by Lucy Quinn
“What did you say your name is again?” the woman asked, punching a key on her computer screen. The expression on her face was sour and full of suspicion.
Oops, Evie thought. Danger, Will Robinson. She’d obviously taken a wrong turn somewhere with her commentary. She chewed on the side of her cheek for a moment before saying, “I didn’t. Not yet anyway. I’m Daisy, and this is Jessica.” She waved a hand toward Dora. “We’re actually Tutu’s cousins, twice removed, but everyone just calls him Uncle Tuttle… or Tutu in our case. Southern families, I’m sure you understand. My mama insisted we come see him before we left town, and if we leave here without photo evidence of seeing him, she’ll chap our hides.”
Evie’s manic explanation seemed to soften the woman, and her lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Yeah, I know all about southern families, but I can’t let you in without Mr. Tuttle approving you as visitors.”
Crap on toast, Evie thought. She’d been afraid of that. No matter. Once this Tuttle guy saw them and Dora’s cleavage, she was certain he wasn’t going to turn them away. “Well, get the old geezer out here then.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I can’t wait to see if he recognizes us. Both of us have, uh, grown up a bit since he last saw us. I think we were both still in pigtails.”
“That’s not how we do things—” the receptionist started.
“Peggy,” an older gentleman said, appearing in the office doorway behind her. “Go fetch Vic. If anyone could use a visit, it’s him. Ever since Puddles passed, he’s been a bit more melancholy than I prefer.”
“Right.” Peggy sent Evie an irritated glance, but she did as her boss asked and disappeared behind the security door.
“Daisy and Jessica, is it?” the other gentleman asked.
“That’s right,” Evie said, straightening up and puffing her chest out.
He scanned them both and chuckled. “Your names fit you both.”
Of course, they did. Evie had seen to that, hadn’t she?
“Vic is one lucky man to get to spend the morning with not one, but two young ladies,” he said. “Maybe when you’re done, you can visit with the veterans. They are always up for—” His phone started to ring, and the man held up one finger, indicating for them to wait.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Dora asked Evie.
Evie nodded. “If Nurse Ratchet fails us, the dude in the office will get us in.”
Dora moved over to the door, trying to peer down the hallway. “Uh-oh. It doesn’t look good. Peggy is scowling.”
Evie sucked in a breath, wondering which of her lies had been detected. She pulled out her phone and tapped a quick message before hitting Send. “Okay, plan B. Just go with happens next.”
“Don’t I always?” Dora asked.
Evie placed a hand on her arm. “Yep. It’s why I love you so much.”
The door flew open, and Peggy strode through, glaring at Evie. “Who are you, really?”
“What?” Evie asked, pretending to be taken aback by the woman’s abruptness.
“Mr. Tuttle says he only has a granddaughter and no other relatives. And he’s certainly never been called Uncle Tutu,” she barked.
Evie continued to act confused, questioning what Peggy had told him and reiterating the family history.
“You’re going to have to leave now,” Peggy demanded, pointing to the door. “Or I’ll have to call security.”
“Daisy,” Dora started.
“She can’t just throw us out!” Evie said hotly. “Mama is going to be really upset if we don’t see Tutu. And with her heart…” Evie placed a hand on her chest and sucked in a dramatic breath. “If she thinks Tutu has disowned her then—”
The security door swung open again, and a tall, thin man with spikey blond hair entered the reception area. He had a piercing through his nose and one through his left eyebrow. After casting Evie and Dora approving glances, he turned to Peggy. “Excuse me.”
“Cal? What’s wrong?” Peggy asked, turning abruptly to the man.
“Nothing’s wrong, per se, but Mr. Tuttle is now demanding to see his cousins. Says he can’t believe he forgot about his cousin Petunia on his mother’s side and that they must be related to her.”
“They were close as children,” Evie supplied and started to dig around in her purse. “I have a picture right here.” She pulled out a faded color portrait of a young boy and even younger girl. They were sticking their tongues out at each other and had mud smeared all over them.
