Your Eight O'clock is Dead

  Daisy was doing a grand impersonation of Higgins when he was displeased. She took the cloth out of my hand and sniffed it and then quickly pulled her face away from the odor.

  “Wrong. Bad. Wrong.”

  She said the words over and over and turned around in small circles like a wounded bird searching for a safe spot to land.

  And me, I stared at the white carpet with the ugly damaged spots the harsh chemicals had made.

  Whatever Daisy had poured on the rag wasn’t club soda or any good cleaning agent. The blood was completely missing from the four formerly small spots on the rug. Instead, the spots were devoid of any coloration – white or otherwise. A gray globby mess remained and seemed to spread, making the four smaller spots one gigantic blob.

  “Bad.” Daisy shook her head.

  “Yes.” Ryder was not going to be happy. I moved a planter from the edge of the room to the center where we stood, where the blob was. “See. He’ll never notice.”

  Daisy gave me one of those “are you real?” stares that I get a lot of. I pulled a rocker over near the planter. “See, a new seating area. Looks nice if I do say so myself. Better light for reading.” I was babbling.

  Her look of disbelief intensified.

  “So we’ve established that you were at the office the day of the murder. And that you were probably in the supply room when the killer and Robert O’Malley had their altercation.”

  Daisy’s pale skin was now as colorless as the carpet. Only I thought the carpet may be faring better than she was.

  “Please, Daisy. Stay with me just a few more minutes.”

  She turned her attention to me, and I could see clarity in her eyes.

  “Did Dr. Daley kill Mr. O’Malley?”

  She shook her head no and appeared totally confused by my question. After all, his letter opener was the murder weapon, and he’d been in the suite at the time of the murder. I had to ask.

  “Good. I didn’t think he had anything to do with it, but you can’t be too careful when you’re investigating a crime of this magnitude.”

  Daisy stared at the planter and the rocker and my not so clever attempt at hiding the carpet damage, and I kept up my line of questions to keep her busy and on task.

  “Did a woman kill our 8 o’clock patient?”

  Daisy shook her head violently from side to side.

  “No. I didn’t think so.” Well, that ruled out Edna O’Malley, Anna Blake, Marcy, and all the Mystery Ladies decorating Ryder’s office. Good.

  Now we were making real progress.

  I went down my shortlist of male suspects.

  “Was it Dmitri Ivanov?”

  She clutched her hand to her chest at the mafia king’s name and backed away from me clearly frightened.

  “I knew he was involved. The moment Max took me to see him, Ivanov jumped to the top of the list.”

  She shook her head from side to side. “No. Bad man. No.”

  “Are you saying Ivanov had nothing to do with the murder?”

  She nodded yes.

  Well, damn. Who was left on my shortlist?

  I snapped my fingers.

  “I’ve got it. I know who the killer is.”

  Daisy calmed down. It must have had something to do with the electric snapping of my fingers. I did do it well. She waited for me to say the name.

  “It’s Joe Rizzo, Anna Blake’s ex-boyfriend. I knew it. As soon as I talked to him, I thought he didn’t sound genuine. Sure he was torn up about Anna’s death, but he openly admitted that he could have cared less about Robert O’Malley.”

  Daisy shrugged.

  “What?”

  She shrugged again.

  “It’s not Joe Rizzo?” I asked confused.

  She shrugged a third time.

  “Do you know who Joe Rizzo is? What he looks like?”

  She shook her head no.

  That’s right. He was an afternoon patient. I tried to remember if he and Daisy had ever been in the office at the same time, but I simply couldn’t isolate a memory that fit.“Was the man bald?” Joe had lots of dark hair.

  Daisy shook her head no.

  “Did he have light hair?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

  She indicated no again.

  Hot damn.

  “Dark hair?”

  She nodded yes and retreated a bit more into herself as if remembering what the man looked like.

  “And you’d definitely be able to identify him again.”

