by Joanne Fluke
His hands were clenched. Neil took a deep breath and relaxed them. This wasn’t the time to give vent to his anger. He had to pretend to be remorseful, to beg Jill’s forgiveness for his momentary lapse.
He might actually have to give up Lisa. Jill would be more suspicious this time around, so it might be wise to call it quits. Of course he’d miss Lisa, but there were always pretty women on the campus. He wouldn’t be alone for long.
* * *
Connie was seated at a corner booth in the bar, nursing a vodka gimlet. She didn’t like vodka gimlets, but they had been Alan’s favorite drinks and she’d hoped she might feel closer to him by ordering one.
The day had not gone well at all. Connie had left Ian at the convalescent center and gone straight to the next address on her list. Kathy Miller had received Alan’s spleen. Though Connie knew another woman couldn’t possibly help her, she’d wanted to meet Kathy to see what kind of person she was.
The Miller home was in North Minneapolis, so Connie locked her doors and kept her car windows rolled up as she’d turned off Lincoln Avenue and driven past boarded-up buildings and graffiti-scarred block walls. Several times, when she’d been forced to stop at red lights, groups of black teenagers had stared at her, suspicious of a white face in their neighborhood. Connie had wanted to shout out that she was just passing through, but she’d been afraid her words might arouse anger. Instead, she’d kept a determined smile on her face and she’d avoided all eye contact with anyone who looked like a gang member.
There had been no Christmas decorations in this neighborhood. The only concession to the season had been a hand-painted sign in a liquor-store window, advertising a Christmas special on Bud Lite. She’d seen a dope deal going down, folded money exchanged for a plastic envelope; but she had looked away, pretending not to notice.
Connie’s hands had been shaking as she’d turned down Morgan Avenue. This had once been a nice residential area, but now all the houses had wrought-iron security bars on the doors and windows.
She’d pulled over to the curb in front of Kathy Miller’s house, a well-kept older home with a shoveled walkway and a Christmas wreath on the door. It also had security bars. Connie had pressed the buzzer, armed with the bouquet of flowers she’d brought.
“Yes?” A young black woman had opened the inner door to peer out through the security bars.
Connie had smiled. The woman had seemed distracted, but she hadn’t appeared unfriendly. “My name is Chloe White, and I have a delivery, a bouquet for Kathy Miller.”
“For Kathy?” The woman had looked startled for a moment; then she’d blinked back tears. “Thank you. It must be for her funeral. Kathy died yesterday.”
Connie had felt a rush of sympathy. “I’m so terribly sorry. They should have told me before they sent me out here.”
“That’s okay, hon.” The woman opened the door to take the bouquet. “I’ll put these in water. It’ll give Mama a lift when she comes home from the funeral parlor.”
Connie was halfway to her car when the woman called her back. “Hold on, hon. There’s no card. Do you know who these are from?”
“Uh . . . yes, I do.” Connie said the first name that popped into her head. “They’re from her friend, Alan.”
Connie’s mind hadn’t been on the traffic as she’d driven back to her hotel room. She’d been thinking about Kathy Miller and wishing she knew what had caused her death. Connie had spent weeks reading about organ transplants, and she knew there were risks. Patients could die from the surgery itself, or the anesthesia. After the surgery was completed, there was the possibility of infection. Patients who needed transplants were sometimes weakened by disease; they could lack the stamina to recuperate. And even if the patient lived through all those risks, there was always the rejection factor. A recipient’s body could refuse to accept the donor’s organ, despite treatment with antirejection drugs. Learning of Kathy Miller’s death had sobered Connie. She realized she had to get to the other names on her list as quickly as possible.
The cocktail waitress, a hard-eyed brunette who was wearing a ridiculously short, green velvet skirt and a red satin blouse that exposed her cleavage, stopped by Connie’s booth. “Do you want a refill?”
“No.” Connie motioned toward her glass. “You can take this away.”
The waitress looked worried as she picked up the glass. “Is something wrong with your drink?”
