Arson Takes a Dare: The Third Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 3)

by Jada Ryker

The conference room door smashed inward and bounced off the wall. “Oops. Sorry about the door and sorry I’m late for the meeting.” Vickie Miller shoved at the door. She abruptly staggered after it. “Oh, my sleeve is caught on the doorknob.” Her auburn hair straggled from its messy bun at the back of her head as she struggled to free herself.

  Jerry Holt, the Continuous Quality Improvement Director, started to rise from his seat at the table.

  Vickie pivoted in the direction of the movement. “No, I’m fine.” Finally free, Vickie closed the door and dashed toward the empty chair next to Tara. Vickie’s toe caught on the electrical cord leading to the podium. “Aaahhhh!”

  Tara deftly spun the vacant chair 180 degrees.

  Vickie fell into the chair. Her tablet landed on the conference table behind her.

  Tara twirled the chair, leaving Vickie facing the table.

  “If Vickie is finished with her impromptu ballet across the conference room, shall we get started?” Wielding a laser pointer like a light saber and seeming to forget her own dance moves just moments before, Elizabeth smiled. Her teeth were perfect and white. Her pale blue eyes shone as she glanced at Alex. Her face, as sweet and brown as a molasses cookie, crinkled engagingly. “We’re here to discuss Marisa’s proposal.”

  When Alex smiled encouragingly at Elizabeth, his own temporary replacement, Marisa gritted her teeth. She knew Alex needed an experienced professional to fill his place as Chief Financial Officer, since he now functioned as the interim Chief Executive Officer. But does it have to be Elizabeth?

  “This chart shows the budget dollars associated with Marisa’s department,” Elizabeth said. “Unfortunately, her department sucks up our hospital resources and doesn’t generate revenue—”

  Tom and Carlos made twin tut-tutting sounds and sadly shook their heads.

  Marisa narrowed her eyes. What the hell? Are they Elizabeth’s Greek chorus?

  Elizabeth used the remote to advance to the next slide. “This is my evaluation of Marisa’s proposal to build an online system to charge banks and financial institutions for information on our employees.”

  Marisa winced. Our employees? Does Elizabeth think Alex is going to hire her as the permanent CFO if he gets offered the CEO job?

  “While her proposal was very difficult to read due to the grammatical errors, I completed an objective evaluation.” Elizabeth clicked the remote. “Unfortunately, Marisa’s idea is not financially viable. Banks and financial institutions won’t pay for information on our employees.”

  Allowing Elizabeth’s words to drone in the background like annoying bees, Marisa frowned. And what if Alex gets the job as the Chief Executive Officer? We can’t conduct a personal relationship if he’s my boss. Can we?

  Marisa jumped when Tara kicked her under the conference table. “Ow!”

  Tara whispered furiously. “Pay attention. Elizabeth is trashing your brain child.” She jerked her head at the projection screen, sending her blonde curls tumbling around her china-doll face.

  Bending to surreptitiously rub her throbbing ankle, Marisa focused on the screen. Her eyes widening, she forgot about her ankle. “Elizabeth, your bright red editorial corrections make it almost impossible to read. I only asked you to assess its financial viability.” She squinted. “And even with the red slashes, I can see some of that text isn’t mine. I know how to put together complete sentences.”

  Elizabeth’s full mouth curved. The smile didn’t reach her light blue eyes. “This is what I received in my email, Marisa. Perhaps next time you’ll read over your… work… before sending it to your superiors.”

  Marisa’s fingers curled on the table in front of her. “I—”

  “Alex, Marisa’s little idea is cute.” Tom rose from his chair and braced his square hands on the conference table. “But it’s nothing more than a delusional daydream.” He stood up straight and adjusted his tie, a bright slash of blue against his white dress shirt. His avid eyes rested on Elizabeth as he ran one hand through his hair, tousling the shocking red spikes. “Elizabeth is absolutely correct.”

  “I agree.” Carlos chimed in, the lines deepening at the corners of his dark brown eyes and around his thin mouth. The Maintenance Director tugged at his tie, like it was tied too tightly around his thick neck. He fidgeted, his round stomach bumping the table. “Elizabeth is right.”

