by Jeff Shelby
“What do you mean?”
Denise frowned. “You know exactly what I mean.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “About the case.”
I couldn’t hold back my smirk. “Oh, so now you want to know? I thought you didn’t want to get involved.”
“I don’t,” she said firmly. “I was just asking a question. Making conversation. That’s not getting involved.”
Technically, this was true.
“I don’t know anything for sure yet,” I told her.
She moved to the next table. “But you have some good…what are they called? Leads?”
I nodded.
She pressed her lips together, and I could tell she was dying for more information. I wasn’t about to volunteer it, though. If she wanted news, she was going to have to ask for it. Beg, maybe.
She fell right in line, just like I knew she would.
“What have you found out?” she asked.
I waved my hand. “Oh, nothing concrete.”
She eyeballed me with a look that told me she knew exactly what I was doing. “Stop toying with me and tell me what you know.”
I chuckled. “That’s the problem. I don’t actually know anything. Everyone I’ve thought might be a suspect hasn’t panned out.”
Denise darted a look toward the dining room entrance. “Anne?” she asked, her voice still soft.
I shook my head. “No proof.”
Denise pursed her lips, her eyes wide.
I glanced at the dining room clock. It was an oversized round one, with easy-to-read black numbers. “Look, I’d love to stay and chat but I really need to find June.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I found a way for her to start her business again.”
“How?”
I debated showing her the email notification on my phone. “Let’s just say I found a way to help her finance purchasing the supplies she needs to get restarted.”
Denise let out a low whistle. “Really?”
I nodded. “I might not ever find out who sabotaged her but I figured I could at least try to help her get back on her feet.”
Denise finished the last of the tables and shifted the box so it was sitting on her hip. “Speaking of sabotage…” She hesitated. “If someone did what they did on purpose, what would keep them from doing it again? If she’s able to get her business back up and running, I mean?”
I was quiet for a minute.
Because I hadn’t considered that possibility.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But the last thing I want is for June to worry about where she’s going to be living or how she’s going to pay for things. No senior citizen should have those kinds of worries.”
“A lot of them do, though,” Denise said. Her expression turned hard. “My Great Aunt Zelda’s been living in a trailer park for years. No running water because the pipes burst a few years ago. No heat in the winter because she doesn’t have money to fill the propane tank. Lives on ramen noodles and rice, because that’s what she can afford.”
My eyes widened in horror. I had no idea about Denise’s aunt. “That’s terrible.”
Denise just shrugged. “Sure is. But there ain’t nothing she can do.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact that it caught me off guard. “She’s disabled and too old to work. No pension or retirement, and Social Security is a joke. But that’s how it is, you know?”
I didn’t actually know, I realized. I’d grown up in a solidly middle-class town, in a nice neighborhood and in a family where money issues were virtually nonexistent. We didn’t own luxury cars or take exotic vacations, but there was always enough for trips to Disneyworld and weekly restaurant outings, and new back-to-school clothes every year. My friends had all come from similar backgrounds. That didn’t mean I was ignorant of the fact that other people were less fortunate, but hearing Denise speak about her aunt’s stark living situation with such casualness was jarring.
“Does she have any family that can help?”
“No kids,” Denise said. “Her siblings are all long gone. Husband died a good thirty years ago. I send her what I can, and DeShawn does, too—when he has a job—but that’s like using a Band-Aid to treat a gunshot wound. It don’t work.”
I thought about the money my dad had deposited for me. How much would June need? Would there be any left over? Because if there was, I now knew someone else who could desperately use it, too.
Denise repositioned the box so it was back in her arms and headed toward the kitchen. The smell of sautéed onions hung heavy in the air, and I knew Lola was well on her way to preparing the noon meal.
“Well, I think that’s mighty nice of you to help June out,” Denise said as she walked away. “She’s a lucky woman.”
“I guess.” I started toward the dining room door. “Now I just need to find her.”
“I think you’re in luck,” Denise said.
I turned to look at her and she was facing me once again, a smile on her lips. She balanced the box on her hip and with her free hand pointed past me. “Have you checked the Gathering Room?”
“I didn’t see her in there.”
Her smile widened. “She walked in a few minutes ago. I saw her while we were talking.”
“You did?” I was already pivoting toward the entrance.
“Yep. You go be Santa Claus, you hear?”
I was on my way to do just that.
THIRTY
June was sitting with Billie and Clara, sandwiched between them on the floral couch in the Gathering Room. A couple of other residents were in the room, too, and I gave each of them what I hoped were warm smiles as I made a beeline toward her.
