Journaled to Death

by Heather Redmond

  ‘It might be obvious,’ she argued.

  Scott drummed his fingers on his desk. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but you need to relax. Want to get a drink tonight after work? Maybe several?’ He grinned.

  Was he asking her out? ‘I can’t be out again tonight. I had dinner out last night and had to leave Vellum with my mom.’

  ‘That’s protective. She’s old enough to be alone.’

  Mandy didn’t like his snide tone. ‘Really? My cousin was murdered in my house a week ago. Anyway, my break is over in thirty seconds. Gotta run.’

  ‘Some other time,’ Scott called behind her as she walked out.

  Or not. She stepped out from the employee corridor and into the main floor of the hospital. From a distance, she saw Dr O’Halloran moving toward the coffee bar, matching her step for step. He was with a female colleague, a prominent colon and rectal surgeon in her early sixties.

  If Mandy was being honest with herself, she might have accepted a date with this guy, if he’d asked instead of Scott, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen today. She darted through the door and made it to the cash register just before the surgeons arrived.

  ‘What can I get you today, Doctor O’Halloran and Doctor Garcia?’

  They cut off a conversation about fissures just before Mandy would have heard a great deal more than she would have wanted.

  ‘Sixteen-ounce coffee,’ Dr Garcia said, rearranging her surgical cap on her short, graying curls.

  Mandy nodded. ‘And for you?’

  ‘Quad shot. Make it quick today, Mandy, we’ve got a schedule to keep.’

  Mandy tapped the card reader so Dr Garcia could make her payment, then quickly put in Dr O’Hottie’s order. The surgeon’s intense mood made her wonder if he was doing some kind of complex procedure for the first time. She handed Dr Garcia a large cup, then started pulling shots for the espresso drink.

  As Dr Garcia poured three French vanilla creamers into her coffee, she passed Dr O’Hottie’s cup to him. The other surgeon turned back to him and said something about fissures again, and they strolled off together. Mandy’s gaze followed them as she instinctively compared Dr O’Hottie’s shape to Detective Ahola’s.

  Then she saw it. Oh, no. Dangling from Dr O’Hottie’s hand was a biscotti, sealed into the plastic packaging of the brand they carried. He must have grabbed it from their counter. ‘Doctor?’ she called, but they didn’t turn. ‘Doctor?’ No answer.

  She darted around the counter and ran past the elevators, catching up with the surgeons in front of the volunteer station. ‘Doctor O’Halloran?’

  He turned around. Dr Garcia stopped and stared at Mandy, puzzlement on her face.

  Mandy, out of breath, pointed to the biscotti package. ‘I’m very sorry, but I didn’t ring that up.’

  The attractive surgeon stared at her. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘The biscotti? It’s from the coffee bar. I must have missed you telling me to ring it up. It’s a dollar ninety-five. Ummm … two dollars thirteen cents with tax.’

  ‘I need to get to surgery, Mandy,’ the surgeon said, staring past her ear.

  She worried her lip. ‘I’ll pay for it for now. Can you bring me the money when you’re out of surgery?’

  Dr Garcia reached into her scrubs and pulled out a five-dollar bill. ‘Keep the change for the charity fund.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ Mandy said. Her cheeks were on fire. She turned away, careful not to look at Dr O’Hottie again, but her gaze caught on the volunteer desk and she realized that four of the senior citizen volunteers were perched there, staring at the scene with avid amusement. She wanted to crawl into the farthest corner of Scott’s sepulcher of an office and hide.

  She’d broken an unspoken rule of the hospital: never second-guess a doctor. Whether she could afford it or not, she should have paid for it, or at least told Fannah. This would have been a great time for a working camera. Not that it would have helped, to prove she was right. No one cared about two bucks in comparison to insulting a surgeon, possibly in front of his own patients.

  The hospital administration would not want anyone losing confidence. Mandy chomped down on her lip until it hurt. She knew she’d have to confess all to Fannah.

  But Fannah had taken away her opportunity to get ahead of the problem. She met Mandy’s gaze from behind the pick-up block. ‘What are you doing in the middle of the entrance hall?’