Peggy glanced between Evie and Cal, clearly trying to weigh the situation.
“Just let the ladies in to see Tuttle,” the older man barked from his office, sounding exasperated with his receptionist. “What harm could they cause? His biggest danger is having to deal with a woody, and I bet he hasn’t had one of those since nineteen eighty-five.”
“Mr. Fischer!” Peggy cried, her eyes wide with shock at his outburst.
The older man reappeared again. “Cal, take them on back.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said. He used his badge to disarm the door and pulled it open. He waved to Evie and Dora. “After you.”
The other man turned to Peggy. “I appreciate your dedication to following the rules, but we both know Tuttle is suffering early stages of dementia. If they want to—”
The door slammed shut, cutting off their conversation.
Dora let out a groan. “Dementia?”
Evie joined her friend in her frustration. “That’s definitely not going to help us get any information out of Uncle Tutu.” She placed a hand on Cal’s arm. “Thanks for coming to our rescue. I’m sorry I had to involve you.”
“It’s no problem. Anything for a friend of Jax’s,” he said.
“What’s going on?” Dora asked.
“Cal is Jax’s cousin. You know, from Trace’s band? Jax sent me his number, and I gave him a heads-up we might need backup.” Evie grinned. “It pays to be prepared.”
Dora’s eyebrows rose. “I guess so.” She turned to Cal. “Is Mr. Tuttle even up for talking to us? If he has dementia symptoms, then I don’t think it’s wise to agitate him.”
Cal shrugged. “It depends on the day. What do you need to talk to him about?”
Evie and Dora shared a look. “Um,” Evie said. “It’s better if we don’t say. It’s kinda personal.”
He nodded. “I see. Well, you better hurry, because his granddaughter will be here in about a half hour, and if she finds you here and turns you in, the shizzle is gonna hit the fan.”
Perfect, Evie thought. That was exactly who they wanted to talk to. “Thanks. We appreciate the warning.”
“Sure thing. Mr. Tuttle is at the end of the hall on the right. Stay out of trouble.” He winked and disappeared down another hallway.
“We need to tread carefully,” Dora said to Evie. “I don’t want to upset an older man who isn’t totally lucid.”
“I know,” Evie said. “Let’s just find out if he knows anything about a charity first. Then we’ll take it from there.”
“All right. But no shenanigans,” Dora insisted. “If it’s true that he’s been ripped off, he’s been through enough.”
“Yes, Mom,” Evie said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not planning on messing with the guy’s head.”
“I know, but—”
“Lily?” A small woman wrapped her cold hands around Dora’s arm. “Oh my goodness. Lily!” Her clear blue eyes lit up with joy and then filled with tears. “You’re here. I can’t believe it.”
Dora cast Evie a panicked glance. Evie started to move forward to help her friend extract herself from the woman’s clutches, but before she could even get a word out, a much younger woman with bright red hair and worried green eyes burst from a nearby room, clearly panicked as she scanned the corridor.
“Oh, thank god,” the woman said, breathing a sigh of relief. “There you are, Mom. I thought I’d lost you again.” She moved over to Dora. “Thank you for keeping her from wandering off.”
&nbs
p; “She thinks I’m someone named Lily,” Dora whispered to her.
“That’s her older sister,” the woman whispered back. “She passed young, when she was in her thirties.” The woman squinted at Dora. “You do kind of look like her.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “Would you mind sitting with her for a while? Just let her talk? It calms her to talk to Lily.”
“Um…” Dora glanced at Evie.
Go, Evie mouthed. I’ve got this. Evie could tell that wasn’t the answer Dora wanted, but the little old woman was clutching Dora’s arm so hard and smiling up at her with such joy, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Evie tilted her head toward the redhead. “Ask her if she knows anything about the charity while I go see Tuttle.”
“What charity?” the redhead asked.
