by S. E. Babin
We both broke and cracked up at each other for a moment. Unsurprisingly, he was the first to sober up. "Tell me about your relationship with Candy Harper."
I answered immediately. "We don't have one. Unless you count the hour I spent with her while she was holding a gun on me."
He wrote something down. "It's my understanding you were hired to impersonate her. Can you elaborate on that?"
I really didn't want to, but it's never wise to refuse a police officer. "I was." I explained the concept of Exit Stage Left and watched as a myriad of emotions appeared on his face. He finally clicked the pen off and looked at me.
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, sir," I said. "Professional mourning is a legitimate service in Asheville, surrounding areas, and all across the country." I frowned. "Though this particular assignment was a little more...involved than usual."
"Involved how?" he asked, shaking his head as he clicked his pen again.
"Normally we don't go quite to the extreme I did. I was hired to play an actual person, so that always has the potential to be a little dicey. Emma, Chase's mother, insisted on it. Candy, Chase's girlfriend, refused to come back for the service. My understanding is she was always gone, so Emma didn't think it would be a big deal for me to pretend I was with him."
Burch shook his head. "Was it?"
"Was what?"
"A big deal?"
"Considering I'm in a hospital bed, it certainly turned out that way."
A smile hinted at the edge of the mouth. "When did you first suspect something wasn't quite right with his death?"
I told him about me going through his room as I searched for things to help me get to know him and play my role better. As it turned out, it was never that hard because Candy was never really around.
"If she was never around, why did she hire you?"
I frowned. "Because she wanted people to believe Chase had a girlfriend and a life outside of her home."
The officer sighed. "This whole thing was about his reputation?"
"At first," I admitted.
"I'll never understand people," he said.
"It became much more than that later on, and I think Emma realized that this all ended up being for her. Not Chase. But, if she hadn't done this, she never would have discovered the truth behind her son's death."
"Run me through exactly what happened when you returned to Emma's home. I have Mr. Morrow's version, but I'd like yours please."
I told him what we'd found and led him up to the point that Seth dragged me to the bathroom. When I finished, Sheriff Burch put his pen back into his shirt pocket but held on to his journal. "The doctor told me I could only spend a few minutes here. I'd like you to come down to the station when you have time." He pulled out a business card that said Sheriff Jason L. Burch and had the address of the department right below it. He scribbled a number on the back. "This is my cell. Call this if you can think of anything additional before we talk." He flicked his steel blue gaze back up to me. "Or if you need anything else."
There was a long pause as I tried to read the undercurrent of what he was telling me. "What if I get tired of eating Jello and am craving say...gelato? Or maybe a nice steak?"
He stood from the seat and grinned. "Maybe wait for a while on those sorts of things. Especially while you're an active witness." The sheriff walked to the door but stopped just before and said, "There's a plan to transfer them outside of our jurisdiction in a few weeks. If you find yourself sick of Jello maybe next month, give me a call."
Interesting. I hadn’t had a date in so long, my romance muscles were atrophied. I gave Sheriff Burch a long and curious look while I tried to figure him out. He returned my stare until it got uncomfortable. Finally, he winked, offered a jaunty two finger wave, and left the room.
I really could not tell how old he was.
Weird.
16
The next afternoon after much whining and carrying on, the doctor reluctantly signed my release orders. Mom had brought me some new clothes to change into, but I refused to take a shower at the hospital even when she wrinkled her nose at me. "Please let me wait until I get home, Mom. I'm sick of being here."
She nodded after a moment. "Right when you walk in the door, shower. Stat.”
"Fine."
Seth chose that moment to walk into the room. He hadn't come by yesterday and I tried not to get disgruntled over that. "Hey," he said and greeted my parents warmly. "I'm here to take her home if you don't mind."
Mom and Dad stepped back with their hands up. "We don't mind," they said at the same time, almost like they'd planned it.
Seth had a bemused expression on his face and he shrugged. "Do you mind?" he asked me, and I was grateful for it.
