Journaled to Death

by Heather Redmond

  Fannah bustled out of the back room, carrying a plastic tub of biscotti, individually packaged nuts, and stroopwafels. ‘Don’t mind me. Without the baked goods we have been selling out of the packaged goods.’

  ‘Glad to see you back at work, Fannah,’ Dr Burrell said.

  She flashed the doctor a megawatt smile. ‘Me too, Stan. Yesterday was not a good day.’

  ‘No Kit?’

  ‘Still haven’t been able to reach her.’

  Mandy considered Fannah’s unusual friendliness. Was she watching a love connection develop between her boss and the increasingly handsome neonatologist?

  Dr Burrell paid for his coffee, nodded in Mandy’s direction, then strode off toward the elevators.

  ‘He works too hard,’ Fannah said. ‘Needs a good woman.’

  Mandy leaned over the counter. ‘You, maybe?’

  ‘Eh? I’m older than he is.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that we knew the actual ages of the doctors,’ Mandy teased.

  Fannah slotted in the biscotti. ‘Only the nice ones. He would be a prize for the right woman.’

  ‘And who is that?’

  Fannah fit in all but one of the nut packages. ‘Someone who can teach him that life is not all about work. Make a family with him. Unlike that Doctor O’Hottie, who is all about playtime.’

  ‘He’s gone, anyway,’ Mandy said.

  Fannah concentrated on sliding in the stroopwafels without bending the delicate caramel-filled concoctions. ‘Oh, he’ll be back.’

  ‘Really? After using drugs on the job?’

  ‘Doctors get special treatment.’ Fannah picked up her empty tub. ‘They have rehab programs that have up to a ninety-five percent success rate, close to double the success rate of less specialized programs.’

  ‘I guess it’s good to be a doctor.’

  Fannah curled her lip and walked back behind the coffee bar. ‘I wouldn’t want to be an addict and be around drugs all day.’

  ‘If rehab works they must figure out how to cope with it.’ Mandy turned, but Fannah had already disappeared from view into the back room. So much for their conversation. She sighed and pulled out her phone, ready to text Detective Ahola with the information Dr Burrell had recalled. But then a trio of surgical nurses approached and she had to shove her phone back into her pocket.

  When Mandy and Vellum checked statistics on Saturday morning while digging into the lattes and cinnamon chip scones that Cory had unwittingly provided with Vellum’s spending money, they discovered wonderful news. The March ‘Plan with Me’ video, with its minimalist snowdrop theme, was a huge success.

  ‘I’ll start up the printers and cutters,’ Vellum said.

  Mandy wiped her hands on a napkin. ‘I have a bunch of snowdrop stickers ready, but I’m guessing we need at least double what I prepped. It’s going to be a long, loud day.’

  Vellum snapped her fingers. ‘That’s what I like. Vellum wants a car someday.’

  ‘Vellum had better stop speaking about herself in the third person, like her father,’ Mandy said. ‘Terrible habit.’

  ‘It’s very insincere,’ Vellum agreed. ‘Why did you marry him again?’

  ‘I was pregnant,’ Mandy said, gathering their garbage.

  ‘How did that happen?’

  Mandy turned in the doorway, the crumbs, cup and napkin-filled sack still in her hands. ‘You’ve never asked me that before.’

  ‘I’m getting older.’

  Mandy looked, really looked, at Vellum. When had she grown so big? She must be a couple of inches taller than Mandy now, even without those boots she loved. And her hair framed her lovely, heart-shaped face with heartbreaking grace. Vellum didn’t like praise about her appearance, since she only saw her dusting of teenage acne when she looked in the mirror, but she was a stunner. Were boys already trying to take her to bed?

  ‘I know you are,’ Mandy agreed. ‘I was dating your father. On and off for two years. He never took anything or anyone very seriously, but he seemed charming in those days.’

  ‘He married you.’

  Mandy nodded. ‘Surprisingly. I think his family wanted their heir born into wedlock. Your grandmother is very old-fashioned.’

  Vellum sniffed. ‘She never talks about my future career, just my future husband. At least she expects me to find him in college.’

