Organized to Death

by Jan Christensen

  “There’s no way you can know that, and I’m just as sure that it’s all connected. I want the truth. And I want it now.”

  Laura glared at Tina, stood up, grabbed her purse, and left the room without a word.

  Tina stared, open-mouthed. “Well,” she said and clamped her mouth shut again.

  “Your mother is a stubborn woman. Once she sets her mind to something, you can’t change it.”

  “But I need to know!” It came out in a low wail, and Tina put her head in her hands.

  Uncle Bob climbed out of bed and sat next to her on the other one. He patted her shoulder.

  “Oh,” she said between her hands. “I wish you knew what it was. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” She looked at him, face tear streaked.

  “Yes, I would,” he said.

  Tina took a shuddery breath. “When did the Lunch Bunch start, anyway?”

  Uncle Bob thought a minute, his hands clasped in his lap. “I’d say about a year or so after you were born. Maybe two.”

  “Did my father know what it was really for, do you think?”

  “I’m pretty sure he must have. I remember his face got kind of grim when your mother reminded him that she was seeing the other women for lunch. And they both looked sad.”

  “Do you think I’m adopted?” Tina asked suddenly.

  Uncle Bob looked startled. “Oh, no. Your mother was pregnant all right.”

  “That can be faked, Uncle Bob.”

  “Laura wouldn’t… .”

  “Sure she would. She’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants.”

  “No, you came home a newborn, and your mother breast-fed you.”

  “You can adopt a newborn, and she could have faked the breast-feeding, too.”

  “Why bother, when most everyone back then bottle-fed? I really do think you’re Laura’s daughter, Tina. There are too many similarities.”

  “Like what?” Tina demanded.

  Uncle Bob smiled. “Stubbornness, for one.”

  Tina frowned.

  “It can be a good trait. The ability to take charge. Confidence.”

  “I could have just learned all that from her,” Tina said.

  “Maybe, but sometimes you even wear the same expressions. I don’t think that’s possible when adopted. And when you were a little sprout, you’d have this special look of determination about you. You both have it.”

  Tina sighed. “Then if it isn’t that we’re all adopted, what can it be? I thought maybe we’re all related somehow, and the cancer was genetic. I don’t know!” She stood up and began to pace again.

  “Why is it so important that you know?” Uncle Bob asked softly.

  Tina whirled to face him. Her eyes widened. “Well, because I think it’s somehow tied up in Crystal’s murder.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  Tina plopped herself back on the bed. “I don’t know, either. I just think that if we knew the secret, we could tell better if they’re related.”

  “Obviously your mother doesn’t think one has to do with the other, or she would have said something. She worries about you, but I don’t know she’s worried that you’ll be murdered.”

  Tina shivered. “I hope not!”

  Uncle Bob patted her hand. “Kumquat, I have some advice. Forget about it. Forget about all of it. Do your job, help Rachel when she can go back home, and just live your life.”

  Tina managed to smile. “Some people don’t need a Ph.D. in psychology, do they?”

  “Living long is not only the best revenge, it should garner some wisdom. Now.” Uncle Bob stood up. “Let’s go for a meander down the hall. I’m sure the nurses are missing me.”

  Tina smiled and stood up. “I’m sure they are.”

  Uncle Bob put on his robe and slippers, and Tina took his arm for their walk.

  When they returned to the room, they found Hank waiting.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said to Tina. “Now.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Tina’s first impulse was to refuse. But something in his expression told her she’d better find out what he wanted. She followed him, murmuring to Uncle Bob, “I’ll be right back.”

  Hank walked to the waiting room. No one was there, but Hank chose a far corner. They sat down on orange plastic chairs, Hank with his back to the wall, and stared at each other.

  Hank shook his head, and his mouth turned down. “You need to slow down.”

  “What do you mean?” Tina asked, determined to harden her heart, and her head. She tried to give him a wide-eyed, innocent look. Didn’t know if it worked.

