by Ann Warner
“You were right,” Myrtle told Lill, ignoring me. “When I returned the cash and told everyone I’d set up a fund at Children’s Hospital instead, every one of them took out their checkbooks and wrote me a check for more than twice what they’d given before.”
The chart showed that donations had reached $800.
“And with that check from the anonymous donor, we’ll be well on our way to our goal.”
“I’ll get that to you this afternoon,” Lill said, raising her eyebrows in question to me.
I nodded. I’d have Devi run me to the bank.
“How did you decide on a goal of five thousand?” Lill asked.
“That’s what the lady at Children’s suggested as a starting point. But I’m hoping we’ll do much better than that. If we do, we’ll be able to help other children as well as Sara.”
Clearly Myrtle has no concept of the costs of modern medical care.
“I’ll get started on the messages for Sara’s book,” Lill said, smiling at her. “And by the way, Josephine has agreed to help me.”
That earned me a glance, a bosom heave, and a clatter from Myrtle’s bracelets.
“I apologize for my earlier comments,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth.
Myrtle looked down her nose at me, but after a suitable interval, she nodded.
“I think it might be best to keep what we’re doing a secret from Eddie,” Lill said. “At least, for the time being.”
“Hmm yes, I think you’re right,” Myrtle said, glancing at me as if I were a spider and she wasn’t sure if I was dead or getting ready to jump on her. “Would you maybe . . . that is . . . perhaps we could play cards later?” Myrtle glanced in my direction, this time including me, but not yet completely thawed.
I smiled at her, unclenching my jaw to do it. This was one side effect of our collaboration that hadn’t occurred to me—that we’d be roped back into playing cards with Edna and Myrtle. To tell the truth, I’d been relieved when our association ended. So I needed to come up with a way to deflect her.
“How lovely,” Lill said, beaming, and I wanted to kick her. “But I don’t think we’ll have time for cards while we’re working on the inspiration book for Sara.”
“Yes, I suppose,” Myrtle said, her expression uncertain. “And I’ll be busy as well.”
“Oh, you will,” Lill said.
I forced my lips into another smile and followed Lill’s lead of killing with kindness. “This is a big project for you to take on. Huge. I think Lill’s right, that we won’t have time for cards until we reach our goal . . .” I let the words trail off, and we nodded at each other in a friendly fashion.
Finally, frowning, Myrtle turned and walked away.
“Good save,” I told Lill.
“Kind of boring to go back to playing with Myrtle and Edna after playing with Devi and Mac.”
Amen to that.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Devi
Saturday was an unseasonably warm, clear day, so I ran my errands on foot. Blue Ash, the suburb where I live in a small apartment complex, doesn’t have much of a downtown, just a couple of strip malls and some office buildings. But there’s an interesting memorial—a circle of bronze statues of soldiers from a variety of conflicts—that lies on my route between the bakery and the library.
I went to the bakery first and picked up cookies for Josephine to have with her tea, hoping I’d be invited to share. Next, I crossed the street and cut through a parking lot, heading toward the memorial circle, where I noticed a man and a small boy walking a dog.
The man seemed familiar, and my first thought was that perhaps I’d seen the trio walking here before. A few steps closer, and I realized the man was Mac. I stopped in the lee of the building I’d been passing and watched as he bent over to speak to the boy. Their conversation went on for a minute or so while the dog sniffed the nearest statue.
Then Mac straightened, and I got a good look at the boy. My throat clenched with sorrow. For Mac, his wife.
The child looked up at Mac, who smiled down at him and took the small hand in his. I turned and walked away, hoping Mac had been too occupied with his son to notice me.
~ ~ ~
A few days after I’d seen Mac and his son walking their dog, I saw him again, arriving at Brookside. He and a second man, who I assumed was also a police detective, were going into Mr. Souter’s office as I was gathering a group for one of the weekly shopping trips.
It distressed me the way my heart sped up when I saw Mac. Just as upsetting was the urge to stick around in the hope I’d get a chance to speak to him. As to what we’d talk about, I had no idea.
Reminding myself of both his marital and police status, I walked out to the bus to check in the shoppers and was surprised to find Lillian and Josephine part of the group since they rarely go on outings.
When we arrived at the mall, I helped everyone off the bus and then followed them inside. While they shopped, I found a place to sit and read.
I’d been reading a half hour when Lillian and Josephine showed up, carrying a bag from Staples. They were walking briskly, grinning at each other as if one of them had just told a joke.
“What are you two up to?” I said, closing my book.
“We aren’t always up to something,” Josephine said.
“Maybe not always. But certainly sometimes.”
“We have a plan,” Lillian said.
This could mean only one thing. I gave Josephine a stern look. “I thought Mac told you to leave the investigating to him.”
“Of course he did.” Josephine shook her head. “And isn’t that just like a man?”
“A man who is a police officer. He wants you to stay safe and not interfere.”