It was the first time I’d seen her since leaving Oasis Ridge last Friday. Physically, she looked the same. Her shoulder-length hair was combed straight, a thick wedge held back by a basic brown barrette. She wore tan slacks and a light blue blouse with delicate gold buttons. Her hands held tight to a thin magazine that was opened and positioned on her lap. But as I made my way closer, I saw troubling signs. Her shoulders sagged, her left knee bounced, and her facial features were drawn tight. She looked like a coil wound a little too tight.
“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.
All three women looked up.
“Yes, it still is,” Billie said dryly, referencing the fact that I’d already greeted her earlier that morning.
“I missed seeing you when I came through earlier,” I said to June. “How are you?”
June shrugged. “I’m fine, I guess.”
Billie slapped the magazine in June’s lap. “She was showing us where she’s moving to. Did you know she was moving?”
“Your new place?” I said, alarmed. “You…you found one?”
June nodded.
Billie snatched the magazine and thrust it at me. “This place right here,” she said, stabbing the paper.
I reached for it. The pictures for the ad were in black and white, and they were decidedly unimpressive. A two-story stucco building that, even in gray scale, looked in dire need of a paint job. I knew a thing or two about advertisements, and if the two images I was looking at were the best photos they had to offer, I cringed just thinking about what the property—and the apartments—actually looked like.
June shifted on the couch, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “It’s actually quite nice.” She touched the thin gold chain around her neck, her fingers seeking and finding the delicate Celtic cross charm attached to it.
“I’m sure it is,” I lied. “So you’ve decided on this one, then?”
She nodded.
“But you haven’t signed anything, right? You probably need to make plans to go and check it out before you decide for sure.”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “There’s nothing to decide, really. It’s…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her now empty lap. “It’s the only place I can afford.”
Billie sighed and Clara clucked her tongue. June drew in a shuddering breath but
she straightened her shoulders, trying to maintain a brave face.
I crouched down so I was at eye level with her. “What if I told you that you didn’t have to move in there?”
She smiled sadly. “I would say you’re wrong.”
I abandoned the magazine, letting it fall to the carpet, and reached for her hands. “You don’t have to move, June. Not if you don’t want to.”
Her gaze shifted from my eyes to the dropped magazine. “But I do,” she said softly. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere. You can stay right here at Oasis Ridge.”
Billie spoke up. “Sunny, I don’t think you realize what’s—”
I cut her off. “I understand exactly what the situation is. But I think I’ve found a solution.”
June’s brow puckered, her eyes questioning.
“What would you say if I told you I found a way for you to stay here at Oasis Ridge?”
Her expression clouded. “I can’t,” she murmured. “You know that. I…I don’t have enough money to stay here.” Her cheeks flushed, and I could tell it was hard for her to vocalize this, especially in front of the two other women we were with.
“You don’t have the money right now,” I clarified. “But if you had a loan, you could stay, right?”
“A loan?” Her frown deepened. “I haven’t applied for a loan. No bank would lend me anything. I don’t have any collateral.”
“I’m not talking about a bank,” I told her. “A personal loan.”
Her eyes rounded. “What? Who would loan me money?”
“Someone who wants you to be able to stay here.”
“Who would do that?”
“That’s not terribly important,” I said. I would give her the details later. Right now, I just wanted assurances that she was on board. “What matters is that I found a loan for you. A loan that could help you get back on your feet.”
She hesitated and I held my breath as I waited for her answer
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t take a loan that I won’t be able to repay. As much as I want to stay here at Oasis Ridge, it would be foolish to borrow money just so I can afford a nicer place to live.”
“That’s not what the loan would be for,” I said. “I’m talking about a loan to help you buy supplies. So you can start your business again.”
June’s expression cleared as the dawn of recognition hit her. “For my business?” she repeated, her voice faint.
I nodded. “Think about it. You had a pretty good thing going with the products you were making and selling, right?”
“Yes.”
“So if you can buy what you need and start back up again, that would get you back on track financially.” Additional scenarios started running through my head. “We could find a way to drum up additional business to help grow it, too. Maybe we could connect with other homes in the area. Or set up an online store.”
“A what?” June asked.
“Online,” I said. “On the Internet.”
“Oh.” She sounded startled. “I wouldn’t know how to do that…”
I smiled. “I’ll help you.” I didn’t know, either, but I figured it was worth looking into.
Clara nodded her head. “I have a lot of friends from Palm Vista,” she said. “That was where I used to live. They would die to get their hands on your anti-wrinkle cream.”
“I could put in a word for you over at Breezy Point,” Billie added. “A couple of my old neighbors moved in there and they run the social committee. We could probably get you set up with a spa day or something, where residents could try out your products.”
For the first time since the incident, I saw a flicker of hope in June’s eyes. “Do you think it would work?” she asked. “I know if I start selling again here, I can pay my rent and my bills, but I wouldn’t have enough to pay a loan back. But if I branch out to other retirement communities…”
I could tell she was considering the possibilities, and that they excited her.