“It’s fine.” Connie smiled to reassure her. “I’m just not in the mood for a gimlet.”
“How about a Brandy Alexander? We make ’em in the blender with chocolate ice cream, and they really pack a wallop.”
“That sounds great.” Connie watched her walk away and then she started to grin. She loved chocolate ice cream, but she hadn’t eaten it since she’d met Alan. He liked chocolate, but it gave him hives. She hadn’t wanted to tempt him by having it in the house.
Connie’s grin disappeared as she thought about Alan. She knew he was still with her, but remembering his face without looking at his picture was getting more difficult with each passing day. At first, his image had been clear. She’d been able to remember the special smile he’d had for her, how his eyes would turn warm when she came into the room, the way his hair curled right above his ears when it was wet from a shower. She’d remembered the feel of his arms around her, the touch of his lips on her skin. All that was fading now, and Connie knew she had to do something to bring it back before Alan was lost to her, forever.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her list. She had to have Alan’s baby. It was the only way to keep him alive. But the next name was Shelly Devore’s. She’d received Alan’s pancreas. Although a woman couldn’t help her in her quest for Alan’s child, Connie decided to take flowers to Miss Devore tomorrow. She felt an obligation to meet everyone who had received a part of Alan to see if they were worthy of the honor.
The next name on the list made Connie’s heart race faster. Mark Turner. He had Alan’s second kidney. She’d seek him out right after Christmas to see if he was the right candidate to father Alan’s baby.
CHAPTER 19
Somehow, the holiday season had passed. It was the third Tuesday in January when Jill walked into The Beef Barrel, slid into the booth she thought of as theirs, and waited for Doug to join her. She’d poured out her heart on Christmas Eve. She’d been avoiding him ever since. Doug would want to know what had happened, and Jill wasn’t sure she could explain it.
When she had gone home, after the party, Neil had been waiting with an apology. She’d expected that, but her reaction to her husband’s remorse had surprised even Jill. She hadn’t shouted at him or accused him of breaking his promise by sleeping with Lisa. She hadn’t stormed upstairs to pack her bags or cried or even been upset. She’d just sighed and uttered four words in a flat, tired voice. “Fine, Neil. Apology accepted.”
He hadn’t been willing to let it go at that. Perhaps he’d needed the usual fireworks, followed by recriminations and tears. But the whole evening had been a roller coaster of emotions, and Jill had been too drained to fall into the usual pattern. She’d just told Neil that they’d talk about it in the morning and had climbed up the stairs to bed.
The next morning, Neil had offered to call Lisa to tell her their affair was over for good. He’d even asked her to listen in on the extension so she’d know he was serious.
“I don’t need to listen.” Jill had headed for the kitchen to prepare breakfast. “Just do whatever you think is right.”
She hadn’t expected Neil to actually call, but he must have gone through with it. A week later, Norma had dropped by her office to ask what she’d said to Lisa.
“What do you mean?” Jill had been surprised. “I haven’t seen Lisa since that night at the party, and I certainly haven’t called her.”
“Well, someone must have. She packed up and left her apartment two days ago. And she’s having her transcript sent to the University of Oregon.”
“Are you sure?” J
ill had been suspicious. Neil had told her he’d broken off with Lisa before and he hadn’t.
“I’m positive. I just got a note in my box this morning, asking for her records.”
After Norma had left, Jill had found herself feeling strangely detached. She was glad Lisa was gone, but Lisa had been only a symptom of their marital problems, not the cause.
Jill looked up to see Doug approaching the booth. He slid in with a smile and Jill smiled back. “Hi. What’s new with you?” she said.
“Rape, murder, and muggings. But that’s not exactly new. How about you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Jill realized that her heart was beating at a much faster than normal rate. She’d felt totally insulated the past few weeks, as if nothing could touch her. But the moment Doug had walked into the restaurant, a startling change had occurred. Suddenly, she felt alive again.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Jill knew exactly what he was asking, and she winced slightly. She’d always been reticent when it came to discussing personal problems, but Doug was her friend. He was also the only person she could confide in.
