Who Killed My Boss? (Sam Darling Mystery #1)

by Jerilyn Dufresne

  “So what were you doing in Carolyn’s bedroom?”

  “Using the bathroom,” I lied, not hard to do with my eyes on the road. “What else did you find out?”

  “He had a sweetie on the side.”

  “Everybody knows that. Gwen Schneider.”

  “Nah, I mean besides her.”

  I turned my head and stared at him. I didn’t want him to see my surprise—or get in a wreck—so I quickly faced forward again. Maybe I needed to delve a little more at work tomorrow.

  “Who’s the other girlfriend?” I tried to sound nonchalant.

  “I don’t know, but apparently she’s fairly new.”

  “Okay, I’ll find out for you, if you want.” I stopped the rental next to his unmarked police car.

  “Sure, yeah. Well, here we are. Don’t forget, Sam. We’ll talk more at dinner tomorrow night. I’ll see you at six at The Rectory.” George opened the door.

  “I won’t forget. You’ll recognize me as the one wearing a bunny fur and wrist corsage.”

  “Very funny. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  After he shut the car door I thought that George was the last person I wanted to concentrate on right now, but his face kept popping up in my brain as I drove away. I wondered why he was being so nice to me. I also wondered what he wanted. The good news was that he said it was okay for me to find out who Dr. Burns’ new girlfriend was. For now though, I needed to just forget about good old George Lansing as I had other fish to fry.

  I wished I had time to bait the hook a little better, but Michael was already parked by the carriage house when I pulled up.

  “Hi.” His smile lit up his face and my hopes.

  “Hi. Come on in. I need just a minute to freshen up.” Was that me who said “freshen up?” I’d never said those words before in my life. “I also have to take Clancy out for a few minutes.”

  Clancy vacillated between being happy to see me and glaring at me because I’d been gone for the day. She gave in and got excited. When she wagged her tail, her whole butt moved from side to side in what I called the “Clancy Rumba.” It was cute and endearing, making me remember another reason we adopted her.

  “Nice dog,” Michael said as he hunkered down with his palm outstretched.

  “Thanks. She’s a member of the family.”

  Clancy sidled over to Michael and began sniffing him. Finally she lay down in front of him and rolled onto her back, allowing him to scratch her belly.

  I laughed, “I’m afraid she has no shame.”

  “That’s all right with me,” Michael replied, “I love dogs.”

  “Would you like a drink while you’re waiting? I’m afraid all I have is beer and wine.”

  “I’ll take a beer. Why don’t you do what you have to do and I’ll help myself.”

  He and Clancy were still involved when I left the room.

  It only took me a moment to “freshen up.” I decided to wear the same outfit I’d worn all day and only needed to refresh my make up and run a brush through my hair.

  By the time I returned, Michael was sitting on the couch drinking a beer and Clancy was sitting in front of him with a look of adoration on her face.

  “C’mon, girl. Let’s go outside.”

  She beat me to the door. I heard Michael laugh at her behavior. That made me like him even more.

  Clancy didn’t need a leash to go outside. She was trained to stay in the yard. She also was trained to “use the facilities” on all of Georgianne’s plants. An immature move on my part, I knew, but by the time I thought better of it, it was too late to change Clancy’s behavior. Since it was January, Clancy’s choices were limited and she chose a small evergreen by Georgianne’s back door.

  I filled Clancy in on the latest goings on while we were outside, hoping that this would appease her a bit. She appeared interested but I could tell that she thought she should be my crime-solving partner rather than Michael or Gus.

  Clancy finished her business and looked at me expectantly. “Good girl, Clancy. C’mon, let’s go in.”

  She wasn’t excited about returning inside and I finally pushed her a little with my knee, urging her through the door. She looked at me, sniffed, glanced at Michael once, turned on the charm to get one more scratch from him, and then went to her bed. I used to think it was my bed, but actually we shared it. However, I was sure that Clancy thought it was hers and that she allowed me to share it with her.

  “Okay. I’m ready.”

  “You look great.”

