The Sweetheart Game

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “Sure. You go with that. Mrs. Kravitz and I know better.”

  She went on about all the things he’d done for the overweight feline since saving her, but his mind raced back a few steps and locked onto her previous comment. Did she let it slip that she loved him? She did say something about loving a man who loved cats.

  Could it be true?

  Her phone pinged and kept him from mentally examining the evidence. Summer swiped open her phone and went to the text. Her face went white and her hand shook.

  “What does it say?” He took the phone from her hand and stared down at the screen.

  Hot. Thx.

  Chapter 34

  “Hot?” Summer took the phone back. “The end game was Mel’s Harrest. They haven’t done that yet. Why would we be thanked now? He could be halfway to Mexico.”

  “I thought you wanted justice? The warrant means it’s coming. He can’t vanish forever. Case closed.”

  Was it closed? Fire ignited in her belly.

  “It is but it isn’t. I also want Mary back in whatever way she comes. Whoever the texter is knows more than who did the crime. He or she has all the backstory. You can’t close out the case without explaining the motives for everything.” She glanced at him. “You as a writer should know this.”

  A crooked smile appeared. “I thought the insurance policy was the goal, motivated by greed?”

  “Well, it is.” She clenched her fists. “But are you satisfied to ride off into the sunset without knowing the puppet master? I’m not.”

  Jason rocked back in his chair. “Obviously, the person behind the texts doesn’t want to be found. All we have are a few words from burner phones. This person could be anywhere.”

  Summer tamped down her frustration. “I hate that I’m stumped. If this was a terrorist or FBI fugitive I’d be all over him like white on rice. There’d be no place the texter could hide where I couldn’t find him, or her.”

  Beside her, Jason went still. He stared at her like she had a horn growing out of her forehead.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He continued the stare as if the horn was now spouting flowers. “You’re worrying me. Are you having a seizure? Jason?” She nudged him in the knee. He blinked.

  Slowly, his blank stare changed and he grinned. He said, “Hotsummernites.”

  Summer almost slid to the floor. “How? What?” Her brain crackled. There was no way he could know her online handle unless he was involved in the game, too. Deep down, a feeling of recognition sparked and her eyes widened. “Poe.”

  “Shit.” Jason put his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes. “Summer and summer. I should have known when you quoted that statistic last week about the motivation behind terrorism, that you were the same person.”

  Beneath her ribs, her heart skipped. Emotion flooded through her senses. “I’ve had a crush on Poe from the start. Your intelligence and humor hooked me.”

  “So the entire time we were fooling around, you had a thing for another man?” His smile faded.

  “Wait a second,” she said, indignant. “You can’t give me grief about that. You’re the same person.”

  He shrugged. “True, but you didn’t know that.”

  “You had an online crush on me, too, so you were just as guilty,” Summer glared playfully. He was tormenting her. “Besides, since I would never have met Poe face-to-face, my crush doesn’t count. My body only has eyes for you.”

  Satisfied by her comment, he said, “I bet you can quote the odds of this happening, you and I being neighbors and online Hunters together, too.”

  “I’d need a minute. But I’m sure it’s astronomical.” Their eyes locked and he nudged her with his knee. She nudged him back. They shared a smile.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “We were fated to meet. We’re meant to be together.”

  For a second, she hoped he was serious. Unfortunately, the Jason she knew was relationship shy. Being his girlfriend was a huge step. She wouldn’t press for love.

  To keep from overthinking things, she kept the mood light. “We were together last night in your bed, yesterday and the day before in mine. So you’re right. It was fate.”

  His smile flickered and died. Whatever his thoughts were, she’d killed them off with her comment.

  Surely he couldn’t be thinking long term? Her stomach knotted. Had she just killed the most romantic moment of her life with snark?

  Before she could figure out a way to bring the moment back, her brain went off course and her mouth dropped open. “Oh. My. Goodness. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?”

