by Jeff Shelby
Aidan was silent.
“I can totally see her doing it.” It was an awful thing to say but it was the truth. “But I don’t know how we go about proving it. All we really have is motive.”
Aidan set his empty container on the table. A small ribbon of caramel dotted his lip and his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking it clean. “Motive isn’t enough,” he said.
I thought for a minute. What remained of my ice cream was quickly melting, pooling into a lumpy soup.
“She has access to all the apartments,” I said slowly. I danced my spoon through the melting ice cream, swirling the white ice cream with the chocolate. “She has a master key, so she definitely could have gotten into the apartment.”
“I have a key, too,” Aidan reminded me. “Does that make me a suspect?”
“You don’t have motive.” I narrowed my eyes. “Or do you? Are you making beauty and health products, too?”
His expression immediately turned somber. “No, of course not.”
“I was just teasing.” I smiled. “But as far as Anne goes, she has a key and she very well might know June’s schedule the way Rudy did.”
Aidan drummed his fingers on the table. I could tell he was deep in thought.
“So what do we do now?” he asked.
I stared at the liquefied ice cream in my bowl.
“We figure out a way to prove it.”
TWENTY FIVE
I wasn’t ready for Monday.
The Universe must have sensed this because the day dawned dark and gray, almost as if Mother Nature was urging me to stay in bed. Even with the blinds in my bedroom partially open, very little light filtered through when my alarm sounded. My eyelids fluttered open, then closed, almost as if I was questioning the veracity of the chiming sound coming from my phone.
I picked it up and glanced at the time display.
It wasn’t wrong.
I silenced the alarm and then wiped the sleep from my eyes. I could easily go back to sleep. Not just for minutes, but for hours.
The weekend had been a bust for any kind of productivity or anything resembling rest. After eating ice cream with Aidan, I’d parted ways with him and headed home. The rest of the day had been spent cleaning up and paying bills—all those joys of adulthood you never really pay attention to as a kid but that hit you full-force when all duties and responsibilities fall to you.
Megan was gone basically the entire weekend, with work and then crashing at Dylan’s, so I was left to my own devices Sunday, too. I’d spent some time going through job sites, more out of habit than desire. But I did so half-heartedly, just skimming postings and job descriptions. I didn’t know if it was because none of them really resonated with me or because my mind was elsewhere.
Oh, who was I kidding?
I couldn’t focus on anything.
Not with the mystery behind June’s break-in and vandalism still unsolved, and not with whatever the heck it was that was going on between me and Aidan.
I eventually struggled my way out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee tickled my nose and I poured a cup and immediately took a sip. I dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. The plastic container of donut holes was mostly depleted, but two lopsided balls of dough still remained.
Megan wasn’t home, and they were probably hours away from becoming stale and inedible.
I took both out of the container and set them down on a napkin. I knew I should eat—and probably something a little more substantial and healthier than two measly donut holes—but nerves were twisting my stomach into knots.
Today was the day, the day I might finally get some answers about what had happened in June’s apartment.
I’d already made up my mind that Anne was the culprit. There were no other people to consider, especially after ruling out both Jackie and Rudy.
All I had to do was figure out the best way to get Anne to admit to her misdeeds. And then figure out what to do about it.
I forced down another mouthful of coffee, even though my stomach protested.
Aidan and I hadn’t come up with any kind of strategy during our conversation on Saturday. And thinking about it the rest of the weekend hadn’t yielded any revelations about how best to approach the situation.
I shook my head. Of course it didn’t. Because even though I had spent time mulling over what had happened to June, I’d also spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about something else.
Aidan.
Specifically, me and Aidan.
I closed my eyes.
There was no me and Aidan. I knew this. But the specter of that possibility had haunted my thoughts all weekend, more often than I wanted to admit.
I didn’t know why these thoughts consumed me. Maybe Megan was right. Maybe I just needed to date someone. Anyone. Do something else with my life instead of just focusing on a job that increasingly felt unsatisfying.
I pushed away from the table. Sitting there was accomplishing nothing. I wadded up the napkin, the donut holes squishing between my fingers, and tossed it in the trash.
Trudging back to my bedroom, I tried to ignore the gloomy sky outside my window. I needed to get ready for work, and for my confrontation with Anne.
I just hoped a plan would come to me on the drive there.
TWENTY SIX
No plans, no bright ideas, materialized.
Not on my drive to Oasis Ridge, and not on my walk into the building. Actually, it was more of a light jog, since the wall of clouds socking in the city had decided to unleash a steady drizzle the minute I stepped out of my car.
I hurried through the doors, smoothing my hair as I entered the building. A little dampness was all it took to turn my hair into a certifiable mess.
