Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 03 - An Apple a Day Keeps Murder Away

by Janet McNulty

  “One problem,” I said, “Aunt Ethel.”

  “Bring her along,” said Jackie. “Remember the last time you brought her to a Blood Drive? She chastised that poor nurse for two hours on the proper technique for inserting a needle into the vein.”

  That was right. I remembered that incident. I had vowed to never take her anywhere again.

  “Then it’s settled,” said Greg. “I’ll meet you all at the blood bank at ten.”

  “Not so fast,” I said. “Aunt Ethel might not come if you do.”

  “Why?” asked Greg a bit hurt.

  “She hasn’t decided if she likes you yet,” I replied. “I’m going to have a hard enough time getting her to come with Jackie and I.”

  “Very well,” he said getting my drift. “I’ll stay home.” He kissed me and said good-bye.

  I got up and brushed the crumbs off of my pants. “We should go.”

  Reluctantly, Jackie agreed.

  We arrived home just before dark. The sun sat low in the sky and the light faded with each passing moment. I unlocked the door and went in followed closely by Jackie. Aunt Ethel sat on the couch reading a book.

  “Mellow,” she said looking up with her reading glasses on the tip of her nose, “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

  “I have to,” I said, “This is my home.”

  “That’s what I kept telling myself,” she said. “You were gone an awfully long time.”

  “There was an accident at work,” I replied, “It took us all day to clean it up.”

  “Well, I guess tomorrow we can do something together,” said Aunt Ethel, “I really would like to see the rest of this town. And you can be my tour guide.”

  “Sure,” I said, “But first Jackie and I are going to the Blood Drive tomorrow to donate blood.”

  Aunt Ethel’s expression darkened. The last time she donated blood it didn’t go well. She never explained the matter fully, but it ended with the police arresting her.

  “You don’t have to come,” I said, though secretly I hoped she would since our plan depended on it. “But if you did, we could go somewhere immediately afterward.”

  “But you’ll be tired out after giving blood,” said Aunt Ethel.

  “Which is why I’ll need you there with me.” I hoped I hadn’t come across as begging.

  Aunt Ethel’s expression brightened some. The prospect of being needed always fed her ego. I think that’s what she really wanted most of all.

  “I suppose I can accompany you two,” she said. “I’ll drive you two home.”

  Jackie started to protest, but I cut her off. “That would be great,” I said. “We plan to be at the blood bank by ten in the morning. That way the rest of our day will be free.”

  “I’m so glad that you invited me out to stay with you.” Aunt Ethel gave me a hug.

  That was Aunt Ethel for you. She would invite herself someplace and then insist that she was handed an invitation. I just accepted her hug and held my tongue.

  “Oh, Mellow darling, someone dropped a package for you.” Aunt Ethel pointed at a brown, paper wrapped package on the coffee table.

  I picked it up. No return address. The only writing on there was my name. Curious, I opened it. It was a plastic ball with a lid that unscrewed. With each movement something rattled on the inside. I took off the lid. Apple shaped pins fell out of it with a note. Again, the note was written with cut out magazine letters.

  Three times a day; seven days a week.

  This was ridiculous. Whoever kept sending me these notes seemed to be obsessed with apples. I put the pins back into the container and re-wrapped it. It looked as though my lawyer was going to get another phone call from me.

  “What is it, dear?” asked Aunt Ethel.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Aunt Ethel, “I’ll see you in the morning.” She grabbed her book and went into what had now become her room.

  Jackie snatched the note. She read it then stared at me. “You have a stalker,” she said.

  “Tell me about it.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Calvin’s number. It was late and he groggily answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Jeffers,” I said, “It’s Mel. I got another one of those packages.”

  “When?” His voice perked up becoming all business.

  “This evening. It was waiting for me when I came home.”

  “Did you touch it?”

  I kicked myself for being stupid. I should have known better after the first one. “Yes,” I said, “So did my Aunt Ethel. She thought it was just a regular delivery.”

  “Alright, leave it be. I’ll be right over.” He hung up.

  He showed up within the hour. Luckily, my aunt remained asleep. I did not want to explain what was going on. I knew she would flip out. He came in and once again picked up the package with a plastic bag.

  “Do you know who delivered it?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied, “It was there same as the last. There was no delivery guy.”

  Calvin considered that for a moment. “I’ll give this to Detective Shorts. But beyond that, there isn’t much else I can do.”

  “What’s going on here?” asked Jackie, growing impatient.

  “I would say you have a stalker, Miss Summers.”

  “No kidding,” interrupted Jackie.

  “It could even be the same guy that kidnapped you,” continued Calvin, “However, we have no proof that you were kidnapped and you don’t remember anything.”

  “So why do you sound disappointed?” I asked.

  “None of this looks good for you, Mel,” said Calvin, “The only reason you are not in a jail cell is because no body has been found. But the District Attorney isn’t stupid. He will claim that you have sent these notes to yourself. That you have a friend helping you. Next he will claim that your memory loss is an act, or self-imposed.”

