There was a chuckle and then a sigh of defeat. “Yes, I saw that you included enough for Ryder as well, though I doubt he will join me. Since our last conversation he has been less than receptive to my phone calls.”
The doctor waited a moment for the other speaker to finish. “Yes, I think a night in the medical community would be just what he needs to put him back on track. It would remind him of the perks that come with saving lives.”
A deep, rolling laughter emanated from Ryder’s father. “Yes, I remember just where those perks come from, and thank you.”
I could tell he was trying to wrap up the conversation. “I will see what I can do about Ryder. He would certainly be a valuable asset for us.” There was only a slight pause before he said, “If there’s nothing else, I will let you—”
There was obviously something else. The tone changed in that moment. I could feel the tension in the room as the quiet expanded.
Finally the doctor said, “Rose isn’t a good candidate. It would not be believable. See if Conrad has any patients.” The other speaker disagreed. I could almost hear the shouting from the opposite end, a voice so angry that it carried to my ear, even if just barely.
“Yes. If that were the case, it would make her a good candidate, but you have to know that if I lose my license, we are both in trouble.” The voice had quieted, and I could no longer hear it.
“Of course I remember the fail-safe.” Charles Harrison cowered to the other voice on the phone. “I will prescribe it then.” A slight sigh then, “Yes, I will see you there. Thank you. Goodbye.”
The phone was heavy as he set it back into the cradle. I could hear something tapping on the desk. Perhaps the tickets that he had spoken of.
Then he picked up the phone and dialed. There was a brief silence before he said, “Ryder, it’s your father.” There was a moment of hesitation before he said, “Pick up the phone and stop being so stubborn. Ryder, I have two tickets with your name on them, a masquerade ball being thrown by Pharmacor. It’s in Seattle at their corporate building. Should be a phenomenal party. I’m sure there is someone special in your life,” he laughed without much feeling. “Yes, I know that I should know your girlfriend or if you even have one. But this would be a great chance to meet her.” I could hear the slightest sadness in his voice. “Saturday, son. At least consider it.”
The phone was not so heavy when it landed on the receiver, but his sigh was. The keyboard keys clicked again, and then the chair rolled back. As it moved in my direction, my chest tightened. He was maybe a foot away from me. One cursory glance to his right and I would be discovered.
He opened the filing cabinet and removed a file. He set it on top of the desk and scribbled something inside. Then another cabinet slid open, the same one that I had found Milton and Ethyl’s files in.
I could hear the manila envelope sliding into its place alongside the other ones, Dr. Harrison’s voice barely a mutter. “Rose, Rose, Rose, what have we gotten into?”
Under the desk, I silently twisted to pull my foot deeper into the cavity. As I did, my vantage point changed. Though I could not see his face, I saw his hand, old, leathered, but unscarred. The file cabinet shut with a click, and a lock secured the contents. As the hand with the key pulled away, I saw a tattoo near the joint of his thumb, the same capital A that I had seen before, with an embellishment on the right of it.
**********
Once the door was closed and I was alone again, I counted to 500 before I pulled myself free and exited the office. I ducked out into the hall, twisted the lock from the inside and pulled the door shut.
“What were you doing in there?”
The man’s voice caused a short, shrill scream to burst out of me. I stammered for a minute but had no response. He was a janitor, a cart of supplies was behind him, and so I could not claim that I was cleaning. I had no badge, no scrubs, so I could not be a doctor or a nurse.
“Well,” he insisted, “why were you in Dr. Harrison’s office?” His hand hovered above his handheld radio as if it were a service revolver.
I did the one thing that unnerved at least 85 percent of men. I cried.
“He said I should be discreet, and now everyone will know, and he won’t see me anymore.” I blubbered for a moment into my hands, letting my shoulders shake as I did. I dragged my hands over the light mascara I had put on that morning so it would run. Who said makeup had no purpose? It was great for manipulating. “It’s just I really love him, you know, and now I’ve lost him forever.”