“Let’s talk in your mom’s room,” Dora said, already letting the older woman lead her through the open door. She glanced back at Evie. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Who me?” Evie said, fluttering her eyes in mock innocence. “I’m just a sweet little southern girl. What kind of trouble could I get into?”
Dora snorted and followed the woman and her mother into the room.
28
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” the younger redhead asked Dora. “I don’t think I caught it.”
“Jessica. And you are?” Dora held out her hand for the woman.
“Darcy. And my mother’s name is Augusta, but everyone calls her Aggie.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Dora said, perching on a hard plastic chair across from the plain brown couch where Darcy sat with her mother.
“Lily,” Aggie sang. “You look so good. You must be using that new-fangled face cream. I swear you just keep getting younger and younger all the time.”
“Thank you, Aggie,” Dora said kindly to the woman. “That Sephora anti-aging cream is really doing its job.”
“I should say so.”
She winked at the sweet older lady and said a silent prayer that if she was ever in the same position that someone would indulge her if it meant a visit with a loved one.
Aggie spent the next ten minutes babbling about old stories of her and Lily, trips they’d gone on, old friends they hadn’t seen in years, and even touched on old loves that got away. But soon enough the older woman fell silent and started to stare over Dora’s shoulder.
Darcy studied her mother and sighed. “I think that’s about as much as we’re going to get today. She gets tired easily.”
“Right.” Dora bit back a grimace. She couldn’t leave until she asked about Brian and the charity, but even that felt like taking advantage of the older woman. She was in no position to answer any questions, let alone anything about a possible scam. But she could ask the woman’s daughter about it. “Hey, Darcy, my friend and I were told there is a man who volunteers here who collects money for an animal charity. Do you know anything about that?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t know. Mom did say something about donating to a nonprofit, but I don’t remember which one—hold on. Let me take a look at her bank account. I’m sure she wrote a check. She’s still old school.”
Dora sat back in the chair. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m a huge animal lover, and I’m always looking for ways—”
“What in the ever-loving hell?” Darcy shrieked as she jumped to her feet. “Mom, you gave some charity five thousand dollars? We don’t have that kind of money. How are going to pay next month’s bill for this place?”
Her mother just blinked up at her. “Relax, Mindy. It’s only money. Think of the little puppies.”
“I’m Darcy, remember?”
“Right, dear,” her mother said absently.
Darcy let out a frustrated sigh as a pained look flashed over her face. “Mom, we have to do a stop payment on this check. You can’t afford this.”
“But Lenny will be so disappointed.” She pouted.
“Who’s Lenny?” Darcy asked her.
“The one who collected the money,” Aggie said.
Dora’s heart sank. Lenny wasn’t Brian. Was it possible he used a different name when he was working the home? Or did he have a partner in crime?
“Lenny runs the Little Barkers Rehoming charity?” Darcy asked.
“Yes! I always knew he’d grow up to do great things. When we were kids, he was always the one collecting the neighborhood strays.” Aggie gave them a bright smile. “Now he can afford to feed them.”
Darcy sank back down into the couch. “Oh no.” She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her temple. “She’s talking about her younger brother Glen. He passed over forty years ago. That isn’t who she gave this money to.” Darcy turned to Dora with pleading eyes. “Do you have any idea who took this money? We have to get it back and stop him from doing this again.”
“We could look it up online,” Dora said, already pulling out her phone. “See who the contact is.”
“Of course,” Darcy said, breathing a little easier.
Dora found the website easily enough, but as she clicked through the pages, her frown deepened. “There isn’t any identifying information or background on here. No phone number or address. Just an email.”
“Oh, no.” Darcy started to wring her hands together. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it doesn’t. Hold on. Let me try one more thing.” Dora quickly pulled up the DNS record. What she found made her eyes bug out. “Surely he can’t be this stupid.”
“Who?” Darcy jumped up off the couch and ran to Dora’s side, squinting at the screen. “Who’s Brian?”
