Angel Sleuth

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “Wait a minute.” Until now Mac had been listening on the sidelines. “Back up a little. You said maybe Will would be wealthy.”

  “I meant maybe nephew Will’s gonna need all that money. He has some debts it seems. Gambles a bit and has borrowed from the wrong people I hear.”

  “Who told you that?” asked Mary Jane. She was now attentively listening to Barbara’s story.

  “Oh, folks at ARC. The people there know everything.”

  Maybe not everything, decided Kaitlin. They didn’t seem to know who was stealing from them.

  * * *

  The next morning Kaitlin had a bit of a headache, which she attributed to the angst she was experiencing over finding out Leda Pippel was more complex than she had suspected. And there was all the beer she’d consumed too, she remembered. Perhaps a cappuccino before she tried once more to tackle the issue of a job she didn’t really want. Or did she?

  When she entered the café, she spotted Leda’s nephew Will and Dr. Baldo conversing in the corner. Obviously, they had reconciled their differences about Leda’s death. Although she told herself she was not really interested in what they were saying and she needed to be on her way, she picked up her coffee and sidled over to the table next to theirs.

  “So my aunt was taking heart medication? I never knew she had any problems,” she overheard Will say.

  “Yes, some. She exercised, watched her diet, and filled the prescription I wrote for her. I assume she took the pills,” said Baldo. “She hadn’t had a check-up in over a year. She said she felt fine. Well, you know how stubborn she was.”

  “But there was evidence of a blow to the back of her head and significant bruising on the back and shoulders according to your report,” Will said.

  “Yes, suffered when she fell.”

  Will said something in a voice too soft for her to hear, but if she leaned over more, her head would be propped on their table.

  “Well, hi there, sweetie.”

  Wrapped up in spying on Will and Baldo, Kaitlin didn’t notice a man had approached her table. She looked up to see Hiram Blackman leaning over her chair. “Mind if I sit awhile?”

  Both Will and Baldo turned their heads in Hiram’s direction, and Baldo nodded to her. Great. Now she couldn’t continue eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Hiram grabbed the empty chair, spun it around, and straddled it. Probably a move he saw in some C-rated video and thought cool and sexy. Kaitlin guessed she was supposed to be impressed by the bulge this position showed in his jeans. She wasn’t.

  “Long time, no see.”

  Hiram hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen him. He was never a giant at conversation or at anything requiring him to engage the muscle between his ears too often.

  “I heard you were back in town and was thinking of calling you. We should get together soon.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. Hiram’s version of a come-on.

  “Hiram, we haven’t been together for over twenty years, and it’s obvious that neither of us missed the other. So why the sudden interest?” She couldn’t care a fig for why he was suddenly interested in her.

  He shrugged his massive shoulders, threw back a head of spiky yellow hair, and produced what passed for a laugh, sounding like a braying donkey.

  He had been Kaitlin’s boyfriend in high school, the heartthrob of most of the girls, and a star athlete. But times change. As they did for Hiram. She heard he was running a welding shop in a rundown garage at the edge of town. Rumor suggested he used his hands more in lifting a brew to his lips than he did applying an acetylene torch to metal.

  She put the top on her untouched cappuccino and grabbed her backpack from the floor.

  “Hey, not so fast. I heard that thing with what’s-his-name didn’t work out and that you’re free.”

  As she stood to leave, he reached up and grabbed her arm. She let her eyes travel from his face to his hand and back and leveled her best cold look at him.

  “That ‘thing’ you referred to was my marriage and ‘what’s-his-name’ was my husband Zack, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Hey, now, Baby. Don’t get so uptight.”

  “Remember what happened the last time you grabbed my arm? Or should I remind you?” He lowered his hands to his lap, and Kaitlin knew there was no need to jog his memory.

  “Ah, Kaitlin, that was a long time ago. We were just kids. Let’s just forget the past and start again.”

