Buyer's Remorse

by Lori L. Lake

  She exited to find Thom holding both hands in the air, palms up. "Dead end, Leo."

  "Okay, let's look over the grounds, then call in the cops. I think I can get the Saint Paul police to open a missing persons case." She paused. "Did you hear something?"

  "Like what?" Thom asked.

  "A squeak? A whimper?"

  They listened, but no sound came.

  Jo Ellen made a face. "Probably a mouse. This whole place is shot through with them. And bats, too."

  Leo reached back to turn off the light in the council room.

  "Wait," Thom said. "What's that underneath there?"

  He nearly rolled into Leo. She jumped back to get out of the way and bent to gaze under the table. A piece of gleaming silver metal resembling a roll bar lay on the floor. From an upright position, neither Leo nor Jo Ellen could see it.

  Thom grabbed a chair and wrestled to pull it out. Leo and Jo Ellen moved other chairs aside. Leo looked under the table edge. A rolling cart without a handle sat beneath the center of the table. The piece of metal lying on the floor fit into holes at one end of the cart, but without removing it, the cart wouldn't have fit underneath the table.

  She squinted at the bundle of rags piled on the cart's silver surface. "Oh, my God," she said. Paying no heed to her knee, she scrambled underneath. "Eleanor? Eleanor! Can you hear me? Jo Ellen," Leo called out, "can you help me?"

  Jo Ellen was already crawling up beside Leo. They pulled the cart out as gently as they could and knelt there in silence. Thom rolled up next to Leo, and they all stared.

  "Oh, crap," he said.

  In the light, Leo saw a crumpled figure, her hair matted with blood and her face death-gray. She lay in a fetal position on her side, her arms encircling her purse and up against her torso. The smell of urine and vomit was so strong Leo wondered why they hadn't noticed it earlier.

  "Eleanor, this shouldn't have happened," Leo whispered. How long had she lain there? Had she died in pain? This was what Victoria Bishop had referred to, her last brutal ha-ha. A surge of rage passed through Leo. She wanted that woman executed. She wanted to drop the cyanide or inject the lethal drugs herself. Not for the first time, she wished Minnesota were a death penalty state.

  Tears flooded Leo's eyes, and she couldn't see clearly. Not even thinking, she followed on-duty protocol and reached for the older woman's wrist. The skin was cool, but not cold. She pressed fingers against Eleanor's pulse point. Did she feel something? She thought she must be wrong.

  "I'm not getting cell service down here," Thom said. "I'll go upstairs and call the police."

  A quiet wisp of sound. "Yesss…"

  "Eleanor?" Leo said. She leaned over the body. "Mrs. Sinclair?" She touched her neck, and it felt slightly warm. Leo turned to Jo Ellen. "It's hard to believe, but I think she might be alive. Call for an ambulance, too, Thom."

  He was already heading for the door.

  Jo Ellen said, "I've got an afghan in my office. I'll go get it. Don't move her."

  "Don't worry, I won't."

  Eleanor's hand trembled. She managed to reach out a few inches, then her arm dropped.

  Leo gently put one hand against Eleanor's back and the other on her upper arm. "Eleanor, it's Leona Reese. We'll have the medics here shortly. Just stay still and relax. You're going to be okay."

  "Claire…"

  The voice was so quiet, Leo could hardly hear it. "Don't try to talk. Save your strength."

  "No, no…Claire Ry…she did this…to me."

  "Shhh, it's okay. We know. We caught her."

  "Good... That's…very…good." She relaxed under Leo's hands. For a moment, Leo worried she'd died, but when she pressed her palm against Eleanor's back, she could feel the faint beat of her heart, pounding in concert with the pain in Leo's head.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  BY THE TIME Leo arrived at the Episcopal church in Saint Paul, the rain had stopped, but the sky was still overcast. She sat in the pew and eyed the casket in the front of the church as the funeral director closed and sealed it. The sorrow she felt about the woman's death was only eclipsed by the satisfaction she felt due to the rapid recovery Eleanor Sinclair had made from the severe concussion she'd suffered. She had a heavy bandage affixed to the back of her head, and it would take some time for her hair to grow back, but the wound was healing.