  Mandy held up the five-dollar bill. ‘Retrieving payment for a biscotti. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’

  ‘From who?’ Fannah demanded.

  Mandy pulled her shoulders back and forced herself to meet Fannah’s gaze. ‘I’m sorry. A surgeon. I’m very on edge and I just reacted from instinct.’

  ‘You aren’t to exit from behind the counter during your shift,’ Fannah said, snatching the money from her hand. ‘Do you hear me? I’m going to write this up as a formal warning.’

  Mandy squeezed her eyes shut for a second. If an employee received three formal warnings, they were terminated. She’d threatened her job over a freaking cookie. ‘Please, Fannah, don’t do that. I’ll remember.’

  Fannah glared at Mandy as she set two lemonade iced teas on the pick-up block. ‘You can’t embarrass a surgeon. His department head would be fully in his rights to come to me. I have to document what happened.’

  Mandy sighed. ‘I know.’ Why hadn’t she paid for it herself? She could have spoken to Dr O’Hottie the next time he stopped by.

  Fannah marched away. Her customers didn’t meet Mandy’s eyes as they reached for their drinks.

  She forced herself to go back to her post behind the counter, just in time for two of the help-desk volunteers to show up, excitement obvious, to order small coffees and gossip about what she’d done.

  Feeling sick, she took their orders robotically, and didn’t respond to their questions about the biscotti. One of them picked up a wrapped cookie, managing to break it in half in the process, then slammed it roughly back into the plastic holder. Mandy didn’t say anything, just took their crumpled dollar bills and handed them their cups. She bored the volunteers into leaving her alone, while in the back, Fannah wrote up a formal warning for her embarrassing a thief of a surgeon. Ugh. What had she done?

  ELEVEN

  Mandy woke at four a.m. the next morning. Her toes felt like little icicles. She hopped on the cold floorboards to the thermometer. Somehow, she’d turned the heat off, or not turned it on. Shaking with cold, she pulled on a robe and thick socks and went into the kitchen. She wouldn’t be able to sleep again, but if she rattled around, she’d wake up Vellum.

  After making a cup of coffee as quietly as she could, she went into her art studio. The feeling of desperation she’d had yesterday as she ran after Dr O’Hottie returned. She needed to take control of her financial life without letting the strain show at the hospital.

  ‘You need to find a job where you aren’t in danger of having to cover errors and theft with your own money,’ she said aloud. Sitting down at her computer, she hunted around in her files until she found the footage for a journaling tools video. She’d done the shoot and edited it the last time Vellum had spent a full Saturday with her father, and had meant to record some footage with Vellum discussing her own tools.

  Instead, she’d put up her own video now and do a part two with Vellum later. That would hopefully bring her some social media income. It might even sell some stickers.

  Mandy opened her software and fine-tuned the video, cutting any sections that seemed awkward, and speeding up the action, ensuring the viewers wouldn’t get bored. Watching herself demonstrating how she used various pens, papers, templates, paint and more, she took notes.

  Finally, she set up the video in front of her and recorded a voiceover. At six, she ran into the bathroom and slapped on her makeup, then recorded an intro and an outro. After that, she started the process of loading the video to the social media site while she got Vellum up for school and finished readying herself for work.

/>   While Vellum ate breakfast and she nibbled on toast, she took a picture of the loading screen and posted it to the social media photo site, so her fans would know a new video was coming.

  When she returned from work, she’d update her website and do a better job with notifying social media, but for now, she’d done what she could. Her hundred thousand subscribers on the video channel would receive notice when the video had loaded. Hopefully they would watch and she’d add another couple of hundred dollars a month income-producing video to her portfolio.

  ‘Are you OK, Mom?’ Vellum peered into the art studio.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I heard you moan.’ Vellum frowned at her.

  Mandy leaned back in her chair and heard her back pop. ‘I’ve been up since four. I didn’t realize how sore I was.’

  ‘You’re working too hard.’

  ‘I need to.’

  ‘You need to advertise for a new tenant. Can’t you make Jasmine take Ryan’s stuff?’

  Mandy picked up the phone. ‘I’ll send her another harassing text.’

  ‘Would it be easier for us to load everything up and deliver it to her?’