  She spun back to the computer. “Geez, I’m dim.”

  “Maybe, but what’s happening here?” He put his elbows on his knees. She made a face and ignored the teasing jab.

  “What is the one thing in common between all of the texts?”

  “The burner phones.”

  “Exactly.” She typed. “And what’s the chance that our mystery person drove all over the city when making those calls?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. She rushed on, “I’m hoping, slim. That means we might be able to get a location for the texter.”

  Jason sat quietly while she worked. “Thank goodness for Irving and this top notch equipment,” she said. “If I can find international criminals, I can triangulate a few phones.”

  * * *

  Fascinated, Jason watched her, more and more intrigued with her mind than ever. The shock of finding out that she was Hotsummernites had been a surprise. Knowing that both intriguing women were the same person shook him. The realization that he wanted a life with her knocked him flat.

  Convincing her to give them a real chance would be the hard part. She clearly thought fate had brought them sex. He wanted marriage, kids, and a dog that liked cats. Mrs. Kravitz was going nowhere. He loved that silly cat.

  Minutes ticked by. She started a grid and put a dot where the cell tower had picked up the signals. After a while, a pattern emerged. “Damn,” he said.

  “Damn, is right.” She smiled at the bad word. Fifteen minutes later, she saved the file and put her hands on top of her head. “I think we now know where our texter is hiding. Sort of. At least this narrows things down.”

  “I’ll drive the truck around.” Jason was off. Summer pulled up Google Earth. According to their satellite imaging, the area was large but mostly rural with homes and a few scattered businesses. She sent the link to her phone and followed Jason.

  Since they had miles to cover, she scanned the businesses first. If the texter was in a private house, it could take ages to lock onto the right person, if ever.

  Summer navigated and he drove.

  “There’s a bar, a gas station, and a bait shop.” She opened a second page and pulled up a photo of Mary and Mel from Mary’s Facebook page. “If you turn left onto Huron River Drive, the first is the gas station.”

  They checked with the clerk and he hadn’t seen anyone that looked like the Crosbys. They covered the bait shop and the bar. A woman there thought she recognized Mary, but she was wobbling precariously on her bar stool with a group of empty beer mugs and shots glasses in front of her, so they thanked her and left.

  “What’s next?” Jason said. He had to wait for a five bicyclists to ride by before pulling out of the parking lot. The drive was pretty with the Huron River on the left and mostly woods and wooded lots with houses on the other.

  “I think there’s a restaurant a couple of miles up.” There wasn’t an official designation on the map, but by the looks of the building and the large parking lot, Summer was fairly confident in her assessment.

  Sure enough, not only was Summer correct, but Fiona’s was a microbrewery and steak house.

  The place was open for lunch and they went in. Summer was assaulted by a sensory overload of delicious smells.

  “Why don’t we eat while we question the staff,” Jason said as a waiter walked by with a tray carryi
ng a burger the size of his head. Summer’s arteries atrophied from the smell of grilled meat alone.

  “I’m in,” she said. It had been ages since she had a greasy burger. Yum.

  They took a table and ordered burgers and fries; his half pound and hers the Fiona’s junior burger. They showed the picture around to the waitstaff and got zero hits, although one server thought Mary looked like her mother.

  “Is the owner around?” Summer asked when their food arrived. She wasn’t about to give up until every stone was kicked over and examined. Mary needed full justice.

  Their waiter nodded. “I’ll get her.”

  The burger was delicious and completely wrong for her insides in every imaginable way. The patrons of the Produce Panty would be horrified. Jason ate like he’d just dragged himself across the desert on his elbows and knees. Between them, they made it halfway through the food before the owner arrived.

  To Summer’s surprise there was a real Fiona. She was short, plump, and wore jeans and a matching button-up top sprinkled with red, white, and blue beads.

  “You wanted to see me?” She didn’t wait for an invite to sit. Instead, she nudged Jason over in the booth and parked her round bottom beside him. “I hear you’re looking for someone?”

