Murder Takes a Dare: The First Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 1)

by Jada Ryker

  Alex slid to Marisa’s other side. “I was writing my doctoral thesis on the behaviors and interactions of strip club customers and dancers. Since I had less chance of getting close to the dancers than of a ground hog crossing a busy interstate, I needed Marisa as a pass to the tightly guarded inner circle of exotic dancers.”

  “And the reason for Ms. Adair’s abrupt cessation of visits was…?”

  Alex shrugged. “I finished my thesis.”

  The lieutenant’s next comment was like a paw swiping Alex. “Your thesis must have exhausted Ms. Adair, since she missed work after her last visit to the club.”

  Marisa felt Alex draw a deep breath. “Her hiatus from work was completely unrelated to her help with my thesis.”

  In that instant, Marisa was positive Alex knew she’d spent the time in an inpatient rehab facility. Before rehab, she’d consistently taken off early on Fridays, been in late or not at all on Mondays, and barely managed to do her job by the seat of her pants. After rehab, she’d returned with school marm clothing, a zest for her work, and perfect attendance. She might as well put a flashing neon sign on her forehead.

  “Thank you, Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad, for riding to my rescue.” She wondered if she’d get arrested for assault if she knocked their heads together in front of the law. “It’s not necessary for you to cover for me. For one thing, I think it’s a bad idea to lie to the person in charge of a murder investigation. For another, I think Lieutenant Camden already knows what you both are trying so hard to keep from him.” Marisa stepped forward toward the lawman and away from her protectors. “I spent the time in rehab for chemical dependency.”

  Lieutenant Camden sketched a bow. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  Marisa was surprised the statement was devoid of sarcasm.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re guilty of anything other than being a thorn in my side. I’m basing my conclusion on several points. For one, I’ve had the three of you under surveillance since the murder of Jonah Graham. Therefore, I know for sure none of you killed those two punks.” The corner of Camden’s mouth lifted. “Second, you’re right, Jacobs is an asshole. While he was at the police station, he pointed out several areas of my station that need to be changed, improved, or cut out, in his words, like diseased body parts. He even keyed his ideas in that handheld device of his. In other words, he put my back up.”

  Alex lifted a brow. “I’m sensing a third reason on your list—”

  Camden grinned, dropping years from his weary face. “You’re too big of a pain in the ass to be anything but innocent.”

  One of the police officers shouted for the lieutenant. Before the lawman turned away, he pinned them in his stern glare. “Go to the police station and give your statements. Don’t leave town.” He turned back. “And stay out of my investigations.”

  Russell glanced at Alex, who was growling under his breath. “Calm down, Alex. Just be thankful Lieutenant Camden didn’t haul you off to an interrogation room. Besides, we’re going to find the real murderer.”

  Russell started the Jeep, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Marisa leaned back, listening to the hum of the tires on the road. “At least they’re going to investigate the links to the club. From what he said, Jonah must have seen Jacobs at the club. And now we know Zoe and Bobby Ray both worked there. It can’t be coincidence.”

  “There are hints of big amounts of cash involved. Do those hints point to the auditor?” His glasses catching the fading afternoon sun, Russell glanced in the rearview mirror. “And what do we do now?”

  A voice from the cargo area of Russell’s Jeep answered, “I have a suggestion.”

  “What the hell?” Russell jerked the wheel of the Jeep. Gravel flew as he hit the shoulder of the road in a fishtail and ground to a halt.

  Her blonde hair tousled, Esther placidly stared back at them from the cargo space, her icy blue eyes calm and direct. “Our first item of business needs to be Russell telling you his real name and occupation.”

  Marisa jerked upright in her seat. “Esther! What are you doing back there? And what do you mean by Russell’s real name and occupation?”

  Esther stared at Russell.

  “Russell?” Marisa was uncertain. “What is she talking about?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “I ran your fingerprints from those you left in Jonah’s apartment. They belong to Parvis Stidham, the investigative reporter for the website Maximum Exposure Dot Com.”

  Marisa couldn’t breathe. She felt as if the air had been slammed out of her chest. Parvis Stidham. The man who had written the exposé on her addiction group.