"She smells," Mom said helpfully. "And she refused to take a shower before leaving. So just know that."
A smile tugged the edge of his mouth. "Good to know. We can ride with the windows down."
"Mom," I hissed.
"It's true, dear."
Dad put his arm around Mom's waist. "Come on, honey. Let's grab some breakfast so the kids can get out of here."
Seth coughed but he couldn't keep it going and it turned into a laugh. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford."
"Please take care of our little girl," Mom said just before they left us alone.
"I am so sorry," I said. "So embarrassing."
"Not at all," Seth replied. "It's adorable."
"Easy for you to say." I bent down and finished packing the rest of my measly belongings. The doc had given me a few more days of blood pressure medicine, and activated charcoal, just in case, but other than that, I was on my own. Seth produced a bottle of Ipecac syrup from his personal stash which made me laugh.
I was about to sling my backpack over my shoulder when Seth stepped into my space and took it from me.
"Thanks," I said. Usually, a gesture like that would irritate me, but I was tired and also beginning to realize I might have really misjudged him. Though I wouldn't admit that any time soon.
He held open the door for me and I walked through, smiling as I realized I was about to go home.
I was stopped before I'd taken three steps outside by an annoyed looking nurse. "Miss Crawford! Stop right there. You are not allowed to walk out on your own. You have to be wheeled out to the front."
I frowned at her. "I'm fine. That isn't necessary."
Another nurse came over pushing a chair in front of her. She kicked down the stops and gestured for me to sit down. "It's not up to you."
Seth grinned at me as I got into the wheelchair and endured the embarrassment of being treated like an invalid. When we made it to the front, I started to spring up, but the nurse put a hand on my shoulder. "Wait for this gentleman here to bring the car around."
Seth winked. "Yes, Kitty. Wait."
I pressed my lips together to keep myself from uttering an impolite response and waited while he drove his vehicle around. I prayed it wouldn't be the blue monstrosity because I didn't want to deal with that on the way home.
A few minutes later, a sleek Infiniti rental pulled up to the curb and Seth got out. He gestured to the car. "Better?"
"I dunno," I said. "The other one has more personality."
A flash of pleasure touched his face. "It certainly does," he said and held out his hand for me. I allowed him to help me up and settle me into the car.
I waggled my fingers at the overbearing nurse and Seth got in and drove us away.
We were ten minutes into the car ride before we spoke. "I'm glad you came and got me, but was there a reason?"
Seth glanced over. "Did there have to be?"
"No, but usually there is?"
A flash of white teeth was my response while he dug around in the side of the seat area. "My aunt sent something for you." When nothing came out, he frowned. "It may need to wait until we get to your house."
Seth pulled into Java the Hut without me even asking and ordered me a coffee with extra creamer
. "You want sugar?"
I nodded.
Soon, I was sipping down the first cup of joe I had in two days. "Thank you so much."
"There's nothing worse than the lack of decent coffee in a hospital. I'm going to drop you and head back to my aunt's place. I have to be somewhere this evening and I have to prepare myself."
"For the movie?"
A shadow crossed his face so quickly I thought I imagined it. "Yes. It shouldn't take too long, but I have some things to do beforehand."
"Okay. Tell your aunt hello. I'll call her tomorrow morning. The docs won't let me come back to work until next week."
"I already told her. I spoke with your doctors before I came in this morning."
"As my fiancé?" I asked.
He winced. "Your mom told you?"
"She did."
"Do I need to apologize?"
I shook my head. "Not since you saved my life. Let's not make a habit of it, though. You're lucky Marshall is a pretty small town. Otherwise, this would have gotten you splashed all over the newspapers."
"I wouldn't have cared."
The Seth Morrow I knew from California definitely would have cared. "You seem...different."
Seth turned into my parent's steep driveway and put the car into park. Without responding to my observation, he dug around in the area between the console and seat until he pulled out a large manila envelope. "Courtesy of Exit Stage Left," he said.
