I also didn’t mention my concern that we might not be the first to sort through Regina’s belongings. My fears weren’t evidence.
“You’ll probably want to start in her office,” Emma said. “It’s at the top of the stairs on the right. If you come across any personal papers—insurance, bills, and so forth—I’d appreciate if you’d set them aside. I need to go through all of that. In the meantime, I’m going to start in the kitchen cleaning out the fridge. I hope it’s not too smelly.”
I left Emma to deal with the spoiled food and made my way up the stairs. Regina’s home office had the same eclectic feel as her clinic office, which made me wonder again at the stark bareness of her space at the shelter. Here, Regina had created a serene palette out of cool blue tones and white accents. It felt like the inside of a breeze.
Built-in shelves stuffed to overflowing with books lined two walls. Regina’s desk, a golden teak monstrosity, took up a good third of the room. The top of the desk was orderly, but not compulsively so. If someone had searched it before me, there were no obvious signs. A laptop sat in the center.
Hallelujah.
I opened and let it power up. Unfortunately, that was as far as I got. Why would Regina password protect her own computer, especially since she lived alone? On the other hand, if she also used it at the shelter, it might make sense to use a password.
I sat back in the chair and took a moment to settle my mind. I had to get in it somehow. Closing my eyes, I took several deep breaths and consciously relaxed my taut muscles. Emma rustled around downstairs, but despite that, a peace descended over me. The sunlight cast a red glow against my closed eyelids. Since I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole God-thing, I didn’t feel right about praying, but I tried to keep my mind open, receptive; to what, I didn’t know. Maybe to Sue’s God. Maybe to whatever Higher Power was working in my sobriety. Maybe to Regina.
Her perfume scent drifted over me. I hadn’t smelled it when I first entered.
Freaked. Me. Out.
I scrambled to my feet, sending the chair tumbling and made it to the doorway in three ostrich-sized strides. Heart banging wildly, I clutched the door frame to keep from falling head first over the landing and down the stairs.
“Letty?”
I made a squeaky “eep” sound and almost wet myself until I realized it was just Emma.
“Sorry. I dropped, uh, a chair. Everything’s fine.”
“A chair?” Her face appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking concerned.
“I backed into it. Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” I chuckled, then after hearing how fake it sounded, tried to turn it into a cough.
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” She didn’t look convinced, but was too well-mannered to push the point.
Taking advantage of her indecisiveness, I gave a little wave and moved back into the office. “Great. Okay, um, I better get busy.”
I shut the office door behind me and immediately regretted it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
_
Regina alive was scary enough. I couldn’t handle a ghost. I walked cautiously back to the chair and decided I really didn’t need to sit in it after all. Anything I needed to do could be done standing. And leaning toward the door. Just in case.
I could ask Emma if she knew the password, but the two sisters didn’t appear to have been that close. I wondered if Regina, despite the warnings not to, kept a notebook with passwords written down. I did. Who could remember them all?
The middle drawer held the usual pens, paper clips, blank sticky notepads. The next two drawers yielded nothing of interest to me, but I discovered a stack of bills which I set aside for Emma. The lower drawer had a hanging file system that made my heartbeat quicken, but I didn’t discover any client records. Instead of names, the tabs read AUTO INSURANCE, BANK, CREDIT, and so on. More for Emma, and I left them alone.
I didn’t find anything in the desk. Before I left the room, I scanned Regina’s book shelves. She had crystals and rocks scattered attractively on various shelves. As for the books, a good portion were political in nature, but she had a nice selection of literary novels, biographies, and a smattering of clinical psychology texts that were probably left over from college. With as much as the college textbooks cost, most of us couldn’t admit how worthless they are after graduation.
Thwarted by a stupid, locked computer, I wandered back out into the hall, crossing to the tiny, white tiled bathroom opposite. Regina’s scent was back, but since a nearly empty perfume bottle squatted next to the toothbrush holder, I didn’t need to fear a ghostly specter. I picked the bottle up.
Prada Infusion D’Iris?
She didn’t own a pair of tweezers, scorned makeup, yet she was willing to spend more than sixty bucks on a bottle of perfume. The thought that Regina was a secret girly-girl made me smile. However, I wasn’t likely to find any clues in here, so after availing myself of the facilities, I checked out Regina’s bedroom.
Again, I was surprised at Regina’s choice of decor. Instead of the eclectic use of space that she’d displayed in her offices, her bedroom was surprisingly plain. Neat, clean, but plain.
I went downstairs and found Emma in the kitchen, elbow deep in the produce drawer, a garbage bag of spoiling food at her side. She wrinkled her nose at me.
“I’m glad I didn’t wait any longer,” she said. “Things are just starting to go bad.”
“Smells like something already has.”
“That’s the milk. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Kind of. Regina has a laptop, but it’s locked. You don’t, by chance, know the password, do you?”
Emma shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know how to guess.”
“I’m hoping she kept a list of her passwords or usernames. You know?”
“I wouldn’t know that, either.” She sat back on her heels, looking infinitely sadder, and fell silent.
“Do you mind if I keep looking?”
