Scry Me A River: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (Blood Visions Paranormal Mysteries Book 2)

by Donna White Glaser

  She rubbed his shoulder gently. "Come on. Let's get you home."

  "No, I... I want to..." He twisted his hands together as if trying to wring the words from them.

  "What?" Arie said softly.

  "Can you see if he's okay?"

  "Of course. Why don't you sit down? I'll be right back." Arie hurried past clumps of gossiping men and women. Carly was trying to get everyone back to their games but was largely being ignored.

  She found Cindy and Karen tending to Alan in the staff room. He was seated at the table, and Cindy was applying a butterfly bandage while Karen was twisting an ice pack, trying to get the chemicals to activate. The ice pack didn't seem to be cooperating.

  Alan's face was scrunched up, and he seemed to be making an effort not to cry. "Ow!" He flinched as Cindy pressed the bandage in place.

  She patted his arm.

  Arie approached the pair, although she had no clue what to say. Before she could begin, the break-room door opened, and Jane Clarkson breezed in.

  "My goodness, we seem to have had a bit of excitement here, haven't we?" Jane asked brightly. She sailed up to Alan and peered closely at his injury. "Someone took a digger, didn't they?"

  A digger?

  "I was pushed," Alan said. His tone was equal parts embarrassment and pissiness.

  "Oh, I'm sure that can't be true," Jane said. "We're all so cheerful and friendly here." Turning away, she spoke to Cindy. "I see you have everything under control. Very good. Very, very good." With that, she spun on her heel and left.

  Cindy stared at the closed door in astonishment, but all Karen did was snort and roll her eyes. She handed the ice pack to Alan. "Here you go, killer. Make sure you keep that on, or you're going to get a big old knot on your head."

  "Excuse me," Arie said. "Could I speak to Alan a moment?"

  "Sure," Cindy said.

  She and Karen moved aside, looking as though they were about to have a nice chat about their weird director.

  "I could sue, you know." Alan's eyes were slitted, but Arie could see the tears shimmering in them.

  "I don't know what happened earlier between you and my grandfather, but he sent me back here to see if you're okay."

  Alan tentatively touched his bandage and winced. "He did?"

  "Yes, he did. Look, Alan, Grumpa didn't understand what you were hoping for from the relationship, but I know he wanted you guys to be friends. He's... he's lonely, too."

  A long stretch of silence hung between them, during which Arie overheard Cindy ask Karen to cover her shift the next day.

  "Tell him I'm okay," Alan whispered. "And, um... I'm sorry if there was a misunderstanding."

  "You don't have to apologize. You really don't."

  His eyes met Arie's for the first time. He nodded once then sat up straight, squaring his shoulders. Arie pointed at the compress he held in his lap.

  "You'd better put the ice pack on."

  "Absolutely, you should," Cindy said as she returned to Alan's side. "It won't do any good in your lap. And now, we'd better get you over to the clinic. Karen, do you want to walk Alan—"

  "Sorry, but I told Ruth I’d play a game of checkers with her. She's waiting."

  "I thought your shift was over. I figured you could walk Alan over on your way out."

  Karen shrugged. "I promised."

  "Okay, then," Cindy said, still sounding perplexed. "In that case, tell Carly I'll be right back. And thanks again."

  The two went out the back exit, and Arie followed Karen through to the main room, where Grumpa was waiting. He was eager to leave, and by then, Arie was late getting back to work, so she didn't stop to talk to anyone.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The next day, Arie stopped at Boston Market on her way home and picked up a family meal of barbecue ribs, green beans, and mashed potatoes. The bakery where Chandra worked was sending her to San Diego for a cupcake convention, and Arie wanted to spend time with her before she went out of town. Arie just hoped her mother wouldn't pay a surprise inspection on them. It was debatable which would upset her more—discovering the trio plotting to uncover a murderer or catching them feeding ribs to her father.

  Luckily, the coast was clear. Getting Grumpa to cooperate was another matter, however. He was quite... well... grumpy after the morning he'd had, and he wasn't interested in playing nice with Arie and That Girl.