  “We are.” Summer gave her the CliffsNotes version. “We think our mysterious texter lives around here and might know the missing woman or her husband.” She held up the photo. “We’d like to tie up this case with a pink ribbon for the prosecutor.”

  Fiona took the phone and looked long and hard at the picture. “I don’t think I’ve seen him, but she does look sort of familiar. Only the woman I saw had red hair.” She squinted. “We are the only restaurant between Ann Arbor and Dexter, so we get a lot of business; and we serve a killer pizza. It’s hard to remember every face.” She slid out of the booth. “Let me check with Brice, Jeff and Eric. They deliver takeout.”

  Summer rubbed her hands. Once Fiona wandered off, she leaned over the table to grab Jason’s hands. “I didn’t even think of that. If anyone knows the residents in this area, it’s the delivery guys.”

  She melted into his grin. “We’re so close.”

  Jason nodded. “When we find the texter, I’m going to buy you the biggest Screaming Orgasm Hot Fudge Brownie Delight Cupcake that the Cupcake Whisperer has ever made.”

  Summer went all mushy inside. “Deal.”

  Fiona was gone for what seemed like forever. They finished eating and wondered if Summer would ever get her phone back. Fiona could be downloading all of her college spring break party photos and putting them online for all they knew. Finally, Jason spotted Fiona weaving her way through the packed tables.

  “Brice is working in back and he didn’t recognize her. I texted the photo to Jeff and Eric, and Eric is sure he’s seen her in the garden at Shadow Meadows, the long-term care clinic. We deliver to them two or three times a week.”

  Summer’s blood drained from her head. Her eyes went to Jason and he was equally stunned.

  They got the address, thanked Fiona, and Summer waited until the woman was out of earshot before she spoke.

  “Jason, is it possible that Mary is still alive?”

  Chapter 35

  They hurried to the truck and Summer whipped out her phone. “Let me see if her insurance has been used.”

  Jason watched the few minutes it took to find the company and scan her recent activity. “There’s nothing since her last checkup before she was to go to Mayo. If she’s staying there, she’s not using her insurance.” She nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The two-story care facility sat on a rolling plot of wooded land. There was only a simple sign by the entrance with its name and address. A nervous ache soured her stomach and Summer’s hands shook as they went inside the bland building with a tastefully decorated interior. A desk sat to one side with the small waiting area on the other. It resembled a doctor’s office.

  Jason took her hand. “Your fingers are freezing.”

  “What if it’s not her? Or what if it is?” she said softly and stopped just inside the doors. “All this time I thought she was dead. Why would she let everyone believe that?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” His expression showed he was equally puzzled. All signs led to her poisoning death. The police were building a murder case against Mel. Could they all be wrong?

  They explained who they were to the receptionist and showed her Mary’s picture. The woman’s face remained neutral, but her eyes gave the recognition away.

  “We are not legally allowed to speak about patients,” she said and her face closed up.

  “Then you do know her,” Summer said.

  “I didn’t say that,” the woman snapped. “You can show yourselves out.”

  Summer wasn’t about to give up, and didn’t want to sneak in after dark. After weeks of frustration, her patience was thin. Before she got back into Jason’s truck, she wanted to tie up all the loose ends. They’d have to drag her off the property.

  “My partner and I were going to have a seat over here while you call either this nonexistent patient or the person in charge. And if you don’t, I’ll have the police all over this place. This woman is believed to be murdered, so I’m not taking any bull. Got it?”

  The woman glared at her from behind cat-eye glasses and sniffed indignantly. “Whatever.”

  Before Summer could get them both thrown into jail for assault, Jason dragged her to the chairs and nudged her into one.

  “Stay.” He sat beside her. “Have I told you how sexy you are when you’re fired up? You’re like Mrs. Kravitz hissing at the squirrels on the bird feeder.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She watched the woman get on the phone. Her red-lipstick-covered mouth was pressed into a thin line. “At least I won’t have to call Detective Wheeler.”