She waved a latex-gloved hand at me. “Go right ahead. There will be strangers going through everything soon enough. I’ll probably donate most of it. In fact”—she pulled her head out of the fridge to look at me—“if you find anything you’d like as a remembrance, let me know. I’m sure Regina would want you to have something. There are a few furniture pieces I’m keeping that are family—well, I don’t know if I’d call them heirlooms—hand-me-downs maybe. But other than that, it’ll all just go to St. Vincent’s.”
She smiled up at me while I struggled with what to say. A remembrance? Of Regina? I smiled weakly and said thanks.
“Do you have Regina’s car keys?” I asked. “I want to be thorough.”
“Good idea. I have so much crammed into it, my car is a rolling office.” She retrieved a set of keys from her purse.
Regina drove a minty-green Prius that I found parked outside the detached single-car garage behind the house. One peek into the garage windows told me why. It was crammed to the rafters with junk, making me wonder how long Regina had lived here.
Unlocking the car, I slid into the front seat. Despite the fall temperature, the interior of the car was toasty from sitting in the sun. There was a small stack of papers on the passenger seat: a gas charge receipt, junk mail, a month-old copy of the Buck Shopper—a weekly advertising circular. No calendar. Feeling a twinge of unease, I popped the glove compartment and found nothing more dangerous than old maps and Regina’s insurance card. Nothing under the sun visor either. Shifting sideways, I peered into the backseat. A red leather laptop case sat on the floor wedged behind the passenger seat. Still looking for a clue to the password, I plundered the pockets. Except for the wall charger, I found nothing.
Disappointed, I made my way back to the kitchen.
“I hope she didn’t keep her financial information in the computer,” she said. “Do you suppose there’s someone we could take it to?”
I liked the “we” part. “I could probably find someone who can hack into it,” I of
fered. I didn’t expand, but AA was a delightful repository of (hopefully) retired criminality. Our people have skills. Somebody would know.
Emma, far more trusting than her sister had ever dreamed of being, agreed without hesitation.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
____
I continued my search in the living room, checking end tables and between couch cushions. Found lots of crumbs, proving that even ice queens like Regina ate in front of the TV. I also found a tote filled with various balls of yarn and assorted needles next to the armchair. I lifted a tangle of yarn on top. A six-inch wide strip unrolled a couple of feet. A scarf?
Huh. I was wrong about dismissing knitting as Regina’s hobby. I turned a slow circle, scanning the living room. Something seemed off, but I couldn’t place it.
Hoping it would come to me if I didn’t push it, I stretched full out on the floor, trying to peer into the darkness beneath the couch in case the calendar, if it even existed, had slipped underneath. My nose tickled from the rough fibers of the carpet.
Why not choose something to remember Regina?
I stopped fishing under the couch and lay still, my arm jammed full length under the three-inch clearance of the couch. Regina had practically saved my life. My sanity, at the very least. I’d been steadily discovering more about her over the last few days, having to jettison the cardboard picture of some fanatical feminist that I’d cast her in when she was living.
I sighed, sucking up dust and inciting a sneeze that almost ripped my still-wedged arm off. Regina was never going to leave me alone. I’d inherited her.
I trudged back up the stairs to her office and stood staring gloomily at the bookshelves. I picked up the ugliest rock I could find—a gravely, gray lump, the size and shape of a halved orange.
Turning it over, I discovered a scooped-out shell filled with twinkly crystals. Sunlight from the window sparkled off a multitude of brilliant lavender shards like a visual echo of laughter. Regina’s laughter, set in stone.
Just as I turned to leave, I noticed a small, red spiral notebook jammed between two volumes of poetry.
Aha.
Heart thumping, I opened it and discovered an alphabetized list of passwords and user names. I did a little victory dance primarily consisting of butt wiggles and hooting sounds.
I went to the top of the stairs, hollered “Found it!” down to Emma, then trotted over to the laptop. It took a few minutes scouring the notebook to find the right one, but eventually I lucked onto it: Gloria5teinem.
Of course, it was.
Moments later I was clicking happily through Regina’s calendar. She hadn’t used names, just initials, keeping confidentiality. She seemed to work three nights a week. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays—which made sense. I’d never seen her at the clinic on those evenings, and Tuesday was my late night.
Dates had been filled in through the week of September 19th, a scattering of others scheduled ahead in the subsequent weeks. Regina had died—or been killed—on Saturday, the 13th.
The week prior to her death didn’t appear to be unusual, but I’d have to study it more closely. I’d also need to compare the initials against the list the shelter had provided to see if any others besides Karissa’s had been conveniently left off.
I copied off the results for the last year and included her contacts for good measure. Next, I went to her Documents folder, but there was nothing I could tell for certain was connected to the shelter. I’d need hours to examine it all.
I decided to show Emma my discoveries. A sly whiff of scent registered in my nostrils before I made it to the top step. Once again, it filled my senses, the scent more effective than a ghost in reminding me of my commitment. If I’d had a tail like the Cowardly Lion, I’d have been clutching it.