  Mandy laughed darkly. ‘We’d have to rent a truck to do that. I don’t want to spend the money.’

  Vellum nodded. ‘I hear you. I’ve got to run to the bus stop.’

  Mandy stood creakily and gave Vellum a kiss on the forehead. ‘Be alert to your surroundings. Want me to walk with you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be safe.’ Vellum blew her a kiss and walked away.

  Mandy knew she’d regret getting up so early in a few hours, but at least she worked somewhere with tasty caffeine readily available.

  Mandy saw Reese heading toward her just before the end-of-shift rush. As usual, she looked more stylish than other nurses, despite wearing scrubs. Did she have them tailored? Her dark hair hung around her shoulders in perfect waves, and she wore more makeup than Mandy had put on for her video shoot, though Mandy had to admit that Reese’s eyelashes might actually be that lush without the use of false lashes.

  ‘I saw your new video,’ Reese cooed.

  ‘Oh, good. I haven’t had a break yet so I didn’t know if it finished loading.’ She’d been afraid to ask for one after yesterday. Fannah would probably tell her to use the time to read and sign her formal warning anyway, but she’d barely seen her supervisor.

  Reese shook her head. ‘Tsk, tsk, dear. You shouldn’t broadcast that you use such cheap pens.’

  ‘Why not?’ Mandy put her hand on her hip. ‘I’m happy to pass along a tip that you don’t have to pay for expensive pens to have a vibrant journal.’

  Reese shook her head slightly. ‘That brand doesn’t give vloggers freebies, Mandy. And without freebies, you have to pay for your own giveaways. Don’t you want sponsorships? They can make all the difference.’

  ‘I haven’t thought about it. I’d rather be known as an honest content producer.’

  ‘Also, it’s a fact that those pens don’t last as long as one of the more expensive brands,’ Reese continued.

  ‘But the ink is gorgeous. I’ve never seen a prettier purple, or a yellow that is so visible on the page,’ Mandy argued.

  Reese sighed. ‘I don’t care what you use, dear, but I suggest you promote the other brands. You didn’t even add a giveaway. That’s going to hurt your chance of going viral.’

  Mandy nodded. ‘You’re right about that. I made the decision to finish the video in a panic this morning. It isn’t in the form I meant it to have.’

  Reese fluttered her eyelashes. ‘I could tell.’

  Now Mandy felt anxious. ‘Do I have a bunch of thumbs down on it?’ Should she take the video down?

  Reese glanced up at the security camera. ‘Only two when I looked.’

  Mandy waited. ‘Any other stats?’

  ‘A couple of hundred thumbs up. Something under five thousand views.’

  Mandy’s eyebrows went up. ‘Already? But that’s fantastic.’

  ‘All those girls who don’t have a sweetheart to prep for on Valentine’s Day,’ Reese said carelessly. ‘Who else would have the time to watch?’

  ‘I get a lot of school-aged viewers,’ Mandy explained. ‘Because of Vellum. And school is out for half the country by now.’

  ‘Then why wasn’t Vellum in the video?’ Reese asked.

  ‘Because I put it up in a panic to earn money?’

  Reese feigned sympathy. ‘About to be fired after yesterday’s drama?’

  ‘Heard about that, did you?’ Mandy asked, knowing perfectly well the gossip was all over the complex. In fact, she estimated that coffee bar sales were up twenty percent just so people could check out the nobody who’d dared to insult a surgeon. No sign of Dr O’Hottie today, either. At least he hadn’t come to gloat. On the other hand, she hadn’t been able to apologize.

  ‘Everybody has.’ Reese smiled brightly at her. ‘You have to follow the pecking order around here, dear.’

  Mandy took a deep breath. She had to change the subject or she was going to strangle Reese and really land herself in trouble. ‘Did you want to buy something? I hear our biscotti is delicious.’

  Reese smirked. ‘Such a comedian. I don’t think my delicate system can tolerate any of your lard bombs, much less caffeine. Do you have any herbal tea?’

  Mandy pointed down the counter. ‘Hot water and tea bags are down there. I just charge you and hand you a paper cup.’

  Reese’s lips turned down. ‘You could offer teapots. Much more elegant.’

  ‘Where do you think you are?’ Mandy asked.