Much as I suspected the man’s mouth fell open in surprise. It was his turn to stammer like a fool. “Hey, stop crying. It’s okay. I won’t say anything. Just stop doing that.”
I took in a deep, shuddering gasp and stared at him with large eyes, confident that my mascara had dripped all over my face. “Really? You would do that for me?”
He pulled a paper towel off the cart that he had parked to the side and handed it to me. “Hey, I can see how broken up you are. You must really love the old guy, yeah?” He flipped a security badge over and displayed a picture of a beautiful woman. “This is my wife. I get it. . And Dr. Harrison has been different since the divorce. Here late at night. Really weird about cleanings. I think he needs a woman again. Maybe you could be a good fit. Certainly young enough to keep his interest.”
I held my tongue at the last comment and thanked him before I left. Once I was in a vacant hall, I wiped my eyes until my face was clear of makeup. I tossed the towel in the trash and returned to the emergency room desk to check Peter Davidson’s status. Once they had located him in the computer, a nurse gave me the room number. After a short ride in an elevator, I was knocking on his door.
The door opened easily with a gentle nudge. The room was dark because of the drawn shades on the far wall. A candy striper sat near the bed, not talking, while Peter lay in bed, also mute. Was she on suicide watch?
“Peter?” I asked into the darkness. He gave a slight recognition but did not move.
The young woman spoke first. “Are you family?”
I shook my head. “Just a friend. I pulled him out of the car today.”
Her young innocence shone in her eyes. “You saved his life.”
I had an ulterior motive, just like I always did. He had pieces to my puzzle, and I was not about to let them die with him.
“Anyone would have done it.” I took a step closer. “Can I speak to him, alone I mean?”
She considered it for a moment. “I do need to check another patient, but watch him carefully. He’s a wiley one.” She left the room, and I pulled a chair from the wall so I could meet Peter’s eyes or rather so I could see his face and emotions more clearly.
“Peter,” I whispered, the only other sound in the room a soft humming and beeping from the machines around him. “Peter, do you remember me?”
He squinted slightly as if struggling to see through the mental fog. “No,” he finally replied.
“I pulled you out of the garage.” I wondered if I should apologize for thwarting his attempt or tell him “You’re welcome.” I let the silence hang as a compromise.
Suddenly he remembered me, but it was not the garage the sparked his memory. “You were at the bar. You’re that P.I.”
Sure, he could remember that but not my heroic act of service. Yeah, the universe was fair.
“I’m investigating some deaths at your father’s old parish. Can I ask you some questions about that?”
“No.” The answer was simple, finite, and to the point.
I could not force him to talk. Maybe with time and recovery he would change his mind. I started to leave, but on a second thought I asked, “Why did you try to kill yourself?”
He kept his face turned away from me. “Because I am a drunk and a failure, and I have nothing left to live for.”
My own life crossed my mind for a moment. I had seen my sister drown right in front of me. I lived every day with a degenerative disease that would likely rob me of my mobility,
my freedom, and one day the very personality I cherished. There was not much I could call my own, I was not famous, and I had not accomplished a great deal in my years. But even with all that, I was nowhere near suicide.
“You said you betrayed him,” I started, my voice low enough that only he could hear me. “You said you were sorry.”
Peter stiffened slightly. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“Today, on your driveway when you finally came to, that’s what you told me. Was it true?”
There was no longer any hesitation in his answer. “All of it.”
I could feel his guard dropping. He wanted to unload the guilt he had been carrying around. “Tell me what happened, Peter.”
To my surprise tears welled up in his eyes as he faced me. “It does not matter. It is done now, and I have to carry it to my grave.”
On impulse, I gripped his thick hand in mine. “Let me help you. I know it looks hopeless, but let me help you.”
His gaze traveled far away, perhaps back in time. “Hope. That’s what they said. The Hope Affiliates.”