  At least not until the latter arrived bearing freshly baked cinnamon buns with three-inch-thick cream-cheese frosting. She set them in the middle of the table and plopped down. The bright-pink piece of paper Grumpa had brought home was peeking out from under the bun plate, so Chandra pulled it out.

  "Bingo Night?" she read. "Sounds like fun. I used to go with my Aunt Kay."

  "I haven't looked at that," Arie said, recognizing it as the paper Grumpa had been clutching during the confrontation with Alan the afternoon before. "When is it?"

  "Tomorrow night at the Legion."

  "Well, I'm not going," Grumpa muttered.

  "We'll see." Arie handed the plates around, and they dug in.

  After they'd divvied up their food, Chandra tilted her face up and sniffed the air. "Are you wearing lavender?" she asked Arie. "You smell like my Aunt Sandra."

  Arie shook her head. "I'm not wearing anything."

  "I swear I can smell lavender."

  Arie sniffed. She could smell it, too. For a split second, the women stared at each other, then they turned as one toward Grumpa.

  "It ain't perfume!" he said.

  "You're wearing lavender?" Arie choked the words out.

  "It's so I can sleep better," Grumpa said. "Belinda gave it to me. And if you two are going to keep nattering on about it, I'm going to my room." He tossed his BBQ rib down and sat poised to flee.

  Arie and Chandra exchanged another look.

  Chandra's eyes were dancing, but she merely said, "Okay, gang, what's the plan here?"

  "There isn't one," Grumpa said.

  "Are we even doing any good?" Arie asked. "I mean, it's not like we know anything. It's starting to feel like we're just... I don't know."

  "Is this about Connor?" Chandra asked. She was daintily holding her ribs in her fingers but had a clown's grin of barbecue sauce smeared around her mouth.

  "He gave her an ultimatum," Grumpa said, ignoring Arie's indignation. "Stay out of his case, or he's kicking her to the curb."

  "He didn't say that," Arie said. "And anyway, how do you know?"

  "I might have overheard you guys talking in the driveway."

  "Overheard us? You would have had to have been on the sun porch. I would've seen you."

  "I crawled." Grumpa pulled his trousers up and displayed his bony knees. "See my bruises?"

  "You...?" Arie's throat clamped off, and she lost the ability to speak. She shoved her plate to one side.

  Chandra handed her a cinnamon bun. "Take two bites and call me in the morning."

  "Far as I can see," Grumpa said, "anyone could have done it. This Bernie Reynolds sounds like a real jerk. He had his nose in everyone's business, and he treated women like dirt. Probably lots of people wanted to kill him."

  "Mmmff!" This was Arie screaming through a mouthful of pastry as she pictured her grandfather belly-crawling across the sun-porch floor so he could eavesdrop on her private conversation with Connor. She completely understood the urge to kill.

  Chandra patted her hand but stayed on point. "Even if you want to kill someone, you usually don't. And why at the rec center? It's such a weird place to choose. There has to be a reason why he was shot there."

  Arie swallowed. "He used to take his dates over there to party. One of the visions showed him with Phyllis in Carly's office. They were going to dance, and he was fixing them drinks."

  "Wow, that's not something you'd ever think about. Party time at the old folks' home tonight." Chandra got up to pour herself a glass of water.

  "Let's hold off on the staff for a minute," Arie said. "There's obviously something weird going o
n there, but I'm just not sure it's connected to Bernie."

  "So, we start with his harem?" Grumpa asked.

  He had a dollop of sauce on his nose. It looked ridiculous. Arie decided not to tell him.

  "Viv seems to be the most affected by his death," she said instead. "She's the only one who's cried. Supposedly, she believed Bernie when he told her she was the only one. Everybody else knew better."

  "That would be pretty humiliating," Chandra said, "when she found out."

  "But didn't he dump her a couple weeks before he died?" Grumpa pointed out. "Alan said Bernie broke up with her when she started running out of money."

  "That's even worse." Chandra was concentrating on picking the cinnamon bun with the most frosting, so she missed Grumpa's blush when he mentioned Alan. Arie didn't, though, and she gave her grandfather a we'll talk later look. "If some dude was using me for my money, and then I found out he was cheating on me too? Hoo boy! I'd kick his butt from here to Kansas."

