Read and Gone

by Allison Brook

  I shook my head. “Come on. We don’t know if Paul Darby killed Benton.”

  “You’re right. I’m thinking anyone of several people at the wake might have killed Benton. He was a real snake in the grass.” Jim laughed suddenly. “Turns out I know one of them. I’m surprised he dared to show up today.”

  My pulse quickened. “Who was that?”

  “Tom Quincy. Benton and I had some dealings with him in the past.”

  “Was he involved in your heist?”

  “Are you kidding?! We learned real quick he wasn’t reliable. NTBT.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Not to Be Trusted.”

  “So, it sounds like the wake was more interesting than you first let on.”

  “I suppose. But I didn’t learn one damn thing about the gems or where they are.”

  I prepared coffee in the Keurig and served cookies and small pieces of cake leftover from the party. I made a mental note to freeze the rest of the desserts before I ate any more of them.

  I cleared the table and began stacking dishes in the dishwasher. I was feeling content. It was nice having dinner at home with my father, chatting a bit about the days when I was small and the four of us had spent time together as a family.

  “Want to get started on the Christmas tree?” I called out to Jim, who was drinking the last of his coffee in the living room.

  He didn’t answer. I was about to call out again, when I noticed he was speaking in low tones into his cell phone.

  Finally he looked up and I repeated my question.

  “Sorry, Caro, I have to go out tonight.”

  “Where?” I demanded.

  “I’m meeting an old friend. It’s important.”

  “Oh.”

  He came into the kitchen and put his arm around me. “Why don’t you start decorating the Christmas tree? I promise I’ll help you with it tomorrow night.”

  “You’re leaving,” I said bitterly. “Just like old times.”

  He held out his hands, palms up, as if he had no choice. “I’m doing the best I can,” he said softly and went into his room. Fifteen minutes later he appeared. “Don’t wait up for me,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  I turned on the dishwasher and then ran to open the four boxes of ornaments. I oohed and aahed like a little kid over colorful glass balls, icicles, snowflakes, and candles. Instead of an angel, Jim had bought a laughing Santa Claus to stand at the top of the tree. While Smoky Joe sniffed them, I carefully placed each ornament on the carpet. I longed to start hanging them, but even more, I wanted to share the trimming with my father.

  We’ll decorate tomorrow, I told myself. I’d spent so few Christmas holidays with him. Maybe I’ll make a real Christmas dinner. Invite Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco, Randy, Julia, and their kids. Shall I make turkey or ham?

  Who was I kidding? Jim would probably be long gone from Clover Ridge by the time December twenty-fifth rolled around.

  I walked toward the sofa, ready to switch on the TV remote, when I heard a muffled sound. It came from the window facing the river. I hadn’t bothered to close the blinds since there were no other houses around. I ran to the window and looked out in time to see a figure disappear from sight.

  Someone had been watching me! I managed to unlock the front door just as a dark blue sedan turned onto the road and sped away.

  I shivered with fear. Occasionally cars drove down the road despite the “Private” sign. But no one ever left their vehicle to walk around the house and peer into a window. Whoever had been out there must have been looking for my father!

  I called his cell phone and frowned when it went to voicemail. I left a message. “Someone came here and looked into the cottage through the living room window. Please be careful.”

  I called two more times. Still no answer. The land phone rang at ten forty-five.

  “Jim?”

  My heart leaped in my chest when a gruff voice said, “Is Jim there?”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  “When’s he coming back?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The caller disconnected. Where are you, Jim Singleton?

  He still wasn’t home by eleven thirty, when I drifted off to sleep. I woke up before my alarm went off and hurried into the guest room. I felt a sliver of dismay to see clothes strewn across the bed, a bed that hadn’t been slept in.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hello, Carrie. This is John Mathers.”

  “John! What’s wrong? Is my father…?”

  John let out a humorless chuckle. “He’s got himself in a spot of trouble. But he’ll be all right in a week or so.”

  I gulped down the panic rising to my throat. “You haven’t put him back in jail, have you?”

  “Nope. This time he’s the guest of South Conn Hospital.”

  “The hospital.” I collapsed onto my bedroom chair and closed my eyes. “What happened to him?”

  “Danny Brower was out patrolling last night. He found Jim in Due Amici’s parking lot out cold. He’s concussed, and I’m afraid he has a ruptured spleen.”

  None of this made any sense. Questions swirled around in my head. “What was he doing at a restaurant? We had dinner before he went out. What time did Danny find him?”

  John paused. “Just after two a.m.”

  I jumped to my feet. “And you’re just calling me now? Why didn’t you tell me as soon as Danny found him?”

  “Easy there, Carrie. Your father made us swear up and down that we wouldn’t disturb your night’s sleep. I spoke to his doctor. Jim will be fine.”

  “I sure hope so. Thanks for the call.”

  I was about to disconnect, when John asked, “What’s he looking for, Carrie?”

  Information about the gems. “I have no idea.”

  “Do you know who he was meeting?” John asked.

  “I don’t. He went out after dinner. Didn’t tell me where.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Seven thirty. Eight.”

  “Sounds like he was out and about for quite some time.”