“My neighbor,” Dora spat out as her fingers flew over the touch screen. She pulled up the Florida government website, searching for the charity registration. There wasn’t one. They’d caught him. Mentally, she threw a triumphant fist in the air, but she kept her expression concerned for the sake of Darcy. Brian had five thousand dollars of her mother’s money, and unless Brian had the money stashed in his house, she wasn’t likely to get it back. “There’s no record of this charity being filed with the state.”
“And that makes it illegal, right?” Darcy filled in, her expression becoming fierce.
“I should think so.”
“Good.” She grabbed her own phone and started tapping in numbers. After a moment, she said, “Janelle, we’ve got a problem. A big one. Mama’s been scammed out of some money, and we need to take a jackass down.”
Exactly seven minutes later, a tall woman with dark black hair and brilliant blue eyes walked in wearing a sundress. She had a pad of paper in her hand and a scowl on her face. “Tell me everything.”
“Jessica, this is my sister Janelle. Janelle, this is Jessica. She helped me figure out this is all a scam,” Darcy said.
“I did not get scammed,” Aggie insisted from her bed near the wall.
Darcy’s nostrils flared as she clearly did everything in her power to hold onto her temper. “Either way, Mama, we can’t afford that donation. Janelle is going to deal with it.”
“Tell me everything,” Janelle said.
Darcy and Dora took turns relaying what they found out, and when they were done, Janelle scowled. “I knew he was dirty!”
“You know that Brian guy?” Darcy asked with a gasp.
“Yeah, he works at the station. I’m going to gather everything I need and then bring his ass down.” Janelle glanced at Dora. “You can keep this to yourself for a while, right?”
Alarm bells were going off in Dora’s head. Janelle worked at the station? Was she corrupt, too, or could Dora trust her? “I’m not comfortable lying about—”
“I didn’t mean to imply you should lie about anything,” Janelle said. “I’d never do that. I meant just don’t spill that we’re onto him so that I have a day or so to make sure I have the evidence I need before I turn his money-grubbing butt in.” She glanced down at her notes and chewed on the inside of her cheek, clearly thinking something through. “I knew he was up to something; I just didn’t kn
ow what.”
“Um, sure.” What else could Dora say? Nothing. Not until she had that flash drive in her hands. The proof that would keep her out of jail. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t know—”
“Where is she?” a loud man barked, his footsteps so loud on the tile floors that they seemed to echo through the slightly open door.
“Back here,” another man growled. “The little harlot tried charming me right out of my pants.”
Dora moved to the door and peeked out. Her heart stopped, and her breath got caught in her throat. It was Brian. His dark eyes were wild and his face beet red as he stomped toward a short, pudgy old man with a bald head.
“No, I did not!” Evie cried. “As if!”
Dora groaned and whispered, “Oh no. Daisy, what are you doing?”
“That limp wanker,” Janelle said from behind Dora. “I’m going to enjoy throwing his no-stamina butt in jail.”
Again, Dora mentally cheered. She’d like nothing better than to see him rotting in jail. The rat. But she needed to find a way to get Evie out of there. Brian had obviously already spotted her.
Janelle strode out of the door and promptly ran right into Evie. The two bounded off each other, but Janelle maintained her balance while Evie flew backward and landed on her butt with a loud “Oomph!”
“Sorry,” Janelle said, barely glancing at her. She moved straight for Brian, a stern look on her face. “Why are you bothering people in an assisted living home?” she demanded.
Brian came to an abrupt stop and glanced around nervously. “I—uh, I volunteer here.”
“Right. And I wax every two days.” She started to move toward him, but Brian bolted, aiming for the front door.
An older man who’d been on a ladder changing a light bulb chose that exact moment to climb down. He slipped on the last wrung, flung his arm out, and knocked Brian over. He went down in a heap, his head smacking the tile with a loud thunk.
The older man rolled and started to moan as he clutched his arm.