“Yes.” Jill straightened her shoulders. She’d been thinking about her marriage for weeks, and she’d come to a conclusion. “Just as soon as Neil’s eyesight tests normal, I’m going to divorce him. I can’t think of one single reason for us to stay together.”
“Okay. Have you ordered?”
“Not yet.” Jill released a deep sigh of relief. Doug seemed to sense that she didn’t want to talk about Neil, so he’d changed the subject. “I just asked for a pot of coffee and two cups. I’m not really hungry.”
Doug began to frown. “You’ve lost weight, Jill. Are you getting the flu bug that’s going around?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t feel sick. I’m just . . . not hungry.”
“Not hungry is not good. If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick.” Doug motioned for the waitress. “We’ll have two specials with a large order of onion rings.”
Jill was frowning slightly as the waitress hurried away. “But, Doug, I’m really not hungry.”
“See here, lady.” He put on his tough look. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll just have to force-feed you chocolate Santas.”
Jill laughed. “That’s no threat. I love chocolate Santas. I just wish you could get them all year long.”
“Me, too.” Doug reached down to check his pager. Then he stood up. “Sorry, Jill. I’ve got to call in. I’ll be right back.”
As he headed toward the pay phone on the wall, Jill felt slightly guilty. The cell phone he’d given her was in her purse. She’d almost offered it to him, but then she’d remembered that she hadn’t charged the batteries since he’d given it to her, and she hadn’t wanted him to know she’d forgotten.
When the waitress arrived with their food, Jill reached out for a crispy onion ring. Suddenly, she was ravenous. When was the last time she’d eaten? She hadn’t bothered with breakfast. She seldom ate in the mornings. And she’d passed up dinner last night. She’d worked through lunch yesterday. That meant she hadn’t eaten for almost two days!
No wonder the onion rings tasted so good! Jill reached for another and popped it into her mouth. She followed it with three french fries and a big bite of the daily special, a hamburger covered with cheese and mushrooms.
“Atta girl!” Doug smiled as he slid back into his side of the booth. “I’m glad to see you’re eating.”
“I guess I just didn’t realize I was hungry. This is a delicious burger.”
He nodded. “They’re good here. When was the last time you ate?”
“Uh . . . well . . . a couple of days ago, to be honest.” Jill blushed. “Yesterday was hectic. I never eat breakfast, and I worked through lunch. By the time I got home, I was just too tired to eat.”
“Have you had your annual checkup yet?”
She glanced up, startled by the question. Then she remembered that all city employees, including those on the police force and the district attorneys, were required to have an annual physical exam. “No. I haven’t gotten around to making an appointment.”
“I understand.” Doug smiled at her. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
“That’s true, but I’m glad you reminded me. I’ll arrange to have one the minute I get back to the office.”
He nodded. “Good. Now have another bite of your burger. I don’t want you to starve to death right in front of me.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Not when food is this delicious. Do you think we could get a side order of pickles and slices of chocolate cake for dessert?”
“Sure. I can see you’re making up for lost—” Doug stopped suddenly. “Jill? Your face is really white. Is something wrong?”
“Be back in a minute.” She slid out of the booth as fast as she could and raced for the ladies’ room. Perhaps it was thinking of pickles and chocolate cake, but she suddenly felt very sick.
Luckily, the ladies’ room was deserted. Jill barged into one of the stalls. It was a good five minutes before she came out again, wiping her mouth with a tissue.
“Is everything okay?” Doug looked sympathetic when she returned to the booth.
“Yes. I guess I shouldn’t have gobbled down all that food on an empty stomach.”
He didn’t say anything, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Okay, Doug. You don’t have to remind me. I’ll see the doctor tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Shelly Devore had been very nice. Connie had said she was Charlotte West, a volunteer from the hospital, and Shelly’s mother had invited her in. Shelly, still recuperating, had been in bed, but she’d seemed to be in good spirits. Connie had learned that she was a kindergarten teacher in her early thirties who could hardly wait to get back to the classroom. Alan’s pancreas had found a good home, and Connie had been glad.