  Hating the flush I felt on my cheeks, I said, “I’m wearing the same thing I had on earlier.”

  “You looked great earlier too.”

  I smiled as we put on our coats. It seemed I was smiling a lot tonight.

  “If it’s all right with you,” Michael said, “I’d like to get the business done first. Then we can enjoy our meal and our date.”

  I agreed that it was a good idea.

  We drove in a companionable silence for the few blocks to The Rectory. One of the downsides of living in a small town is that the dining choices are limited. So I’d be here two nights in a row, with two different guys. I definitely thought it was cool, even if one of them was George.

  As we walked the half block from the parking lot to the restaurant door, Michael took my hand and said, “There are some things I want to clear up with you. You wanted to know what I was doing at Burns’ office, what I was doing in the ER the night Charlie Schneider was acting up, and about my relationship with Carolyn Burns.”

  My mouth dropped open. Not only was he holding my hand in public, Michael was going to answer my every question, and maybe at some point he might answer my every need. I could hope anyway.

  Nonchalantly, I replied, “If you really want to tell me all that, I guess I can listen.”

  “Please don’t play dumb. I like it much better when you are yourself. You are one smart lady, and I like that.”

  The guy was gorgeous, he was kind, and he wanted to tell me everything I wanted to know. So I guess it was time for me to get dizzy.

  THIRTEEN

  “Sorry, Michael.” I wobbled. “I’m feeling a little woozy. Maybe I need some food.”

  “Well, just to be safe, I’ll make sure we get a small table and I’ll sit close so I can catch you if you fall.” He smiled. I thought he was kidding, but wasn’t quite sure.

  Michael pulled open the Rectory’s large oak door with stained glass inserts and stepped aside so I could enter first.

  “Sam, welcome. It is so good to see you.” Anthony, the owner, hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. His hearty laugh reverberated throughout my body. “And who is this young man with you?”

  “Anthony, this is Michael O’Dear, he’s new in town.” I disentangled myself from my friend. “And Michael, this is Anthony Lasorda. He owns The Rectory and don’t ask him if he’s related to the former Los Angeles Dodgers’ coach. He’ll talk all night.”

  They exchanged pleasantries as Anthony escorted us to a much-coveted table. He then kept us busy with a run down of his large family. This one started college, that one got married, this one joined the army. I never could keep up with his kids’ names. It was difficult enough keeping track of my own family.

  Finally we were settled, and, after gaining my assurance that I liked it, Michael ordered a bottle of California merlot.

  Anthony beamed. “An excellent choice, Mr. O’Dear. If you permit, I will make a special meal for you. It’s not on the menu, but you will love it. Are you a vegetarian like Sam or may I put some seafood in your portion?”

  Michael admitted he was a practicing carnivore and that any kind of meat or fish would be fine with him. This was the first and only strike against him.

  Anthony left to personally prepare our dinners and Michael turned his attention to me. “We said we’d get business out of the way. Are you ready to talk?”

  Was I ever. “Sure.” It was hard acting nonchalant.

  Michael began,
“I was at the clinic because I was meeting with Burns. He’d hired me after clinic employees complained someone had been rifling through the patient files in his office. Things were out of place. Nothing had been taken as far as anyone could tell, but things had been disturbed. A file clerk was the first one to notice and mentioned it to Burns. When it happened a few more times, he brought me in. He claimed he wasn’t concerned about it though.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Also some patients were threatening to sue him over alleged improprieties.”

  “What were they?”

  He looked adorable as he refused my request. “You know I can’t tell you that. Therapists aren’t the only ones bound by confidentiality. Anyway, I took the job and found it only mildly interesting.” He almost absentmindedly fiddled with his silverware. “I hadn’t really gotten into it much before Burns was killed. So that’s why I was at the clinic.”

  “Okay, I buy that. But why were you at the ER in the middle of the night?”

