Board Stiff (Mattie Winston Mysteries)

by Ryan, Annelise

  “More than likely,” Hurley says. “At this point, he’s a suspect with motive.”

  “He doesn’t know about Bernie and me. I’m sure of it.”

  “Then you might want to tell him,” I say to her. “He’d probably prefer finding out from you rather than us.”

  Hurley calls Bob Richmond on his cell phone and arranges for him to print Regan and search her locker. “And see what other employees you can get to agree to prints and a locker search.”

  Over the next hour we talk to five more staff members, all of them nursing assistants, and all of them with Trisha present. Two of them—one of which is Anne—are brave enough to mention the relationship between Regan and Bernard. The other three don’t, but judging from their body language and their evasive answers, I’m pretty sure they all know. It’s moot at this point since Regan confessed, but it’s still disheartening to see how many people aren’t telling us the whole truth.

  Just before midnight, the night shift staff starts coming in, and we talk to and fingerprint an LPN named Lucinda and three more nursing assistants. Other than Lucinda telling us about Regan and Bernard’s affair, we don’t get any useful information from anyone. Nor do the locker searches turn up anything of interest.

  It’s nearly one AM when Hurley closes his notebook and stuffs it into his pocket. “Let’s call it a night. I would like to talk with your administrative group in the morning,” he says to Trisha. “What time works best for you?”

  “Give me a few minutes to check with my associates and I’ll let you know,” Trisha says, taking out her cell phone. “I’ll find you in the dayroom.”

  Hurley and I head to the dayroom where we find Emily curled up on a couch sound asleep. Once again, Hoover is stretched out nearby, and I marvel at how quickly he has taken to her. He appears to be sleeping, too, but when we enter the room he lifts his head and looks at us, before dropping it again and closing his eyes.

  On the table beside Emily is the drawing she did of the face she saw in the window earlier. I pick it up and study it, thinking it looks vaguely familiar somehow. But I can’t come up with any definitive identification and after a minute or so I hand it to Hurley.

  Bob Richmond is sitting at a table on the other side of the room writing on a tablet. Dozens of pages that have been torn from that tablet are scattered about the tabletop, each of them covered with writing. Hurley walks over and sifts through the pages, scanning what’s written there.

  “Come up with anything?” he asks Richmond.

  Richmond shakes his head. “Larry said that aside from that Dudley guy you talked to, the room searches didn’t reveal anything of interest other than a hunting knife they found under one man’s mattress and some cigarette papers and baggies filled with dried plants in the bedside stands of several people. They opened and smelled each one and said it wasn’t pot. Larry said he thought he smelled oregano and maybe some mint.”

  “Told ya,” I say.

  “Are Larry and his guys done with the search?” Hurley asks.

  “Yeah, they finished up about an hour ago and I sent them home. As soon as I finish these notes I’m heading that way myself. There are about a dozen employees who aren’t here who we still need to print and whose lockers need to be searched. I also have eight of the forty patients to talk to yet, but they’re all in bed now. I was hoping to get through this whole list for the A, B, and C wing patients, but these people tend to ramble on and on and half the time you have to say everything two or three times before they hear you right. And that’s assuming they actually remember your question two seconds after you’ve asked it. Plus that dog of yours didn’t help. They all wanted to pet him. He was a huge distraction.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Nah, don’t be. He brought these folks some joy and affection, and believe me, most of them need both those things in spades. But I think all the petting and attention has worn poor Hoover out.”

  I look at Richmond’s list and tell him, “I chatted with several of those names you have left on your list when I was outside earlier. They’re the ones who are smoking the oregano. I don’t think they have anything useful to offer other than the same conspiracy theory everyone else is spouting, but I can talk to them a little more at some point.”

  Hurley lets out an irritated sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “Man this case sucks. I feel like we’ve wasted hours and come up with nothing.” He challenges the Fates yet again by asking, “Can this day get any worse?”

  In the next instant we find out that indeed it can.

  Chapter 20

  Trisha Collins and two of her three cohorts march into the dayroom. Judging from the smug expressions on their faces and their overall demeanor, I suspect we won’t like hearing whatever they’re about to say.

  Trisha hands some papers to Hurley and says, “This is an injunction to stop you from searching the administrative offices of the Twilight Home until we have a chance to preview any paperwork you want to see. And just so you know, we will not be available tomorrow.”

  Hurley takes a few seconds to flip through the papers and then glares at Trisha. “Let me guess. You guys bill by the page?”

  “We are simply looking out for the best interests of our clients. There are some potentially sensitive items listed in the injunction that we want to review first to determine their relevance, if any.”

  “Well, since you’re not conducting the investigation and don’t know what evidence we have so far, how the hell would you know what’s relevant?” Hurley snaps. He’s madder than I’ve seen him in a long time and he isn’t done yet. “No matter what else you think might be detrimental to this facility’s future and reputation, I can assure you the public won’t take kindly to the knowledge that you value your”—he pauses and refers to the papers she handed him—“meeting minutes and admitting policies more than you do the safety of the staff and residents here.”