  “Self-imposed?”

  “There are drugs you can take to give yourself temporary amnesia,” said Calvin. “The D.A. will make the case that that is what you have done. To be honest, you don’t have much of a case.”

  “So why are you here?” My anger rose in my throat. If my prospects at getting off were so slim, then why bother with a lawyer?

  “I told you, I owe Tiny.”

  “Don’t give me that.” I did my best to keep my voice down so as not to bring out my aunt.

  Calvin took a deep breath. “Look, I originally took your case because I owe Tiny my life. And he is not the sort of guy you refuse.”

  I bought that much of it. Tiny was not someone who accepted the word “no”.

  “But after meeting with you I can tell you didn’t kill anyone,” continued Calvin. “I have spent my life defending people. You can tell the guilty ones from the innocent ones. Detective Shorts has been busting his behind to prove your innocence. But whoever is behind this has covered his bases.

  “You going back to the motel was a dumb move. I warned you about keeping a low profile. It’s a good thing that the detective covered for you, but don’t think that the D.A. accepted his story.

  “Now, I’m telling you: no more investigating on your own. Let the cops handle it. And if you remember anything, let me know.”

  Calvin left shutting the door quietly behind him.

  “Jerk,” said Jackie.

  I knew she only said it to make me feel better. I smiled at her effort, but it didn’t help much.

  “Can’t cover all his bases,” said Rachel. As usual she appeared out of thin air.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Just that,” replied Rachel, flipping her braids. “People are good, but no one is that good. And despite all of the planning this person may have done, something always gets left behind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like that piece of plastic you found in the room. Or that button,” said Rachel. “I’m certain they weren’t meant to be the
re.”

  I considered what she said. It made sense.

  “So, you’re planning to go to the Blood Drive tomorrow and do some snooping?” Rachel had a broad grin on her face. “I’m tagging along.”

  “Actually,” I began, “I need you to make sure that Mr. Harrow doesn’t run into us while we’re checking out the blood bank.”

  Rachel considered my suggestion for a moment. “I think I get what you mean. Consider it done. He will be off your back all day tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Rachel.”

  Chapter 6

  The next morning found us all dressed and ready to go to the Blood Drive. We took my car and headed straight for it. The early morning proved an uneventful time for the Blood Drive. I had my doubts over whether that would prove useful or not.

  The nurses in the building lit up upon seeing us. They had two people in chairs hooked up to IVs and draining blood into bags. I cringed a bit at the sight. OK, so I get a bit squeamish around blood. Donating it isn’t one of my favorite things to do.

  Crossing my fingers, I walked up to the lady behind the counter. “We’re here to donate blood,” I said.

  She beamed. Sometimes I felt that vampires worked at blood drives. They always got so excited whenever someone shows up to give them their blood.

  “I need you to fill out this form,” said the lady.

  She handed me a clip board with a legal form on it. It asked the typical questions about your name and address. Beneath that was another slip of paper with all sorts of questions about your health, sex life, any diseases; you get the picture. She gave the same forms to Jackie and Aunt Ethel.

  “This is all so intrusive and personal.” Aunt Ethel looked suspiciously at the forms she was given.

  Here we go, I thought. Maybe Jackie and I could break away and be back before her tirade ended. Unfortunately, her little fit didn’t last long. Jackie and I glanced at each other in disappointment. Our plan was not working.

  “This way please,” said another nurse to me.

  “I think I want to reconsider,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” replied the overly joyful nurse. “There is nothing to fear.” She took my arm and steered me into a secluded area with a couple of chairs and a desk with medical equipment on it.”

  “Are you pregnant?” asked the nurse.

  “What? No.”

  “Any sexually transmitted diseases?”

  “No.”

  “Have you engaged in sexual intercourse within the last twenty four hours?”

  Didn’t I just answer these on the questionnaire? “No,” I replied. My impatience must have come through in my voice.

  “I realize these are personal questions,” she said, “But I have to ask them before we can draw blood. Are you subject to dizzy spells or fatigue?”

  “No.”

  “Is there a history of anemia within your family?”

  “No.”

  The questions continued like this for the next five minutes until she had gone through her list.

  “Now, I am going to prick your finger and take a sample of your blood to test its iron level,” said the nurse.

  Before I could say anything she poked my index finger and wiped a drop of my blood on a stick of paper. Afterward she placed it in some machine. Once the bells and whistles stopped the nurse frowned.

  “Unfortunately, Miss Summers, your iron level is too low. We cannot allow you to donate today.”

  Boy, was she disappointed. It came through in the tone of her voice. I feigned regret. Inside I jumped for joy. All I wanted to do was snoop around and get some answers, not be hooked up to a hose that drains my life force.

  The nurse gave me some pamphlets on how to boost my iron levels and on how good iron levels lead to good health. I thanked her and apologized for not being able to donate that day.

  When I entered the waiting area I spotted Jackie in a chair. She looked a bit too happy. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I can’t donate today,” she replied, “I told the lady that there was a possibility I could be pregnant, but I hadn’t taken a test. Then I told her that I had a cousin who was anemic and that I had had surgery within the last month. She couldn’t wait to get rid of me. In fact, I think she thought I was nuts.”