  Alex was bewildered. “What are you talking about? I’ve been on that website. This guy doesn’t look like the photo of Parvis Stidham.”

  “Ask him to remove those black plastic glasses. Those chunky frames hide half his face.” Like an energetic terrier, Esther rummaged in her bag. “Here are wet wipes to remove his make-up.” She leaned forward past the numb Marisa to give them to Alex. “And I believe he’s got a pillow or cushion of some sort strapped under that baggy shirt. Then, have him stand up straight, imagine his hair grown out, and voila!”

  “Parvis Stidham. Infamous author of the exposé on my addiction support group. I wondered how you knew about my group. You knew from your investigations.” She was mad enough to bite a ten-penny nail in two. Her eyes filling with hot tears of anger and something else she didn’t want to identify, she fumbled opened her door. “You exploited a troubled young woman and weaseled information out of her. Now I am sure people are easily solving your pathetic little clues, and they know who you’re talking about. Do you know how many lives you’ve left in tatters with your so-called investigative reporting? And now this…pretending to help us find Jonah and Zoe’s murderer…it’s all been for another story, hasn’t it?” Marisa fumbled open the door.

  Agile as a teenager, Esther hopped over the seat and joined her on the pavement. Alex jerked his door open to stand with the two women. His face was white in the sunshine, and his fists were clenched. “Is that true? Did you trick us, lie to us to get material for your ‘story’? You asshole.” Alex slammed the door so hard it rocked the Jeep.

  Parvis jumped out to confront the three accusing faces. His mouth opened, and then closed. He pulled off the chunky black glasses, revealing eyes as blue and clear as sapphires in the summer sun. “You’re overreacting, Marisa. Think about it for a second. You have to terminate people as part of your job. Alex, you have to develop a realistic budget forecast, which affects the number of people the hospital employs. I write investigative reports.” He shrugged, bewildered at the brouhaha.

  “You just don’t get it, do you? Sierra is an addict…when you used your false charm and flattery on her to get what you wanted, it’s the same as giving an alcoholic booze.” Marisa turned to Esther. “I just want to go home.”

  Parvis threw up his hands. “Fine. Everyone get in and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” He slammed back into his vehicle.

  Esther touched Marisa’s arm. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  Blinking back tears, Marisa looked up and down the street. “Where’s your car?”

  Esther pointed to an ungainly bus, parked at the end of the street. “I timed my appearance from the back so Parvis would stop near my ride.”

  Alex gaped. “Where did you get a bus?”

  “I borrowed it, and I need to get it back rather soon. I have to put it back in its place at the nursing home before it’s time for the driver to take the load of visitors back to the senior citizens’ center.”

  “You stole a bus used to transport the elderly?” Alex’s face reflected amazement and a touch of admiration.

  Esther rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Hill, the nursing home administrator, had my car towed from the nursing home lot. So I had to get creative.”

  As Marisa climbed on the bus, she watched Russell, no, his name was Parvis, squeal away in his je
ep.

  “I have another reason for taking you to the nursing home.” Esther carefully pulled the huge bus into the street, and accelerated smoothly. “It’s time for all of the detectives investigating this murder to join forces.”

  “All the detectives?” Alex’s voice lifted in inquiry.

  Marisa ignored them both. “Wait a minute! What was Russell—I mean Parvis—doing working as a payroll coordinator at the nursing home?”

  “He wanted to gather information about Jonah’s murder for his online story—”

  Marisa catapulted out of her seat. She had to grab the back of the seat in front of her to keep from flying across the aisle with Esther’s swinging turn of the bus. “He started working at the nursing home before Jonah’s murder!”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Althea stared at the white paper in her typewriter, her mind crowded with questions. Murders. Ghost sightings. Clay…and Esther. She was a beautiful and exciting woman. Althea frowned. There was chemistry or history or something, between the two of them. Althea resolutely placed her fingers on the worn typewriter keys and turned her mind back to her story.

