The Missing Year

by Belinda Frisch

  “I heard you made a killer Adele Clements.” Mattie smirked.

  “Now who’s telling secrets?” Camille rolled her eyes at Ross. “What am I couriering?”

  “Is that even a word, couriering?” Ross held out an envelope containing a brief note intended to persuade Mark to meet him. “Take this to Lakeside. Mark should be leaving about four. Give him the envelope and tell him to meet me.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” Ross said. “I’d do it myself, but—”

  “They know what you look like. How will I know which one is Mark?”

  “Young, six-three, slicked black hair. Trust me, he stands out.”

  “And what exactly is in here?” Camille held up the envelope.

  “Why?”

  “If I’m delivering something, I want to know what it is.”

  “A note, that’s it.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “It’s not blackmail,” Ross said. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what makes you think this Mark will meet you?” Camille said.

  “He really doesn’t have a choice.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Ross smiled when he walked into the Downtowner and found the hostess podium plastered with photographs of a cherubic newborn girl. Morgan had given birth to a beautiful daughter, weighing in at seven pounds four ounces, according to the banner.

  Glen Miller’s “In the Mood” played on the jukebox and unlike other times when Ross had been there, most of the booths were empty.

  “Table for one?” A rotund woman with a pleasant face, brown hair, and heavy gray roots greeted him.

  “For two, please. I’m meeting a friend.”

  “You were here a week or so ago, weren’t you?” The vaguely familiar woman recognized him. “My daughter Morgan waited on you.”

  No sooner had she said it, than Mark appeared behind him. “Dr. Reeves?”

  “Doctor.” Morgan’s mother grinned. “That explains the tip. Table in the back?”

  Ross nodded. “Please, and we’ll need a few minutes to talk if that’s okay.”

  “No problem.” The woman led them to a secluded table where he and Mark sat across from each other, staring.

  “Thanks for coming,” Ross said.

  “I don’t see that I had a choice. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “I don’t want trouble, either, but I don’t like the position I’m in—the position Guy put me in. What is he up to? Why is he holding Lila hostage?”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “I don’t believe you. If you didn’t know something, you’d be fired right now. There’s no way after the incident in the community room Guy didn’t at least suspect you of leaving that screwdriver out.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Really? None of the maintenance guys talked?” It seemed unlikely given the potential consequences.

  “Not that I know of. Besides, it was an accident.”

  “Then why didn’t you fess up?”

  “Why would I? And risk my job? You were the one who told me to keep my mouth shut. Besides, Joshua’s family dropped the investigation.”

  “You don’t think they’d reopen it if they had someone to blame?”

  “I’ve done nothing but try to help you, Dr. Reeves.”

  “Then what changed? Why wouldn’t you answer my calls?”

  Mark didn’t answer the question. “What do you want?”

  “I want to help Lila. I know Ruth Wheeler has power of attorney and that Guy’s using the crisis card to keep Lila on seventy-two hour hold. What I don’t know is Ruth’s endgame.”

  “What if I tell you I have no idea?”

  “A week ago, I’d have believed you.”

  “What changed?”

  “Guy pulling this stunt with Lila. I don’t trust anyone from Lakeside right now, Mark. I’m sorry, but that’s you included. What is it going to take to get her released?”

  Mark refused to talk.

  Ross called up a number programmed in his cell phone’s memory and showed him the entry labeled “Hammond Family.”

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  Ross shook his head. “You’re not making this easy. Joshua’s family is well-connected. The state will be all over Lakeside again and by the time their investigation is done, that psychology degree you’re working on will be useless. No one will hire you. I’m only asking you to do the right thing. Guy and Ruth are setting Lila up. For what and why? I need to know everything.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine, what?”

  “I’ll tell you what I know, but it isn’t going to do you any good. Dr. Oliver isn’t going to let you anywhere near Lakeside or Lila.”

  “Yet I managed to get you a note. What do you know?”

  “Ruth believes Lila forged Blake Wheeler’s advance directive.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Ross did his best to look convincing.

  “Is it?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Even I’m suspicious.”

  Ross refused to be manipulated. If Mark was lying to extort information, Ross wasn’t playing.

  “Lila’s no saint, Dr. Reeves. Whatever happened with her husband, her mother-in-law is bent on seeing her hang for it.”

  “I told Blake’s mother the truth. She should have been satisfied with that.” Ross was sure once Ruth knew Blake was sick she’d have backed off. It seemed now she had only gotten angrier.

  “You told her a version of the truth. Dr. Oliver said Blake had Huntington’s, yes?”

  Ross nodded.

  “Ruth considers that motive. After what happened with her husband, she thinks Lila pulled the plug on Blake to avoid having to take care of him. She sees the whole thing as a way for Lila to cash in on the life insurance.”

  “The Wheelers had plenty of money.”

  “Maybe so, but terminal illness eats up its fair share. Long-term care is expensive.”

  “Lila would have gladly spent the money.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If Lila did forge her husband’s signature to have him removed from life support, she’s going to look guilty. First degree forgery means jail time, at least one year, but that’s not the half of it. Ruth’s out for blood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She intends to take control of Blake’s estate and dismantle Lila’s life. All she needs is a confession and Guy has every reason to get her one. Either Lila confesses, or the center closes.”

