by Gin Jones
Rebecca nodded. "It's definitely frustrating for the clinicians too. They'd all be much happier if they had better answers for you."
"I know they're doing the best they can. And you're probably right that I'll be feeling better once the benefits of Tai Chi start to kick in." Helen didn't entirely believe it, but she was willing to pretend if it would keep her nurse from experiencing any unnecessary stress. The young woman worried about her patients enough already. "There is something else you could help me with, though. I could use some information about shower stalls."
"Are you thinking about renovating your bathroom?"
Helen wasn't, but it was a less worry-inducing explanation for her question than the truth. "It wouldn't hurt to be prepared, in case I have more mobility issues in the future."
Rebecca closed her laptop and turned to lean her back against the top of the kitchen island. "I can send you some information on universal design. It's come a long way in recent years, so it's really just good design that happens to be user-friendly for people with physical challenges. None of the ugly, industrial stuff from the early days."
"That would be great." Especially since it was a natural lead-in to what Helen really wanted to know. "I'm particularly interested in safety issues. I've heard that showers can be particularly dangerous."
"Oh, yes." Rebecca's worry lines deepened, making Helen feel guilty. "Close to a hundred thousand people are injured in showers every year, and more of them are female than male, so it's definitely something for you to take precautions against."
"How serious are the injuries?"
"It depends," Rebecca said. "They aren't usually fatal, but a broken bone or even a bruised one is nothing to take lightly. That's why it's so important to have non-slip surfaces and properly supported grab bars."
"But some of the accidents are fatal?"
"I'm afraid so. Mostly in the elderly population, though. Nothing for you to worry about just yet."
Danica hadn't been elderly, and she'd died in a shower. "For the ones that are fatal, what's the cause of death?"
Rebecca frowned and her eyes narrowed. "Wait. This isn't about a bathroom renovation. You're wondering about that woman who slipped and fell in the shower at your martial arts studio, aren't you?"
Helen might sugarcoat things, but she tried not to lie outright to her nurse. "I found the body, so it's understandable that I'm thinking about how she died. And wondering if something like that could happen to me."
"I doubt it." Rebecca spun and stuffed her laptop into its bag before sliding off the stool. "Deaths from a slip and fall are usually due to a brain injury, and I can't see you ever cracking open your skull. You're much too hard-headed. No matter what advice I give you, you're going to keep on doing things that could get you killed."
Helen would never admit it out loud, but her nurse was probably right that it would be foolish to get involved in the investigation of yet another murder.
Even so, Helen's hard head couldn't stop thinking about how odd it was that, contrary to all the statistics on accidents, the young, healthy, athletic Danica had fallen in a shower and died.
* * *
Jack was late. He was supposed to arrive right after Rebecca left, so Helen could go to the studio for her next Tai Chi lesson.
Jack was never late. And yet the nurse had been and gone, and Helen had had enough time to double-check that Vicky hadn't stolen the tempting flashlight, and then to collect both her yarn bag and her backpack full of workout clothes and still be waiting in her driveway in the sweltering heat for five minutes before Jack arrived in his battered pickup truck.
Helen had begun to worry that something had happened to him. He was such a stickler for being on time that each minute he was late was equivalent to an hour's tardiness by any other person.
She was more relieved that he was okay than she was upset about the delay, but he jumped out of his truck, holding his hand out as if to forestall an argument. "I know. I'm late. It won't happen again, I promise. I thought I could pick up the loaner car on the way here without you, but Ed says he needs your signature."
Ed Clary was Jack's cousin and the owner of Wharton Wheels, where Helen had bought her Subaru Forester.
"Actually," Jack said, "it's his mother, Elaine, who needs the signature. She runs the office there, and apparently she insists on having pristine paperwork whenever there's an insurance claim."
"Why do I even need a loaner?" Helen made her way around to the passenger side of the truck and tugged on the rusty door. It resisted, but fortunately she managed to get it open without any help. "I thought the damage was minimal."
"It was." Jack climbed back into his seat and waited for Helen to get settled. "The repairs are pretty minor, but it's not like Ed's an official Subaru dealer. He needs to order some parts. It'll take a few days, so until then, you might as well accept the loaner since it's covered by your insurance. Besides, I'll feel better if Ed checks your car for any hidden damage before we go any distance in it."
Normally, Helen would have asked Lily to take care of all the arrangements, including signing whatever paperwork was involved, but it was probably better not to remind her of the accident right now. Not when it might also bring up the issue of the murder that had happened just a few minutes later. "We might as well take care of the car now. I'll call Mia, so she won't think I skipped my Tai Chi lesson."
As Jack headed for the road, the pickup's suspension system—or rather the lack of a good one—going over her long, bumpy gravel driveway reminded her of why she'd been so determined to acquire her own more comfortable car even if she wasn't behind the wheel.
Once they hit the paved road, Helen called Mia, explaining that she was having some car troubles and needed to reschedule the lesson.
"I understand. Everything happens for a reason," Mia said lightly, but she couldn't completely disguise her disappointment.