“So you’ll do it?” I asked. “You’ll take the loan?”
She hesitated for a minute. But then she smiled and nodded.
I clapped my hands. “That’s great.” For the first time since the theft and vandalism, I felt like things might actually be looking up for June.
“Where is the money coming from?” she asked.
“Don’t you worry about that,” I said. “Just let me know how much you need and we’ll get you taken care of.” I said a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be more than ten grand.
“She doesn’t deserve a penny,” a stern voice announced.
June looked up, beyond where I was crouched in front of her.
I set a hand on the ground to steady myself and turned to look over my shoulder.
Kelly was standing up behind the receptionist desk, her hands planted on her hips.
“You can’t go back into business because your products don’t work.”
June let out a small gasp.
Kelly’s face, which was flushed before from the reaction she’d had to the face mask, was now beet red. She pointed a shaking finger at June. “You are a fraud. Essential oils are supposed to help but your recipes don’t do anything.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. The three women on the couch sat with their eyes wide open, their mouths agape, as still as statues. Even the other residents seated in armchairs or at the small tables in the room were looking at Kelly in consternation.
What had her so worked up? I knew she’d used some of June’s products, and that she wasn’t entirely thrilled with the results, but I also knew she’d seemed to expect miracles for her heavily damaged skin. June’s creams and lotions might not have produced the results Kelly was looking for, but they also hadn’t caused the kind of reaction she was experiencing with whatever new line of products she was using.
“They might not have worked for you, but plenty of the residents like her products,” I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.
Kelly scowled. “She’s lied to them. To all of them! None of her products works. It’s all a scam to fleece her friends out of money.”
June gasped, louder this time. “That’s not true! I’ve tested all of the recipes for my products. I have testimonials from several people. I…I wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not intentionally.”
I was barely listening.
Because a new thought suddenly occurred to me, something that sent a shiver racing down my spine.
The person I’d been looking for—the person responsible for what happened in June’s apartment—had been right in front of my nose the whole time.
I just hadn’t been paying attention.
I got to my feet and turned slowly so that I was fully facing Kelly Zerwas.
My voice was barely a whisper. “It was you.”
THIRTY ONE
“What?” Kelly’s scowl looked as though it was permanently etched on her face.
“It was you,” I repeated. My voice was louder now. “You were the one who broke into June’s apartment and destroyed all of her things.”
Kelly stared at me, her mouth hanging open.
“You destroyed her business because her products didn’t work for you.”
Kelly scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”
But everything was clicking into place, like the last few pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.
“You have access to everyone’s rooms,” I said. “The master key.”
She just glared at me and folded her arms tightly across her chest.
“You know the residents' schedules—at least when they typically come down for meals. And June was like clockwork.” I looked to June for confirmation. “Weren’t you?”
The elderly woman offered a small nod.
“And you’re always taking smoke breaks,” I said. “No one would think twice if you weren’t at the desk.”
It was all making sense.
I walked toward the reception area with Kelly glow
ering at me from behind her desk.
“You have some of her essential oils, don’t you?” I continued. “That’s what you shoved in your drawer earlier this morning.”
Kelly didn’t move but her eyes flitted toward the drawer I’d seen her open not an hour earlier.
“You destroyed a lot of her stuff, but there were things that went missing, that weren’t accounted for. You took them.” Adrenaline surged through me as I laid out the evidence. “And you said yourself that you were playing around with some recipes for the burns on your face. Were they June’s recipes? Did you somehow manage to steal those, too?”
Kelly gave me a defiant look. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No?” I was within ten feet of the reception desk. “Show me the oil in your desk then. Let’s see what the bottle looks like.”
“That won’t prove anything,” she snarled.
I smiled. “So what do you have to worry about?”
Kelly hesitated before she slowly unfolded her arms. Her right hand disappeared from view and my smile grew. She was going to show us the bottle. June could identify it and we’d know then and there that she was the one responsible.
I glanced back at June, hoping to convey some reassurances to her that we were getting to the bottom of this, when a sudden loud thump sounded from behind the desk. I whirled back around just in time to see Kelly hurdling over the counter. Something metal flashed in her hands and then it was airborne, sailing in my direction.
A stapler.
It caught me squarely in the forehead and the force of the metal hitting my skin brought me to my knees. I clutched my forehead, reeling a little from the stinging pain.
“Someone stop her!” I called out.
I struggled to get to my feet, intent on stopping Kelly as she sprinted toward the front doors. Something warm and wet trickled into my eye. I wiped it away. Blood.
My head was pounding but I knew I had to stand up, to get to the door before she got away.
“Sunny!” An urgent male voice called my name.
It was Aidan, his expression one of shock and horror. “What is going on?”
I pointed toward the door. I felt woozy all of the sudden. “Stop her,” I managed to say.