  I hesitated, then plunged ahead with my question. “Did anyone at the restaurant see him?”

  “Not in the restaurant, but the manager saw two men talking in the parking lot when he finally left at eleven. His description of one of the men sounds like your father.”

  “The other man?”

  “Shorter, gray-haired, wearing a leather bomber jacket.”

  Could that be the man who was looking in the window last night?

  “Do you think they had an argument and the man hit my father?”

  “Sounds that way. Punched him in the area of the spleen. Jim fell and hit his head.”

  “And he was lying there for hours in the cold?”

  “I’m afraid so. Danny called for an ambulance. As soon as the EMS brought him in, they gave him two CT scans to make sure he wasn’t bleeding internally. He’s in a great deal of pain, but he’ll be okay.”

  “Oh, Jim, what are you up to now?” I covered my mouth when I realized I’d spoken out loud.

  “When he gets home, do me a favor and tell him to stay out of trouble.”

  “I will, John, but will he listen to me?”

  * * *

  I called Sally to tell her I’d be late to work because my father was in the hospital with a concussion, then drove to South Conn Hospital. It was an old building with two additions that had obviously been added at different times. I parked in what turned out to be the wrong parking lot and had to walk through the emergency area. I finally found his room. My father was lying on his back in the bed near the windows. His eyes were closed. They fluttered open when I grasped his hand.

  “Caro, thank God you came. You have to get me out of here.”

  Not again. “Sorry, Jim. You’ll be here for a while. Who did this to you?”

  He tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. “Honey, what you don’t know you can’t tell John
Mathers.”

  “What were you thinking? Who is the man you were talking to behind Due Amici?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters! A man called the house looking for you. And someone peered into the living room window. Is that the same person who landed you here in the hospital?”

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s gone, Caro. I told him nothing.”

  A chill snaked down my spine. “So he’s after the gems too. Did he kill Benton?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “We have to tell John!”

  “No! Don’t mention him to the police.”

  When I didn’t answer, he tugged at my arm. “Please, honey. If Mathers tracks down Quincy, he’ll spill the beans about the heist. I only managed to make him leave town by promising to send him a few grand.”

  “A few thousand dollars?”

  “That’s right.” He scrunched up his face. “Could you please call my nurse? I need more pain medicine.”

  “Of course.”

  I pressed the call button just as a bald doctor wearing glasses pushed aside the privacy curtain and greeted us. “Hello, I’m Dr. Brodsky. I bet you’re Jim’s daughter.”

  “Right. Carrie Singleton.” We shook hands.

  Dr. Brodsky listened to my father’s heart and lungs and asked him how he was feeling. “I’ve scheduled CT scans for you this afternoon.”

  “Again? I had CT scans when they brought me in.”

  “You have a tear on your spleen that needs monitoring. We’re very concerned about internal bleeding caused by the injury to your spleen. Your hemoglobin count is low, which means you may need a blood transfusion. It’s too soon to say. And you’ve suffered a concussion.”

  “When can I leave?”

  Dr. Brodsky released an exasperated sigh. “Now Jim, we’ve been through this. Your blood pressure’s dropped a bit and you’re having blurred vision, all indications that we need to keep an eye on you. You have to stay here until your symptoms have cleared up and your CTs are okay. I’d say, figure on being our guest for at least a week.”

  My father tried to sit up but fell back. “A week! I can’t stay here a week.”

  The doctor turned to me. “Carrie, I need your help here to make your father see reason.”

  “Don’t argue with Dr. Brodsky, Jim,” I said. “You have to stay in the hospital until he says it’s okay for you to go home. I’ll bring you whatever you need.”

  His answer was a frown. Doctor Brodsky beckoned me to follow him into the hall. “Your father has some serious injuries, but they’ll heal as long as he calms down and stops fighting me.”

  “I’ll do my best to see that he does,” I said.

  When I returned to Jim’s bedside, he gripped my arm. I stooped down so he could whisper in my ear. “If I can’t get out, you’re going to have to find the gems.”

  I snorted. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Of course you do. You’ve already solved two murders.”

  I stared at him open-mouthed. “Who told you that?”

  “Harriet and Bosco. They told me how resourceful you are.” His voice took on a wheedling tone. “You can start by attending Benton’s funeral. It’s tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

  Chapter Ten

  Thoughts bounced around in my head like ping-pong balls as I headed for home. My father’s assault had shaken me badly. Where was his outrage at the man who had attacked him? And why had he agreed to pay him off? Jim didn’t want me to tell John the man’s identity. What’s more, he seemed to bear him no ill will and was very nonchalant about having nearly been killed. Maybe beatings and attacks were common occurrences in Jim’s so-called line of work. If that were the case, I was glad he’d stayed away from us all these years. Glad too that the doctor wanted to keep him in the hospital for at least a week. It would keep Jim out of trouble while I did my darnedest to find the gems so I could hand them over to Dylan.

  Smoky Joe was happy to see me when I walked through the front door. I fed him, and then we headed for work. Word that my father was laid up in the hospital with injuries had already spread to my colleagues. They assumed he’d been mugged, and I made no attempt to correct their erroneous assumption. I’d tell Angela the truth over lunch, where curious ears couldn’t overhear us.