“We have no intention of interfering, dear,” Josephine said. “Our plan is to enhance.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“Safer for you not to know.”
“So you admit you’re doing something dangerous?”
They looked at each other and then at me with shocked expressions.
“Of course not,” Lillian said.
“Okay. If it’s not dangerous, why not tell me?”
“It isn’t dangerous, but it is tricky,” Josephine said.
“I believe I can handle tricky.”
“But if you don’t know anything and Mac asks you questions, you won’t have to lie to him.”
Sadly, I could think of no reason Mac would need to question me. “He was just going into Mr. Souter’s office as we were leaving,” I told them.
“Good,” Josephine said. “He must have gotten the theft reports. When do we get to go back?”
“Not for at least another thirty minutes.”
Josephine snorted, obviously impatient for the outing to be over, now that her shopping was done.
“You could always window shop,” I said.
“You do realize that ninety percent of what’s on display is aimed at people at least sixty years younger than we are?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, no. But now you mention it.”
“Indeed. Can you picture either Lill or me in one of those outfits?” Josephine pointed at the nearest shop window, where skinny store mannequins cavorted in brightly colored tights and halter tops that were wildly inappropriate for the season.
“I don’t know. I think you’d look quite fetching in that pink-striped one,” Lillian said.
“As would you in the green polka dots,” Josephine retorted.
The two laughed, pulling me in as well, successfully deflecting my attempt to find out what they were up to.
When we got back to Brookside, Mac’s car was no longer parked in the visitors’ area. Disappointed, I helped the group off the bus.
I was busy the rest of the morning, planning for future outings and the evenings’ entertainments, but in the afternoon, Candace showed up in my doorway. She and I rarely have any reason to talk to each other, so it surprised me when she slid in, closed
the door, and sat in the visitor’s chair.
“I need to give you a heads-up, Devi. The police were here this morning. They spoke to Calvin and to me, and they’re planning to come back to talk to you.”
Calvin was Mr. Souter. And the news Mac was coming to speak to me lightened my mood.
“What’s it about?”
“They say they’ve received three reports from either residents or relatives of residents claiming something valuable has gone missing from here.”
“Oh? Why didn’t they report it to you or Mr. Souter first?”
Candace huffed. “Apparently he blew them off. I certainly never heard anything about it. But the items are worth thousands of dollars.”
I tried to think what I would ask if this were the first I was hearing about this. “What’s missing?”
“A gold necklace, a rare stamp, and would you believe, a baseball card.”
“Baseball card?”
“Yep. Surprised me as well. Who knew they could be worth thousands of dollars? She shook her head.
“And a stamp, you said?”
I kept asking questions, getting answers I already knew. Throughout, I wondered if Candace was as clueless as she seemed to be, or was she playing a role, like I was?
“And did you hear all the talk about Myrtle Grabinowitz doing this fund-raiser thing?”
“Fund-raiser?” This time I didn’t have to pretend I had no idea what Candace was talking about.
“For kids with cancer, inspired by some kid Myrtle knows. And would you believe, Josephine Bartlett is aiding and abetting? She was just here, asking me to write something for an inspirational book she and Lillian are putting together for the kids. And she insisted I use the paper and pen she provided.”
I recalled the Staples shopping bag, and Josephine and Lillian’s unwillingness to tell me what they were planning. But a book of inspirational words for kids with cancer? It made no sense.
“That’s weird,” I said, meaning it.
“I’ll say. I consider Josephine our reigning witch. This tarnishes her image considerably. She keeps this up, you may not be the only one willing to deal with her.” Candace stood. “Anyway, that’s it. I just wanted you to be prepared if the police do come talk to you, although I told them it was unlikely you’d know anything useful.”
She smiled, and I struggled not to take offense at her casual assessment of what I knew or didn’t know.
~ ~ ~
Shortly after Candace left, I got a phone call from a Detective Dillingham wanting to make an appointment to speak with me. I smothered my disappointment over meeting with someone other than Mac. It was better if I didn’t see him.
I agreed to be available at three. Then I went in search of Josephine and Lillian.
Josephine wasn’t home, but Lillian was. After asking who was there, it took another minute before she opened her door.
“I just had an interesting conversation with Candace,” I said.
“Oh?” Lillian didn’t invite me in, which was peculiar since she’s usually welcoming.
“Something about a fund-raiser that Myrtle’s running?”
“Oh, yes. She’s collecting for a fund at Children’s that pays medical expenses for children with cancer.”
“Candace also said you and Josephine were helping?”
“It’s a wonderful cause, don’t you think? Several of us are helping out.”
“But you and Josephine had a falling-out with Myrtle, didn’t you?”
“Oh, that’s been . . . we’ve apologized to each other, and it’s fine.” Lillian was usually composed and dignified. This was the first time I’d seen her flustered.
“And you’re putting together a book?” I said.
She nodded. “We’re asking everyone to write something inspirational.”
“Are you going to ask me?”