It had taken three weeks, but she had managed to locate Mark Turner. And now here she was, at The Palms Apartments, a pink stucco building without a palm in sight. Connie walked past the spa area, a glassed-in enclosure with a pool and a jacuzzi, and followed the signs to the office.
“Turner?” The woman in the office raised her eyebrows. She was an older lady with gray hair and glasses who identified herself as Mrs. Henley, the manager and rental agent. “Are you one of his girlfriends?”
Connie shook her head. “No. I’ve never met Mr. Turner before. My name is Cheryl Walton, and I’m doing a survey on transplant recipients. I just stopped by to see how Mr. Turner is feeling.”
“I can tell you how he’s feeling.” Mrs. Henley winked at Connie. “Mark’s feeling everything in sight . . . with a skirt.”
Connie burst into laughter. “Then Mr. Turner’s a . . . a ladies’ man?”
“You could say that. He’s also a real jock. He’s a weight lifter, and he swims fifty laps in the pool every day. On weekends, every girl in the building watches him.”
Connie smiled. This was good news. “He’s recovered from his operation?”
“I guess! Let me tell you, that new kidney didn’t slow him down for more than a week! His apartment is right next to mine, and I hear what goes on . . . not that I listen, of course. I can’t really help it. It’s the walls. They’re very thin.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well.” Connie did her best to keep her composure, but she felt like shouting for joy. Mark Turner was in good physical shape, and he liked women. The more Mrs. Henley told her, the more he sounded like the perfect candidate. “Do you know if he’s at home right now?”
Mrs. Henley shook her head. “He’s working an early shift today. He’ll be home by six, though. I’ve got an appointment to show his apartment at six-thirty.”
“Then he’s moving?” Connie’s heart started to race. She had to find out where he was going.
“It’s an intercomplex move. The woman in the two-bedroom right below him is leaving on the fifteenth. Mark’s transferring to her place. He needs a second
bedroom for all those girlfriends of his.”
Connie laughed, but her mind was going a million miles a minute. “Is Mark’s apartment for rent?”
“That’s right. It’s a one-bedroom, with a balcony facing the street. Are you interested?”
“Actually . . . I am.” Connie gave the woman an innocent smile. “I’m living in a hotel right now, but I’ve been looking for an apartment in this area. Your building is one of the best.”
“We like to think so.” Mrs. Henley looked proud. “I can show you Mark’s place right now if you want to see it.”
On the way up the stairs, Connie learned that the rent for Mark’s apartment was high but not outrageous. Mark had lived there for two years. He was an ideal tenant, with the exception of several loud parties.
Connie did her best to reassure Mrs. Henley. “I don’t give parties. I’m very quiet. If I’m home in the evening, I read or watch television.”
“No boyfriends?” Mrs. Henley looked slightly suspicious when Connie shook her head. “If you don’t mind my asking, why not?”
“My fiancé died in a car accident, and I’m not ready to date anyone else yet.”
“Oh, dear! That’s too bad.” Mrs. Henley looked very sympathetic. “Well, we do have quite a few single men. There’s a young dentist and a CPA, and a couple of computer programmers. And then there’s Mark. You might meet someone you like right here at The Palms.”
Connie nodded. It was clear that Mrs. Henley was trying to play matchmaker. She didn’t want to disappoint her. “I guess that’s possible.”
“Here it is.” Mrs. Henley stopped and unlocked a door, motioning for Connie to follow her inside. “This is the living room. The kitchen is right through that arch.”
Connie pretended to be impressed as Mrs. Henley showed her the built-in microwave and the special, water-saving head on the shower, but she almost lost it when they stepped into the bedroom and she caught sight of Mark’s bed. It was a king-sized waterbed covered with red silk sheets. There were red candles on the bed tables, a faint scent of marijuana still lingered in the air, and the walls and ceiling were completely covered with mirrored glass.