Breakfast had just ended, and several residents streamed out of the dining room, heading back to their apartments or to the Gathering Room. Billie had already laid claim to a spot on one of the floral couches. Her walker was parked alongside her, and Clara, a sweet lady who’d moved in rather recently, sat next to her, holding a cup of coffee and maintaining a steady stream of conversation.
I should have said hello, asked them about their weekend, and then kept walking. But my feet stayed planted where they were, like my shoes were stuck in wet cement.
“Everything okay?” a voice said from off to my left.
I turned.
Kelly was half-standing behind the reception area, and I did a double take. Her tough, wrinkled face now bore a striking resemblance to cherry fruit leather.
I cringed. It looked liked it hurt. “What happened?” I asked.
She frowned. “What? Did I miss something?” She got up on her tiptoes and peered into the Gathering Room.
“No, I mean…it looks like you got a sunburn.”
Even if she was blushing, I wouldn’t have noticed, her face was already so red. “Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Just some new face product I was trying.”
I started toward the desk, unsure of how I felt now that my feet had decided to cooperate.
On closer inspection, her face wasn’t just red but peeling, too.
She touched a tentative hand to her cheek. “It looks worse than it feels,” she assured me.
“What were you using?” I wanted to make sure I stayed far away from whatever it was.
She made a face. “It was a face mask sample. Anne was handing them out a few weeks back. Sure did burn my face to a crisp.”
Anne. Maybe I could use this incident as a way to bring up June. I didn’t know the exact angle I’d want to work but at least it might be a starting point.
“So you think it was the face mask?” I asked.
Kelly shrugged. “I think so.”
“Could it have been something else?”
“Something else? Like what?”
“I don’t know. Are there any other new things you’ve tried? Or even new medications? Those can sometimes make you more sensitive to the sun.”
She sho
ok her head. “The only thing I’ve done is put some essential oils on it to help it heal faster.” She picked up a small amber bottle from her desk, but instead of showing it to me she stuffed it inside a desk drawer.
I stole one more quick glance at her, at the redness and the scaly skin, and tried not to shudder. I hoped for her sake that it was temporary.
I offered a smile. “I’m glad it’s not anything serious. Hopefully it will heal soon.”
“I’m sure it will,” she said with a nod. “My skin has been through a lot worse than this.”
Based on the number of cigarettes she smoked and how much time she spent worshipping the sun, I tended to agree.
I shouldered my purse and was about to head toward my office when a voice boomed down the stairs.
“Sunny, you’re finally here!”
I didn’t need to look in that direction to know who was calling my name. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath and then plastered a smile on my face. Unlike the one I’d just had for Kelly, this was not genuine.
“Anne.” At least my voice sounded warm and friendly. “How are you?”
She glowered at me from behind a pair of black and white striped glasses. “Terrible,” she retorted. “You realize we are less than forty-eight hours from the visit, right?”
I glanced around the Gathering Room and then toward the dining area. Everything looked spotless. “Is there a lot left to do?” I asked doubtfully.
Anne’s eyes bulged. “Yes. Tons!” She glanced down at the clipboard she was holding. “Come with me to my office. We need to go over a few things.”
Reluctantly, I followed her down the hallway, bypassing my office and heading to hers instead. She pushed the door open and motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs reserved for guests.
She dropped the clipboard to her desk and squeezed into her own chair. After a quick glance at the clipboard, she fixed her steely gaze back on me.
“I have some concerns about the activity schedule for the day.”
“Today?” I said. “We actually pared it down, per your request.”
“I’m not talking about today,” she snapped. “The day of the visit.”
I waited.
“We need to make sure the balance is just right. Not too much going on but not too little, either.” She pulled a sheet of paper from one of the stacks on her desk and studied it for a minute. “Let’s take a look at what we have on the schedule for that day. Bingo. Manicures. A shopping outing.” She frowned. “We’ll need to cancel that. Or at least reschedule.”
“But the residents go every other Wednesday,” I reminded her. “This is one of their only opportunities to pick up prescriptions and go grocery shopping.”
“I don’t care,” she said irritably. “The last thing we need is a mass exodus of residents when corporate is here. Can you imagine what they might say if it looks too empty here? If there aren’t any residents around?”
I couldn’t actually imagine that they would say anything, especially if we explained to them that there was a shopping excursion that day.
“We can move it to Thursday.” Anne’s tone held a note of finality, and I knew there was no use arguing with her. “Bingo should be fine, but manicures…” She looked up at the ceiling, apparently mulling this over. “I don’t know. The fumes, the mess…it might be better to reschedule that, too.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek and tried to stem the irritation rising up in me. “So the residents are just going to play bingo that day?”
She nodded. “I think that will work.”
“So we’ll have residents complaining all day about two canceled activities. They’ll be looking for me, for sure, but they’ll probably end up looking for you, too.”
She paled a little when I said this. “Do you think?”
“I don’t think, I know,” I told her. “Our residents here like routine. They like order. They like to know what to expect. If you tell them today that events are going to be canceled on Wednesday, they’re going to want to know why.”