  As the Crow Flies

  By Seretha Ranier

  Part Three

  “Take what the crow offers, Mr. Corvus?” Fresna smoothed the wrinkles out of the bedspread, moving around the bed to ensure all the edges were even. She stumbled when her foot bumped into the old straw handbag next Mr. Corvus’ chair. She frowned. With the wicker frayed and sticking out, it looked more like a disorganized bird’s nest than a bag. “Live happily ever after? What are you talking about?”

  Mr. Corvus touched Fresna’s arm with his firm, yet gentle, fingers. “The enchantment born of the violent storm and intense sunshine will dissipate soon, my dear. Go out onto the patio now. Look upon the raven’s magic reflected in the pool of water in the birdbath.”

  If any belief in “happily ever after” remained in Fresna’s tender heart, her dreary, day-to-day reality had blasted it into oblivion long ago.

  “Mr. Corvus, I am a middle-aged, married, personal care attendant. My job is to take care of the residents’ soiled beds, wet diapers, and do my best to avoid Mrs. Stith’s strong jaws and sharp teeth. When I’m at home, I have to pick up empty beer cans, prepare hot meals... which are not appreciated... and keep quiet so I do not disturb my husband while he plays his beloved video games. My husband of thirty years does not love me, or care about me, or cherish me. Rather, he sees me as an irritant. He only gets a job when I badger him to. And shortly after he gets one, he’ll immediately lose it due to his lousy attitude and hot temper. If there’s magic out there, it won’t be for me. It’s too late for me.”

  Fresna’s eyes blurred with tears and her shoulders slumped under her unbearably heavy and interminable burdens.

  Mr. Corvus pulled himself up straight, spreading his arms. With the moisture clouding her vision, he resembled an avenging phoenix, rising up out of the ashes—

  “Althea!” The frantic voice pierced Althea’s concentration. Was that Marisa? Her fingers stumbled on her keys. She peered at the paper. She had neatly typed rising up out of the asses. She frowned. Had that been Marisa’s voice?

  Grabbing her cane, she hurried from the room and collided with a flying figure. She grasped the other person. “Marisa! For goodness sake!” She stared in confusion at her young friend. Behind Marisa, she saw a strange young man and Esther.

  “I’ll find Clay, and we’ll all meet on the patio!”

  Taking turns, everyone updated the others.

  “Let me get this straight. Esther has posed as a dead resident and a doctor. She stole the bus. She has run all of our fingerprints, and discovered Russell Meeks, the payroll coordinator, is actually Parvis Stidham, the investigative reporter for a website. Clay and Althea worked with Esther by gathering information on the dead patients which correlate with the ghost sightings.” Marisa put her head in both of her hands. She raised her eyes to Esther. “How on earth did you manage to pass yourself off as a patient? Especially a dead patient!”

  Esther lowered her lashes in feigned modesty. “It’s really not difficult, Marisa. People see what they expect to see. And they don’t look at the elderly very closely, especially in a nursing home.”

  “It’s true, Marisa,” Althea agreed. “Unfortunately, people tend to see one overt characteristic about us, such as jewelry or clothing or hair.”

  “When I was sitting in the lobby or roaming the halls scoping out the place, no one noticed me because I was dressed as an old woman. With my curlers in a wig and wrapped in a rain bonnet and dressed in a ratty housecoat and slippers, I am invisible.”

  Althea’s mouth pursed in annoyance. “This propensity on the part of the staff to see us that way is demeaning. I have heard the night shift nursing assistants Rose and Anita refer to me as The Duchess.”

  Marisa’s head jerked up in outrage. “Demeaning at the very least! In fact, name-calling of residents is patient abuse!” Her hands clenched in anger.

  Clay’s face was stern. “I agree completely. At least their nickname for Althea is complimentary. They call me The Gay Blade.”

  Althea spoke without thinking. “Are they using the traditional definition of the word or the contemporary meaning?” As soon as the words were out, she was horrified at her temerity.

  Marisa’s mouth fell open and she looked at her friend in surprise.

  “Thea, I never realized there were ‘traditional’ and ‘contemporary’ meanings of ‘blade’!” Clay grinned mischievously, hoping the friendly teasing would soften the awkwardness.