  At the head of the table, Alex raised one hand. His face was smooth and professional. His navy eyes were unreadable. “Tom, Marisa stayed all night helping you prepare for the last Joint Commission Accreditation visit. Because of your lack of organization and planning, you were panicking. She graciously helped you prepare for the visit, even though you’d had three years to get ready.”

  Alex turned to Carlos. “And you, Carlos. A few months ago, Marisa and her friends saved you from the bulldozer-like advances of Teresa Root. She was your administrative assistant, but she saw her role as more personal than the tasks on her job description. Teresa had already worked her way through the employees of your maintenance department. You were the only… frontier left for her to conquer.”

  Carlos choked.

  Alex raised his hand. “I’m not finished. Teresa claimed she got hurt on the job. In reality, she got injured when she was humping one of your maintenance workers, on hospital time and on hospital property. Marisa saved your department thousands of dollars when she unmasked Teresa’s fraudulent attempt to get workers compensation. She was there to witness the supposedly injured Teresa chasing you through a restaurant.”

  “Alex is right. Marisa saved both your asses.” Tara forced the words past clenched teeth. “And now, you’re shooting down her great idea.”

  Marisa spread her hands. “We’re professionals. If you don’t like the proposal, Tom and Carlos, it’s fine. Just tell us all why you’re opposed to the idea.”

  “Marisa’s right.” Tara straightened in her chair and tossed back her golden curls. “Tom and Carlos, tell us your reasons.” She smiled, her green eyes darting to Elizabeth. “In detail, please, and without any help.” She glared.

  Tom clenched his fists in anger. Carlos’ dark face reddened under his white hair. They both turned to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth was exasperated. “It’s simply not a good idea.”

  Alex raised his eyebrows.

  “My gut says it’s a mistake.” Elizabeth avoided his eyes.

  Andrea Tartin laughed and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “We don’t make management decisions based on our guts, Elizabeth. We’re objective. We evaluate the facts.” The Rehab Services Director leaned back in her chair. “I’m in favor of the idea. Tara and I are two yeas against Tom and Carlos’ nays.”

  The conference room door inched open. Brandon Proctor, the lanky customer service director, stared around the room. His eyes fell on Alex. “Sorry, Alex. May I see you for a moment?” Brandon’s usual uniform of white shirt and kakis were perfectly laundered and pressed. Sketching along the edges of both jaws, the charcoal line of precisely trimmed stubble converged at the cleft in his chin. His golden brown skin caught the rays of sunlight streaming across the lobby.

  Alex frowned as he clicked his laptop shut. He rose from his seat and followed Brandon into the hall.

  “Andrea.” Elizabeth’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I didn’t get the chance earlier to tell you. I am so sorry one of your former employees posted a rant about you through her Phiz Phase account. How unfortunate she chose a picture of a badger to depict you on her Phase Page. Did you know a badger uses her teeth, claws, and smell to fight her enemies?”

  Andrea drew a deep breath in outrage. Her eyes narrowed as she started to rise.

  Tara handed Andrea her phone and pointed at the screen. Her green eyes shone as Tara smiled at Elizabeth. Like a small bobcat zeroing in on her prey, she pounced. “If I were you, Elizabeth, I’d be on the lookout for people posting pictures of snakes on their pages.”

  Andrea relaxed in her chair. She held up Tara’s phone for the othe
rs to see. “Badgers kill snakes, Elizabeth.”

  Tara laughed. “We may soon see country-fried snake on the cafeteria menu.”

  Elizabeth’s face and neck flushed blood-red and her hands clenched as everyone except Tom and Carlos laughed.

  Alex entered the conference room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Sorry about that.” He took his seat at the table.

  Marisa immediately straightened in anticipation. She mentally rubbed her hands in glee. Elizabeth is ready to explode. Alex hates it when people lose their tempers in the workplace.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. Her chest expanded with a deep breath. She opened her eyes. Her face was still flushed, but her hands were open. “No problem, Alex. Jerry and Vickie, what do you think about Marisa’s idea?”

  Jerry stared down at his notebook. Across the wide expanse of shining table, Vickie mirrored his body language with her tablet.

  When they hesitated, Elizabeth sneered. “Jerry, the CQI Director, and Vickie, the new Social Services Director, are doing their normal Switzerland imitation.”