  “I assure you we are concerned over much weightier issues than those,” Trisha says in a haughty tone. “I can see why you might think we are ignoring patient safety, but I assure you we are not. Perhaps if you had a law degree you might have a better appreciation for our position and our concerns. But since I’m sure none of you do, I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Geez, lady, don’t be such a witch.” The voice belongs to Emily, who has apparently been awakened by all the excitement and has decided to pipe in with her opinion on the matter.

  Trisha gapes across the room at her and then looks at Hurley. “Did that child just call me a bitch?” she asks askance.

  “Actually she said witch,” I tell her.

  “Same difference,” Trisha says. “There is no need for name-calling, especially from some . . . some . . . insolent child.”

  “Hey, if the broom fits,” I mutter with a shrug.

  One of the male lawyers bites back a smile, but Trisha shoots me a look that says she wants me as dead as Bernie Chase. I find myself backing up a step and sidling a little closer to Hurley for protection, just in case. I’m thinking Emily should do the same.

  Hurley says, “Okay, lady, as it turns out I have a pretty full schedule tomorrow that does not include going through your administrative records. We can plan on doing that first thing Monday morning. However, I am going to continue to process evidence in Mr. Chase’s office and any other office I think might be necessary. If you don’t trust my word that I won’t go through your files, you best have someone here to watch. Since I don’t trust you not to mess up my crime scene, I will have an officer posted here at all times to make sure that no one enters those offices and nothing leaves them until we conduct our search. That said, I do want to meet with the administrative group of the facility tomorrow morning so if you aren’t going to be available, I guess I’ll have to talk to them without you.”

  Trisha narrows her eyes at this challenge and her knuckles whiten again. “They won’t talk to you if we’re not present,” she counters.

  “Fine,” Hurley says. “
I’ll just see to it that all of you are brought up on obstruction of justice charges.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not,” Hurley says, closing the gap between them and pinning her down with eyes the color of cold, blue steel. “But like I said, this is a small town. And in small towns we sometimes get away with stuff that folks in the big city can’t because we dumb hicks just don’t know any better. Sure, you’ll be able to show us the error of our ways eventually, but I promise you that we can lock up every one of you long enough to piss off your fancy law firm and cost you a lot of valuable time and money. Now I’m tired, I’m pissed off, I’ve got a murder to solve, and I’m not going to put up with any more of your crap. So if you want to test me, go ahead. It’s your call.”

  Trisha’s face twitches a couple times before she says, “Fine. We will plan on being here at ten o’clock tomorrow morning if that suits you.” With that, she spins on her heel and leaves the room with her two cronies trailing behind her, letting us know that she doesn’t really care if it suits us.

  “God, I hate lawyers,” Hurley grumbles.

  “I think we’re all tired,” I say. “Let’s go home and get some sleep so we can start again in the morning.”

  “Let’s plan on meeting at the station at nine and we’ll map out the day,” Hurley says. He takes out his cell phone, punches up a number, and walks off toward the hall.

  I help Richmond gather up his papers and then head out. As I pass Hurley in the hallway, he is disconnecting his call. “Kate still isn’t answering her phone,” he says in a low voice so Emily, who is walking a few feet ahead, can’t hear.

  “Maybe her battery is dead. Or maybe she’s in a spot with no service. Those throwaway phones can be very unreliable.”

  “It worked fine when she was here.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking worried. “I have a bad feeling about this. I never should have let her go.”

  “Give her until the morning and then try again. If you still can’t get ahold of her we’ll figure something out.”

  He nods, but not convincingly.

  “Take Emily home and get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

  I turn to leave, but Hurley grabs my arm. “Wait. After what happened earlier, I want to follow you home to make sure you get in okay.”

  “I’m not going home yet,” I tell him. “I need to take all the evidence I collected in Bernie’s office back to our lab so I can log it in.”

  Hurley frowns. “Normally I would say it could wait until tomorrow since we have an officer to make sure nothing else is tampered with. But clearly someone tampered with that coffee cup already, so you’re right. We need to take it back tonight. I’ll help you get it all checked in.”

  Emily comes with us and despite the fact that she looks exhausted, she perks up when we take her into the administrative wing and down the hall to Bernie’s office. She can tell from all the police tape that this is where the murder occurred and she checks out every detail.

  A little over an hour later, the evidence is all secure inside Arnie’s lab and I’m at home. Hurley has just finished checking out the woods around my cottage and Emily is outside waiting in the car. Hurley and I are standing just inside my door.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” Hurley says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Come and stay at my place tonight.”

  “We don’t seem to handle the temptation very well so I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  Hurley flashes a guilty smile. “No, I suppose not.” He leans over and gives me a kiss on my forehead. It’s nothing more than a peck and yet it zings through my body like an electric shock.

  “You need to go,” I say, a little breathless.

  “Okay. Keep your phone with you and leave the outside lights on. I’ll have whoever’s on duty drive by here a few times during the night to keep an eye on things. If anything happens, you call me.”

  “I will.”