“Of course.” She stepped back from the door, and I followed her inside. She picked up several sheets of paper along with a ballpoint pen and handed them to me.
“We’re asking for hopeful messages that children and their parents may find comforting. And if you have any trouble coming up with something, it’s perfectly okay to pick a quotation. Then you write it out. The handwriting will make the book more interesting, don’t you think?”
“Why the sudden interest in children with cancer?” Then I had an awful thought. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Eddie, does it?”
“I think that’s where Myrtle first got the idea,” Lillian said. “But the money’s going directly to Children’s.”
While I could understand Myrtle collecting money, I couldn’t see why Lillian and Josephine had agreed to this bizarre idea for a handwritten book.
“Was there anything else you needed?” Lillian said.
I shook my head. As I did, I noticed a book on her table. I could read only parts of the title: Grapho and riting, before good manners required me to take my leave. I walked out, puzzling over both Lillian’s manner and the book’s title. When I got back to my office, I wrote out the letters I’d seen, and worked on filling in the blanks.
I opened the Amazon site on my computer and searched the book category for “grapho.” I scrolled through several screens before hitting on a possible match: Graphoanalysis: The Art and Science of Handwriting Analysis.
I read the book description and then sat back staring at the screen, shaking my head, both amused and appalled. No question, Josephine must have crossed her fingers when Mac asked her to refrain from any further investigations, because clearly that’s what she and Lillian were doing. Investigating.
On the pretense of putting together an inspirational book, they were collecting handwriting samples to analyze. I wondered who would be doing the analyzing, and if either of them had any idea what they were doing.
There was a knock on the doorframe. I looked up to find Mac standing there, which made my heart do an absurd skippy thing. I closed my Internet browser, took a breath to steady myself, and smiled at him.
“Is this a good time for you?” he said.
“Yes, of course. It’s fine. Please, have a seat.”
He sat, turning his notebook in his hands. “We’ve been interviewing the senior staff, and it would have looked odd if we left you out.”
“You’re investigating the thefts, then?”
“Yes, although I’m afraid we haven’t been able to make much progress. We have our IT guy searching the web, and we located the jeweler who designed the necklace. She provided us with a picture.” He leaned forward and laid a photo on the desk. “I’m wondering if you ever saw Mrs. Turpin wearing this?”
The necklace was a thick braid of gold, and hanging from it was a heart-shaped pendant inset with five diamonds. “Oh yes. I have seen this. Gladys always wore it whenever she went out to dinner with the group.”
“Good. At least, that’s proof she had it with her here at Brookside.” He reclaimed the photo, sat back, and opened his notebook.
“Wasn’t it on her inventory list?”
“She listed jewelry with an overall value of $5,000, but the necklace alone is worth seven. As for the stamp and the baseball card, they were also listed as part of collections, not as specific items. Souter did say the lists are manually entered into a computer program, and the original forms are then shredded. Maybe the specifics were lost at that point.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, thinking about the possibilities that opened up for a potential thief.
“Do you have access to the forms?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not the originals. And I doubt I have access to the computer forms either. At least, I don’t think I do. Do you want me to check the staff database?”
He nodded, and I turned to the computer and logged into the Brookside site. Since I use it so rarely, I had to look up my password.
Mac came around the desk and stood behind me as I scrolled through the various menu choices. His nearness made my fingers skip over the keys as I tried to ty
pe in a search term. I deleted the mistyped word and tried again, discovering I had limited access to information, something I’d never noticed before.
“I’ll have to check and see who does have access,” Mac said, sitting back down. “Would you have any ideas about that?”
“Aside from Mr. Souter and Candace, possibly their assistant. Did he tell you who transfers the data from the forms?”
“He says he does that. For security reasons.”
“And then he shreds the forms?”
“Now that’s the interesting thing. He doesn’t do it right away. He leaves the forms along with other papers to be shredded, and they’re picked up periodically by a shredding company.”
“That means anyone with access to his office could help themselves to the forms before they’re shredded.” I immediately thought of Eddie.
“We’re thinking one person is doing this, but it’s also possible it’s two people, one with access to the lists and a second with routine access to apartments.”
“That sounds plausible,” I said. “Eddie has both, you know. He’s frequently alone in Souter’s office, and he has access to the apartments as well.”
Mac made a final note and then put his notebook away, signaling the end of our meeting.
I debated whether to mention what Josephine and Lillian were up to, but since it was unlikely anyone would suspect an ulterior motive in their book project, it would be a shame to spoil their fun. I doubted they’d find out anything useful, though.
“What about my appointment with Detective Dillingham?” I said.
Mac frowned.
“He said he was coming at three to interview me?”
“I’ll let him know I took care of it.” He paused, looking down at his hands, then he gave me a direct look. “Any more trouble with Eddie?”
“No. I’ve followed your advice. I always call Josephine when I’m ready to leave, and she watches until I get in my car. I’ve also been leaving a little earlier so I can walk out with one of the aides.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Be sure you keep doing that.”