  "But would you kill him over it?"

  Chandra shoved a lock of pink hair behind her ear. "Maybe not, but I'm not some elderly woman with a dwindling bank account and a wrinkly Casanova."

  "You know," Grumpa said, his expression unusually contemplative, "Kathy told me Bernie had broken it off with her and Merilee, too, a little while before he died."

  Arie and Chandra waited, but the old man had stalled.

  "And?" Arie finally asked.

  "So, who was Bernie seeing?"

  Huh.

  "Maybe he wasn't seeing anyone," Chandra said.

  Arie and Grumpa shook their heads in unison.

  "Not this guy," Arie replied. "Practically every vision was about women and sex. Or how to get them."

  "Well, maybe he couldn't... you know..." Chandra waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

  "They got pills for that," Grumpa said. "Arie's right. A guy like that isn't going to break up with a lady unless he's got another one—a better one—on the line."

  "What about Phyllis?" Arie said.

  "Who's Phyllis?" Chandra asked. "You never mentioned her."

  "That's because she supposedly broke up with Bernie a long time ago. She says she couldn't stand him now, but who knows? She acts all classy and prissy, but she sure was partying it up with Bernie in the visions."

  "If Phyllis went back to Bernie, I don't imagine Larry would look too kindly on that decision," Grumpa said. "He's sweet on Phyl."

  "Okay, so Viv is a possible suspect," Chandra said. "And maybe this Phyllis chick or her sweetie, Larry. Anybody else?"

  Grumpa snorted, which almost launched his dentures across the table. "The guy seems to have made it his mission in life to seduce all the women and tick off all the fellas. He's not making it easy for us."

  "Okay, well, how about we get back to the staff, then?" Chandra said. "What's so weird about them?"

  Arie eyed another cinnamon bun before responding. Only two left. She really shouldn't...

  She did.

  "The only weird staff I see is that Pollyanna rec lady," Grumpa said.

  "Carly," Arie mumbled around a cheekful of pastry. "And she's not weird, she's just really, really chipper. Cindy told me Carly and Bernie couldn't stand each other. He was always causing trouble, revving up the other patients and getting them to rebel. The thing is..."

  After several moments of waiting for Arie to clarify her thoughts, Chandra asked, "The thing is what?"

  "Well, she's supposedly super religious, but she refused to help Alan when he fell and cut his head." Another look at Grumpa. "And from what I saw, she refused because he's gay."

  "Super religious, huh?" Chandra said.

  Grumpa cleared his throat. "Al said Bernie used to leave clues that someone was in her office. Said it drove her crazy. The first couple times it happened, she brought it up to the whole center and carried on about privacy and respect. She and that director lady tried offering some kind of reward if people would 'turn the culprit in.'" His gnarled fingers hooked quote marks over the phrase. "Nobody snitched, though."

  "They might have been more afraid of the trouble Bernie would cause them than anything else."

  "Can't blame 'em," Grumpa said. "But I got the feeling they knew it was Bernie, regardless. Proving it was the problem."

  "So, is that it for the staff? Just Carly?" Chandra asked.

  Arie shook her head. "Unfortunately not. There's this one nurse, Karen. She's always trying to spend time with this one particular patient, Ruth—even staying late to visit. From what I've seen of her, it seems really out of character."

  "Maybe she just likes him," Chandra said.

  "Her. No, there's something going on there. Karen just doesn't seem like she'd go out of her way to help anyone."

  "Now there's a nice quality in a nurse," Grumpa said. He noticed Arie eying the last cinnamon bun and snatched it up.

  "Then what's she up to?" Chandra asked.

  "You shouldn't have that." Arie's eyes were glued to the pastry. "It's not good for your blood sugar. Ma would have a fit."

  Smiling wickedly, Grumpa bit into the bun, cream cheese smearing across his cheeks. "I'm saving you from yourself. You'll thank me later."

  "You're a very messy eater," Arie grumbled. "Maybe we should get you a bib."

  "I said, ‘What's she up to?’" Chandra repeated. "And you already had three, girlfriend."