  He studied her for a moment, and she wavered. She could melt into his arms right now, do whatever he wanted. The pull had never been stronger. She’d never felt weaker, except right after the fiasco in Virginia. She broke the glance and began picking at a bubbly imperfection on the chair arm.

  “You’re stirring things up. Crystal was murdered, you remember. You saw her. No one wants the same thing to happen to you.”

  She gasped. Grasping the chair arms, she studied Hank’s face. She’d never seen him look more grim. “What do you know?” she asked.

  “The police are worried about you. No, they don’t know a lot,” he said when he saw her alarmed expression. His face softened. “They’re not sure why Crystal was killed. The reason could be anything. A civilian asking too many questions could be dangerous.” Then his voice changed, became hard. “And quit asking people about me, as well.”

  Without thinking, she bolted out of the chair, as if propelled by a small rocket. “I’m out of here. I don’t want to see you again until you answer some of my questions. I’m sick and tired of all the secrets. It’s not good for people to have them, and I know they’re important for me to know. So I can get on with the rest of my life. Such as it is. And don’t worry about me asking anything about you. I couldn’t care less.”

  She stomped away, her mind in turmoil. She felt caged, batting herself against the bars, shut out of everything that was important to her.

  In his room, Uncle Bob snored lightly in the visitor’s chair, and when she glanced up from looking at him, she saw Hank watching her from the doorway. She glared at him. He gave her a slight shake of the head and turned away. So much for that. It seemed as if he and her mother were just as stubborn as she. She woke Uncle Bob, and they went for another walk. He tried to cheer her up, but she was too lost in thought to respond.

  ***

  The next morning the doctor appeared at seven and signed the discharge papers. Uncle Bob still had to wait for the pharmacy to send up his medications and for the nurse to bring papers to sign.

  Laura showed up at eight. She and Tina barely said hello to each other. Tina and Princess escaped for a walk. When they came back, Uncle Bob was dressed and the nurse was showing him where to sign a piece of paper. Princess went to her food eagerly, wagging her tail. Laura sat, grim faced, watching Uncle Bob and the nurse, refusing to acknowledge Tina.

  Tina shrugged and sat on the bed. When the nurse left, Uncle Bob said, “You might as well go to work, Kumquat. Laura can take me home.”

  “You’re sure?” Tina asked.

  “I’m sure. It will be better for all of us.”

  Tina stood up. “I guess so.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re okay.”

  He grinned. “Me, too.”

  That got a weak smile from her. “I’ll see you at dinner. Maybe we should order in.”

  “Was that a dig about my cooking?” Laura asked.

  “Both of our cooking, I’m sure,” Uncle Bob said.

  Ever the diplomat, Tina thought. She didn’t bother to answer her mother, just left.

  She was beginning to think it had been a huge mistake to move back to Newport. Maybe she should leave, as she’d suggested to Hank. But that would be running away. She decided she’d rather stay and find the answers. She’d already run away once, and it didn’t seem to be working. Problems followed everyone eve
rywhere.

  She headed to Ted’s office. Maybe she’d find some answers there.

  The first appointment of the day stood at Sylvia’s window, checking in, when Tina arrived. After hanging her jacket on the coat tree, she walked quickly toward Ted’s office, hoping to catch him there.

  He sat at his desk, frowning at an open file folder. She startled him when she said hello.

  But then he smiled. “Tina. Come on in. I know you want to talk to me.”

  She bet he’d had a little talk with himself last night and was determined not to lose his temper, not to dash off when he didn’t want to deal with something. Was she doing that now? Seemed to be a common reaction.

  “How are you?” she asked as she slipped into a visitor’s chair.

  “Fine. How about yourself?”

  “Except for my questions about how Brenda is doing, I’m fine.”

  He nodded. “You found out what kind of cancer the other woman had?”

  “Uterine.”

  He looked grave. “What was her full name?”

  Tina gave it to him.

  “I’ll look up her file, see what I can find. When did you have your last pap smear?”