I gasped, but I dared not speak or move. I clutched his hand, speculating that perhaps a small bit of human contact could keep him tethered to my world and away from the dark place he had been residing.
“They approached him early on, told him they wanted the church. They strong-armed him, blackmailed him with crimes from his youth. My dad had lived a hard life before he became a preacher. He made a lot of mistakes, things he never told me about, but somehow they knew. Still, he would not sell. Not to them. He said it was not God’s will.” His chest caved inward slightly, and the tension behind his eyes released. “He got in a car accident, and somehow he messed up his heart. He went on this medication—”
“Sodexus,” I finished for him.
“Yes,” he agreed, slightly lightened that I knew something he felt was privileged.
“He had bouts with pneumonia after that?”
Peter nodded. “Not just that, but mood swings, and then he changed. He became paranoid, refusing to eat or drink. Those people from The Hope Affiliates stopped by. They said they wanted to help, but he would not see them.” His sigh was heavy. “When he was no longer the man I once knew, I took power of attorney. That was when they started pressuring me to sell the church. The bills started piling up, and they offered quite a bit of money.”
“So you took it.” I wasn’t asking, merely confirming.
“And he died shortly after. Doctor said it was a heart attack, but I think I broke his heart when I sold the property.” His face caved in on the sadness. “I haven’t been able to live with myself since then. I’ve been down at Tulla’s bar every day since.”
“Was your father’s doctor named Harrison?”
Peter shook his head. “No, it was Dexley.”
“Are you sure?”
Peter nodded. “I remember he had the same name as that character from my mother’s favorite musical, ‘Bye Bye Birdie.’”
I thought hard with my limited knowledge of musicals.
Birdie, but what was his first name? Birdie… Conrad Birdie.
The conversation I overheard in Harrison’s office filtered into my thoughts.
“Rose isn’t a good candidate. It would not be believable. See if Conrad has any patients.”
My pulse quickened. Another piece had fallen into place. My hand tightened on Peter’s with excitement. “Peter, just trust me. You were not responsible for your father’s death.” I could see he had the slightest sliver of belief in my words, so I gave him something more to hang on to. “And I am going to prove it.”
The candy striper returned, and I left Peter Davidson looking far brighter than he had when I first arrived. I ducked out the front doors of the emergency room into the evening air, careful to avoid the janitor I had encountered outside Harrison’s office. As I stepped into the parking lot, my phone vibrated. The thick walls of the hospital had dampened my signal, and two texts and a voice mail had waited for me to find a stronger signal.
The voice mail was from Kip, and I did not bother to listen to it. I knew he would say what he always said, “Call me back, Lindy.”
The texts were from Stella. The first read, “I’m going on a grand adventure. If it works, I should have evidence for you.” My eyes widened at the implications. What did she think she could accomplish? She was not a detective. That was her husband’s job. I quickly opened the next message, and my heart dropped.
“I think I am in trouble, Lindy. Please come quick.”
Chapter 11
The gravel under my feet crunched as I ran up the driveway to Stella and Uncle Shane’s house. I had broken at least four traffic laws along the way, the least of which was speeding, but I arrived in record time. With my 9 mm semiautomatic in hand, I did not bother to knock. I just gripped the handle and strode in. My voice was loud and clear as I yelled, “Stella! Stella! Are you here?”
My aunt turned the corner in surprise. “Lindy, I wasn’t expecting you.”
Eyes wide, I held up the text to show her. “Didn’t you send me this?”
She smiled wide. “Well, yes, but I was overreacting. You know how us old ladies get.”
In all the years I had known Stella, she had never referred to herself as old. Never. Red flag. Uncle Shane had taught her to speak in code, to say something that sounded benign to everyone else but would signal a friend that she was in trouble.
“Well, I am here now. Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked, sensing there was an imminent danger.
It was true. She had not been married to Uncle Shane her whole life, but she had become a quick study. Her smile remained authentic enough as she welcomed me in. “Come on, sweetheart. Join us in here.”