  She nodded once for yes.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  I’d know that booming voice anywhere. I’d been so intent on questioning Daisy that I hadn’t heard Ryder’s car pull up and I hadn’t heard him enter the house through the garage.

  “Oh, hi. I was just showing your sister my Granddad’s cat.”

  I pointed to the cat carrier where Higgins had obviously gotten tired of complaining and had fallen asleep. Either that or he was playing possum.

  Ryder eyed the carrier with suspicion.“What are you doing here, Becca?”

  “I told you.”

  “The truth, Becca.”

  I backed up to where the carrier sat. “I’m babysitting Granddad’s cat while he’s out on a date.” I couldn’t help but cringe at the word. “I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop in and say hello.”

  His gaze narrowed. “How did you know where we lived?”

  “I guess I saw it on Daisy’s billing file.” Thank goodness for paperwork.

  “Wrong. I made sure that there was no paperwork associated with Daisy at Daley & Palmer.”

  Oops. No wonder I couldn’t find anything out about her. And here I’d thought Dr. Dick was just being careful with the files.

  “Well, I must have seen it somewhere,” I countered. How could he fight that one?

  “I don’t think so. And I think you should leave. Daisy, come here.”

  Daisy rushed into her brother’s outstretched arms, and he hugged her protectively.

  “It’s okay. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you.” He glared at me over her shoulder as he spoke. “It’s all right, sweetie. Becca is leaving. She’s not going to bother you ever again. Are you, Becca?”

  “Really, Ryder. We were just talking. I wasn’t upsetting her.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. Liar, liar. Well, I hadn’t meant to upset her. It just sort of happened.

  “Leave, Becca.” His tone left no room for discussion.

  I reached for Higgins and the carrier. The cat must have gotten startled awake because the carrier sides shook so hard I could barely hold on to it. It took both my hands on the handles to keep control.

  “Out.” Ryder’s head twitched in the direction of the front door, and he held fast to Daisy.

  “I really didn’t mean to upset Daisy.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.

  “Didn’t anyone ever explain to you that sorry doesn’t count? Look at her. She’s trembling all over.” Sobs wracked Daisy’s thin body, and I felt horrible.

  But on the upside, I had an eye-witness to the murder and all I needed was Daisy's positive identification of Joe Rizzo as the murderer, and we could wrap this case up.

  “Ryder, I …”

  “Go now before I lose my temper, or you do any more harm.”

  “About the rug,” I volunteered.

  “The rug?” he asked and his gaze traveled to where the potted plant and rocker now resided.

  “I’ll pay to have it professionally cleaned.”

  “I don’t care about the stupid rug. My sister’s well-being is what concerns me.”

  “Yeah, me too. That’s why I’m here.” I wanted to tell him about Joe Rizzo and about Daisy witnessing the murder, but it didn’t seem like he was receptive to any more news tonight.

  He tossed his head in the direction of the door again.

  “Night, Daisy. I’m sorry,” I offered.

  She stopped sobbin
g and ventured a tentative glance at me. “Pretty kitty.”

  Yeah, pretty damn cat.

  I managed to get Higgins, his carrier and me out the front door. I started to turn around and say something more, but before I could, Ryder slammed the wooden door in my face.

  Chapter 30

  “I’m telling you, Dick, she’s not coming back here.”

  I heard Ryder’s booming voice before I ever entered Daley & Palmer. Dr. D. replied, but in that soft therapist tone he uses with irate people, and I couldn’t overhear his answer.

  “No. That’s not going to work either. Daisy is done with therapy. And I’m done with you.”

  I stood in the doorway to our offices and watched as Ryder moved away from my boss. Neither man was happy.

  Each scrutinized me. And not in a good way. I swallowed hard.

  “Morning,” I said in my most cheerful-let’s-defuse-this-tense-situation voice.

  “Outta my way, Becca.” Ryder pushed past me.

  “Tell Daisy hi for me,” I offered.

