Pecked to Death

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “I’m already depressed,” Sadie said.

  Luke reached over the console and clasped her hand. He told himself that he was offering reassurance, but the truth was that he was seeking some of his own. He didn’t want to set foot inside the soul-sucking building. “Do we have an appointment?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know we’ll be let inside?”

  “Trust me.”

  “Every time you say those words, I end up regretting them,” he said. Still, he followed her inside and allowed her to take the lead. In the parking lot, she was uncertain and a little bit afraid. Once they stepped through the doors, though, she was transformed into the confident, charming woman he had come to loathe.

  “Hi!” she announced to a tired-looking receptionist.

  “Hi,” the woman said, wary over Sadie’s over-the-top enthusiasm.

  “I was wondering if we might get a tour,” Sadie said.

  “Uh, we usually need appointments for those.”

  “Oh,” Sadie said, crestfallen. “It’s just that my brother and I are only in town today, and we really wanted to finalize where Grandma is going to go after we sell the condo. There’s sort of a family squabble over the money, and…well, I’m boring you. Sorry. C’mon, Eugene.”

  Luke guessed he was supposed to be Eugene in this scenario, but he was more upset about being cast as her brother. When she turned and started to leave, he almost protested, almost gave it his own shot at trying to charm the plump, dowdy receptionist. Sadie, probably sensing his rebellion, slipped her arm around his waist and urged him forward. “C’mon, bubby, this isn’t the place for Gran.”

  They were almost at the door when another woman—this one wearing an ill-fitting polyester suit, practically tripped on her rubber-soled shoes in her haste to stop them. “Wait, wait a minute. I’m sorry, Doreen is new and unfamiliar with our policies. Of course you can have a tour today. In fact, I’ll take you myself.” She paused to catch her breath while she smoothed her hand over her carefully permed hair. “I’m Tracy, the director of operations. How do you do?” She extended a hand and they shook while Sadie handled the introductions.

  “I’m Emma Lou Green, and this is my brother, Eugene, Eugene Green. Thank you so much for taking the time to see us today. The lawyers are making waves about the estate and, well, let’s just say the sooner we get this settled, the better.”

  “Of course, I completely understand,” Tracy said, shaking her head in sympathy. Luke could practically see the dollar signs twinkling in her eyes at the mention of the word “estate.” He shuddered. Tracy and Sadie looked at him.

  “Cold, bubby?” Sadie asked, her voice oozing sympathy. “I told you to bring your sweater. He has terrible allergies,” she added to Tracy in an aside. “The poor boy can’t go anywhere without getting a chill and taking cold. He’s always been a little sickly. But the leg braces made him grow nice and tall.” She patted Luke’s arm. He sneezed on her without covering his mouth.

  “Sorry, sissy. Maybe you could give me one of your allergy pills when we get back in the car. The ones you bought off that nice man in the park.” His delivery was deadpan because he had learned from the master.

  If he thought Sadie would be nonplussed, he was sadly mistaken. “Those are sissy’s special pills,” she said. “Like the ones the doctor gave you after you got out of jail last time. Now, about that tour, Tracy. Lead the way.”

  Tracy eyed him cautiously and adjusted her position so Sadie was between them. She led them through darkened hallways that smelled like urine and human misery. Various pain and fear-filled moans escaped from some of the rooms.

  Fluorescent lighting flickered overhead. Every few feet, a bulb was on the verge of going out so that it flickered and buzzed like the world’s most annoying strobe. There were no pictures on the walls, no staff in sight. “Here’s the common room,” Tracy announced with a flourish as if they would be impressed by the blaring television and row upon row of patients strapped into their wheelchairs and staring blankly at a trashy daytime talk show.

  The walls were an institutional gray and when they passed a food cart, Luke saw various blobs of mushy colored substances on trays that looked like they had barely been washed. “This place is state accredited?” he blurted. How could it possibly pass inspection?

  “Of course, Mr. Green. The inspector comes every year like clockwork,” Tracy said. If she sensed the disgust in his tone, she didn’t let on.

  Sadie took his hand and gave it a warning squeeze. “Good because we only want the best for our Gran. I’m not sure she’s quite as bad off physically as some of these residents, though.”

  “Of course,” Tracy said, veering sharply to the right when they came to the end of the hall. “This is our dependent care facility. We have an assisted living wing that’s a step up.” She pushed open a door of what Luke supposed was the assisted living portion. The only difference he could see was that more patients were out of their rooms and fewer of them were tied to their wheelchairs. Otherwise it was as depressing as the previous space had been.

  “I heard about this place from one of Gran’s friends, rest her soul. I wonder if you knew her, Abby Atwood,” Sadie said.

  “Miss Atwood, of course,” Tracy said, bobbing her head. “She was a community philanthropist. Shady Acres was one of her favorite causes.”

  “It was?” Sadie blurted.

  Tracy nodded again. “Yes, but unfortunately she discovered us late in her life and didn’t leave any, uh, gifts in her will. She was the head of the Shady Acres Beautification Committee.”