She must get a lot of cancellations, Helen thought. It couldn't be easy convincing members of a martial arts studio to do the gentle, repetitive Tai Chi instead of the more exciting and challenging Sambo.
"I still want the lesson," Helen said. "Just half an hour later than we'd planned, if you're available then."
"That would be perfect." Mia's delight came through more clearly than her disappointment had. "I'll see you then."
A few minutes later, Jack dropped Helen off at the entrance to the business office at Wharton Wheels while he went to park his truck and get the keys to the loaner vehicle from his cousin.
Inside the office, there was a single male customer standing at the reception counter with his back to her, facing a self-possessed older woman in jeans and a pale blue cotton twinset. She was the right age to be Ed Clary's mother, Elaine, and the nameplate over to one side of the counter confirmed it. She had left her neatly organized desk and was standing an arm's length from the counter instead of up close where she could more easily exchange documents.
"That's a lie." The man punctuated his raised voice by pounding on the counter with a fist that was as small and childlike as the gesture. He was no child, though, as evidenced by the bulky musculature revealed by his purple tank top. "My wife said it was all taken care of."
Helen hadn't recognized him from his back, but the angry voice was unmistakable. It belonged to the man who'd crashed his truck into her car yesterday. Apparently his foul temper wasn't limited to road rage. She herself was frequently not as patient with other people as she'd like to be, but at least she wasn't abusive, and she generally had the good sense to go hide in her cottage, away from her family and friends, whenever she was feeling particularly irritable. That way, she wouldn't bother anyone with the worst of her bad moods. Except for Vicky, perhaps, but the cat was at least as irritable as Helen was, so they could be cranky together.
"I'm sorry, sir." The woman kept her distance, but didn't seem the least bit ruffled by the customer's anger. "The insurance agency hasn't sent over the necessary paperwork. They said they were waiting for
something from you."
He pounded his small fist on the counter again and kicked the baseboard for good measure. "I don't have time for this garbage."
"Then you'd better go see your agent right now." The woman kept her voice calm and pitched low enough that the angry man had to strain to hear her. If he wanted to know what she was saying, he would have to end his noisy tantrum. "You'll only waste more of your valuable time if you stay here and yell at me. I can't do anything without the insurance paperwork."
"You'd better have the loaner car ready when I get back," he said. "Or I'm reporting you to the Better Business Bureau."
She made a shooing gesture, but he missed it, having already turned and started to stomp toward the exit.
Helen scooted sideways so she wouldn't be between him and the door. Unfortunately, she couldn't move fast enough to be completely out of his line of sight.
He stopped short a couple of feet in front of her and glowered. "What are you doing here? It's not enough that you practically totaled my truck, but now you're stalking me too?"
"I'm here for the same reason you are, to get a replacement car for while mine's being fixed."
"If you'd been looking where you were going yesterday, neither one of us would have to be here now."
Helen opened her mouth to defend Jack's driving reputation, but she happened to catch a glimpse of the woman behind the counter shaking her head.
Helen closed her mouth. The woman was right. There was no point in arguing with this guy. He was too thoroughly detached from reality to let little things like facts sway him.
"Don't let me keep you here," Helen said sweetly, which anyone who knew her would have found terrifying. "I'm sure your insurance agent is anxiously waiting for you to arrive so you can get everything straightened out."
"Better be careful, or I'll straighten you out." He brushed past her, bumping her shoulder with his pumped-up bicep on the way to the exit. For once, she was glad she was leaning on her cane, or she might well have tumbled onto the hard commercial-tile floor.
"Don't worry," Elaine Clary said. "I'm pretty sure Van Taylor is more bark than bite."
"I'm not particularly worried about him." Helen had dealt with far more intimidating people during her tenure as the state's First Lady, and she didn't really anticipate running into him again—literally or figuratively. Still, knowing that she'd made yet another enemy in this small town didn't exactly lighten her irritable mood. Especially since she'd been trying so hard not to antagonize anyone lately.
* * *
Jack was waiting for her out front when she emerged from the office with her copy of the paperwork in hand. Her temporary car looked to be an exact match for her own except that it was white instead of green.
She climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up.
"Zubov's next, right?" Jack asked as he headed for the exit.
"Right." She was looking forward to the Tai Chi session, if only so she wouldn't permanently associate the gym with the sad scene in the locker room the previous day. She was determined to replace the image of the corpse lying in a bloody puddle with something more positive. Like herself pounding the daylights out of a punching bag. "Did you know Danica Darling?"
Jack shrugged. "Not personally. She wouldn't have associated with someone like me."
"Someone like what?"
"Oh, you know." Jack took his right hand off the wheel to gesture vaguely at himself, from his bald head to his sneakered foot on the gas, presumably intending to draw attention to his casual clothes and less-than-glamorous job. "Someone who couldn't help her succeed. Someone who wasn't as obsessed with material success as she was."
Danica had hopped out of a pricey new sports car, but her outfit had been casual, a small step above workout clothes, not what might have been expected of someone who was career-focused. At least not in a traditional sense. Perhaps she had an alternative career of some sort. "What kind of work did she do?"
"She bought a B&B here about five years ago."
