Rip Your Heart Out

by Jeanne Glidewell

  Finally, the woman replied. "I'm Adelaide. Adelaide Combs. Who are you, and why are you here?"

  "It's nice to meet you, too, Adelaide." My response came off as sarcasm, just the way I'd intended it. Her behavior was disrespectful. I'd given the girl no reason to treat me rudely. Despite my irritation, I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and forced myself to speak in a friendly fashion. If possible, I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with Sydney's twin. Sydney was delightful, but her sister appeared to be a different story.

  "I'm Rapella Ripple. Sydney offered us a room here at your Aunt Mabel's home while my husband, Rip, completes his cardio rehab. In return, we'll be taking care of Goofus and Gallant. I also plan to assist in the clean-up of the home to get it ready for guests. And getting this place up to snuff so the Heart Shack can open up for guests will be quite an undertaking, as I'm sure you're aware."

  "Heart Shack?" Adelaide asked. Her voice was intensely brusque. "What in the world are you talking about?"

  "Didn't you know?" I was surprised by her apparent lack of knowledge about the future of her aunt's home. Were the sisters not on speaking terms, or had Sydney simply preferred not to discuss the situation with Adelaide? It didn't bother me to let the cat out of the bag. "After your aunt left her home here to the cardiac center, they decided to name it Heart Shack and use it as temporary housing for families who have a loved one recovering from heart surgery or other cardio-related issues."

  "Are you for real, lady?" Adelaide asked. It was plain she was hearing about her aunt's endowment to the cardiac center for the first time. She clearly thought that, following her aunt's death, she was now part-owner of the property in a three-way split with her siblings. "If I'd known that, I might have done things differently. Was this clever scheme my sister's idea?"

  "Um, well, I don't know the details. However, I would not refer to it as a 'scheme'. If it was Sydney's inspiration, it was a darned good one. It'll be a godsend for us, and many others, I'm sure. You see, Sydney offered us the master suite for the duration of our stay. However, while most of the guests will be staying here at no cost, with nothing required of them in return, Rip and I will be earning our keep. In my case, I'll be investing plenty of blood, sweat, and tears in exchange for a convenient place to stay. Rip, on the other hand, may not be able to contribute much more than keeping the couch on the screened-in porch from levitating off the floor, but I assure you I'll be donating enough elbow grease for both of us."

  "Are you done?" Adelaide asked. Her cheekiness was unnerving, but I was not going to let the bad-mannered twit rattle me. When I hesitated to reply to her caustic question, she repeated it. "Well? Are you done?"

  I was aware that her 'are you done?' referred to my babbling, but I replied as if I thought she meant with the cleaning project. "Hardly, Miss Congeniality. It should be apparent to you that there's a lot of work to be done around here. I assume, as Aunt Mabel's great-niece, you're planning to roll up your sleeves and pitch in. So when can I expect you to begin? There'll be guests arriving soon, and we need to get the place in order quickly."

  After staring at me without a single blink for at least ten seconds, she turned toward the front door as if to depart without answering my question. Her face was crimson. When she snatched her purse off the marble table in a fit of fury, I noticed the roach clip was no longer there. I could tell Adelaide had a big fat bee under her bonnet and more than a few bats in her belfry. As she opened the door, she said, "Don't hold your breath waiting for any so-called 'guests', lady. My brother and I might have something to say about that plan. So you can take your stupid, old, nosy-ass somewhere else and mind your own stinking business! Tasman and I will see to it that no one connected with the heart center ever steps foot in our house. Along with my sister, it's their fault my Aunt Mabel is not with us today."

  "Good luck with that, Adelaide. But, don't forget that karma can be a real you-know-what, and will come back to bite you in the butt when you least expect it." Because of her nasty, mean-spirited name-calling, I felt compelled to get the last word in, which I did because her "whatever" response to my remark about karma simply didn't count.