  "I did not."

  "Scam artist," Grumpa answered. "Gotta be. And you did too have three."

  Arie scowled, glaring at the empty table. An idea flitted into her mind as the bingo flier caught her eye. She smiled, pulling it closer. Apparently, the rec center provided a van.

  "So maybe Bernie found out and was blackmailing her," Chandra said.

  "The thing is," Arie said, grinning, "we still need more information."

  Grumpa stilled, bun halfway to his mouth, at her sudden mood change.

  "One of us has to get really close," Arie continued, "to someone who was very close to Bernie. Someone who would have been hyperalert to Bernie's movements and interactions. Someone who was watching him all the time."

  Chandra's eyes caught on the flier, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, hiding her own grin.

  "What?" Grumpa said, his gaze swiveling between the two girls.

  Arie fluttered the pink flier back and forth in front of his face. "How long has it been since you've been on a date, old man?"

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After the initial surprise, Grumpa was surprisingly agreeable... until Arie stipulated the date be with Viv, not Belinda.

  "Oh, hell to the no!" Grumpa slapped his hands on the table.

  Chandra snorted. "Did he just say 'hell to the—'"

  "Grumpa, it needs to be someone who would have been watching Bernie's every move."

  "Belinda is very observant," he said.

  "I give you that, but not the way Viv would have been."

  "She'd have been relentless," Chandra agreed. "Woman scorned and all that."

  "Be quiet, you!" Grumpa said. "So let me get this straight. You want me to Mata Hari a woman you think is some crazy stalker chick and just might be a killer, too? That sound about right?"

  It did. It also sounded uncomfortably similar to Connor's objections.

  After several minutes of silent brooding, Grumpa suddenly perked up. "Okay," he said cheerfully.

  Arie didn't like being on this side of that kind of smile. "What?"

  "I'll ask Viv to this bingo thing and get the skinny on ol' Bernie."

  Get the skinny...?

  "But on one condition..." he continued.

  Uh-oh.

  "You gotta come along as my protection."

  "Oh," Arie said. "Yeah, I suppose I could—"

  Grumpa leaned back in his chair, grinning. "And bring your cop with you."

  Chandra burst out laughing.

  "Now, wait just a minute!" Arie sputtered.

  "Old man," Chandra cut in, "I am going to make you the dessert of your
choice. My treat."

  Grumpa smiled at That Girl for the first time in known history.

  An unholy alliance.

  As they headed to the center the next morning, Arie was amused to note that Grumpa had taken more care with his appearance than usual. He'd cut his chin shaving, too. A tiny scrap of toilet paper fluttered from his upper lip every time he exhaled. He was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at—or speak to—his granddaughter. That was fine because she wasn't too pleased with him, either.

  After Chandra had left the night before, Arie told Grumpa about the visions she'd picked up from Alan's blood. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, especially considering his victorious turning of the tables earlier, and had gone to bed soon after.

  Several blocks before the turn to River Rest, Arie brought up the subject again. "You know you're going to have to be nice to Alan, right?"

  He grunted and continued glaring out the window.

  "Grumpa—"

  "Guys didn't used to be like that."

  "Sure they did. But they had to hide it or suffer humiliation or even worse. All Alan's life, he felt like he had to keep that part of himself secret. He knew how disgusted many people would be if they knew. And now, when there's already such a shortage of men and the women are fighting over whoever's left, he's got no one. How do you think he felt when you freaked out on him?"

  Grumpa's face grew red. "Listen, missy, I can't even get used to females being all pushy at me. He grabbed my... my... gearshift. Right under the water. Right there in the hot tub!"

  "Okay, okay. No more. Please no more."

  "Well, you started it."

  "Then let this be the end of it." Arie pulled into a parking space in front of River Rest. She put the Caddy in park, trying to avoid all conscious thoughts of geriatric gearshifts and furtive hot-tub groping.

  She failed miserably.

  The "gang," all but Larry, were gathered around their usual table, sitting in their usual spots. It seemed to be another craft day. Carly was the only staff visible, setting up to dispense the meds.

  "Where's the other staff?" Arie asked the group.