Us. The word caught on my skin like a thistle bur. I set the safety and tucked my gun into the back of my jeans, careful to pull my shirt down to conceal it. As I came around the corner, I saw them, Joel and Hannah Edwards and one of their hired guns. I forced the smile to ease across my face, though I knew we were in trouble.
“Well, what a surprise,” I exclaimed. “Here I thought Aunt Stella had intruders, but really she was just blessed with some gracious guests.”
Hannah did not even bother to keep up pretences as I sat at the dining room table across from her. “Funny that you should mention intruders.”
I furrowed my eyebrows as if to ask what she meant.
Stella took the chair next to me and set a cold hand over mine. “The pastor and his wife stopped by because they were concerned about me.”
“Why?” I asked innocently.
Joel Edwards, somewhat out of place in a simple polo shirt, answered. “Our home was broken into tonight. Nothing was stolen, but we wanted to check on the other members of the congregation in the neighborhood to make sure they were all safe.”
Hannah’s eyes went cold as she added, “and to warn them of the danger they are in.”
I fought a shiver against her icy demeanor. What had Stella done?
I pressed my lips together and smiled warmly. “Well, that was sure sweet of you both. Did you call the cops?”
“We prefer to take care of things ourselves,” Hannah replied.
“Surely you can let Uncle Shane come by and check things out,” I offered.
The third member of their company spoke up for the first time. “There is no need for a security check, I assure you. The house is secure.”
Not so secure that an old lady couldn’t break in, I thought.
The door rattled for a second and then Uncle Shane jogged into the dining room, service weapon in hand. For a second he just stared at our little group as if the scene did not compute.
Hannah broke the awkward silence. “Goodness, Stella! Was there anyone you didn’t call?”
The silence expanded exponentially. It was a game, a dangerous game where no one was willing to tip their hand but everyone understood the stakes.
“Well, we have other parishioners to see tonig
ht,” Joel said after a moment. His eyes darted to Uncle Shane’s gun for a moment as if to judge its gravity and threat level. We all stood at once as if every person in the room had a gun, when in reality it was just three of us as far as I could tell: Uncle Shane, myself and the hired bodyguard’s that made a slight ridge from the holster beneath his jacket. In a true Texas standoff, we would have backed to the door, weapons drawn as we covered ourselves against our imminent attack. But this was Washington, and there were pretenses to keep up. After a few quick goodbyes, they were gone.
When the headlights left the driveway, Aunt Stella collapsed into Uncle Shane’s arms, completely spent and overwhelmed. It took a while, but we finally convinced her to tell us what she had done.
“Dorothy had the idea to follow them home after service on Sunday. No one knew where they lived. It’s been this big secret until now, and it’s just at the end of our street. So Dorothy, Mary, and I went down there today just to scout it out a bit, and we saw no one was home. Mary’s husband has been in the business of alarm systems for years, so when she said she could break in—”
Uncle Shane pressed his hands over his ears. “I can’t be hearing this, Stella. You can’t be serious. You broke into their house?”
Stella’s nose scrunched up as she asked, “Is it breaking in if Mary bypassed the alarm?”
“Yes!” Uncle Shane and I yelled in unison.
My aunt’s shoulders fell in defeat. “I wanted to help Lindy. I found some papers in the main office, but I couldn’t make copies fast enough. They came home too quickly, and I had to get out.”
“How do they know it was you, Stella?” Uncle Shane asked, his eyes wide with worry.
Stella’s teeth showed as she tried to decide the best way to explain herself. “Well, we bypassed one alarm, but the silent alarm that trips the security cameras, we missed that one.”
Uncle Shane’s face went pale. “Stella, they have proof that you broke in.”
She puckered her lips. “They won’t use it. They don’t want cops in that house, not with the evidence I found.”
Caskets & Conspiracies Page 11