  I went back inside before the vicious woman could spout any more nonsense. I peeked out between the kitchen curtains and watched Adelaide reach into the mail box and pull out a bundle of grocery flyers, magazines, and envelopes. Using the rusty, wrought-iron table on the front porch, she sorted through the envelopes. The final envelope caused the woman to suck in her breath dramatically and her eyes to widen in anticipation. After studying the enclosed folded sheet of paper for almost a full minute, I read her lips as she exclaimed, "I can't believe this." She then swiftly reinserted the paper in the envelope, crammed the envelope into her purse, and stuffed the rest of the mail back into the box.

  In an obvious rush to get to her car, an older red and silver Mini-Cooper, her feet only touched two of the six steps leading from the porch down to the sidewalk. Luckily for her, those were the only two treads on the staircase still securely attached to the stringers.

  Being the naturally inquisitive type, I was dying to know who the sender was of the envelope she'd confiscated. If for no other reason than that I could tell Sydney when I spoke with her later on that evening. I'd always considered myself a good judge of character, and Adelaide didn't have to beat me over the head with her pitchfork for me to recognize which of the Combs' sisters was the evil twin. Clearly there was an unresolved issue between the two. And, as presumptuous as this may sound, I already knew whose side of the fence I was on.

  * * *

  I scrubbed the foyer floor until it shined while mulling over my uncomfortable encounter with Adelaide Combs. Afterward, I sprayed the walls with a wood cleaning and protecting solution and polished them to such a luster that the knots and natural grain of the wood were visible. I was down on my knees polishing the baseboards when there was a rapping on the door. I pulled myself up to my feet, but there was no one on the front porch when I opened the door. Whoever had knocked was obviously very impatient. In case there was someone walking around the side of the house looking for the property owner, I stepped outside and hollered, "Who's there?"

  When no one answered, I went back inside and resumed my work. Impressed with the welcoming appearance of the foyer—following two hours of laboring over it—I decided to take a break. I wanted to drive to the hospital for an abbreviated visit with Rip and, if possible, speak with Sydney. My next project would be dealing with the drapes. Before the task could begin, though, I needed to get permission to take them down to either have them dry-cleaned or removed from the premises to make way for new vertical blinds.

  I was hoping to get the go-ahead to drag the drapes to the curb and deposit them in the dumpster that'd been delivered in advance of the construction crew's arrival. The dark draperies throughout the house played a huge part in its dark, dank, and gloomy ambiance. They also probably harbored untold numbers of scary hazards; toxic byproducts of cigarette smoke, rodent waste, pesticide residue, mold spores, skin cells, and harmful, man-made chemicals known as PCBs. They were simply dreadful and needed to be banished from the Heart Shack, along with Adelaide Combs and the freakishly weird caretaker.

  * * *

  With that objective in mind, I locked up the house and walked to the truck. After starting the Chevy, I turned on the radio and headed for the hospital.

  "The body of local philanthropist, Mabel Trumbo, is slated to be exhumed on Thursday. Due to a recent anonymous tip, detectives are now looking into her death as a possible case of foul play." After I heard the female voice on the radio, which was tuned to the local news station, I cranked the volume up and pulled the truck to the curb. I was disappointed when the lady said nothing further other than, "More on the story tonight at six on the local news broadcast. This is Alexa Bancroft, reporting for KEX5 News."

  I put the transmission into park and reached in my purse to grab a pen and a pad of paper. I wanted to write down the details of what
I'd just heard before I forgot them, which usually took no more than a minute—or two, on a good day.

  I wondered if the Combs twins had heard the new development regarding their aunt's death. Could the exhumation been the disturbing news in the letter Adelaide had confiscated? Maybe the mysterious man I'd met inside the home that morning had been on to something. He'd seemed convinced some form of malevolence had been involved in Mabel's death. Had he been the anonymous tipster? It seemed likely to me. But who was he, if not the caretaker? Would a nosy neighbor get involved to that extent? It was possible, of course, but didn't seem likely.