  Callie Trimble's funeral had been delayed a few days, but as soon as Eleanor was released from the hospital, it was rescheduled. Leo observed Eleanor and the Trimble family. Ted sat in the front row with Eleanor and his sister, Olivia, between him and his cranky father. Franklin Callaghan, Sherry Colton, Habibah Okello, and the four Merry Widows were in attendance, along with a few dozen others Leo hadn't met, including three older women who stayed close to Eleanor and comforted her.

  The service was somber, and afterwards, Leo intended to leave, but she was surprised to see Thom in the narthex. Today he was dressed in a pale-gray suit and a somber black tie.

  "When did you get here?" she asked.

  "A few minutes late. I didn't want to interrupt anything, so I hung out in the back." He wheeled his chair and kept pace as she walked to the exit. "Are you going over to the graveside service?"

  "I hadn't planned on it. You?"

  He said, "I'd like to offer my condolences to Eleanor Sinclair. Want to ride with me in the funeral procession?"

  "Okay."

  Leo felt a strange sense of déjà vu as they approached Oakland Cemetery. Callie Trimble was being laid to rest in the same place where Leo's mother was buried. She couldn't remember the last time she'd visited her mother's grave, and the thought troubled her.

  Thom pulled his wheelchair to a halt on the cement a few feet away from the grass. He waved Leo on, and she walked toward the stark white tent that sheltered the casket. The ground, still wet from the previous night's rain, squished beneath Leo's feet as she moved to stand with the others around the grave site. The final service was brief, and when the priest said the final benediction, the family placed red roses on the casket.

  Leo couldn't bear to watch anymore. She moved to leave, but someone touched her arm, and she stopped.

  "Leona, thank you so much for coming," Eleanor said. She was remarkably composed for someone who had just buried her life partner while suffering the aftereffects of a concussion.

  "You're welcome, of course."

  "Thank you for your dedication to finding Callie's killer. You've probably saved the lives of a lot of vulnerable women like her, not to mention saving mine."

  "I wish we'd figured it all out sooner and saved you the hell you went through."

  "I can't tell you how grateful I am—that we all are, especially Ted. I still can't believe how that woman framed him."

  "What I can't believe is that she tried to kill you."

  Eleanor smiled. "She thought she had. Even in my wounded state, I knew enough to play dead. I tricked her, and I look forward to making a victim statement at her trial and rubbing that in."

  "You go, Eleanor." Leo laughed. "You're the best witness against her. The attempted murder is a lot easier to prove than all the cases we have that contain only circumstantial evidence. The vengeful attack on you will help put her away for a long time."

  Eleanor frowned. "She'll be put away for good, won't she?"

  "Oh, yes, I think so. It's incredible what she's done, where she's been, and how much pain and anguish she's left in her wake."

  "She seemed like such an attractive woman. What a trickster she turned out to be."

  "She's a heartless sociopath. The police have already tracked crimes in six states over the last ten years, and I'm sure they'll find more embezzling and murder as they continue to investigate. It's lucky you kept that Post-it note she put on your mail and didn't smudge it up. Detective Flanagan ran it through fingerprinting, and bingo. Nailed her. She'd wiped down the entire Rivers office and the place where she'd been living. The thumbprint on your Post-it was a big help in identifying her and connectin
g her with other crimes. I don't think we'll even begin to find all the places she's been, but other jurisdictions will take a crack at her when we're done."

  "I just don't understand how anyone could think they'd get away with this."

  "Normal people would never imagine such a thing, but Eleanor, the woman is cracked in the head. It was all a game to her, outsmarting everyone. She's gotten away with it for a long while. She visited each complex monthly to get the lay of the land and waited until the managers were on vacation, then she could go in unnoticed, steal the mail, assess who to steal from, and run her scams. Notice how she chose women who had little or no family."

  "But Callie had family."

  "Yes, but you don't. She brought down her house of cards when she killed the wrong woman."

  "The wrong woman? Oh, my. In a way, then, Callie saved my life. I think she would have wanted it that way." Eleanor let out a wistful sigh.