  I’m relieved and sad once he’s finally out the door. Hoover looks disappointed, too. “That man definitely has a hold on us, doesn’t he, boy?” I say to Hoover, giving him a scratch behind the ears. He whimpers in agreement.

  After a brief shower, I drop into bed, wondering if I’ll be able to go to sleep since I’m usually still up at this time of night holding down a blackjack table. I toss and turn, and when Hoover raises his head once and stares at my bedroom window, I start to wonder if my spy has returned. After an hour, I get up, go out to the kitchen and look for a snack, forgetting that my cupboards are bare. Instead, I take out my diary and settle in at the table with a glass of water.

  Sunday, March 2

  Dear Diary,

  It’s been an interesting and long day. I ended up at the scene of my first official death since returning to my job and it’s a puzzler with a list of suspects longer than my arms, which are always longer than any long-sleeved clothing item I’ve worn. The good news is I like puzzles and this one is keeping me busy and distracted enough that I haven’t thought about going to the casino more than about a hundred times today. I know Dr. Naggy thinks I have a problem when it comes to gambling, but I think I’ve proven that I am fine with not going for a day or two.

  Seeing Hurley didn’t go as well as I thought it would. My first sight of him was gut-wrenching. I underestimated the emotional pain I might feel at being around him. That pain was mitigated somewhat by the fact that we had sex. Three times. I should probably feel guilty or ashamed or embarrassed or worried that we indulged in this forbidden behavior, but oddly enough the very fact that it was forbidden made it that much better. And it was good. How can something that feels so good and right be so bad and wrong? What am I going to do about it?

  Hurley has implied that we can have a working relationship and a romantic one as long as we’re careful, but I have my doubts about keeping something like that secret from Izzy. He seems to be able to smell when I’m lying to him and he knows me too well. Irene could tell something was going on between me and Hurley, too, and even young Emily, Hurley’s daughter, has picked up on the attraction. And that’s another issue, the whole Kate and Emily thing. Hurley says he’s finalizing his divorce from Kate, but it became apparent to me today that even if he does that, they are going to be a permanent and frequent part of his life from here on. I don’t know if there’s room for me in there, too.

  Relationships shouldn’t be this difficult. I always thought the people I love would be the anchors in my life, the people who would keep me from going adrift. But sometimes anchors just drag you down. Look at what happened to my marriage to David. I believed in marriage, I believed in my marriage, and I believed in him. And yet he betrayed me in the most horrible way. I’m not sure what makes me madder, the fact that he did what he did, or the fact that he seems so unaffected by it all. How can something that devastated me and flipped my life upside down be so easy for him? And the bastard wasn’t happy ruining my life once, he’s still doing it by interfering with my ability to get a job. Not that that matters anymore, but it’s the principle of the thing. It leaves me wary of any future relationship with Hurley. Will it fall apart eventually? Do all relationships fall apart eventually?

  It has happened to my sister and her husband Lucien. They are having big problems now and they always seemed so stable to me. Then there’s my mother, who four marriages later, is living with a man I once dated. All these complicated emotions and issues make it seem like it’s not worth it. But the alternative, being alone, or even being without Hurley, is harder for me to imagine. Can I be content to simply spend time working with Hurley, socializing with him, and being at his side on a regular basis?

  Maybe my expectations are unrealistic. Maybe it’s enough to take what I can get, the way the stroke patient at the nursing home is doing. Clearly she can’t interact with her children and husband on a regular basis, nor can she enjoy a normal life. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for her, to be mentally alert and aware, yet unable to hug,
or talk, or even smile. She is a prisoner in her own body and yet she is content, so it seems, so she can spend whatever time she manages to eke out with her children.

  Children. Another thing I always thought I’d have, but now I’m not so sure. I had imagined that David and I would eventually start a family. Little did I know he was starting one, however unintentionally, with someone else while we were still married. And Hurley has found himself the instant father of a teenager. I think it’s sad that he missed all those early years with Emily, but I also think it’s going to complicate his life a lot now that he knows her.

  I’m tired now and I think I can finally go to sleep. I have to admit to Dr. Maggie that this diary thing isn’t such a bad idea. Well, at least her part isn’t. I’m not sure how Gunther’s going to react when he learns that the only exercise I indulged in today was sex. He said he wanted me to write down everything that went into my mouth . . . does Hurley’s tongue count?

  Chapter 21

  I wake to the alarm the next morning and it takes me a few seconds to figure out what the noise is. For the past two months I’ve slept for as long as I wanted each day, often not getting up until noon or later since I didn’t get to bed until four or five in the morning. I stumble out to the kitchen and set up the coffee pot while the cats do their best to make me trip by winding in and around my feet. I give them some food to get them out of the way and then let Hoover outside. Once Hoover’s back in and fed, I pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee and drink half of it before I call Izzy to check in. Even though it’s a Sunday, I know Izzy is a morning person and will be up, and I want to bounce all that happened yesterday off him. He’s a smart man who often thinks just enough outside the box to be enlightening.

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask when he answers.