  “I was there because of Charlie Schneider. I told you Mrs. Burns wanted me to do some investigating about the murder.” He broke off a piece of Italian bread and buttered it. “I’d heard from some former employees that Burns and Gwen Schneider had been involved in a long-term affair and I was checking her out as a possible suspect. Her brother was a real loose cannon. Half crazy. Burns had told me he was seeing Charlie as a patient as a favor to Gwen. I was following him that night and got to the ER waiting room just in time to knock the gun out of his hand. By the way, I convinced the DA not to prosecute. He’s already on probation for some minor offenses, and they’re just going to continue supervision, as long as he continues therapy with someone. Charlie’s a sad case. He lost his wife and kid at that hospital and has never been the same.”

  “So far, so good. Now what is the real relationship between you and Carolyn Burns?” I waited expectantly, hoping that he’d give the answer I wanted.

  “It’s exactly what I told you. She hired me because the murderer is still on the loose and she felt the need for a bodyguard. That’s it. She doesn’t mean anything to me. I mean, it’s kind of cool to have a famous novelist in Quincy. So I’ve been having fun with it.”

  I looked at him.

  “Close your mouth. It’s true. And that’s that. Now I’d like to hear what you know. Fair is fair.”

  I figured I’d better tell him what I knew so we could get to the important stuff, like our date.

  Anthony returned with the wine, let Michael sniff and swirl, and poured our glasses full after Michael nodded approval. After we clinked glasses and each took a drink, I answered Michael’s question. “I don’t really know much. I know that Gwen Schneider and Charlie Schneider did not kill Burns. Charlie confessed to try to save his sister. I don’t know why Gwen confessed, but she didn’t do it. I’m positive of that.”

  “I’m probably going to be sorry I asked, but how do you know that Gwen didn’t do it?”

  I ignored his smart-ass comment, because I was ready to fall in love with him. “Okay, I’ll tell you. She doesn’t feel guilty. Before you start laughing at me, I gotta tell you something about me. See, sometimes I feel things; I get vibes about people. And sometimes I’m right and sometimes I’m wrong, but most of the time I’m right. And I’m 100% sure on this one. Just like I’m 100% sure that Carolyn killed her husband.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been reading Carolyn’s thrillers.”

  Once again, I ignored his smart-ass comment. Did he realize just what I was going through to show my interest in him?

  “She just feels guilty, Michael. In fact, the feeling is so powerful that I get dizzy or sick whenever I’m around her. And it’s not the flu or an upset stomach. She literally makes me sick. I cannot stand to be around her. She’s evil.”

  My intense feelings about the woman propelled me into a standing position. My hands were flat on the table and I loomed over Michael.

  Michael looked directly into my eyes as he said, “I just don’t buy it. I mean, I think you believe it, but I’m not into that stuff.”

  “I’m not into that stuff either. This is just part of who I am. I’ve always been this way. Even when I was a little kid I’d get these feelings about people and I’d get twitches and stuff all over my body.”

  “Twitches?” He tried and failed to suppress a disbelieving grin.

  “Yeah, twitches.” I sat. “And sometimes dizziness and other times just feelings, just vibrations.” I found it hard to explain this to anyone, especially this gorgeous hunk who would now never touch me except to push me away.

  He hesitated, then spoke softly, “You get dizzy around me too.”

  I put my hand on his, then quickly withdrew it. “What I feel around Carolyn is nothing like what I feel around you. I promise.”

  He relaxed against the back of his chair.

  I continued. “I know it sounds crazy. That’s why I haven’t told many people. I’m telling you because I need you to believe me. Carolyn killed her husband. No ifs, ands, or buts. She did it. Period. End of quote.”

  “Okay, let’s say you’re right.”

  I smiled.

  “This is just for argument’s sake. Let’s say you’re right. How in the world could the police arrest Carolyn for her husband’s murder without any evidence?”

  “Aw, come on, Michael. Cops arrest people without evidence all the time. Don’t you watch television? Anyway, what we need to do is find the evidence and then we can turn it over to my brother, Rob, who will notify Detective Lansing and then Rob will be promoted. I’ll be vindicated. And you…” I hesitated.

  “And I’ll what?”