I was about to dig into it, but he shook his head. "She said not to open it until you were tucked into bed with a bowl of chicken soup."
"That's never going to happen," I said. I was going to tear into it as soon as I set my stuff down.
"I'm not allowed to see it." Seth shrugged at my curious stare. "Super-secret squirrel mourner stuff." He handed me my backpack. "My aunt also said I was not allowed to walk you in."
I burst out laughing. "Am I the bad girl influence and you aren't allowed to hang out with me?"
A mysterious smile touched his mouth. "I don't think that's it at all." He reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt. Instead of retreating back to his seat, he picked up one of my curls and tugged on it. "I'll see you around, Kitty."
I touched his hand briefly. "Not if I see you first."
I slid out of the Infiniti and gently shut the door behind me. I didn't look back, but I could feel Seth's gaze in between my shoulder blades.
As soon as I let myself inside, I kicked off my shoes, tossed my backpack by the door, and sat down at the kitchen table to see what was sent to me. Part of me wondered if it was a termination letter, though that would be pretty mean. Part of me hoped for a paycheck.
I was both right and wrong.
I slid open the envelope with the underside of my thumb, careful to avoid a paper cut, and tipped out the contents. A check made out to me fluttered out. I picked it up and set it on the table, then pulled out the rest of the paperwork.
My gaze glanced back to the check. I swallowed hard as I read the amount listed.
"Hazard pay," I chuckled to myself, not having a clue if that’s what it really was and thought of Seth earnestly whispering to me while I was sick in the bathroom.
I pushed the check aside and examined the paperwork. A bright pink note was stuck on top. "Glad you're back home and safe. Good work on the McCormick case. Can't wait to see you back at work. Monday morning, right? Yes. Monday. I talked to your doctor."
Were there no medical privacy laws in Marshall these days?
I pulled the sticky note off and looked at the rest of the paperwork.
On the front in big bold letters read:
Epilogue
Being unable to go back to work for two weeks led to me feeling stir-crazy on the third day home. My mom and dad tried their best to entertain me with board games and homemade meals, but I knew I was an insufferable boor. I tried my best to grin and bear it, but every day I couldn’t go to work was another day I wasn’t getting paid.
When I was still in LA, I had to take a side job as a waitress at one of those retro-style diners where I wore a wig and a poodle skirt and crooned my way through brunch. It was humiliating but fortunately, I wore enough makeup and my hair was different enough for me to go unrecognized. But it was steady work and a paycheck, so I pushed through the embarrassment of singing He’s so Fine twelve times a day. I had my own house, my own car, and I paid my own bills. This stasis was bothering me more than I liked to admit. Also, I could not deny that solving Chase McCormick’s murder had awakened a deep and possibly unhealthy curiosity inside of me. So, when my parents headed out for breakfast (but mostly to get away from me) I snooped.
I wasn’t proud of it, but my mother knew Ruthie and there was something about it that bothered me a lot more than I wanted to admit. Especially since she changed the subject every single time I asked about it.
I peeked through the curtains like a teenager scrambling to clean up after a forbidden house party and watched as Mom and Dad pulled out of the driveway. Letting out a slow breath, I crept over to the attic with no idea why I was creeping because no one was home.
This felt forbidden. I rarely disobeyed my mother, and I never snooped. However, over the years, Mom realized this about me and didn’t bother trying to hide things from me anymore. Now I knew where all of her best hiding spots were.
I pulled down on the rope to the attic. The ladder screeched on its way down making me wince. As soon as the ladder settled, I hurried back over to the window one more time and peeked out. If they came home while I was up there, Mom was going to suspect what I was doing. Once I confirmed I was still alone, I scrambled up the ladder and rushed over to a large shelf full of boxes. I shoved those out of the way and uncovered several small, plastic tubs. This was where she kept the good stuff. My sister never had enough curiosity to find these hiding spaces. She would move one thing aside and declare it impossible. I was just never sneaky enough. Until today. If my sister were here, she’d check me for fever.