  ‘You’re in a rare position of having college completely funded.’

  ‘As long as I don’t mess anything up with them,’ Vellum said in a small voice.

  Mandy gave her a moment to gather her thoughts while she dumped the trash and washed her hands. ‘What’s up?’ she asked when she returned.

  Vellum cleared her throat and pulled a freshly printed sticker page from the printer and loaded it to the cutting board. ‘Just that Grandma is really critical. She wants to buy me a new wardrobe and a really expensive and time-consuming skincare line.’

  ‘Ah,’ Mandy said. ‘Free stuff.’

  Vellum glared. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not anything I want and she wants to throw out what I love, like my boots. And Dad hates her.’

  ‘Hate is a strong word.’

  ‘He’s capable of it. You should have heard what he said about you last year, and then about Ryan when he moved in.’

  Mandy’s nerves sent painful pinpricks into her hands. ‘What did he say about Ryan?’

  ‘He didn’t think the two of you would survive living together,’ Vellum explained.

  Mandy’s jaw tightened. ‘Was it a comment or a threat?’

  ‘He said he thought he and Ryan would come to blows. Remember all that drama over those bar glasses? And that was only what we saw.’ Vellum set the sticker sheet into the cutter then met Mandy’s eyes. ‘You don’t think Dad killed Ryan, do you?’

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘Of course not,’ Mandy said automatically. ‘Your father wouldn’t kill Ryan.’

  ‘Are you sure? I know you want to believe Reese did it, but what are the chances? I mean, business is great,’ Vellum said, pointing at the clattering machines, ‘but it’s not that big of a deal.’

  Mandy sighed. ‘I have no idea who killed Ryan. I feel like I’m failing him, like I’m missing something.’

  ‘You already work two jobs,’ Vellum said. ‘Give yourself a break.’

  ‘I don’t want a break. Most certainly not one from you.’ She hoped Cory never learned that his daughter considered him capable of murder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’

  ‘I only lost a couple of hours of pay,’ Mandy told her. ‘I’m already back at the coffee counter. You don’t need to worry about my finances.’

  Vellum nodded. ‘That’s great, but like you said, I need to stay in Grandma’s good graces. If I come back here after one day, I’m not going to look very responsible.’

  ‘You aren’t coming back?’

  Vellum closed her eyes. Mandy could tell she was prepping for a negotiation. She knew this precious young woman so well.

  ‘I’ll come back when Ryan’s killer is found,’ Vellum said. ‘You should talk to the police.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Mandy exclaimed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I forgot to call Detective Ahola about the drug dealer.’ She quickly explained what Dr Burrell had told her, then called and left a message on the detective’s phone. ‘OK, let’s get back to making money.’

  They worked until dinner time on Saturday, then Mandy drove Vellum back to the Moffats and returned home. That evening, when Mandy needed a break from her own thoughts, she busied herself with liking and responding to comments on her video page about March, and taking suggestions for the April video, which of course she’d already filmed. However, lots of people were asking for tulips, and she’d done cherry blossoms.

  She ignored it all and went to bed. Vellum had to be picked up at eight so they could put in another full day before Sunday dinner with her grandmother.

  Early on Sunday afternoon, Mandy took a break and returned to the video comments. By t
he fortieth comment begging for tulips, she dropped her head into her hands and moaned.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Vellum asked, as she used a sponge to close a set of twenty envelopes stuffed with the snowdrop kit.

  ‘Everyone wants tulips, not cherry blossoms. Even Reese wants me to do a tulip theme for April.’

  ‘The April video is entirely finished.’

  ‘I could do a second one. The question is, would that bring more income for more work, or just double the work and split the business?’

  Vellum shrugged. ‘You won’t know until you try. I can handle the orders we have left. Why don’t you find some reference photos and do some sketching?’

  On Monday, Mandy’s coffee bar customers were in a chatty mood. She welcomed the distraction, rubbing at her aching arms while they gossiped about the shutdown, the disgraced nurses, the extra shifts others would have to work as a result. The maintenance department was busy replacing lightbulbs all over the hospital, which always went out in waves.