  Fannah walked up behind her. ‘Did you ever get your lunch break?’

  ‘No.’

  Fannah tsked. ‘It’s after two. What were you thinking?’

  I was thinking that this was how you were punishing me for yesterday.

  Fannah shooed her. ‘Go, go. Be back in half an hour.’

  ‘Should I ring up a tea?’ Mandy asked Reese.

  ‘No, just walk with me.’

  ‘Hang on a sec.’ Mandy went into the back room and clocked out. Unsurprisingly, she found a sealed envelope with her name on it in her cubby hole. This must be the formal warning. She stuck it in her purse and went back to Reese. ‘I did want to ask you a couple of things.’

  ‘What?’

  Mandy took Reese’s arm and pulled her toward the elevator up to the sky bridge that led to the parking garage. When she was out of earshot of anyone, she asked, ‘Do you know anything about a drug dealer at the hospital?’

  Reese shook her head and pointed to a couple of chairs perched along a wall. ‘Since I work in the office building, I probably wouldn’t know what goes on over here. I almost never use the cafeteria.’

  ‘Or the coffee bar,’ Mandy said. ‘Well, I think there is one.’

  ‘Why do you care?’ Reese smoothed a long curl, then wrapped it around her index finger.

  ‘Might have something to do with Ryan’s death.’

  ‘I ran into your mother the other day and she was convinced his boyfriend or his girlfriend had done it.’

  ‘They have Linda Bhatt as an alibi. She saw them leave ten minutes before she heard the sirens.’

  ‘Is it solid?’

  ‘Not from that alone.’ Mandy thought. ‘Linda left five minutes after they did. Which gives them five minutes to have doubled back and killed Ryan. Maybe that’s why the police don’t seriously suspect me.’

  ‘I don’t understand why you aren’t trying harder to solve the crime yourself. After all, it’s costing you a lot of money to live without a tenant.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that. Besides, I want justice for Ryan.’ Mandy pulled the envelope from her bag. ‘I think this is my formal warning writeup from yesterday. Think I’m about to lose my job and my health insurance?’

  Reese plucked the envelope from Mandy’s fingers and sliced it open with a sharp acrylic fingernail. She bent her head over the two sheets of paper. ‘It’s your lucky day.’

  Mandy
’s heart fluttered. ‘It’s not a formal warning?’

  Reese shook her head. ‘Doctor O’Hottie wrote an apology note for accidentally taking the cookie. The second sheet is a note for your file, but it’s just documentation, not a warning.’

  Mandy’s eyes widened. ‘I wonder if having Doctor Garcia there saved my bacon. She’s such a lady.’

  ‘Yeah. I wouldn’t put it past the average surgeon to have a tantrum, but she’s a legend. All class.’

  Their eyes met. Reese folded the papers back into the envelope and handed them to her. ‘What?’

  Mandy stuffed them into her purse. ‘Strange. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but I have to ask you something.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were you in my basement recently? I found a sticky note with your logo on it.’

  Reese frowned. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘So that’s a no?’ Mandy asked.

  ‘Of course. I gave out those sticky notes all over the hospital and our neighborhood to advertise my business.’ She spread her hands wide.

  ‘OK then. You’re sure you never hung out with Ryan?’

  Reese snorted. ‘I only date successful Hindu men. Mostly men that my mother’s matchmaker sets me up with. I’d never have spent time with your cousin.’

  Mandy nodded. ‘Sorry I had to ask.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  ‘It’s not just the sticky note. I found cat hair on Ryan’s recliner and I know you have a cat with long white hair.’

  ‘That’s not unusual.’

  ‘No, but it’s not like a stranger killed him. It has to be someone I know.’

  ‘Even so, you’re grasping at straws. The cat hair probably wasn’t left by the killer.’

  Mandy rubbed her hands together and put her palms over her eyes. They still felt gritty from her early morning hours in front of the computer this morning.

  Reese patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t fall apart on me now, Mandili. You can’t seriously suspect me.’

  Mandy lifted her head from her hands. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m like a younger, savvier version of you, and you’re no killer.’ Reese wiggled her shoulders. ‘You even had a rich husband for a while there.’