  “Right, but somehow the image of you humping my best friend in the front seat of my car the night of the junior prom you took me to is burned in my memory.”

  And for good reason. On prom night her best friend admitted to her that Hiram was borrowing her car, not to get to his part-time job as he told when he begged her for it, but to use as a bedroom on wheels. So, Kaitlin returned the corsage he bought her. She pinned it to his crotch.

  Chapter 6

  Kaitlin could tell her words had transported Hiram back to prom night, and he was remembering his trip to Dr. Baldo’s office in the wee hours of that morning. A look of sadness mixed with something akin to fear crossed his face, followed by the spread of a red flush up his throat and onto his cheeks.

  She shoved around him. Good. That got him in line. But he jumped out of his chair and followed her, and as they passed Jameson and Baldo, she saw Baldo drop his eyes as if he didn’t want to catch Hiram’s attention and draw him over to their table. Hiram didn’t acknowledge Baldo’s presence. Instead Kaitlin heard him right behind her.

  “Hey! I suppose you think you’re too good for me,” he said. Now he was drawing the attention of the café customers. She pushed through the door and onto the pavement where she spun around to face him.

  “I was always too good for you. All of the girls in high school and all of the women since then who have had anything to do with you have been too good for you. Leave me alone.”

  “Well, you may have that snooty education and all, but I’ve got something better. I’m gonna get me a home in the Bahamas soon. Retire and do a lot of sailing.”

  She started down the sidewalk, trying to distance herself from him, but his legs were longer, and he remained near, his hot breath hitting the back of her neck and sending waves of disgust down her spine. She gave up and whirled around.

  “You don’t know how to sail. And where would you possibly get money for a house in the Bahamas?” She tried jogging away, hoping she was in minimally better shape than he.

  “I’m a businessman, you know. And a good one, too. You just don’t know.” She could hear him puffing after her, but falling behind.

  “Go away.” She ran up the walk toward the newspaper office.

  Once inside, Kaitlin slammed the door and leaned against it. Brittany looked at her in surprise, then peered around her through the glass door.

  “Oh, oh. Hiram Blackman, I see. That’s enough to put any girl off her oats.”

  “Oh, God, I detest that man. Why I ever thought he was sexy, I don’t know.”

  “At one time or another, we all thought he was sexy. One date later, we wised up.”

  “It took me more than one.”

  “You were young then. Oh, I’ve got a few messages for you.”

  “People are leaving messages here for me?”

  “Well, yeah. You are our most famous employee, you know. There’s going to be a great bio of you in this week’s newspaper and the announcement you’re taking over Leda’s position.”

  “You’ve got to stop Delbert from publishing that.”

  “Can’t. It’s been sent to our press already. Don’t be so humble. People will be thrilled to know that an author of your caliber is writing for their local paper.”

  Now her head really hurt. There was no way to back out of this job it seemed, unless she wanted to make a fool out of herself and embarrass the hell out of the newspaper.

  Her heart delivered a final thud of acceptance. “So what are the messages?”

  “Your ag
ent called to remind you of your deadline…”

  “She knows I’m writing here?”

  “Sure. Delbert had to call her for information about you.”

  “Do you have any Tylenol?”

  “Here.” Brittany extracted a bottle from her desk drawer. “And your mother stopped by. She looks younger every time I see her.”

  “She has a plastic surgeon on retainer, I think.”

  “The Director of ARC wants you to call him.”

  She’d never met the man, but, after the letters alluding to theft at the facility, she was mildly curious about his call. She slipped into what was now her office and dialed. She was shocked to hear what Director Toliver wanted of her.

  “I know this is presumptuous of me, but I’d like to ask you a favor. Because of Leda’s passing, we’ve lost our long-term care ombudsman here. Of course, the County Office for Aging will appoint another sooner or later, but I thought you might be willing to fill in until that happens. You’re taking Leda’s position as advice columnist, and you have a degree in counseling. You’d be perfect.” His voice shook, making him sound tense, and he cleared his throat frequently. Annoying.