  “You knew about that?” Ross thought he was the only other person who knew about Lakeside’s financial trouble.

  “I didn’t, until yesterday. I overheard an argument between Dr. Oliver and Ruth. I threatened to tell Lila she had been at the center and Guy told me everything. Ruth agreed to help Lakeside out of its financial hole, as long as she gets what she wants.”

  “Revenge. This whole thing is a damn vengeance plot.”

  “Hell hath no fury, right? Dr. Oliver needs the money, Ross. If you want to see Lila released, there’s only one way. Tell Guy what you know.”

  “And what, see Lila dragged off in handcuffs?”

  “It’s going to happen either way if she’s guilty. Guy plans on working every angle to get her to talk. He’ll convince her that telling the truth is the only way she’ll get released. He’ll reassure her with doctor patient confidentiality talk and she’ll believe him because she wants to, and because she wants out of Lakeside.”

  “She doesn’t trust Guy.”

  “And she shouldn’t, but she’s more anxious than ever to get home now that she knows her house is on the market.”

  Ross was sorry he had told her.

  “Lila knows if she doesn’t get out from under this seventy-two hour hold, her home is as good as gone. Lila has two choices: involuntary commitment or do whatever it takes to get released. Ruth and Guy have set it up so it’s a snare either way. If Lila talks and she’s guilty, she’s arrested.
If she doesn’t, Ruth and Guy will use everything they have, including that stunt at the lake, to prove Lila needs a more permanent commitment.”

  “Lakeside’s voluntary.”

  “I’m not talking about Lakeside, Dr. Reeves. I’m talking the deepest, darkest hole they can put her in. They’ll bury Lila in an institution. Ruth will take everything from her. It’s a no-win situation.”

  “How much longer do I have?”

  “To what?”

  “To talk to Lila.”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not she confesses.”

  “I need to see her before that has a chance to happen.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  It was clear from meeting with Mark that Lila was in the worst possible situation and that Mark had no intention of helping Ross get to her, blackmail or not.

  Ross swiped his keycard in the hotel room door and prayed the two women inside would go along with the only plan he could come up with.

  “Hey there,” he said, trying his best to sound upbeat.

  No one answered him.

  “Hello?”

  Camille and Mattie sat on the sofa, watching Pretty Woman and drinking a frothy orange-brown drink they had ordered from room service.

  Ross nearly tripped over the service cart when he walked through the kitchen.

  “Camille? Mattie? Did I miss something?”

  The two of them sat closely together, chatting like old friends. Mattie wore a pair of gray yoga pants he’d never seen before and an oversized sweatshirt with the lodge’s logo on the front.

  Camille was similarly dressed.

  “Hey, honey. How’d it go?” Mattie grinned widely.

  “Let’s say I know what I’m up against now and leave it at that.”

  “That bad?”

  Ross shrugged. “Depends. Have a good afternoon?”

  Mattie dangled one hand over the back of the sofa and wiggled her fingers. “Camille and I had manicures and pedicures at the spa. It was a nice treat after the hospital.”

  “And then we went to the gift shop,” Camille chimed in. “We charged it to the room.”

  “Of course,” Ross said. “I take it that means you’re feeling better?”

  “Much,” Mattie said. “Tub soaks and booze, just what the doctor ordered.”

  “That’s not how I remember it. What are you drinking?”

  “A pumpkintini,” Mattie said.

  “A what?”

  “A pumpkin martini.”

  Ross looked over to see Camille grinning slyly. “Are you getting my girlfriend drunk?”

  Mattie smiled at the word “Girlfriend.”

  Camille rolled her eyes. “Mattie’s a big girl, Ross, who happens to enjoy pumpkin flavored booze.”

  From the near-empty glass pitcher, she enjoyed it quite a bit.

  “It’s the lodge’s seasonal drink. Try it.” Mattie held up her glass and nearly slammed it into Ross’s chin.

  He took a sip to appease her. “Gross. It tastes like pumpkin pie.” He looked around for something to get the taste out of his mouth. “Some things weren’t meant to be liquid.”

  “Buzz kill.” Camille resumed watching the movie.

  “What’s next?” Mattie reached up for Ross and puckered her lips.

  He kissed her and sat on the chair next to the couch. “I’ve been thinking about that and I need to get into Lakeside. Obviously I can’t just walk in, so the only way I can come up with involves the two of you.”

  “Then it should probably wait until we sober up,” Camille said.

  “Hon, you know I’m no good at improv.” Even drunk, Mattie looked nervous.

  “It’s easy, Mattie. You can do it.”

  “Think you can coach her?” Ross said. “I need a distraction.”

  “This isn’t the kind of thing where you can break in through the window with a ladder, right?”

  “It’s a psychiatric hospital, Camille. What do you think?”

  “I think we’re the only people crazy enough to be trying to get in. How many people do we need to distract?”