  In spite of herself, Althea tentatively smiled back at him. His beautiful gray eyes reminded her of a rain-washed evening. “I wish they would look at the real person beneath the wrinkles and gray hair.”

  “Thea?” Marisa’s voice rose in surprise.

  Clay smiled charmingly. “My nickname for Althea.”

  Marisa turned to Althea and smiled at her. “I think it’s lovely and it suits you very well, Althea,” she approved.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t force them to look beyond hair or clothing, Thea,” Clay interjected.

  Esther rolled her eyes. “We’ve gotten a bit off the subject, people. When I got into the nursing home’s computer system, and checked those patients’ medical records, I found—”

  “You hacked into confidential medical records?” Marisa’s voice rose, scattering a few birds hovering on the lookout for bread crumbs.

  Esther soothingly smiled. “No need to hack…Dr. Stimmler leaves his user name and password taped to the computer at the nurses’ station.” She ignored Marisa’s groan of pain. “When I looked at those records, I saw an interesting pattern. Each one of those patients’ diagnostic tests showed they were terminal. They only had a short time to live.”

  Alex leaned back in disbelief. “You’re investigating the deaths of patients with terminal illnesses?”

  Esther raised her hand. “I said their diagnostic tests showed they were terminal.”

  They all looked at each other in bewilderment.

  “When I tried to trace those tests back to the providers, they didn’t exist. You see? The test results are in the charts, but they were never ordered and they were never charged for by laboratories.”

  Clay shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense—”

  “Regardless,” interrupted Esther, “the test results are there, in the charts. Within hours to a day after the results are posted in the chart, the patient dies. The death corresponds to a ghost sighting.”

  “What about Jonah’s grandmother? Did you find out the cause of death? I find it extremely suspicious Mrs. Graham died the same day as Jonah, after they argued in the hallway outside Mr. Napier’s room.” Marisa leaned forward, her fists clenched.

  “Her cause of death was listed as a heart attack. Since she had a history of heart problems, she’s a resident in a nursing home, and she was ninety years old, an autopsy was not performed. Therefore, it may or
may not have been due to natural causes.”

  “We’re missing something,” Clay said, “but we don’t know what. At least not yet. We have to keep looking for clues.”

  “Althea, I don’t want you putting yourself in danger with this investigation!” Marisa leaned over to slide her arm around Althea’s waist. “I want you to come home with me! You’re getting around so well now, you don’t even need to be here! Please?”

  Althea gently pulled Marisa’s soft brown braid through her fingers. “My dear, I am having the time of my life investigating these murders. Please trust me to take care of myself. Don’t wrap me in cotton wool and put me on the shelf.”

  Marisa looked into the shining green eyes. “Your cheeks are flushed with excitement, and you appear happier than you have in ages.”

  Clay leaned forward and put a protective arm around Althea. “I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

  Marisa’s eyes widened at what she saw in Althea’s face.

  Althea interjected hurriedly, before Marisa could say anything, “It sounds as if one outstanding item is Zoe Walker’s mother. Esther, have you talked to your daughter? Or is she your daughter-in-law?”

  “Renee is my daughter.” The tiny lines around Esther’s mouth deepened and she leaned forward. “We don’t need to talk to Renee. I know what you want to ask her, and I can tell you. My son-in-law, Harlan Walker, was a twisted, disturbed man. He was a school principal about to be arrested for molesting the children in his school. Before he could be arrested, he was shot and killed.”

  Marisa reached for Althea’s hand, and held it.

  “Harlan not only molested those school girls, but he also molested his own daughter, Zoe.”

  Althea winced when Marisa’s hand tightened on hers, but she didn’t pull away.

  “My daughter grew up in a pretty, pink room. Zoe had tea parties with her dolls. She wore beautiful, frilly dresses.” Esther’s face twisted in pain. “Perhaps it’s my fault she wanted everything in her life to be perfect, without pain or ugliness. Because of that, she refused to see anything that didn’t mesh with her peaches and cream view of life. So, when her husband began to go into her daughter’s room at night, she refused to see what was going on.”