  There were plenty of phone calls and emails to respond to, which kept me occupied until Trish showed up at eleven. I peeked in at the craft group making Christmas stockings and felt menorahs, then looked in on the current events group, which was already in the midst of a heated discussion about the president’s latest unilateral decision.

  Back at my desk, I read over the May–June newsletter to check for typos and to verify dates and course numbers, then brought it over to Harvey Kirk, the head of the computer department. Harvey was a slight elf of a man, in his early fifties, who used to work for one of the big computer companies. He knew everything there was to know about computers, tablets, and smartphones. I asked him what could be causing my computer at home to be slowing down, and he gave me a few suggestions to try out.

  “If none of them work, bring it in and I’ll look it over,” he said as I was leaving.

  “Thanks, Harv. I will.”

  Dorothy Hawkins called to me as I was passing the reference desk. She had been my nemesis since I had become head of P and E, believing she should have been given the position instead of me. She had tried to make me look incompetent in various ways. Once she had hidden a film we were about to show. Another time she had called a few presenters and told them their programs had been canceled. I’d managed to broker a truce between us, but the scowl on her face let me know that truce was about to be broken.

  “Carrie, I wish you’d leave your cat at home like the rest of the world.” She stood up, brushing the front of her skirt with both hands. “He’s getting hair all over my clothes.”

  “Really? I’m sorry about that. I’ll make sure to brush him more frequently.”

  Just then Smoky Joe came up to me and rubbed against my slacks. I bent down to pet him. When I stood up, I smiled at Dorothy. “No hairs on my pants, or on any of my clothing for that matter. I wonder if the hairs on your skirt came from Smoky Joe or from some other animal.”

  I felt the heat of her glare on my back as I walked away. And I’m supposed to buy her a Secret Santa gift?

  “I see Dorothy’s been acting up again.”

  I turned to Evelyn, who had suddenly manifested. She kept pace with me as I continued on to my office. “Your niece is a most unpleasant person.” I spoke softly so no one would hear me and think I was going bonkers.

  Evelyn sighed. “She’s been that way since she left my sister’s womb.” As I was about to turn the doorknob, she said, “Carrie, I’m going to ask you to do me a favor.”

  “Certainly. As long as I don’t have to invite Dorothy over for dinner.”

  She laughed. “Nothing like that.”

  I released the knob. I couldn’t talk to Evelyn in my office with Trish there. “In that case, why don’t you come downstairs with me and tell me what you have in mind?”

  We took the staircase down to the supply closet, where I signed out a package of paper for my office printer. There was a folding chair against one of the walls. I sat down and looked up at Evelyn.

  “What can I do for you? I know it must be important or you wouldn’t ask.”

  Evelyn’s face took on a faraway look. “It’s something Robert and I used to do every Christmas for many, many years—until I left this plane.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We had an elderly neighbor.” She laughed. “That is, Morgan seemed elderly when we moved into our house thirty years ago. He must have been in his mid-sixties, the age I am now.”

  That is old, I thought.

  Evelyn shot me a shrewd glance. “Age is relative, my dear. You’ll learn that soon enough. Anyway Morgan Fuller was a retired widower, a carpenter who kept his house and lawn in tip
top condition. He was very welcoming to us when Robert and I moved into our home. If we had a plumbing problem or needed a new roof, wanted to wallpaper the kitchen and redo the bathrooms, he always offered sound advice. What he couldn’t do himself, he recommended reliable workmen he could vouch for. He had no children and we didn’t either, so we spent most holidays together.”

  “He must be in his mid-nineties now. Is he still living in his home?”

  “No, he had a stroke ten years ago that left him partially paralyzed. Robert and I helped move him into a nursing home. Poor guy—we adopted Snuggles, the cat he was so fond of, because he couldn’t keep a cat in the nursing home.”

  She looked down at the floor. “Robert died less than a year later. When I wasn’t working at the library or visiting my sister, Dorothy’s mother, I often stopped at the nursing home to visit Morgan. I always brought him a box of his favorite cookies around the holidays.”

  She reached out her hand. Though it remained inches away, an icy chill ran along my arm. I knew she wished she could touch me. I wished she could too.

  “I’d like you to visit Morgan and bring him a box of linzer cookies.” Evelyn giggled. “He’s already seen a ghost or two in his lifetime and won’t panic when you tell him I sent you, and give him my love.”

  “Of course. I’d be happy to. But are you sure he’s still alive?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  “Where’s the nursing home?”

  “I’m afraid it’s quite a distance from here. An hour’s drive at least.”

  I gulped. With everything going on in my life and the holidays approaching, spending an afternoon away from Clover Ridge before Christmas was going to be difficult.

  Evelyn’s face took on an expression of chagrin. “Please forgive me for being so presumptuous. Silly me—I think of you as my niece and forget that you’re not a relation.”

  “The thing is, my father’s in the hospital with a concussion and a ruptured spleen. One of his cronies attacked him last night, and Jim refuses to tell John Mathers his name. I have to find those gems he’s after so he’ll stop looking for them himself.”

  She sighed. “You certainly have more than enough on your plate.”