  He stopped and turned around. “You stay away from my sister.” He pointed his finger at me. “You’ve done more than enough.” And with that, he was gone.

  Which left Dr. Dick and me.

  Gulp.

  “I can explain,” I rushed to where my boss stood. “Really. I don’t know what Ryder told you, but I do have a reasonable explanation.”

  “I was helping that poor girl. Each session we were making progress in getting her to open up. And in one evening, you completely destroyed that.”

  I started to object, but his upturned hand brought me up short. “Not only that, Miss Reynolds, but I will never have a chance to help her again because R.J. has fired me as her therapist.”

  “He’s just a little upset. I’m sure when he has a chance to settle down and think it over calmly and rationally, he’ll change his mind.”

  “If you think that, Miss Reynolds, you’re an even worse judge of character than I thought you were. No, when R.J. makes up his mind, that’s it. There’s no changing it. That poor girl.” He picked up a file lying on my desk and then in a fit of temper I hadn’t seen before, he threw it back down. “All that work down the drain.”

  I put my arm around his shoulder and gave him a short hug. His body stiffened.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You seemed like you needed a little moral support.”

  He removed my arm. “No, Miss Reynolds, I do not. Not from you. You’ve done more than enough for this practice.”

  I smiled. So despite Ryder’s little outburst, at least Dr. Daley recognized that I had contributed to the group in my own little way.

  “Let’s see. We’ve had two patients murdered since you came on board, what is it? Only five short months ago?”

  I didn’t like this turn in the conversation. “You can’t blame me for that!”

  “Oh no? We’ve had to shut the office down several times due to these murders. Edna is in jail for crimes she didn’t commit.”

  “That is totally unfair. I am not to blame for any of that. And you know it.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  Dr. Dick’s eyes blazed like a dragon who was about to spit fire. “All right. I’ll concede that you aren’t directly responsible for the murders or Edna’s arrest. But I can’t help believe that you are somehow a jinx.”

  A jinx? After all I’d done? That hurt. That really hurt.

  “Oh, and let’s not forget my car. You do remember the car issue, don’t you Miss Reynolds?”

  Now he was getting personal.

  I remained silent. I wasn’t responsible for the mangled car. It was his loony-tunes patient. Client!

  But I didn’t think now was the time to remind him of that fact. Nor would he appreciate my professional loony-tunes diagnosis.

  “And then in your infinite wisdom, you take it upon yourself to ‘visit’ a patient. Which I’m sure you know is strictly against office policy. You upset the patient with your visit so much that her brother withdraws her from therapy. Therapy that was helping.” His voice rose to a sharp pitch, and I took a step back, afraid that he might lose it and physically lash out at me.

  Somehow I managed not to mention that Dr. Dick had been the person to give me Ryder’s address in the first place. We did not need to go there. He was on enough of a roll without me adding any fuel.

  “I can explain.”

  “No, I don’t think you can.”

  “You’re wrong. I can.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He sighed and put his hand on the back of my desk chair as if to steady himself.

  Hmmm, I didn’t figure he’d give up on this so easily. The phone rang, and we both stared at it.

  I reached past him to answer it, but he stopped me with a grip on my forearm. “Let it go to the service.”

  “I can get it. It’s no problem.” Gee, he had a strong grip for someone with such soft hands. Must be all of that racquetball stuff he played for his cardiovascular health. Who knew?

  “No, it is a problem. Come into my office.” He removed his hand and left me there, presumably to follow in his footsteps. The phone had rolled over to the Doctors’ Exchange. I glanced at the office clock. Five minutes to eight. I’d gotten to work on time for once. A fat lot of good it did me.

  “Miss Reynolds, now!”

  I sighed and trotted after my employer into his dark and depressing office. How in the hell did anyone ever get any help in this place of gloom and doom? It seriously needed redecorating. The walls were a dark, indescribable neutral that made me think of baby poop. The two floor-to-ceiling windows were covered with not only blinds but heavy drapes. Add in the heavy dark furniture he was so fond of and the whole thing resembled something out of a medieval castle.