  “Mr. Toliver, I don’t have the training for the position,” Kaitlin said.

  “Well, I know, but the Office for Aging said they’d be happy to give you a quick run-through of what was needed. It would only take a few hours of your time and only one night or so a week here for the work. What do you say? It would be a help to me.” His tone lacked enthusiasm, and she thought that might let her off the hook. She guessed he was just making the offer because he couldn’t think of anyone else and she came to mind because she was replacing Leda at the paper.

  “Well, thanks for thinking of me, but I…”

  “You’ve got to help us! The state requires an ombudsman.”

  She pulled the receiver away from her ear.

  “You’re yelling, Mr. Toliver.”

  “So sorry, I’m just excited to have you with us. I mean, the residents would love to have you here. Many of them remember you and your mother from when you were a little girl.”

  “Okay, you’re on, but only until you get a new full-time ombudsman.”

  * * *

  Kaitlin looked up when Brittany rapped on the door casing and beckoned her into the office. She explained the reason behind Toliver’s call.

  “Why did I say yes to that man? He was unpleasant on the phone and didn’t really sound as if he wanted me, but felt obligated to ask. Everybody seems to assume I’m Leda’s clone.”

  “I don’t. I think you’re going to make a unique contribution to this paper. And, as for Mr. Toliver, the residents at ARC say he’s an efficient administrator, but no one seems to warm up to him. Leda didn’t have much good to say about him.”

  A unique contribution? Brittany’s words lifted her spirits for a moment and then the mention of Leda’s name plunged her into a funk once more. She’d heard too much of what the deceased advice columnist felt, or did, or knew. Kaitlin felt as if she were being constantly compared to Leda.

  “Oops,” said Brittany, “Sorry. That Leda reference again. So why not schedule a visit, take Toliver’s tour of the place, and decide for yourself? Make it your thing to do or not. You might like it.”

  Brittany was right. Kaitlin had to have a life, after all. She didn’t play bridge or knit or take part in a quilting club. What did she do as a hobby or for fun? Oh, right, she was learning to play pool. But ombudsman? It was like a form of community service. It might round out her life. Besides, a little voice in the back of her skull said she’d have the opportunity to see for herself what those letters meant about thefts.

  Brittany threw a packet of envelopes onto the desk, jerking her out of her reverie. “Mail call.”

  “All of these are for me, already?”

  “Some are still addressed to you-know-who, but most are yours. See? Already people are eager to get your advice.” Brittany turned with a wriggle of her fingers and walked out of the room. “Got to open my mail, my mail that’s addressed to the newspaper or Delbert, or to dear sir or madam, or to whom it may concern, anything but a personal ‘Dear Brittany’.”

  “Okay, you made your point.”

  Brittany smiled and closed the door, leaving Kaitlin chagrined at her earlier selfishness.

  Only two of the letters opened with “Dear Leda.” Brittany was right. She was about to yell out to Brittany an apology for being so childish when she noticed that one of the letters felt heavier than the others. As she slit open the envelope she wondered, another letter from ARC with information about the thefts there? It was a note from one of her high school friends, Tom Slanski.

  Dear Kaitlin,

  I didn’t know what to do with this, so I thought, since you’re now doing Leda’s column, you would. I worked the ambulance the night she died and noticed something in her hand when we put her on the gurney. It must have slipped onto the floor of the ambulance because I found it there at the end of my shift, and we didn’t have any other transports that night. If I gave it to the hospital authorities, it might get lost. I thought you could get it to her family. It clearly meant something to her. Thanks.

  Tom

  Tom had taped a gold cross on a broken chain to the bottom of the note. The chain seemed heavy to be a woman’s, but maybe it belonged to Leda’s husband or father. She placed the note and cross back in the envelope and slipped it into her pocket. She’d introduce herself to nephew Will and give it to him. And she’d take Brittany’s suggestion and set up an appointment with Toliver to tour ARC after dinner this evening. But now she needed to get home and work on her manuscript.