  “Jackie,” I hissed.

  “What? You said we were here to investigate what happened to you. How are we to do that hooked up to a bunch of needles?”

  I couldn’t believe her. She told a whopper of a lie. On the other hand, it had never occurred to me to lie to the nurse.

  “What did you tell your nurse?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied, “My iron levels were too low.”

  “How’s your Aunt Ethel doing?”

  As though in answer to her question, Aunt Ethel’s voice echoed through the building. “I answered all of your questions on that piece of paper. Why must you keep asking me the same thing?”

  “It is our policy,” said the poor nurse.

  “Fine. Ouch! Are you sure you’re certified to stick people with that? Really. How many times am I going to be poked today?”

  Sounds like they just gave her the iron test. Leave it to Aunt Ethel to overreact.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t ma’am me,” said Aunt Ethel, “Do I look like a ninety year old lady who can barely stand? I am in my fifties I’ll have you know.”

  A little delayed, but at least Aunt Ethel held up to her promise of causing trouble.

  “How old is she?” whispered Jackie.

  “Sixty-five.”

  I motioned for Jackie to follow me while everyone was distracted. We tiptoed down the hall away from the commotion. I checked the first door we came across. Locked. I checked another. Same thing.

  “Do you know what you’re looking for?” asked Jackie.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I’m looking for anything that seems familiar.”

  Jackie tried a door and it opened. She waved me over. We darted inside and silently shut the door behind us. I’m not sure what I expected to find. I guess I just hoped for that sense of déjà vu again.

  The room had only one light on. At least it was enough to see what we were doing. Jackie headed for the switch. “No,” I said to her, “We don’t need to announce our presence.”

  “How are we supposed to—”

  I pulled a flashlight from my purse. It was smaller than the one in my car, but I felt certain it would serve our purpose.”

  “Do you carry that thing wherever you go?”

  “Since our trip to that haunted house, I don’t go anywhere without a flashlight,” I said.

  “Can’t argue with you there.”

  “You check over there and I’ll look over here.”

  Jackie went to where I pointed. I headed for some filing cabinets. The first drawer I picked was locked. I snatched some scissors from a nearby table and jiggled the door a bit. It popped open.

  I flipped through the files not sure what I was looking for. But the feeling that I had been here before kept pushing me onward. There had to have been a reason why I felt as though I had been here previously.

  Despite my going through all of the drawers in the filing cabinet, nothing stood out. I shut the last one in disappointment.

  “Mel.”

  Jackie called me over from the far corner. She stood by a giant refrigerator that had bags of red stuff hanging in it. Instantly, I recognized them as the bags of blood that people fill when they donate their own. This must where they stored them.

  I peered through the glass door of the fridge. Nothing stood out to me as weird. No sense of seeing this before either.

  “There is nothing unusual here,” I said.

  “Look at this.” Jackie pointed to a big gap in the bunch of blood hanging in the fridge.

  The bags were packed in tightly; that gap stood out. I pulled on the door. Locked as well. I dug in my purse and pulled out a safety pin. With a little bit of poking around the lock click
ed.

  “You’ve been spending too much time with Tiny,” said Jackie.

  “Perhaps,” I replied, “But he has some useful skills.”

  I reached in and pulled some of the plastic bags of blood out for a closer look. All the major blood types were in there, except one: type O.

  “You’d think there would be at least one bag of type O in here,” I said.

  “Maybe no one of that blood type donated,” said Jackie.

  “Perhaps. But don’t you think this gap is strange?”

  I put the blood back in the same order I found them. The feeling that this entire venture was another bust welled up in me. Then, I noticed it. A bag full of blood lay on the bottom of the refrigerator. It seemed odd that it would be there when the others were obviously carefully organized. I picked it up. Type O.

  Jackie took it from me and examined it. “This is just getting weird,” she said.

  She handed it back to me. The blue cap on the opening of the bag caught my attention. A light instantly went off in my head. It matched the cap that I had found in the motel room. But what was the connection?

  “Look at this.” I pointed at the cap.

  “And?”

  “It looks just like the one that Tiny and I found in that motel room I woke up in,” I said.

  Understanding dawned on Jackie. “So you think that someone stole blood from here and then poured it all over you in that room?”

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “It’s possible,” I said. “But why?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” said Jackie. “Why did you disappear?”

  I put the blood back in the fridge.

  The sounds of someone walking past the door to the room caught our attention. I glanced at my watch not sure of how long we had been in there. I slammed the door to the fridge shut and headed back to the exit with Jackie. Slowly, I opened it a small crack and peeked out.

  “Is it clear?” asked Jackie.

  “I think so. Let’s go.”

  We slipped out of the room and closed the door careful not to make a noise. Jackie and I speed walked back to the entrance. No one noticed us reappear. Aunt Ethel’s voice was going strong as she proceeded to tell the nurse how to properly do her job.