  Scott, minion-free for once, appeared just after Mandy’s lunch break. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Can’t complain,’ Mandy said, wishing she’d taken a painkiller at lunch to counteract the hours of sketching she’d done yesterday. She still hadn’t decided whether she’d release the tulip kit after nailing down a color scheme, or just do a cute sticker sheet matched with her new pastel weekly headers and number sets.

  ‘Well, I can. Give me your largest coffee.’

  Mandy pointed to the bucket of bulbs in his hand. ‘Bucket of coffee?’

  ‘Got that much in your urns?’

  ‘I can check,’ Mandy said. ‘If you’re serious.’

  ‘Nah. Just give me a twenty-ounce cup. It will get cold eventually, anyway.’

  Mandy nodded and rang him up, then handed him the cup.

  ‘So what’s going on with you? Why so down in the dumps?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not down.’

  Scott narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I walk by you a dozen times a day, Mandy. That isn’t your happy face.’

  She shrugged. ‘Vellum went to stay with her dad for a while. I hate it.’

  ‘That sucks,’ Scott agreed, setting his bulb bucket on the counter. He held up his cup. ‘Do you have fresher coffee than what’s in the urns?’

  ‘I can make you an Americano instead? Fresh espresso with hot water?’

  ‘Deal.’

  She took the cup back and went to the machine.

  ‘I miss my kids, too,’ Scott said as she worked. ‘I got divorced about a year before you started working here.’

  ‘I didn’t realize it was that recent,’ Mandy said.

  ‘Oh yeah. I hated not being able to see my kids every day after that.’ He wiped his forehead with a rag he kept tucked into his back pocket. ‘I mean, you work hard to earn money to take care of them, and then you can’t even see them? Not fair.’

  ‘Life isn’t,’ Mandy agreed, inserting the espresso filter holder into the machine.

  ‘How are you going to get her back?’ Scott asked.

  ‘Patience,’ Mandy said. ‘Cory will screw up eventually. He always does.’

  ‘Kind of a loose cannon that guy, right?’

  ‘You know my ex?’

  ‘Ryan bitched about him a lot. I think they had words a few times behind your back.’

  Mandy finished Scott’s drink and capped it. ‘You’re the second person to mention tensions between Ryan and Cory recently. I don’t know what to do about that.’

  ‘Tell the police.’

  ‘He’s my daughter’s father,’ Mandy said.

  ‘You have to let them do their job.’ Scott lifted his cup and sauntered away with his bulb bucket.

  Mandy sighed and tried to visualize her lazy ex as a killer. Wouldn’t murder be too much work? Ryan hadn’t just been pushed down a flight of stairs. He’d been hit with a hammer.

  As she considered the facts, she realized she just might not want to believe that her own ex-husband would try to set her up as a suspect by putting a planner under Ryan’s body. Could he really be that evil? Did he really want custody of his daughter that much?

  ‘Earth to Mandy …’

  Mandy startled. She glanced up. It took her a second to recognize Detective Ahola. ‘Sorry. Woolgathering.’ She forced a smile. ‘What brings you to the USea coffee bar?’

  He held up his phone. ‘You called?’

  ‘I didn’t mean for you to come over here. I just thought you should know there really was a drug dealer in the hospital. The story I heard was from two years ago, at least, but obviously the nurses are getting drugs now.’

  He sighed. ‘Yeah. Let me know who it is as soon as you figure it out. I’ll pass the information along to the right department.’

  She handed him a cup. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Sure. But I need lunch. What have you got?’

  She gestured to the refrigerator case. ‘There are a few sandwiches down there.’ He grabbed an egg salad on whole wheat, and she rang him up.

  ‘Anything else?’ he asked.

  She hesitated, but after he narrowed his eyes at her, she spoke. ‘Does my ex-husband have an alibi?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘My daughter and Ryan’s supervisor both mentioned tensions,’ Mandy admitted. ‘Nothing I really knew about.’

  ‘Head in the sand?’

  She shrugged and took the cash he offered her. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

  He took his change. ‘I’ll look into it. Thanks.’

  She hesitated. ‘I was hoping you could tell me he had an alibi.’