  When they didn’t answer, Elizabeth glared from one to the other. Her face relaxed. “As usual, they hate to commit themselves to anything. Even to each other,” she added slyly.

  “Those two have been friends with benefits for ten years.” Tara whispered, her mouth close to Marisa’s ear. “How did Elizabeth find out?”

  “Elizabeth, what are you talking about? And what does it have to do with Marisa’s idea?” Alex was bewildered.

  She laughed. “Since Vickie was promoted into Linda Borders’ director job after Linda’s arrest and conviction, Vickie is now on the same level as Jerry. With the change, Jerry can’t avoid commitment because of his outdated ideas about fraternization between management and professional levels. Vickie isn’t a staff level social worker. Rather, she’s the director.”

  Jerry and Vickie’s heads snapped up. They turned in tandem to glare at Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth clapped her hands. “It appears they can agree on something.” She turned to Alex. “It’s a tie.”

  “Enough.” A muscle in Alex’s cheek twitched. “I do consult with all of you. Your thoughts are important.” His face was impassive. “At least, your business thoughts are important. But this isn’t a democracy.”

  His gaze rested on Elizabeth. “In the world of high finance in the for-profit sector, it may be acceptable to lobby other managers behind the scenes. I won’t stand for it. It’s divisive, and it sets team members at one another’s throats.”

  “Marisa Adair has stupid ideas. I won’t—” Her face stiff, Elizabeth swallowed audibly. “I apologize, Alex. I’m new and still finding my way.” She smiled charmingly and hitched one shoulder higher than the other. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Marisa’s idea is excellent.” Alex was firm. “Our Information Technology personnel can build the online system. It’ll make money for the hospital. We’ll discuss progress at the next meeting. We’re adjourned.”

  As the directors gathered their electronic notebooks and moved toward the door, Elizabeth stopped Alex with a manicured hand on his arm. She smiled and whispered in his ear. Elizabeth glanced over Alex’s shoulder and caught Marisa’s eyes. Deliberately, she smirked.

  Marisa hadn’t realized she’d started toward the front of the room until Tara’s tugging hand on her arm stopped her.

  “No, Marisa. Tara kept her voice low. “She’s mad because she couldn’t block your idea. Now, she’s baiting you, hoping you’ll lose it in front of Alex. Let’s go to your office… before you kill her.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Althea rushed through the wide halls of the hotel, checking room numbers. When she found the one she was seeking, she slammed her fist against the heavy door. “Berea, are you alright?”

  The door flew open under Althea’s pounding. “Hello, Althea, thank you for coming.” Berea Kenton ushered Althea into the shadowy sitting room. Although it was early, the thick, heavy drapes were drawn. Light from a single dim lamp from the foyer caught the old woman’s movements as she snagged her navy jacket from the back of the couch.

  Clay courteously rose from his corner of the couch, his handsome face stiff with restraint. “Althea.”

  What is Clay doing here? And he’s obviously still upset with me. “I thought you said it was of life and death importance, Berea. I rushed here as quickly as I could, thinking you were in distress.”

  “Please sit down, Althea. It is of life and death importance. I want to introduce you and Clay to the detective I’ve hired to solve Mayla’s murder.” With the flourish of the inveterate showman, Berea switched on the lamp.

  The armchair was flooded with light, revealing the man seated in its beige depths.

  Althea smothered a scream. “Good heavens, I didn’t see you there, young man.”

  Berea unceremoniously shoved Althea down on the couch.

  “Oomph. Berea, what’s come over you?” Althea pulled the scattered folds of her green dress over her knees. “You insulted us by calling us arrogant and pretentious, and then you lured us here with a false SOS.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Kenton,” Clay said, “what has come over you? When I discovered your ruse, I tried to leave. You threw yourself against the door. I chose to sit here quietly rather than toss you aside. However, there’s a limit to my patience.” His gray eyes flashed with irritation.

  “I feel more alive today than I have in twenty years.” She indicated the stranger with a sweep of her arm. “This is Burke Lee Creed. He’s flown here from his detective agency in Florida to solve Mayla’s murder and bring her killer to justice. I saved a whole box of statements, reports, and documents from the fire at the assisted living center. I’ll give him the box of information about the murder.”