  “And you’ll believe me.” Gee, I almost slipped up there and said, “…‌you’ll fall in love with me.” Where did I get this crap? I hadn’t felt like this in more years than I cared to remember.

  “What did Gwen Schneider say when you asked her why she confessed?”

  “What?” I practically stuttered.

  He began to repeat his question, “What did Gwen—”

  I interrupted, “I heard you. I said ‘what’ because I can’t believe I’ve not asked her why she confessed. In the beginning everything was moving so quickly and then she was arrested and was in jail. I just didn’t think of it.”

  Michael spoke softly, “See, Sam. You’re a social worker, not a cop.”

  I ignored his statement and continued, “Will you help me?” I tried not to beg.

  “Under one condition. That you let me do it. It’s my job. You’re a social worker, not a cop, not a private investigator. A social worker.”

  Same song, different singer. Ho-hum. “Okay. I’ll stay out of it.” I carefully avoided eye contact. Gee, this lying and not looking people in the eye was a lot easier than I had anticipated.

  “Let’s change the subject, and talk about you,” Michael said.

  “And you,” I added.

  I noticed that “you” and “you” didn’t add up to a “we,” but that only meant it was our first real date. “We” could become a reality.

  The rest of the all-too-short evening was delightful. Michael asked all the right questions about me, my kids, marriage, and family. Since I’m a therapist, I asked open-ended questions. He rewarded me with rich conversation.

  No, he’d never been married. Been close a few times. Yes, he moved here recently, liked Quincy, and would like to stay for a while. Born and raised in St. Louis. He learned his skills as a military policeman in the Army. No, he’d never met Carolyn Burns before her husband’s murder. She’d found his name in the yellow pages and didn’t know beforehand that he’d worked for her husband.

  Okay, those aren’t the responses to open-ended questions. Maybe I did interrogate him a little, but I was entitled. I’d waited a long time for a real date, and getting together with Michael had proven to be very problematic. Finally, my equilibrium had stabilized, my hair was behaving, and even my mouth was cooperating. Not much cussing tonight.

  Then, in a gesture I was eagerly
anticipating, Michael touched my hand and leaned toward me. As he did so, I wondered if we were having an earthquake. My balance was disrupted. I nearly fell off my chair, but two strong arms caught me and kept me vertical.

  “We need to get you home, Sam.”

  “No, I’m fine.” This time I whined.

  “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s home and to bed.”

  He meant alone.

  FOURTEEN

  “…as he approached me, I fancied he had ideas about my virtue. His eyes were heated, as was my body. I waited for him to speak, but no words escaped his lips. He merely touched my bodice, and delicately undid the top button, being very careful not to touch the skin underneath. I feared I would swoon, but did not. Instead I looked at him with eyes that were as lustful as his own. A sigh escaped my lips and I…”

  DING!

  Thank God. It was over. Listening to Mrs. Abernathy was like reading a steamy romance novel.

  “Mrs. Abernathy, I’m sorry. Your time is up for this session.”

  “Oh no, Ms. Darling. I was just getting to the interesting part of my dream. Couldn’t we just stretch the time a bit so I can describe the rest? I know you will be able to appreciate it.” Her bottom lip quivered as her chest heaved. My heart was palpitating a bit as well. Mrs. Abernathy did a wonderful job of describing her dream. It was amazing that her dreams were so sexual and so vivid. She was a short, rotund, elderly woman wearing a conservative black frock, and she was homely. That was the kindest adjective I could summon to describe her. Her dreams, however, were erotic enough for the letters section of a porn magazine.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Abernathy. Your time is up for this session.” I learned the broken record routine years ago in a not-needed assertive training class. “We can continue next week. Make sure you confirm your appointment with Mrs. Schmitt at the front desk. Good-bye and have a wonderful week.”

  “But, Ms. Darling…”

  I stood and assisted Mrs. Abernathy to the door. “I look forward to talking to you again next week.”

  “All right. Perhaps I’ll write down my dreams during the week to make sure I won’t forget any of them.” She had a hopeful look in her eye.