  He smiled at her. ‘The protective type? I admire that, but I’m sorry, I can’t discuss it.’

  Her lips trembled. ‘I wouldn’t want the father of my daughter to be that bad of a person.’

  He dropped coins into the ‘take a penny, leave a penny’ dish. ‘Of course not. But it’s tough to get an alibi for someone who doesn’t work and who claims to have been home with his mother at the time of a death. You see my problem?’ He winked and strode away.

  Mandy took a deep breath, realizing she’d been starving herself of air. Cory had been investigated, and he did have an alibi. Sort of. She didn’t think his mother was the most intelligent of women, so it would be rather easy to catch her in a lie if the police tried. But had they?

  Mandy checked her phone at the end of her shift and discovered a text from her mother, asking her to drop by. With nothing better to do, she texted back saying she’d be there as soon as traffic permitted.

  She clocked out and went through the main hospital door. A gust of wind hit her hard, right outside of the sliding glass doors. The tall buildings of the hospital and other large structures nearby created their own weather systems.

  She shivered and reached for her gloves, balled up in her coat pockets. As she fumbled to pull them on with icy fingers, a woman walked up the sidewalk toward the main entrance. She looked familiar.

  Faux fur coat, skinny legs in motorcycle leggings and scuffed boots. What was Alexis Ivanova doing here at the hospital?

  On the other side of the street, a classic sports car came out of the parking garage and turned into the passenger drop-off lane. Alexis, not noticing Mandy, trotted up to the car as it pulled to a stop.

  Mandy’s eyes widened as Scott opened the door and climbed out. She’d never heard the maintenance supervisor talk about being a car aficionado, but the cherry red paint and perfect exterior spoke of hours of loving maintenance.

  Alexis put her arms around Scott’s neck. He gave her an awkward one-armed hug, walked her around the car, then shut the door after she climbed in.

  The gentlemanly gesture, if not the hug, gave the appearance of a date. What was that about? How had they even met? Here, probably. Maybe Alexis had met Ryan during his lunch breaks or picked him up after work. Still, she seemed a poor choice for Scott.

  ‘There’s no accounting for attraction,’ Mandy said aloud, startling a man pushing his post-partum
wife in a wheelchair.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She smiled. ‘Congratulations.’

  He grinned at her as a sedan pulled up next to them. ‘It’s a boy.’

  She congratulated him again and headed toward the parking garage and her own car. The rain held off long enough to keep traffic snarls from forming and she made good time to her mother’s house, parking there instead of driving across the street to her own house.

  Her mother, looking chic in a sweater dress and dark hose, embraced her warmly when Mandy arrived at her front door. ‘Back to work so soon? I walked over to your house before I texted you and was surprised to find it empty.’

  ‘If only the entire work drama hadn’t happened.’ Mandy’s eyes welled up. ‘Vellum went to the Moffats after the layoff news.’

  ‘I know, sweetie. She texted me.’ Her mother hugged her again, then led her into the kitchen, where a fat-bellied turquoise pot of tea waited in the center of the small table. Mandy took a seat and her mother set a plate with two frosted brownies next to the cream pitcher.

  ‘Linda?’ Mandy asked, nodding at the plate.

  Her mother sat and leaned forward, as if to confide. ‘I freeze most of them. She delivers here when you aren’t home.’

  Mandy chuckled and put one on a delicate porcelain plate rimmed in silver. ‘Using your wedding service?’

  ‘Life is too short. I never used these because I was too scared of breaking them, but what’s the point of worrying now?’ She lifted the teapot and filled both of their glasses with oolong.

  Mandy considered her mother’s change of heart. ‘Birthday woes?’

  Her mother wiggled her shoulders. ‘Sixty-seven in a few days. I have to tell you that sixty-seven does not feel like the new forty.’

  Mandy stared at the delicate plate, knowing each one was imbued with the hopes and well wishes of everyone who’d chosen them off the wedding registry for her parents back in the early 1980s. ‘I know, Mom. We’ve found ourselves single again at the same time, and I hate that.’

  Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘I’m happy to remain single. Are the men your age as disgusting as those my age?’