  I could hardly wait to get to the hospital to tell Sydney what had just been broadcast on the news in the event she hadn't already heard. The light at the only intersection between the Heart Shack and the hospital was changing from yellow to red when I coasted through it in my rush to reach the heart center. In my defense, I had glanced both ways and was convinced I could shoot the gap while avoiding contact with both the UPS truck approaching from the west and the black SUV nearing the intersection from the east. In my opinion, the light-running incident was explicitly warranted—a no harm, no foul kind of situation. The soccer mom in the SUV who flipped me off must have felt differently.

  Chapter 12

  As you can imagine, after risking my life at the corner of Ninth and South Weller Streets to get to the hospital in record time, I was a little let down to find Sydney and Adelaide conversing when I arrived, clearly already in the know about the breaking news. They were having an animated discussion at the nurses' station as I approached. It was like watching a young lady argue with her own reflection in a mirror. If not for the identifying nurse's outfit, I couldn't have told you which twin was which. As I got within earshot, I heard Sydney say, "I gave her permission to stay there, and you should be as appreciative of her willingness to help out around the place as I am."

  "Are you for real?" Adelaide asked.

  "Besides, I'm the interim manager of the Heart Shack until the center hires someone to be in charge of the place full-time. Mrs. Ripple's presence there should be of no concern to you or Taz."

  I slowed my pace substantially as I neared the pair. It was not only to enable me to eavesdrop on more of their conversation, but also to avoid knocking down a silver-haired heart patient who was walking the hallways of the cardiac ward.

  "Yeah, whatever," Adelaide said. The evil twin was an absolute snot. Her attitude made me want to throw her over my knee and wear out a belt on her behind. "What's with the sudden decision of the authorities to exhume Aunt Mabel's body?"

  "I don't know why, but they've suddenly decided to do an autopsy, Adelaide," the anxious nurse in the pastel pink and light blue scrubs said. "If there was any indication of foul play surrounding Aunt Mabel's death, they should have performed the autopsy before the embalmment. It's ludicrous for anyone to believe her death was related to anything but her open-heart surgery. Whoever called in the anonymous tip doesn't know what he or she is talking about. Do you know anyone who might've done that, Addie?"

  "How would I know?" Adelaide answered defensively. "I guarantee you, calling in an anonymous tip's the last thing I'd do. I want this entire ordeal over with and my share of the money deposited in my nearly empty account as soon as possible."

  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" Sydney replied in a sad, resigned voice.

  "But maybe they should be checking into her death," Adelaide ignored her sister's remark and continued in a scathing tone. "I'm not convinced the medical examiner's ruling was correct. After all, Aunt Mabel had a professional nurse, who studied cardiac care extensively, as her in-home caretaker following her bypass operation. Assuming her nurse had a clue about what she was doing, Aunt Mabel should've been the least likely patient to die of complications."

  "What are you implying, Adelaide?"

  "Well, you're the one who bought her groceries, planned her meals, and fed them to her. You were also responsible for filling her pill box with her prescribed medications, and taking her vitals. You did nearly everything for her. Just saying."

  Adelaide's implication was clear. Anger had taken the place of sadness in her tone as Sydney mimicked her sister's last comment. "Just saying? Just saying what? You're absolutely right I did nearly everything for our aunt, who for years raised us like she was our own mother. All with no help from you, and very little from Tasman! But I share no responsibility whatsoever in her death, Addie! All the training, knowledge and skill in the world can't ensure a patient's ultimate outcome is positive. There are any number of complications that can occur following open-heart surgery, regardless of the quality of care the patient is receiving. I was super careful when I filled her medication box, too. So don't be tossing any accusations at me. I think she most likely threw a clot. And, by the way, Dr. Murillo concurred with my conclusion."

  "How would you know? You weren't even there when she passed! Neither was the doctor, for that matter. If you had been present, maybe you could've saved her life. She really needed someone with her 'round the clock."

  "I did hire a day nurse to care for her when I couldn't be there."

  "Maybe that wasn't enough. She couldn't remember shit, you know."

  "Alzheimer's is a terrible disease, not one that should be ridiculed with snide remarks like the one you just made, Addie," Sydney said to her obnoxious sister.