  * * *

  She stared at the blinking cursor on the blank page. While the thought of advice letters and missives telling of thefts at ARC tickled her curiosity, the idea of buzzards in children’s books made her tired. Maybe she’d chosen the wrong animal to write about this time. She yawned. A little nap before dinner and her visit to ARC, then she’d come home and dedicate the entire rest of the evening to her wrinkly-headed avian heroine.

  When she awoke from her nap and headed down the stairs to prepare dinner, she noticed an odd odor and it got stronger as she entered the kitchen. She pushed open the door and sniffed. It smelled definitely barnyard-like. She strode to the message board and read a note from Mary Jane saying she and Jeremy had gone to pick up “necessary supplies,” whatever those might be. Next to it was another message, this one from Jeremy:

  “Meet Desdemona. She’s little now, but she’s still growing.”

  Something warm and hairy pressed against her leg and she looked down. The critter looked up at her with big black eyes surrounded by the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen. Bristles of hair covered its long nose.

  She tore Jeremy’s note off the board and sighed. “You could use a wax on that face, Desdemona,” she said.

  The animal gave forth a reply somewhere between a squeal and a grunt. Desdemona, the potbellied pig, had moved in.

  Chapter 7

  “Now what have you gotten us into, Jeremy?” Kaitlin asked herself.

  Desdemona rubbed on her leg and looked longingly at the fridge.

  “And she’s hungry. Now what do I do?” The pig shoved herself against Kaitlin’s leg once more, this time aggressively enough to knock her off balance.

  “All right. All right. I’ll get you something.”

  She wasn’t certain what pigs ate but surmised she couldn’t go wrong with cooked beans, squash, corn, and a fresh salad for dinner. Where were Mary Jane and Jeremy? They should be back by now.

  “You know, Mary Jane assured me the animals were Jeremy’s responsibility. But here I am cooking dinner for a pig.” Desdemona grunted and looked up at her, then sat on her foot. “And talking to you, too.”

  Kaitlin dumped the canned vegetables into a large dish on the floor, and tossed in some lettuce leaves, a chopped up tomato, and a sliced cucumber. No dressing. Desdemona seemed pleased with the offe
ring, snorting and burping her way through the meal.

  She watched the little porker work the dish around the floor with her snout and wondered how offended she would be if they continued to serve meat at meals.

  * * *

  “Well?” Kaitlin asked. Mary Jane and Jeremy had returned to the house laden with bags of fresh vegetables and huge sacks of something smelling like cow meal.

  “I apologize. It took us longer than I thought. We had to go to the feed store to check on food for Dessie… Isn’t she just a honey? And then we decided the best way to feed her was to find over-date vegetables, and there weren’t many at the Shop Mart so we went up the road to…”

  “That’s not the issue. Well, not the only issue. This pig has to be the one I read about in one of Leda’s letters. How did you find out about her, Jeremy? Snooping into my work?”

  Jeremy turned from petting Dessie, and a red flush worked its way up his neck and onto his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was high-pitched and squeaky with barely controlled anger.

  “I didn’t snoop. I wouldn’t do that. The woman who wrote about Dessie returned your call to her today, and Mom and I went out to pick up Dessie so she wouldn’t get hurt.”

  Kaitlin felt like a fool. She had put in a call in response to the letter, and when she got no answer, she left a message on the answering machine with her number and a request for a callback.

  “I’m so sorry, Jeremy. I shouldn’t have accused you. I know you’d never snoop in my things.” All of Kaitlin’s determination to order them to remove the pig was replaced by her embarrassment. The look of ecstasy on Jeremy’s face as he hugged the pig to him made it impossible for her to say anything more.

  She recovered from her well-deserved distress, and said, “I fed her already. There’s more of the same if we want to join in.”

  * * *

  Dessie’s stomach seemed bottomless, so they gave her all the leavings from dinner.