That didn't strike Helen as a good match for Danica's less-than-cozy personality. Or for her big aspirations. "Did she really think she could make a lot of money at that?"
"You'd be surprised," Jack said. "Her place is pretty successful. Lots of tourists come to the Berkshires on vacations. You did, after all, before you moved here permanently. And it's not just in the summer for Tanglewood and the lakes. There's skiing in the winter, and the Norman Rockwell Museum draws people all year round."
"Still, there's a limit to how much money a person can make with just one B&B. Unless she was thinking of branching out or franchising."
"I wouldn't know about that," Jack said. "From what I've heard, the main reason Danica was so successful was that she hardly had any competition here in Wharton."
That seemed odd. From what Helen had seen yesterday, Danica thrived on competition, so she would have been more likely to set up shop somewhere challenging. "Was that because she put all the other B&Bs out of business after she opened hers?"
"Wharton's only ever had two B&Bs that were anything more than a spare room or two being rented out, and they've both been here for probably a hundred years, passed down from generation to generation," Jack said. "Danica bought hers when the last of the original family members died. They're probably all turning over in their graves. She gutted the whole thing and practically rebuilt it from scratch."
"And the other one?"
"Oh, that's still owned by the Campbell family," Jack said. "The Wharton B&B has a loyal clientele, but the place is showing its age. I wouldn't be surprised if Danica had managed to steal a few of their guests because of that."
"That sounds more like the Danica I met. Always trying to beat up the competition."
"Could also be why she's dead now," Jack said as he turned onto the street where Kolya's studio was located. "She challenged the wrong person and got beaten up herself."
"It's still possible that Danica's death was an accident." Helen didn't really believe it though, and judging by the flashing lights on the cruiser parked across the entrance to the Zubov House of Sambo's parking lot, neither did the police.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack pulled over a safe distance from the cruiser while Helen decided what the police presence meant for her plans for the day.
The forensics team's van was backed into the handicapped space directly in front of the studio's entrance where Helen's car accident had happened yesterday. Detective Almeida's SUV was right next to it, but she was about twenty feet from the two vehicles talking to Kolya. Another hundred feet away, deeper into the parking lot, Mia was leading five people in tank tops and yoga pants or sweats through what appeared to be an impromptu Tai Chi session. A uniformed officer stood apart from the group, presumably assigned to make sure they stayed where they were and didn't interfere with the forensics team. His tense attitude contrasted with the relaxed movements of the exercisers.
Helen didn't see Detective Hank Peterson or his SUV, so it was probably safe for her to go find out what was happening. She climbed out of her loaner car and sent Jack off to find a place to sit and wait for her. She wanted him out of sight of any officer who might have an unreasonable dislike for everyone with the last name of Clary.
Helen walked past the cruiser, noting that it was empty. It probably belonged to the officer standing watch over the Tai Chi class. She continued into the parking lot, and no one tried to stop her. As she neared Kolya and Detective Almeida, it became apparent that they weren't exactly having a two-way conversation. Almeida was asking questions, but Kolya was offering only the briefest of answers. From what she'd seen of previous police investigations, and even from her own experience questioning people informally, detectives hated it when their witnesses clammed up.
Almeida caught sight of Helen, and released an irritated huff in her direction. "You shouldn't be here. I don't mind, but Peterson's head will explode if he hears about it. And I'll have to pick up all the bloody pieces."
&nb
sp; "I'm not here about Danica's death. I'm supposed to be learning Tai Chi." Helen nodded at Mia's little group. "I just wanted to say hello to you before I head on over to my class."
Almeida gave her a long, appraising look and then apparently decided to take the comment at face value, even if she was skeptical about it. "As long as you're here, perhaps you can tell me why Mr. Zubov is convinced that I'm trying to railroad him or trick him into some sort of confession. I just need some information about his studio members and staff, and also where everyone was yesterday morning."
"I'm guessing this means Danica's death wasn't a simple accident."
Almeida took Helen by the elbow and guided her over to her SUV, leaving Kolya where he'd been standing in a parking space. He dropped to the asphalt and began doing push-ups. He seemed completely unselfconscious, oblivious to how attractive he was or how his casual show of strength would turn women's heads. Helen glanced over at the Tai Chi class and, sure enough, Mia was paying more attention to her boss than to her students. Helen couldn't blame her. Kolya was a fine-looking man.
Almeida reclaimed Helen's attention by saying, "Ever since we got the preliminary cause of death, I'm pretty sure Peterson's been racking his brain, trying to come up with a way to take the case back from me without looking like an idiot." She lifted the hatchback of her car and retrieved a bottle of water, a necessity for spending time outside in this hot weather. Heat waves shimmered above the dark pavement.
She took a swig of water and placed the cap back on the bottle. "Look, you didn't hear it from me, but Danica didn't die from a fall. At least not directly. She drowned."
Helen remembered the puddle near the drain. The water couldn't have been more than an inch or two deep, but Danica had been face down, so her mouth and nose had been submerged when Helen had found her. "The death could still have been an accident. She fell, hit her head and passed out in the puddle."