Instead, I turned into the bathroom, picked up the Prada perfume, and squirted a bit on myself. Now I had an excuse to keep smelling Regina. I tucked the bottle into the back pocket of my jeans and bounded down the stairs chanting, “I do believe in spooks! I do believe in spooks.”
Not wanting to look like an idiot, I paused in the living room until I’d calmed down, then joined Regina’s sister in the kitchen, where I gave her the notebook and showed her the “remembrances” I’d picked out.
Emma liked my choices. She smiled and held the rock up to the light, making rainbows dance across the interior. “That’s Reggie, all right. Beautiful on the inside, but a little spiky, too.”
“You must miss her,” I said.
“I do. That feels strange to say, because we never really got along. We weren’t the type of sisters that share confidences or call each other and talk all night, but still …” Her voice trailed off.
“She was your sister.” I thought of my own sister and our recent estrangement. My sobriety was a slap in the face to her, but what could I do? The emotional distance wouldn’t make it easier if something were to happen to Kris. In fact, it would make it worse.
Emma sighed, and grabbed the garbage bag of rotting food. She hauled it over to the door, where she balanced it carefully. Nobody likes their garbage spilling out all over the floor.
I took the hint.
Hours later, I lay stretched out on my bed with Siggy ensconced on my stomach, his head nestled on my chest. Better than a man, let me tell you. And lighter, too. The only problem was he listened about as well as most men, which is to say, Siggy was sound asleep.
“You’re no help,” I told him.
His whiskers twitched.
I had so many questions swirling around my head that I was giving myself a headache. Or maybe it was from Regina’s perfume. It would be just like her to haunt me with something that gave me migraines.
“Did I mention the tote?” I asked Siggy. “She had a tote full of yarn, but I couldn’t find any other skeins. Don’t real knitters hoard yarn? Or is that quilters and fabric?”
That had been the thought that had bothered me when I’d first found the tote. Regina had been killed with a knitting needle, but neither Emma nor had I known she’d knitted. Admittedly, neither of us were exceptionally close to Regina. Lying there, I mentally went back over the rooms trying to remember any sort of knitting paraphernalia: a stash of leftover yarn, patterns, scissors, anything. I couldn’t recall any.
Had someone planted the tote?
Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but why were the laptop case and power cord out in the car? And had Regina hidden the notebook on purpose? I couldn’t imagine any other reason why she would hide it in the bookcase. From the desk, it would certainly be inconvenient to have to get up and cross to the bookcase, but then again, somebody burglarizing the place wouldn’t stop to hunt for such a thing either. My gut told me that Regina had placed it somewhere inconspicuous on purpose. It made sense that, if she had indeed been hiding the password, it meant she had something else stored on the laptop. Maybe Emma would be willing to let me examine it for an extended period of time. I’d have to ask. It also meant that Regina knew something dangerous enough to get her killed, and what she knew was linked to the shelter files. Which were in my possession. Which meant…
I sat up, tossing Siggy once again. He was getting sick of this, I could tell.
“This is serious, Siggy. We could be in danger,” I called after him.
He gave me the tail.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sitting at my desk in the living room I pulled out my notes from the shelter files and began comparing them to the information in the calendar.
In addition to Karissa Dillard and the group sessions, Regina had been seeing seven women at the time she died. I found their initials penciled into time slots in the weeks prior, each of them seeing Regina at least once a week, but more often twice, for therapy. Karissa’s initials were on evenings that matched the dates listed in her files, so it didn’t appear that anyone had tampered with those details, but there was still the matter of the altered contact info.
Tracing back to the beginning of the year was a steady stream o
f initials—women who Regina had seen that the shelter didn’t consider open files. Hopefully, I’d be able to convince the board tomorrow morning that they should be.
Not expecting anything, I paged through Regina’s address section. Flipping through to the last names of my coworkers didn’t turn up any familiar names, but I found the shelter women’s easily enough. Huh. I kind of liked having access to Lachlyn’s address and home phone number. Ashley Perkins, Regina’s lawyer, was also listed.
And more initials in this section. Surprise, surprise. I smiled to myself. Even Regina bent the rules a teensy bit.
She’d continued to use initials, but the addition of phone numbers made the information potentially identifiable, and therefore, arguably, a breach of confidentiality. It made sense, from a practical point of view. If rescheduling a client became necessary, Regina wouldn’t have to have a shelter volunteer contact her appointments. She could do it herself.
Under the D-F section, I found “KD-715-555-3477.” A tiny “c” after the number made me hope that it would be safe to call Karissa since it appeared to be a cell phone. A thought occurred to me, and I dug through my notes until I unearthed the number I’d jotted down from the altered face sheet. When it matched, I pumped a fist in the air, sparking a second look of disgust from Siggy. Cats don’t respect enthusiasm.
A second number had been added directly under Karissa’s with the acronym MGM after it. As a therapist, I knew that, in this case, it didn’t stand for a movie studio but for “maternal grandmother.” Nice.
I now had two phone numbers, but I still hesitated before calling, remembering Lachlyn’s warning about endangering the women. As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. If there were some way I could check out the situation before calling or meeting Karissa, I should try that first.
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