  "It's a terrible shame you've had to go through this. I'm so sorry."

  Eleanor leaned in and gave her a hug. As Leo patted the other woman gently, she felt her own tears stinging. "I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers, Eleanor." Leo stepped back and wiped her eyes.

  Eleanor said, "I'll soon be moving elsewhere. I'll make sure to send you my change of address in case there are follow-up issues." She walked with Leo back to where Thom waited. Eleanor patted Thom on the shoulder and thanked him for his help and hard work on the case. She invited them to return to the church for lunch, but Leo told her they had to get back to work. With a final farewell, she and Thom headed for the van.

  "Pretty muddy," he said.

  "Yes, you were smart not to try to roll over there. You'd have gotten mud all over your hands, your chair, probably your suit."

  Thom scowled. "I've got to admit that I get damn tired of making accommodations for this stupid chair."

  "You're amazingly mobile, if you ask me."

  "Well, Leo, I think we should get some lunch, then swing by Saint Vladimir's."

  Leo realized she must be looking at Thom blankly because he made a face at her and went on. "We ought to tell them in person now that we have proof Victoria Bishop gutted their Roof Fund."

  "Good point," Leo said. "I think they'll get their funds back eventually, but it's probably going to take a long while."

  "I still find it unbelievable that she bilked a church."

  "No kidding."

  "And twenty grand isn't even all that much money. Why did she bother?"

  "She liked the game, I think," Leo said. "It was the challenge of the con that kept her amused. That's the only thing that makes sense."

  "I suppose. I've read that sociopaths have problems with feeling real emotions."

  "Yes. Seems like everything they do is extreme, just so they can feel something."

  "I hope they lock her away forever."

  "That's what Eleanor was just saying." She glanced toward the far corner of the cemetery. "Thom, you go on ahead, and I'll meet you at the van shortly. My mother's grave is a ways down, and I'd like to stop by."

  With each step she took, the air grew warmer. The rain clouds were burning off swiftly, and she unbuttoned her raincoat. The walk was farther than she'd reckoned, and it took her longer to locate Elizabeth Reese's grave than she expected. She stood near it for a moment, scanning the area. The grass was neat, the weeds minimal. The words etched on the stone, Beloved Mother, had been suggested by Mom Wallace, and to this day, they remained appropriate.

  She squatted next to the stone, pulled some wild clover weeds growing at the edge of the marble, and thought of all the decisions she had to make. She wasn't one of those people who went to the graveside to kneel and talk to their loved one, asking for guidance, and hearing heaven-sent advice. She'd never once considered doing that, and it felt strange to see such a contrivance on TV and in the movies.

  Leo owned a box of memorabilia, a scrapbook, and a jewelry case that had been passed from great-grandmother, to grandma, to her mother. From these possessions, she could still feel her mother's spirit, but here, in section 5, row 6, plot 33, was the last place where any of her mother's actual physical presence remained. Leo would spend the rest of her days, however many she had, missing her.

  She hadn't meant to cry, but without warning, tears tracked down her face. Her head throbbed. Soon she'd have to decide what to do about this cancer. She didn't like any of the three options she had to choose from: cut out the tumor by removing the eye, try the radioactive plaque therapy that the specialist said he didn't believe would work, or do nothing and see what happened.

  Whichever course of action she chose would cost dearly, and none of them came without a huge dose of remorse.

  The sun shone down, hot across Leo's shoulders. She touched the top of the glossy headstone, caressed it for a moment, and rose and walked away.

  The End . . .

  . . .until A Very Public Eye: Book 2 in The Public Eye Series

  A Very Public Eye Synopsis

  Greed? Hatred? Retaliation? Or a Cover-up?

  Winter has not yet set in, but young Eddie Bolton will never see another snowfall in his hometown of Duluth, Minnesota. A diabolical killer has murdered him in what should have been a secure juvenile detox ward at the Benton Dowling Center. Leona Reese, a state licensing investigator, has been out of commission for three weeks due to surgery. On her first day back on the job, she's faced with the aftermath of the 17-year-old's death and is shocked by the brutality. Working with the local police, Leona discovers far too many people with motives for the killing… and precious little evidence. As she uncovers long-buried secrets, someone else is murdered and Leona realizes she, too, is in danger. In the midst of her own emotional turmoil, is Leona strong enough to confront and catch a clever and ruthless murderer?

