then, just as I was trying to figure out something else to say, his shoulders rose and fell beneath his misbuttoned flannel shirt.

  And that was it. No smile. No nod. No attempt at a real reply.

  So I took another road entirely. “How come you didn’t answer the door when Mary Fran knocked a little while ago?”

  Again, my words were met with a shrug.

  “Something is wrong with Gertie, Grandpa Stu. Mary Fran thinks it could be bad. She thought maybe you’d want to know so you could lend some moral support to Ms. Rapple.”

  Yup, got another shrug. But this time, it came after he cast his eyes down at his lap and his jaw tightened a smidge.

  Hmmm…

  Trouble in paradise?

  I tried to stifle the smile I felt forming lest he choose that exact moment to engage me in eye contact, but it was hard. The notion of our time together going back to being just about the two of us (and friends of my choosing, of course) would be an answer to my prayers.

  “Anything new on the murder?”

  The sound of his voice startled me back to the present and I set my backpack on the floor at my feet. “No, nothing—wait! Yes. When JoAnna got in this morning, there was a voicemail on the office phone from Ben Gibbens, one of my fellow nominees.”

  Intrigue pulled his eyes up to mine as he waited for me to continue. Since I finally had his attention, even if it was grudgingly, I acquiesced.

  “So I called him back a little while ago and he was very weird—whispering, and being rather cryptic. Asked me to meet him today at five thirty…at some restaurant north of the mall. Back booth.”

  Granted, Ben hadn’t specified a table location, but in the interest of pulling my grandfather from his funk, I took a few liberties—sue me. I let him process the update and waited for him to invite himself along. But the request never came.

  “I-I wish we had access to one of those wire things the cops put on their witnesses on those shows you love. Then you could hear everything Ben says.”

  I waited for the widened eyes and the rush to go with me back to the office so he could research how one might go about securing such technology in the next two hours or so, but it, too, never came.

  The ensuing silence was broken only by Grandpa Stu’s index finger pointing toward my feet. Sure enough, I heard my phone vibrating from inside my backpack and sent up a mental prayer of thanks for the welcomed distraction. I dug my hand inside my bag and pulled out my phone, the sight of Mary Fran’s name kicking off an uh-oh bell in my head.

  “Is it Gertie?” I asked in lieu of a more standard greeting.

  I stole a glance at my grandfather while I waited for Mary Fran’s answer, but other than a quick shift of his body, there didn’t appear to be a discernable reaction.

  “I checked in with Ms. Rapple via text about ten minutes ago, but Gertie was still in the back having tests done.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I’m actually calling to see if you’re planning on going to Deirdre’s viewing tomorrow night, since you kinda knew her and all.”

  Now, I normally prided myself on the ability to shift gears at a moment’s notice, but this was a shift I hadn’t seen coming and I’m sure my initial uhhh, reflected that. Still, I managed to get it together before she did one of her Earth-to-Tobi things.

  “Yes, I’m planning on going. Why?”

  “I was looking through this morning’s paper and I came across her obit.”

  “Okay…”

  “I know her husband—Todd. We went to school together.”

  I tried to focus on what Mary Fran was saying and to make the appropriate I’m listening sounds, but my still-slumped-in-the-same-spot grandfather was making it hard to concentrate on much of anything besides, well, him.

  “It’s funny, but the other night, at the award show, I actually thought the guy who kissed her as she stood up looked familiar. But it’s been twenty-five years, and he was part of a very different crowd than mine. In fact, he was one of the theater kids. I actually went to the last show senior year with my friend, Carrie, just so we could say we did, and, wow.…”

  In the interest of keeping my own mood from plummeting any further, I made myself look at something else, which in this case, was my kitchen doorway. “Wow? Wow, why?”

  “You know the show, Into the Woods, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, then you know the wolf is a pretty diabolical character, yes?”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “That was the role Todd played. And, Tobi, when I tell you he nailed it, I mean he nailed it.”

  I waited for more since I wasn’t grasping the problem, but when she said nothing, I helped her along with another okay.

  “I’d always seen him as this wimpy kind of kid who had a crush on pretty much every girl in our class that was completely out of his league. But wimpy kids can’t pull that kind of role off, not like that, anyway.” Mary Fran took a sip of something and then continued. “So afterward, when the cast came out to the hallway after the show, I told him he was pretty amazing. He thanked me and then said something like, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for, eh? Carrie found it funny and laughed. But I found it a little unsettling, quite frankly.”

  “Unsettling? Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I wasn’t sure why she was telling me all of this, but considering the alternative had me continuing to try to make conversation with Grandpa Funk, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Anyway, the obit says they have two children together and that they live out in Chesterfield.”

  I nodded along even though she couldn’t see me. That didn’t seem to matter as she kept right on talking.

  “He was one of the ones who didn’t show to our reunion in January, but he sent a nice note. Said he had to take the wife on a cruise, but hoped he could make it for our thirtieth.”

&n
bsp; “Had to?”

  “That’s what he said and, yeah, I found it to be an odd word choice as well, but, considering where I was with men at that point, I wasn’t surprised.” Mary Fran took another sip of whatever she was drinking, offered some sort of soothing reply to Baboo, and then sighed. “Anyway, this is all a long way of saying I’d like to go with you to the viewing—preferably the one from seven to nine, although I’ll make the four to six work if need be. Sam can always cover the store for an hour or so if necessary.”

  “Really? You want to go?”

  “I kind of feel like I should. Since I know Todd and all.”

  I considered calling her on the curiosity I knew was truly driving the train, but I kept it to myself. Because even if some measure of that was accurate, I also knew Mary Fran’s heart, and I knew the fact that his kids were now motherless pulled at her heartstrings.

  “Sure, we can go together. Unless you think you’d rather go with one of your old high school chums, or even Drew if he’s back by then.”

  “He’s not back until Friday night. And no, I’d rather just go with you, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Tobi.”

  “Snort! Snort! S-nort!”

  I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling in conjunction with Mary Fran’s laugh. “I really hate that bird, sometimes.”

  “No you don’t.” Mary Fran said something to Rudder to make him stop, and then turned her attention back to me. “Anyway, thanks again for earlier with the store, and again now for letting me tag along tomorrow.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll talk later.”

  When the call was over, I tossed my phone back into my bag, tried to engage my grandfather with a smile, but when he failed to respond, I slid my backpack onto my shoulder and stood. “Well, I better get back to the office. I’ve got a little more work to do before I wrap up in time for this dinner with Ben. But it’s an Italian place, so if you’d like me to bring you back something, I’d be happy to—”