  “Sit down,” he prompted.

  He took a seat behind his desk and produced a big leather-bound book from one of his desk drawers.

  Writing quickly, he tore at the paper and extended it to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the black leather chair.

  “Your severance pay.”

  My what? “I don’t understand,” I stalled, hoping I could come up with a reasonable argument to change his mind.

  “I think you’ll find that Daley & Palmer is being quite generous with you under the circumstances.”

  What the hell? I still didn’t take the proffered check. He got tired of holding it in his outstretched hand and placed it on the edge of the desk nearest me.

  “I don’t understand,” I repeated.

  “Your services are no longer needed here, Miss Reynolds. Pack up any personal items and leave the premises.”

  “You can’t,” I said, dumbfounded.

  “Oh, but I can. And I am. I should have done it months ago. Before all of the unpleasantness. Back then, you were merely incompetent. Now, well, now you’ve exceeded even my wildest expectations. In a concise statement, you, Miss Reynolds, are a train wreck. Your efforts to help backfire. You cause chaos wherever you go. In point of fact, everything you touch blows up in your face. Now go, while we still have a practice and the few remaining clients you haven’t driven away or killed off.”

  And this guy was supposed to be a counselor. A motivator.

  If he helped his patients like this no wonder they had to keep coming back. It was like therapy in reverse. Or at least what my perception of therapy was.

  “The murders would have happened with or without my employment.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “No maybe about it. I’m so close to solving this whole thing and getting Edna out of jail.”

  Now I had his attention.

  “What about Edna?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” I shoved the check back across the desk toward him without seeing the amount he’d written.

  I kept my focus on him. “I’m this close to finding the murderer and bringing him to justice.” I held up my index finger and thumb, pinched as ti
ght together as Dr. Dick’s mouth.

  He didn’t take the check, but then he didn’t shove it back at me either.

  “You know who killed O’Malley and Anna?”

  “I have a prime suspect.” I smiled and said no more.

  He shook his head and slumped in his chair. “But you have no proof. Nothing that will free Edna.” His voice softened and sounded so vulnerable whenever he said her name.

  “I have an eyewitness.”

  He stared at me. “Who?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. But I’m working on a positive identification. Once I have that....” I snapped my fingers.

  “How soon?” He was breathless with hope.

  “Soon. Very soon. But I need my job.” At this point what did I have to lose? If I was going to get a picture of Joe Rizzo for Daisy, I had to have this job. But I didn’t want to go into all of that with Dr. Dick.

  He slowly picked up the check.

  Too slowly for my liking. It was as if he was deciding as he toyed with the piece of paper. At any minute I expected it to come shooting back at me. But at last, he nodded and tore it in half.

  “Don’t make me regret this decision. And just to be clear, I’m doing this for Edna. Not for you, Miss Reynolds. I hope you fully understand that. One more complaint or hint of outrageous behavior and you’re terminated. For good. There will be no talking me out of it a second time. And for your sake, as much as for Edna’s, I hope you do have an eyewitness. I’d hate to think that you were making this up and stalling to keep your job a few days longer.”

  Talk about your cynical people.

  Dr. Dick had serious trust issues.

  Chapter 31

  One day I was going to have to invest in a good digital camera. Or even a cheap one. Today was not the day. I’d borrowed Granddad’s ancient Polaroid Land Camera. And I do mean ancient. He’d had it when I was little and probably even longer than that.

  But just to make sure the thing still worked, I’d taken some candid shots of Higgins this morning after Granddad went out to run some errands and to check on the Widow Smith – whatever that meant.

  Looking at the temperamental cat in the Polaroids with eyes that made him look like the spawn of Satan, I was convinced the instant camera would serve my purposes well. Granddad had shelves full of film. And flashbulbs.