It wasn’t, but making myself a moving target seemed like a good distraction while I searched for my grandmother. I didn’t have to look far. “There’s Gram,” I said when I found her sitting with Arlene in the first row of folding chairs.
Steve grabbed my left hand before I could make a clean getaway. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get her out here so she can join in on the fun.” I tugged at his hand. “Come on, that is the reason I came.”
“Sure it is.” He glanced back at Suzy and Jake on the platform like I had just colored outside of the lines of his playbook.
Arlene and Gram had identical smiles as we approached, looking like a couple of mother hens with plenty to cackle about.
“Enjoying yourself?” Gram asked, eyeballing Steve’s hand in mine.
“Yes, and now it’s your turn.”
Her eyes widened. “But you two look like you’re having so much fun, don’t you—”
“No,” I blurted out to nip any speculation about our relationship in the bud.
Arlene heaved a sigh.
Sorry to disappoint, Arlene.
I extended my hand to Gram. “It’s time to dance.”
“Well, if you insist.” She smiled at Arlene. “I guess my date’s here.”
I placed her hand in Steve’s. “Yes, he is.”
“Oh, a man.” Gram beamed. “Even better!”
Steve’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. He turned to lead Gram to the dance floor and whispered in my ear, “Don’t think we’re done.”
I certainly wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Fourteen
I took Gram’s seat, next to Arlene. I had questions about the senior center and knew that she’d have some answers.
Arlene patted my knee. “You made a good looking couple out there.”
“We’re not really a couple. He was just …” Actually, I wasn’t sure what he was doing besides screwing with my head. “… helping me with the steps.” In his own inimitable way.
“Yes, he’s good.” Arlene arched her thin eyebrows. “Probably in more ways than one.”
We were heading down a path laced with innuendo landmines, and I needed to make a quick course correction before anything exploded onto the gossip circuit.
“So, I noticed Jake out there with Suzy,” I said to shift Arlene’s attention away from Steve and me. “He’s quite the cutie patootie and a good dancer, too.”
Arlene folded her hands in her lap and sniffed. “He’s all right. Most of the ladies here seem to like him.”
What the heck? I thought I’d picked a safe subject. Obviously not.
“He’s fairly new, isn’t he?” I asked, watching him change partners and take one of the Gray Ladies into his arms.
“Jake Divine has been with us since the first of the year. Ambitious type if you ask me. Ginny recommended him to Monica.”
“Who?” Virginia Straitham?
“Monica Gerrity …”
The corners of Arlene’s lips turned down at the mention of Monica’s name—clearly not her favorite person.
“… you probably haven’t met her yet. I doubt she’s the Duke’s Cafe type. She’s from LA,” she said as if Monica had smuggled some smog from the Los Angeles basin in the moving van when she headed north. “Took over as director after Ginny.”
“Virginia Straitham used to be the director here?”
“Honey, doesn’t your granny tell you anything?”
Apparently not nearly enough. “I guess you’ll have to fill me in.”
“It was an interim position since Ginny was on the board of directors when Nancy got married and moved to Arizona. Lovely man. Divorced twice but an excellent dancer. I hope it works out for her.”
Whatever. Nancy’s dancing partner wasn’t the person I wanted to hear about.
“An interim position for how long?”
“Oh, five, six months,” Arlene said, waving to Jayne and Ernie as they passed us on the way to the punchbowl. “They’re so cute together. They’re dating, you know.”
“I’ve heard.” I leaned closer, willing Arlene to focus on one thing at a time so I could connect some dots. “So, Virginia took over this position last year sometime?”
“Around April, I think.”
Jesse Elwood’s death had been in April. Not that the two things were connected, but all roads today seemed to be leading me to the senior center.
I stared at Steve while he danced with my grandmother. Based on how he had been spending his Tuesday nights, he’d obviously reached a similar conclusion. “And you say that Virginia Straitham recommended Jake.”
Arlene tucked her arms under her breasts as she leaned back in her seat. “Some friend of her grandson’s, I think.”
Dancing with Sylvia, a smiling Jake passed in front of us.
“He seems friendly,” I said.
Personable eye candy—a perfect dancing partner, especially for the ladies like my granny, who hadn’t had a man in their arms for a number of years.
“Oh, he can be quite charming,” Arlene said, fixing him with her gaze as if she wanted to squish him like a bug.
We weren’t the only women in the room watching Jake. As Suzy walked the dance floor doing her drill instructor routine, her light blue eyes periodically tracked him the way I’d seen Little Dog fixate on Marietta. Only without the drool.
“Suzy and Jake, are they …”
“I actually didn’t think Suzy swung that way, if you know what I mean,” Arlene said, lowering her voice.
If she didn’t, Suzy Harte had been doing a good imitation of a woman who wanted to do a horizontal tango with the best dancer on the floor.
“Never have known her to date,” Arlene continued. “Cute enough girl.”
“Remember, ladies,” Suzy shouted as she moved between the couples. “Cross and flex, and back with the right foot. Bend your knees.”
“Nice figure, too. With that stretching class she teaches, I bet she’s plenty bendy.” Arlene nudged me with her shoulder. “Can you imagine her in bed?”