  Tina’s heart quickened. What was going on? “A month ago. You did it.”

  “Oh. Yes. So, you are my patient then. Good.”

  He knew that. Why was he acting disingenuous, she wondered. She waited. He didn’t say anything for several moments, and Tina began to fidget.

  Ted cleared his throat. “Since you didn’t get a call about anything being wrong, everything should be okay. But I recommend you go to a specialist and have him check you out.” He wrote something on a notepad, tore off the page, and handed it to her. “Sylvia can get his phone number for you.”

  Tina took the paper. “So, you think there’s a connection. I don’t understand.”

  “I’m just being cautious here, Tina. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know the same things you do, so I want to be sure you’re okay.”

  “I see,” Tina said, swallowing hard. She stood up on wobbly legs. “I guess I’ll go work in the kitchen.”

  “After you make that appointment,” Ted said. Then he started reading the file again.

  Disconcerted, Tina left his office and went to see Sylvia. Sylvia found the number for her, and Tina went to the kitchen to make the call. She couldn’t get in for six weeks, being a new patient. Good thing she wasn’t dying. At least, she hoped she wasn’t dying.

  Only one more section of the kitchen needed cleaning and straightening, a built-in china cabinet. Tina was glad to see that everyone was picking up after themselves. She had to admit, the place looked really nice, except the floor. It needed professional cleaning. She’d suggest Ted get some new curtains. Maybe paint the cabinets—they looked as if they’d been painted a dozen times, so one more coat wouldn’t hurt.

  Just before noon, Tina heard Ted come into the kitchen. She was putting away the last piece of washed china, and she turned to see him looking puzzled.

  “I can’t find the file for Sally,” he said. “Are you sure Dr. Stevenson was her doctor?”

  “About positive. But that was a few years ago. How far back do the files go?”

  “Forever. Dr. Stevenson didn’t believe in throwing them out. We’re going to have to work on that, though, because we’re running out of room. Hey, maybe you could help us?”

  “Sure,” Tina said. “But that means Sally’s file should be here.”

  “Yeah. Definitely.”

  “Mine is here?”

  “I didn’t look. Come to think of it, I had to make up a new one for Brenda. But maybe she wasn’t Dr. Stevenson’s patient.”

  Tina’s heart began to race. She walked over to the table and sat down. Ted joined her. “No, all of us were. I’m positive now.”

  Ted pulled a notepad out of his shirt pocket. “Tell me all the names. I’ll look for them.”

  “Crystal Hudson, maiden name Morris. And her sister, Rachel Palmer. Brenda, of course. Leslie Franklin. You looked for Sally. And me.”

  Ted stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Tina’s mind whirled. There was a connection. She’d already known that. And now she was sure it was medical. The more she thought about it, the madder she got.

  Ted returned, shaking his head. “Not a one. I looked for yours, and we had to make up a new one for you, as well.”

  “I wonder where they are.” Tina rubbed the worry stone in her blazer pocket.

  Ted shrugged. “I don’t know. Dr. Stevenson had a few files in his desk drawer, but I cleaned those out, filed them with the rest if they were patient records. So if they were ones we were looking for, I would have found them.”

  “Maybe he took them with him. But why?”

  “I don’t know. All we know right now is that one of his patients contacted uterine cancer. And one was murdered. Another is undergoing tests. Although uterine cancer is rather rare, it would probably be just a coincidence that two women you know got it. Coincidences do happen, after all.”

  “So you suspect Brenda has uterine cancer?”

  Ted gave her a quick nod. “But that’s confidential and all I can tell you.”

  “Okay. You throw in the facts that the mothers meet once a month for lunch but don’t socialize otherwise, and that the mothers have hovered over us daughters since we were tiny, and then you begin to see a pattern. Sure, it could be that Crystal’s murder is totally unconnected. Probably is. What I’m more concerned about is this cancer. I can’t think of one reason anyone would want to murder me.”