She was quiet for a minute, and I could almost see the wheels in her head turning. “Fine,” she said, huffing out a breath. “We can keep the manicures. But shopping will be rescheduled. We need a full house that day.”
Arguing with her would be futile.
Besides, now that we’d put out that particular fire, I had a new spark ready to ignite.
“Speaking of order and routine, how was June this weekend?”
Anne frowned. “What?”
“I asked how June was.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I heard. What does that have to do with order and routine?”
“Her routine has been disrupted. You know, with the theft and the vandalism. And order to her life is gone, too.”
“Oh.” Anne shifted her focus back to her clipboard. “I would think she’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be?”
It was like she hadn’t heard a word I’d just said. “Because of the theft? And the vandalism?”
Anne busied herself with a stack of papers on her desk, shuffling them into some semblance of order. “Oh. That.”
Her dismissiveness was upsetting me. But it was also ringing all sorts of alarm bells, too.
Because it was exactly the kind of reaction I thought I might get from her.
“Are you doing the internal investigation yet?”
She didn’t answer.
I tried again. “Have you reported it to the police yet?”
Anne waved a hand in the air. “I haven’t had time for any of that. Not now, not with the visit coming up.”
I stared at her. I had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t telling me the truth, and that there was another reason altogether that she’d put the whole thing on the back burner.
I sat forward in the chair, ignoring my now racing heart. I swallowed against the anxiety building inside me.
“Did you do it?” I blurted.
Her gaze rocketed back to me. “Do what?”
I drew in a shaky breath. “Are you the one who went into June’s apartment and destroyed all of her stuff?”
TWENTY SEVEN
Anne was aghast. “Why in the world would you think that?”
The first thing I noticed—once I could think beyond my thumping heart and the roaring in my ears after the words left my mouth—was that she didn’t deny it.
She’d answered my question with one of her own.
Which only left me with more questions, along with the growing sense that my suspicions had been correct.
“You’re not answering me,” she growled. “Why would you think I’d be capable of doing such a thing?”
Most of my anxiety dissipated. I felt stronger in my convictions, emboldened to voice them out loud now that I’d broached the subject.
“Well, for starters, you have motive,” I said. I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. “You didn’t like that she was running a business out of her apartment.”
To my surprise, Anne nodded in agreement. “You’re right. I didn’t.” She sucked in her cheeks. “Because she was probably violating all kinds of city codes and laws.”
I didn’t dispute this because I had no idea what the codes were for home businesses. But it was obvious that Anne didn’t know, either. If this was something she’d wanted to shut down legally, it would have made far more sense for her to go through those channels than simply destroying all of June’s stuff. This line of thinking led me to believe that June hadn’t been violating any regulations, and Anne knew it.
I forged ahead. “And because you were handing out your own beauty products.”
Anne’s eyes widened, bulging behind her glasses. “My own beauty products? I don’t have any business!”
“What about the samples you were handing out a couple of weeks ago?”
Her expression clouded.
“You gave Kelly a face mask.”
She blinked. “Oh, those. Those were samples I had laying around the house. Things I’d collect
ed over the last couple of years. I just brought them in to be nice.”
I suppressed the snarky laugh bubbling up inside of me. When was Anne ever nice?
“My bathroom was overflowing with all kinds of those samples,” she continued. “You know, the little soaps and lotions. I had dozens of those little packets, too: face masks, deep conditioners for hair. I’m right in the middle of doing my Swedish Death Cleaning and—”
“Your what?”
“Swedish Death Cleaning,” she repeated. “It’s all the rage right now. I’m choosing to downsize and get rid of belongings now so that my loved ones won’t have it do it after I die.”
I didn’t know what I found most surprising: that this was a legitimate type of cleaning, or that Anne actually had loved ones.
“Anyway, I can’t say I’m upset that her little business closed up shop, but I did nothing to bring that about.” Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “You hear me?”
I heard her.
I just wasn’t sure I believed her.
But there was something small gnawing my gut, something that suggested I might have jumped the gun by coming right out and accusing Anne. She’d offered solid answers to my questions, which I hadn’t expected.
Answers that actually made sense.
And I didn’t know where that left me when it came to finding out who was responsible for June’s misfortunes.
“You know,” Anne said, her voice deadly soft. “I don’t know what this means for our professional relationship.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “What do you mean?”
“I had no idea you thought so little of me.”
I opened my mouth to speak but she held up a hand, silencing me. “You thought I was capable of breaking into a resident’s home and damaging their property. No, not damaging…destroying their property. All because I didn’t like what they were doing.” Her lips thinned, mirroring the slits her eyes had become. “Do you really think I would do such a thing?”
“No.” My voice was as meek as a mouse’s. I hadn’t just thought it. I’d believed it.