  “There was a beautification committee?” Luke asked, looking around at the drab walls and dismal atmosphere.

  “I’ll show you,” Tracy said. She led the way to a series of windows that faced the fortress style courtyard. “There. Miss Atwood and her committee provided those.” She pointed to a grouping of five bird feeders that were all empty and devoid of any bird activity.

  Sadie didn’t understand. Abby hated Shady Acres. Why would she be involved in a beautification committee? And if she was, why was the end result so paltry? Abby had been like a force of nature. Once she sunk her teeth into a project, there was no stopping her. If she had been intent on remaking Shady Acres, then it would have been remade.

  “That’s it?” she couldn’t stop herself from saying. “They had a beautification committee and they only provided five measly bird feeders?”

  Tracy looked at her askance. “Well, Miss Atwood had grander plans but, as I said, she passed before she could complete them.”

  “What happened to the rest of the committee?” Luke asked because Sadie had her nose pressed to the window, staring at the sad-looking empty feeders.

  “I had the feeling that Miss Atwood was sort of the driving force and once she went, so did interest in the project.” Tracy sighed and stared at the feeders, too. Maybe she did care about the residents. Maybe she wanted the place to be beautiful and was constrained by her budget. “My feet are killing me,” she muttered.

  Okay, so much for her compassion and dedication to the job, Luke thought. A quick glance at Sadie told him that she was quickly losing character and gaining a full head of steam. “We should go,” he announced.

  “Wait, have you made a decision about your grandmother? Are you going to put her with us?”

  Luke cringed at her phrasing, as if people were possessions they could tuck away out of sight. “We’ll think about it,” he said as he began herding Sadie toward the exit. Too late, though.

  “I wouldn’t put a dog I didn’t like in this place,” Sadie erupted. Luke gave up on the herding and picked her up, half dragging and half carrying her away.

  “Hypoglycemia,” he said, winding his finger around his ear to try and explain Sadie’s sudden outburst.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Sadie called. “How can you wake up every day and look in the mirror?” And that, Luke knew, was definitely their cue to leave.

  Chapter 19


  He was able to drag Sadie away and stuff her into the car before she did any bodily harm to the woman. “That went well,” he said.

  “That place was horrible,” Sadie said. “How could anyone put their family there?”

  “Some people don’t have a choice,” he said.

  “Everyone has a choice,” Sadie argued.

  “No, Sadie, they don’t. Private care is expensive. Shady Acres takes public assistance. And then there are all the people who have no family and get put there by the state.”

  Sadie didn’t like the direction of the conversation because she had no money or family. Would she one day end up in a place like Shady Acres? “I need to find a billionaire who doesn’t believe in pre-nups, ASAP.”

  “Yes, that’s clearly the solution,” he said, heavy on the sarcasm. “What did we learn in there, besides the fact that it was a Dickensian house of horrors?”

  “We learned that it was something else that wasn’t right before Abby’s death. Think about it—Abby takes on a beautification project and buys five bird feeders. Does that seem right to you?”

  “No, not at all. Abby would have torn that place apart with her bare hands and fixed everything if she had the money and time. She would have made them crazy—they would have hated her.” He paused. “Do you think they had something to do with her death?”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible, and I don’t see a motive. Tracy said she didn’t leave any money for them, so there would have been no motive.”

  “Maybe they didn’t know until after she died.”

  “I don’t know,” Sadie said. “That place was money-grubbing, but I didn’t get the sense that they were evil enough to murder someone.”

  “Just evil enough to keep helpless elderly people trapped in squalor and misery,” he said.

  “Don’t you think it takes a special kind of crazy to kill someone?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Sometimes murder is a true crime of passion. People get angry beyond rational thought and act. Not everyone who kills is cold-blooded. Some people have regrets and remorse over it.”

  “We need to talk to Abe Kaplan,” Sadie said.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said.

  “Thanks, bubby,” she teased.

  “Don’t ever, ever, ever call me your brother again.”

  She wanted to tease him some more, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Despite the fact that they had grown up together and been as close as family, she couldn’t think of him as her brother. She directed him to Abe Kaplan’s office, only to learn that he had already left for the day. They went to the house, and the door was opened by Shirley.

  “The spirits told me you would be coming today,” was her greeting. “Is this about the baby?”

  Luke apparently hadn’t seen her ensemble before. His eyes traveled from the turban to the magenta velvet muumuu and back again. “Baby?” he repeated dumbly.

  “It’s okay,” Sadie said. “Luke agreed to marry me and be a father for the child.” She pressed her hand to her stomach.

  “Sadie,” he snapped. “Don’t tease her. She’s not pregnant, and we’re not getting married.”

  “That’s what you think,” Madame Zora said. Her calm assurance was disconcerting to them both.

  “Is Abe here?” they blurted together.