  “Of course not. Unless,” he said, “unless this secret is connected to Crystal’s murder.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Tina realized her mouth hung open and she snapped it shut. Her mind whirled. Was Ted warning her off? It didn’t appear so. He seemed to be helping. Except he couldn’t find the files. Maybe he knew exactly where they were. If so, he was an awfully good actor. Tina stared at him, trying to read his mind.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That was rather blunt.” He took her hand. She made an effort not to jerk it away, letting it lay in his, inert. “I am a bit worried about you. You seem obsessed.”

  She gave a shaky laugh and gently pulled her hand away. “I guess I am. Maybe so I won’t think too much about Crystal.” She ran her hand through her hair. “Other stuff going on, especially with my mother. And Hank,” she said, without thinking.

  Ted stiffened. “Who’s Hank?”

  “An overprotective jerk I’ve known since first grade. He’s starting to act like Brandon.”

  “Who’s Brandon?”

  Tina gave a brief laugh. “Another overprotective guy, but I wouldn’t call him a jerk.”

  “Known him since first grade, too, I suppose.”

  “Kindergarten.” Tina smiled, thinking of the three of them so young. Life was simple then.

  “I should have known lots of men would be interested in you.”

  “Not lots of men!” Tina protested.

  “Well, at least two. I was wondering if you’d go out to dinner with me tonight.”

  Her stomach did something funny. She didn’t know if it was surprise, a gut feeling to keep her distance, or exactly what it meant, but was glad to tell Ted, “I can’t tonight—Uncle Bob was discharged from the hospital this morning, so it’s his first dinner at home.”

  Ted stood up, sending out a vibe that felt like annoyance. “Some other time, then,” he said and walked out of the kitchen.

  Tina shivered. What was it about him that got her antennae up?

  Shouting from the reception area grabbed her attention, and she rushed toward it.

  Dr. Stevenson stood by Sylvia’s window, yelling at her. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never seen you before. You’re not my receptionist. Now get out of there and find Betsy for me.”

  Ted arrived the same time Tina did. He took Dr. Stevenson’s arm and said gently, “Let’s go to your office. We can talk about this there.”


  Dr. Stevenson pulled away from Ted’s grasp. “What’s to talk about?” Then he stood stock-still for a moment. “Ted?”

  “Yes.”

  The old doctor shook his head back and forth a few times. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

  “We were going to my office to talk.”

  “Oh, of course.” And Dr. Stevenson followed Ted meekly.

  Fortunately, only one person was waiting. Sylvia motioned for Tina to come closer to the window. “Get Abby to take this patient back, will you? I have the file ready.”

  “Sure,” Tina said and walked to the treatment room area.

  When she passed Ted’s office, she heard him say, “You need to stop coming here. It just upsets you.”

  “Yes, I suppose … “Dr. Stevenson said.

  Tina found Abby in the kitchen getting a mug of coffee. “Here’s the next patient’s file,” Tina said.

  Abby took it. “Last one of the morning, thank goodness. I’m bushed.”

  Tina nodded. Realized she hadn’t an idea in her head about lunch. She walked over to the china cabinet and grabbed the polish to put away. “I’m going out to lunch,” she told Abby. “If anyone wonders.”

  “Okay,” Abby said, taking a long gulp of coffee before setting the mug in the sink. She headed out the door, and Tina grabbed her purse and left.

  Tiny snowflakes hit her in the face, and she zipped her jacket up quickly, fumbling with her keys when she reached her car, fingers already cold. Once she started the engine and put the heater on blast, she punched in Leslie’s number on her cell.

  When Leslie answered, Tina asked, “What are you doing for lunch?”

  “Hi, Tina. I have some salad stuff in the fridge here.”

  “How about I go to Subway and get us some sandwiches and bring them by? What do you like?”

  “Oh, that would be great. I love their BLTs—double meat. Wicked, I know.” She laughed.

  Tina smiled. “Yeah, I think I’ll have one too. Six inch, though, right? I mean, we have to show some restraint.”