Nope. Not an image I wanted in my head, especially when I was already reeling with mental whiplash.
I needed a diversion and pronto, so I pointed at the gray-haired arrival at the door. “Did someone just come in?”
Arlene sprang up from her seat. “Thanks, hon. Don’t want to shirk my welcoming responsibilities.”
While Arlene raced to the door, I made my way to the punchbowl. Ordinarily, a concoction of cheap fruit juice concentrate and soda pop wasn’t my beverage of choice, but since Nell Neary was serving, a little punch-laced conversation could be mighty tasty. And after the last five minutes with Arlene, I needed a drink.
Nell brightened as I approached. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Not too many people our age come to the center.”
She’d just aged me a few years, but her point was well-taken. Since we were two of a handful of non-seniors here tonight and I hadn’t seen her on the dance floor, I wondered what the attraction was for her.
She handed me a paper cup of punch that looked like Cherry Bliss diluted with ginger ale. “They think coming to the senior center is uncool.”
“Maybe nights like Tango Tuesday will help draw more of a crowd.” Jake the stud muffin probably didn’t hurt, either.
Nell nodded. “I saw you dancing with Steve Sixkiller. You looked like you were having fun.”
That’s not exactly what I would have called it.
She lowered her amber-eyed gaze, a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks. “So, are you two …”
“We’re just friends.”
“Oh. I just thought with the way he was looking at you …”
I almost choked on my punch. “That’s part of the dance—the game of seduction thing.” And he seemed to be a very skilled player. “You know how it is when you’ve been out there dancing with Thomas.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no. I never dance while I’m on duty.”
> “Ever?” It wasn’t like she was the punchbowl watch commander.
Nell’s lips curled slightly. “My mom loved to dance when I was little.” She blew out a breath as she gazed into the punchbowl. The memories she saw there were obviously strong, bittersweet. “Then she got sick and became confined to a wheelchair. But a couple of years ago, when they started having dance lessons at the center, I thought she’d have fun watching.”
“I’m sure she did,” I said softly, lapping up every ounce of information Nell was serving me.
“I didn’t want her to feel like I was hovering over her, so I stayed over here and took charge of the refreshments. Close enough to be there if she needed me. Far enough away for her to be with her friends.” Nell shrugged. “The punchbowl thing sort of stuck. But really, if it hadn’t, I never would have met Thomas.”
I hadn’t seen her boyfriend tonight. “Is he here?”
“His mom hasn’t been feeling well, so he’s home taking care of her. You know how that goes.”
Actually, I didn’t. If my mother needed home care, she’d hire a hunky male nurse to tend to her every need.
Nell’s eyes widened. “Oh, I guess I lied to you yesterday when I told you how Thomas and I met.”
“Really.” Obviously unintentionally since nothing had registered on my radar.
“He confessed something last night.”
I doubted this confession had anything to do with her mother’s death, but Nell had my complete attention nonetheless.
“Turns out he’d wanted to talk to me for weeks but couldn’t figure out what to say.” She smiled sweetly. “He’s a little shy.”
Nell was more than a little shy, so this probably made them a very good match.
“So, Ginny told him to just walk up and compliment me on the punch.”
Virginia Straitham was giving him pointers on how to break the ice? She helped get this shy couple together?
Virginia Straitham was the matchmaker.
“Isn’t that cute?”
Cute? Not if Warren Straitham was killing his patients so his wife could fix them up on dates!
I nodded like a bobblehead doll.
Keep breathing.
Nell giggled. “I even gave him my secret recipe, like he cared, when he was actually trying to work up the nerve to ask me for a date. Pretty sweet, huh?”
Sweet like rat poison.
“Are you okay?” I heard Nell ask over the clamor of alarm bells going off in my head.
No, I wasn’t okay, and neither would she be once she’d learned that Dr. Straitham had killed her mother.
I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m … fine.”
“You look a little pale. Let me get you some more punch.”
Watching Gram approaching arm in arm with Steve, I locked gazes with him as Nell refilled my cup.
What? he mouthed, his eyes dark with awareness.
“I figured we’d find you over here.” Gram frowned as she closed the distance between us. “Honey, you’re as white as a sheet! Are you sick?”
She took my cup from me and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”
Probably because I wasn’t. “Maybe I need some air.”
Gram turned to Steve. “Would you mind helping—”
“Let’s go.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the door while the lilting strains of the next song blasted through the speakers.
I tried to keep up with his long strides as we crossed the length of the floor. “You are not going to believe what I just found out!”
The pressure increased on my hand like he’d slapped a warning label on it. “Use your inside voice.”
“But—”
“Is something wrong?” Arlene asked as Steve shuttled me past her.
He pushed the glass door and me along with it. “Just getting a little fresh air.”
“Holy crap!” I shouted as soon as the door closed behind me.
He pressed his fingers around my left elbow. “Can you cool it for a minute?” he asked, his nose an inch from mine, his breath warm against my face.
“Hey! I bruise easily.”
“You can file a report later. Right now I need you to shut up.”