  “As many as possible,” Ross said. “I need to get through the front doors and upstairs. There should only be two guards on this late in the day, but I could be wrong. I need you to keep them from noticing me.”

  “If we can distract the front desk staff and draw out the security guards, you can get where you need to be?”

  “As long as my key card still works. It’s not that big of a place.”

  Camille tapped her freshly manicured nails against her glass. “Give me something to work with. I need a vulnerable male. Someone easily flustered.”

  Ross’s mind went immediately to Eddie Gill. “Eddie.”

  “Tell me about him,” Camille said.

  Mattie leaned forward.

  “Forties, married, new baby, has a wife named Jen.”

  “Anything else?”

  Ross shook his head. “That’s all I know.”

  Camille thought for a long moment and said, “Mattie, you didn’t happen to bring anything dressy did you? I think we must be the same size. Six?”

  “Eight,” Mattie said.

  “Close enough.”

  “What are you up to?” Ross asked.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” Camille said.

  “Last time I heard that, I ended up in the role of STD-infected philanderer.”

  “That’s part of the fun. Mattie, fix yourself up,” Camille said. “You’re going to be scorned girlfriend number two.”

  “Number two?” Ross said.

  “What, you think I’d give her the lead?”

  Mattie sighed. “Am I the only one who thinks she’s too good at this?”

  * * * * *

  It had taken the women the better part of an hour to dress their respective parts, both of them having more fun doing it than they probably should have.

  Ross drove Camille’s car to Lakeside in the off chance Mark clued anyone in to his rental. He didn’t figure Mark would have talked given that he had blackmailed him, but he wasn’t willing to take chances. He lifted the hood of his black sweatshirt and grabbed a lab coat from the passenger’s seat, praying the key in his pocket was still active.

  Camille and Mattie put the finishing touches on their routine.

  Camille fit perfectly in Mattie’s vintage black lace dress, which she had brought in case of a nice dinner out. There wasn’t time to drive back to Camille’s and still make Lakeside’s visiting hours. Camille wrapped a scarf around her head, styling her hair like a blond Audrey Hepburn.

  Mattie wasn’t nearly as costumed or elegant. She had dressed down to a skirt and fitted blouse, playing the role of the tart. Camille convinced her to stuff her bra.

  Ross felt bad for Eddie. He was about to be caught in the force of a whirlwind that had nothing to do with him.

  “You almost ready?” Ross asked.

  “I am,” Camille said in her favorite southern drawl.

  “Me, not so much,” Mattie said, sounding exactly like herself. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Oh, you can, darling. You can.” Camille said.

  “Hon, she’s better at this than me. Why can’t you just let her do it?”

  “Oh, shush,” Camille said. “You’ll do fine, Sugar.”

  “Camille, knock it off. You’re making her nervous,” Ross said.

  “I’m just trying to get into character, Cletus.”

  “Mattie, I need more than one set of eyes in there. Can you help me, please?” Ross glanced at the rearview and saw the resignation in her expression. She’d help him, but she wasn’t thrilled about it.

  “What’s going on?” Camille said.

  Ross had been too busy looking at Mattie to have seen the police patrol cars parked in the Lakeside lot.

  “You didn’t say anything about police.”

  A lump formed in Ross’s throat. “It’s nothing.” He minimized the wors
t case scenario. “Police get involved with psychiatric patients sometimes.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “The only thing we can do. Stick to the plan.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Ross waited in the bushes, watching through the first floor window with his hood pulled up and his face against the glass like a Peeping Tom.

  Camille kicked off what was quickly becoming a three ring circus. She stormed through the front door, headed straight to the nighttime receptionist, and demanded to see Eddie. She was shouting—what she would call “projecting,” in stage speech—giving Ross all the information he needed.

  “What do you mean Eddie’s upstairs? I need him down here now, Sugar.”

  Ross scanned for signs of police, finding none in plain sight.

  Mattie entered the fray as scorned girlfriend number two. She, too, demanded to see Eddie.

  Again, the receptionist declined. She cast back and forth glances between the women and the phone on her desk.

  “Keep it up,” Ross said. “Keep it up.”

  “Eddie? Eddie Gill, come down here right now.” Mattie nodded to Ross to let him know the coast up the stairwell was, at least temporarily, clear.

  “Atta girl,” Ross said.

  Mattie hadn’t given herself enough credit.

  “Eddie, where are you?” she said.

  Camille scowled. “What business is that of yours?”

  “I’m his girlfriend.”

  “No way. I’m his girlfriend.”

  Mattie laughed. “You’re old enough to be his mother.”

  “Eddie prefers a seasoned woman. There’s no way he would go after a … a—”

  “A what?” Mattie asked.

  “A whore like you.”

  “Who are you calling a whore, home wrecker?”

  The flustered receptionist threw her hands up in the air. “All right. That’s it. Ladies, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We can’t have this kind of scene.”

  “There’d be no scene if this one would keep her hands off my Eddie,” Camille said.

  “Your Eddie? Are you kidding me? Where was he last night? Tell me that.”

  “He was working. Isn’t that right?” Camille looked to the receptionist for confirmation. “You saw him here, didn’t you?”