  About the Author

  Lori L. Lake is the author of numerous novels, two short story collections and the editor of two anthologies. Her crime fiction stories have been featured in "Silence of the Loons," "Once Upon A Crime," "Women of the Mean Streets," and "Write of Spring." Lori lived in Minnesota for 26 years, but re-located to Portland, Oregon, in 2009. She is currently at work on the fourth book in The Gun Series and the second book in The Public Eye Mystery Series. When she's not writing, she's at the gym, the local movie house, or curled up in a chair reading. For more information, see her website at www.LoriLLake.com.

  Praise for Lori L. Lake's Work

  "It is no wonder that Lori Lake's books are best sellers. Her characters are deep-bodied, multidimensional, and convincing. Her plots unfold like petals on a flower, coming to full bloom at just the right moment."

  ~Foreword Magazine

  "Considered one of the best authors of modern lesbian fiction, her work – part action, part drama, and part romance – gleefully defies categorization."

  ~Lavender Magazine

  "Lori Lake is one of the best novelists working in the field of lesbian fiction today."

  ~Midwest Book Review

  About Lori's Other Books

  About The Gun Series

  "I find the 'Gun Shy' novels' languid pace and rich detail to be leisurely, rather than slow, and a fun, absorbing read overall. For those who enjoy police or mystery novels, this series is definitely one to add to the collection."

  ~AfterEllen.com

  "As I read this adventure/thriller, I wondered if Lake was the daughter of James Dickey because the story has the flavor of DELIVERANCE with all the thrills and chills of a good Thomas Perry "Jane Whitefield" novel. HAVE GUN WE'LL TRAVEL is one of the best suspense thrillers I've read all year."

  ~Crimespree Magazine

  "Gun Shy is an exciting look at police work through the eyes of police officers who happen to be lesbians. Lori L. Lake has set a fine precedent with her endearing, witty, action-packed story that has plenty of police activity, longing, and romance. It brings to mind one of my favorite TV shows, Cagney and Lacey, a classic 1980's hit about two straight female cops. Gun Shy would be a grea
t model for a contemporary version—two female officers, Reilly and Savage, who not only fight crime, but also have the hots for each other."

  ~The Independent Gay Writer

  About Snow Moon Rising

  "Snow Moon Rising is an experience not to be missed. It offers readers an unforgettable heroine in Mischka who transcends the most depraved and despicable adversities humankind can inflict upon one another while never losing her own innate sense of decency, love, and loyalty. Both Mischka and Lake have accomplished something remarkable, and they have done it with grace."

  ~The L Word

  "It's a smashing book that wears its learning lightly, yet fills the air with a people and an era well-caught, well-delineated, and very moving."

  ~Caro Clarke, author of The Wolf Ticket

  "World War II was a time of great bravery, great sacrifice, and great suffering. Lori L. Lake brings the era alive for us through Mischka's trials and triumphs and Pippi's quiet daring…

  Lake portrays the underlying joy, strength, and solidarity of family and friendship that sustained so many through times of unimaginable anguish… Snow Moon Rising provides nail-biting action, strong emotional impact, and a judicious balance of suspense and breathing space. People of older generations will remember the era and relate closely to it, but Snow Moon Rising should appeal to anyone with an appreciation of history, belief in the sustaining power of love, and a vested interest in tearing down the walls of prejudice."

  ~Nann Dunne, author of The War Between the Hearts, and editor/publisher of Just About Write.com ezine

  About Like Lovers Do

  "Like Lovers Do is a well written, detailed study of loneliness and longing, and a potent lesson in the Karmic message that good things eventually rain down on good people, but only if they maintain their goodness through a period of drought. This story is heart-warming and uplifting, and what makes it so is the multi-layered depths of the characters Lori Lake has skillfully crafted. The author made me care about the characters, compelled me to pull for the protagonists and despise the antagonists."