I glared at him while I sucked in oxygen as if I’d finished running a mile.
He loosened his grip and surveyed the dimly lit parking lot. “Where the hell did you park?”
“Down the street.”
“Do you have your keys? Where’s your bag?”
Standing under a flood light, I pointed to the blue canvas mini-bag that had been hugging my waistband all night. It was a perfect match to my espadrilles—not that I thought this would be the right time to discuss his powers of observation.
“Fine,” he said like it was anything but, leading me by the arm down the sidewalk bordering the parking lot.
“Will you stop acting like a cop for a minute?”
“Not gonna happen, Chow Mein.”
Once we weren’t shielded by the building, a wind gust whipped my skirt around his right leg. I grabbed a handful of blue gauze while I trotted by his side like I was on a very short leash. “But I want to tell you—”
“In the car,” Steve said, releasing my arm but not slowing his pace until we reached Gram’s Honda.
I unlocked the car and he slid into the passenger seat.
Since my overheated brain felt like it might blow its top and he kept putting a cork in it every time I opened my mouth, I rolled down my window for some cool air.
He pointed at the controls on the side panel. “Window up. If you need air, start the engine.”
“Sheesh, is all this cloak and dagger stuff really necessary?”
“You tell me.”
I started the engine, rolled up the window, and aimed two of the front vents at my burning cheeks. If Steve needed some air, he could fend for himself.
“So, I’m allowed to speak now?” I asked.
Steve folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s have it.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but I think Virginia Straitham is up to her eyeballs in this thing with her husband.”
“You’re right,” Steve deadpanned.
I pounded the steering wheel. “I knew it!”
“Not only does that sound crazy, it might qualify as the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Hey, you weren’t there.”
Backlit by a streetlight on the corner, his obsidian eyes bore into mine. “Okay, then tell me what I missed.”
“Virginia Straitham used to be the senior center director.”
“Yeah, so?”
“She took over the position around the same time that Jesse Elwood died.”
I waited for a reaction and got nothing but a grimace of irritation as he shifted in his seat and tried to stretch out his right leg.
“Don’t you see? It’s all connected to the senior center.”
Steve’s eyebrows arched for a split second, and that was enough for me.
“That’s why you were there,” I added to see if he’d deny it.
He blew out a sharp breath. “Stop fishing and get to the point.”
“Fine,” I said, letting him know that he wasn’t the only one experiencing a little irritation. “Virginia coached Nell’s new boyfriend on how to strike up a conversation with Nell so that he could work up the nerve to ask her out on a date.”
The crease between his brows deepened. “Is that it?”
It wasn’t a smoking gun, but what more did he want?
“Thomas and Nell,” I said slowly and clearly since he seemed to be having trouble recognizing the significance of what I was telling him, “are now shopping for wedding rings because of Virginia Straitham.”
“Because she made a little suggestion.”
“Yes! But that’s why no one would ever suspect her. She’s subtle while she’s pulling the strings like a puppet master at the senior center to bring these couples
together.”
“A puppet master.”
I didn’t like his tone, but I was willing to overlook it if he’d hear me out.
“Yes! Think about it. First, she tells her husband to kill off Mr. Elwood and Rose and plants a few suggestions in Ernie’s ear,” I said, making the invisible marionettes hanging from my fingertips dance, “and voila! Jayne and Ernie, a Virginia Stratham love match. Same with Nell and her boyfriend, Thomas, and now Sylvia and Wally. And every one of them was there tonight. Okay, not Thomas but he has a sick mother.”
Steve shot me a humorless smile. “Well, I’ll give you this much. You came up with an interesting theory.”
“This is much more than a theory. It makes perfect sense.”
“Only if you believe Dr. Straitham’s killing his patients.”
“Yes,” I said with a shiver and shut off the ignition before my teeth started chattering.
“That’s where you have a little problem,” Steve stated as if he were helping me with my geometry homework, not a murder.
“But—”
“Number one, Trudy Bergeson’s death hasn’t been ruled a homicide.”
“But you think she was murdered or you wouldn’t have come tonight. Or last Tuesday,” I added to show that I was on to his sudden interest in dance lessons.
“You need to stop jumping to conclusions.”
“Are you going to deny it?”
“Char.” He turned to face me, the tic above his jaw line counting down the seconds of stony silence between us. “Watch and listen.”
“Okay.”
“Stop pushing.”
I cocked my head. “So what’s the problem, besides you being an obstinate cop who has to do everything by the book?”
His lips curled into a smile that died as quickly as it had appeared. “Unofficially speaking, if Trudy Bergeson’s death was suspicious as your whistleblower Cardinale suggests, and something happened early Monday morning …”
My heart pounded with anticipation, like we’d hit top speed in this roller coaster and were rocketing toward a hairpin turn.
“… the husband of your latest suspect didn’t do it.”
I knew that Steve believed what he’d just said, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was true. “How can you be so sure?”
“Just trust me,” he said softly.
I did to a point. But he hadn’t exactly been very forthcoming the past week.
Wendy Delaney - Working Stiffs 01 - Trudy, Madly, Deeply Page 13