  Jason glanced over. “If I’m ever in hiding, I want that barracuda guarding my door.”

  He did have a point. Her position softened. A little bit. If Mary was safe, Summer might apologize to the pit bull. Heck, probably. She was, after all, her grandmother’s granddaughter. They admitted when they were wrong, even if it hurt.

  A minute later, the woman waved them over. She was only slightly less prickly. “Go up the elevator, straight down the hall and then make a left. Room two twenty-seven is on the right. I’ll buzz you in.”

  Summer smiled her most brilliant pageant smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Andrews, for all your help.”

  The woman gave her one last hard stare, then un-stiffened her posture ever so slightly. “You’re welcome.”

  And they were off. The elevator ride was quick. Their footsteps were hushed as they made their way down a hallway carpeted in functional gray and blue. Summer’s chest tightened with anticipation. She paused outside room 227 and took a deep breath.

  Jason waited for her nod then knocked.

  “Come in.”

  The room was more of a hotel room than a sterile hospital space. The walls were a sunny gold, the small couch and table in what would be considered a sitting area, were stylish. But that wasn’t what hooked Summer’s attention and sent a bolt of relief and emotion through her body.

  In the bed sat Mary Crosby, propped against fluffed-up pillows and wearing a quilted bathrobe. In a chair on the far side of the bed, not really surprisingly, was Sandie. The woman had the nerve to look innocent about lying to them. In fact, she was smiling. Summer sent her a withering glare and walked to Mary.

  “I can’t believe this,” she said. “I’m so happy you’re alive.” Mary was pale and frail with dark circles under her eyes. Although she wanted to kick both women for their deceit, she sat on the bed, gently hugging Mary. Her body was wasted down to nothing from her illness.

  Mary smiled. “So am I.”

  Summer pulled back. “There are so many things I want to say and questions that need answers.” Mary eased back on the bed. “Do you know they have a warrant out for Mel for your murder?”

  Her eyes da
rted to Sandie. “I just found out.”

  There was a lot Summer wanted to discuss with Sandie at another time, starting with the woman’s explanation of why she’d withheld evidence that Mary wasn’t dead. But recriminations could wait. It was time to be happy.

  “Why did you do this, Mary?” She reached for her hand. “There were people sick with worry over you. Myself included. We actually thought Mel had killed you.”

  “For that, I am sorry.” Mary took a sip of water from a glass on the bedside table. “I didn’t think I had any other options. Had you not found clues to my murder, and had I not fled before that, I would be dead now and Mel would be a rich man.”

  She said something softly to Sandie, who headed off to the bathroom. She returned shortly with a damp cotton ball. Mary took the cotton and began the process of removing the purple polish from her index finger.

  “You always had the best manicures,” Summer said with envy. Since her fall off the roof, her own cuticles were looking a bit ragged. Soon the polish would be gone.

  “Six weeks ago, I chipped a nail,” Mary explained. “Since I was feeling sick, I hadn’t been in for over a month. I thought I’d feel better with some pampering.” Mary stared at her fingertip. “I went to my manicurist, Melody, and she took the polish off as usual. Usually, I don’t pay much attention to the actual manicure as we do like to gossip. But she had to take a call and stepped away. When I looked down at my nails, I saw this.” She held out her hand. White streaks marred her nail.

  Summer gasped. “That’s a sign of arsenic poisoning.”

  “I know.” Mary clasped her hands. “Melody is a sweet girl but she doesn’t watch murder shows. She’d seen the streaks during previous visits and thought they were caused by my illness.”

  “Why didn’t you report this to the police?” Jason said.

  Sandie put a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Mel knows people,” she said. “There were whispers going around that Mary was depressed and losing her grip on reality. We think he started them as a way to cover for her erratic behavior, and possibly stage a suicide if the poison didn’t work.”