  Shirley opened the door wider and moved aside. They entered and found Abe in the kitchen cracking open a large plate of shelled shrimp. He looked up with a caught, guilty expression. Sadie’s heart started to thump. Did he have a part in whatever was going on? Did he know he was caught?

  “Please don’t tell anyone you saw me eating shrimp,” he said. “I try to keep kosher, but I have some trouble with my seafood addiction.”

  “Your secret is safe,” Sadie said. She wondered which a rabbi would find more concerning—the fact that Abe had a secret love of shellfish or that his wife practiced second-rate witchcraft. He motioned for them to have a seat and offered up a robust-looking shrimp, but they declined.

  “We were wondering if you could tell us about Shady Acres. Did Abby mention anything to you about some sort of beautification committee?”

  “Of course,” he said. “It was a neighborhood thing. Her idea, of course, but she got everyone involved.”

  “Everyone who?” Luke said.

  “Everyone. Us, your parents, Sadie’s dad, the Warrens, the Robbins, Doc Jones. We all gave money, and we were supposed to have a few work days up there. Then Abby died, and everything sort of fell apart.” He paused, frowning. “I feel bad about that. Someone should pick up the torch and run with it. From all accounts, that place needs some help.”

  “What happened to the money?” Sadie asked.

  “Money?” he repeated as the tail of a shrimp disappeared between his lips.

  “I assume everyone gave money,” she said. “What happened to it after Abby died?”

  “I guess I didn’t think about it. We only gave a hundred dollars. I know she did a little work before her death, so I assumed the money was spent. Abby’s plan was to get the ball rolling with the neighborhood money and have fundraisers from there. She had big plans, but you know Abby. Her plans were always grand.”

  “Do you have the name of the forensic accountant you gave her?” Sadie asked.

  “I do, but I’ll tell you what I told her—following those kind of trails takes time. Weeks or months, maybe. And he charges by the hour.” He wiped his hands on a towel and began leafing through a drawer.

  “Could a hacker do it in less time?” she asked.

  “Probably, if he did it illegally. But nothing he found would be admissible in court if it turns out something illegal happened.”

  Sadie nodded and Luke watched her with a frown. She was plotting something; he could tell. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like. And he was more than a little uncomfortable with the mention of the word “illegal.” When Sadie got an idea in her head, nothing stopped her—not logic, not fear, not the law, not him. Nothing.

  “Thank you,” Sadie said, and he understood their visit was at an end. He followed her outside and watched as she pulled out her phone.

  “Don’t tell me you have a hacker on speed dial,” he said.

  “Actually, I do,” she said.

  “An ex-boyfriend?” he guessed.

  She shot him a disparaging glance and shook her head. “My college roommate’s brother.”

  “You can’t use a hacker for this. You heard what Abe said—it’s not legal.”

  “It’s legal if he works for the government.” She held up her hand and turned her attention to the phone. “Maddox, it’s Sadie Cooper. How are you? Engaged? Congratulations, that’s wonderful! Me? No, I’m not even dating anyone. No, really.” She turned away from Luke when he rolled his eyes. “You caught me, I do need a favor, but only if it’s not too much trouble. You’re sure? Okay, here’s the story.” She proceeded to tell him about Abby’s death, Doctor Jones’ murder, Abby’s strange behavior before her death, the possibility that someone had stolen her money, and the Shady Acres beautification committee. “I’m not even certain that anything nefarious happened,” she finished. “I guess you could say I have a feeling that something is wrong, and I think a forensic trace of Abby’s money would clear it up. Is that possible?” She paused. “That soon? Thanks, Maddox; you’re the best.” She laughed and Luke knew it was the hacker’s turn to compliment her. Who knew what he was saying? Apparently Sadie had worked her magic on the man if he was willing to spend his evening working on whatever she wanted at the drop of a hat. He hoped the man’s fiancée was the understanding sort.

  “Why do you look like you’re choking on a cactus?” Sadie said. Luke snapped out of his dark thoughts enough to realize she was talking to him.

  “I don’t like the way you take advantage of people,” he said.

  “How is asking a friend for a favor taking advantage? He could have said no.”

  “You’re telling me
that you actually consider this guy a friend,” he said.

  “Of course I do.”

  “A hacker—a guy who probably has very little money, works in a basement without windows, and probably has the complexion to prove it, and you’re friends with him.”

  “Why is that so hard to believe? Why do you insist on seeing me as shallow when I’m not? I’ve only ever been a snob in your imagination,” Sadie said.

  Luke didn’t answer because she was too close to the truth. Just because she hadn’t been friends with him after her transformation didn’t mean she hadn’t been friends with everyone else. Sadie had been the one person from the popular group who had been kind to his group of social misfits. But for some reason, he didn’t want to think of her that way. He wanted her to either be all good or all bad, but that wasn’t right. He turned to apologize to her, but she was no longer there. Thoroughly steamed now, she was a dozen feet ahead and gaining ground. He jogged to catch up to her and laid his hand on her arm.