  She spun on her heel. “Burke Lee, meet Clay Napier and Althea Flaxton, my very dear friends. Althea is also the celebrated lady novelist, Seretha Ranier. I’m hoping to convince her to write a book about my daughter’s murder. Your capture of the killer will be the perfect ending.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” His voice was pitched so low it was nearly a growl. In a surprisingly graceful move, he stood. His tall frame was covered in a long, black leather coat, the hem hitting his knees. He appeared to be in his early forties, his thin, lightly lined face all angles in the pool of light. His chin jutted and his nose thinned to a point. His hair was white and thick, as fluffy as a summer dandelion. A black scarf wound around his neck, the fringed ends trailing down his coat like baby snakes. The black jeans were inky, seeming to absorb the light. “I love—I mean, my mother loves your romantic novels, Miss Ranier.”

  “Althea, please.” She kept her face composed and her voice steady. Inwardly, she felt like wringing Berea’s neck.

  “Burke Lee solved a cold case which stymied the police for nearly thirty years,” Berea said. “A young girl was killed in the basement of her house. Police combed for evidence, interviewed suspects, and followed leads. The police gave up and filed the case as unsolved.”

  Berea paused, waiting for comment. When no one spoke, she continued. “Years later, Burke Lee was hired by the family. He figured out the murderer was the girl’s perverted uncle. He’d molested the girl, she’d threatened to tell, and he killed her to keep her quiet. Burke Lee brought him to justice. There was even a made-for-TV movie about the case.”

  “At times, a fresh pair of eyes can see what others cannot.” Burke Lee slid his hands into his pockets.

  Berea picked up her silver pointer from the coffee table. Like a magician weaving a spell, she tapped Clay and Althea’s heads with the pointer.

  Clay and Althea yelped.

  Berea ignored them. “Clay and Althea have solved tons of murders and brought desperate criminals to justice.”

  She touched Burke Lee’s white hair with the pointer. “Burke Lee, I want you to consult with Clay and Althea on Mayla’s case.”

  Clay rose from the couch and nimbly swiped the pointer from Berea’s hand. “Mrs. Ke
nton, I’m not a detective. Last spring and summer, I merely got caught up in the circumstances. I don’t seek the chaos; rather, I crave peace and order. Therefore, I must decline your request.” He turned to Althea. “Thea, I won’t speak for you.”

  Tears gathered in Althea’s eyes. At least he’s calling me Thea. When he calls me Althea, it sounds so chilly and formal. She rose from her seat. “I agree with Clay. We’ll leave it to the expert.” She smiled at Burke Lee.

  Burke Lee smiled back in relief. “That’s settled—”

  Berea Kenton stamped her foot. The gesture was lost in the thick carpet. “This is not a request, Clay and Althea.” Her eyes glowed like hot coals in her pale face and her fists clenched. “You will all three work together.”

  Clay placed his body between Berea and Althea. “Berea, are you well? Just six months ago, you were in a wheelchair, unaware of your surroundings and not able to care for yourself.”

  Berea visibly quelled her temper. “That witch at the nursing home had me on medications to keep me confused and disoriented. Once I was off the medications, I was fine.”

  A crashing sound came from a corner of the suite.

  Burke Lee leaped to the closed bedroom door and gripped the gold knob. “Mrs. Kenton, are you alone?”

  Berea’s thin body straightened in outrage. “Of course I’m alone.”

  His shoulders squared, Burke Lee twisted the knob.

  “Don’t go in there—”

  His body an inky column of tension, Burke Lee eased to the doorframe and threw the door open.

  A small body streaked from the bedroom. It launched itself from the floor to Berea’s arms. “My sweet little Princess!” The old woman buried her flushed face in the dog’s thick fur.

  Burke Lee stared at the dog in Berea’s arms. He staggered back and fell heavily against the couch. He covered his face with his shaking hands.

  Althea touched his hunched shoulder. She felt a faint sense of surprise when she realized there was padding under the leather. Perhaps he thinks his shoulders are too narrow and feels self-conscious about them. “Are you afraid of dogs, Burke Lee? Shall I ask Berea to put the dog back in the bedroom?”