  "Whatever," Adelaide repeated. Her one-word reply made me want to slap the self-satisfied smirk off her face. And wear out a second belt on her behind, as well.

  "And, furthermore," Sydney continued, "I have a job and bills to pay, so I couldn't be with Aunt Mabel 24/7. There was probably nothing I could've done anyway. And by-the-by, where were you when our aunt needed someone to keep an eye on her after the operation? Not helping, that's for sure! At least Tasman agreed to watch her on Sundays, when I had a twelve-hour shift and the nurse had the day off. Even though I was leery of leaving her in Taz's care, with Aunt Mabel not trusting him much, at least he gave me a much-needed break. It would've been nice to have you to spell me now and then, too. I hardly got any sleep and sorely needed help in taking care of all of the arrangements for her health care, and, ultimately, her funeral."

  Adelaide obviously had no intention of taking ownership of one iota of blame. She sneered as she turned Sydney's words back on her. "Well, by-the-by, who gave you the right to make all of the decisions regarding Aunt Mabel's estate after her death?"

  "Aunt Mabel did! She gave me power-of-attorney! Me! Not you or Taz! I had nothing to do with the contents of her will, Addie. However, she did leave me in charge of executing it. That doesn't mean I wouldn't have welcomed some assistance. But I haven't noticed you or Tasman offering to help out."

  Sydney was royally pissed, and I admired her angry retort. Score one for the more responsible of the two sisters, who were mirror images of each other in looks, but seemingly polar opposites in every way that truly mattered.

  "Seriously, Sydney? You live within twenty minutes of Aunt Mabel. Tasman and I live in Yakima and Tokeland, both almost three hours away. Doesn't mean we shouldn't get equal say, even if we didn't actually do any of the leg work. More importantly, we deserve an equal share of the remainder of her estate. In fact, Tasman and I plan to put the brakes on letting her house go to the heart center. With a little fixing up, we could all make out like bandits on the sale of that place."

  "And that, in a nutshell, is all you two care about, isn't it? I'm not going to let you stop the transfer of the house to the heart center, Addie. And that's all there is to it! I plan to fulfill Aunt Mabel's final wishes exactly in accordance with her last will and testament. Besides, she didn't have much in the way of valuable possessions or belongings. Even upscale furniture is not worth much after it's been used."

  "What are you talking about? She possessed something extremely valuable–if we can only find it."

  I wondered what valuable possession Adelaide referred to. The Steinway piano was worth a substantial chunk of change, bu
t it was hardly difficult to locate.

  "Or so the story goes," Sydney replied. "There may be no truth to it. However, everything she did have, other than her property on East Hart Street, will be split three ways in equal proportions, I can assure you. So you can take your phony concerns about her cause of death and go back to Yakima."

  "Tasman and I both want to know something. Were you behind her decision to leave her house to charity? After all, you are an employee of the heart center, which just happens to have been her most fortuitous beneficiary. She didn't leave a dime to my employer or Tasman's." Adelaide was livid. It was as if a volcano had erupted inside her when she next spewed out, "Be honest, Sydney! It was your idea, wasn't it? You influenced her to make that decision and alter her will before she died, didn't you?"

  "Seriously, Addie?" Normally unflappable, Sydney had raised her voice and was practically hissing when she responded. "You truly expected her to leave her home to the First Cut Hair Salon where you've worked for no more than two years? Then, there's Tasman. Is he even employed right now? Last I heard, he'd been let go from the fast-food restaurant for smoking weed on the job."

  "You should have stayed out of it, Sydney. Aunt Mabel would have probably left her home to the three of us. We deserve that money, not people she'll never even know."

  Sydney shook her head in disbelief at her sister's malevolence, as did the rest of us witnessing the contentious exchange between the twins. "As I've already told you, Addie, I had nothing to do with the contents of the will. But, had she not left the house to the cardiac center, I suppose you think I should have been the one to do all of the work, seeing that the house was restored and in good-enough condition to put on the market. The magnitude of your greed and sense of entitlement is unbelievable."