I pulled the first few tubs down and did a cursory search. Mom kept way too much of our old school work and report cards, but I didn’t have the heart to discard anything. I closed those up, peered back through the deep shelves again and saw an old wooden box labeled 1977. Hmm. I stepped up on the bottom shelf so I could reach and grabbed it with the tips of two fingers. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small box. With a grunt of effort, I moved it close enough that I could grab it with both hands. I pulled it down and took it with me over to a clean space on the floor.
Mom was going to know I’d been in here if everything was not put back exactly the same way. I winced as I thought about it. I’d do my best, but I wasn’t known to be over compulsive about details with things like that.
I opened the box and coughed as dust spurted up into my nose. This hasn’t been opened in ages.
Probably for good reason, my conscience whispered to me.
“Shut it, conscience,” I murmured to myself as I started to dig through my mother’s potential secrets.
At first, there wasn’t much. Pictures of Mom and Dad wearing outrageous clothing and playing tourist in a place I couldn’t quite tell. But it was the last few that made my heartbeat pick up. There were pictures - a lot of pictures - of her with famous people. Really famous people. My jaw hung open as I flipped through picture after picture of Mom hobnobbing with the rich and famous.
But it was the last picture that jolted me down to my soul.
My father had his arms around a gorgeous, young woman. They were both grinning from ear to ear and standing under a sign that read, Just Married.
The woman was wearing a beautiful white dress, but there was a problem.
She was not my mother.
I flipped the card over. In beautiful script, the words Ruthie and Dan were written on the back.
The picture fluttered out of my hand and fell to the floor.
Impossible.
Two weeks later, and after carefully avoiding eye-contact with my parents the entire time, I w
as back in action at Exit Stage Left. I wasn’t ready to delve into what I’d found. It was possible what I’d seen was a misrepresentation of the facts. If it wasn’t… well, that wasn’t something I was ready to deal with. Neither one of my parents had ever said anything about being married to other people. Knowing they had been that close to Ruthie opened up a can of worms I wasn’t quite ready to examine yet. I decided to do what I was good at. Bury my head in the sand for a while and pretend it didn’t exist.
Seth hadn’t been around much and I hadn’t wanted to ask Ruthie about him. I did, however, see Sheriff Burch again, and a little birdie told me he was thirty-five. Not too shabby. I still couldn’t quite get over his gruff demeanor especially since it seemed to shift like sand along with his moods.
But in spite of all that, I liked him, even though I was very careful not to skirt the boundaries of propriety while still trying to deal with all of the Candy mess. Speaking of her, she and Butch were transferred to Asheville because the small town of Marshall wasn’t equipped to handle that sort of case. The news was all over it, but everyone was very careful about what they said so I was able to avoid the circus of the press being all over us here at the agency.
I’d met a few of the other mourners and all of them seemed like wonderful ladies. I hoped to eventually be able to form friendships with some of them, even though few of us were in the office very much. Dying was a booming business anywhere you went, and Asheville was no exception. The amount of work Ruthie had for all of us seemed insanely high, but I wasn’t going to question my good fortune.
I’d deposited the check she’d written me into my account the day after I’d gotten home and started searching for apartments the very next week. I was going to have to ask to borrow some money from my parents just to help with the deposit and extra moving expenses, but I knew I’d be able to pay it back within just a few weeks, once my direct deposit kicked in and my regular paycheck started up. The clothing I pulled out of my closet was still sitting in a corner of my room waiting to be sorted through and sold. That money would give me an extra boost as well. The check Ruthie gave me was, literally, hazard pay negotiated by Seth. When I asked her about it, she gave me a glare worthy of making the sun melt, and I knew in that moment it was something I should never, ever mention again. I decided to give her a handwritten thank you note instead, using a pretty white piece of stationery I had picked up at one of the local boutiques, and slipped it into her desk on my first morning back.