Read and Gone

by Allison Brook

  Nothing. His hand remained limp in mine. Tears welled up in my eyes. He was dead because of me. Because I didn’t have the sense not to taunt Mariel and Dina.

  “Talk to me! Please talk to me, Daddy,” I cried.

  Dylan set me aside so he could listen to my father’s chest. “He’s breathing.”

  “Will he be all right?”

  “I think so. He knocked himself out when his head hit the floor.”

  “I’ll call nine-one-one.”

  I jerked around to stare at Mariel. “Thank you.”

  “Have them send an ambulance,” Dylan said.

  “I was planning to,” Mariel said wryly, returning to the dining room where she’d left her cell phone.

  My father stirred. “I was reaching for the Santa when I got dizzy. Ouch! My head aches.”

  “Of course it hurts,” I said. “You fell backward and landed on your head. You could have another concussion.”

  A minute or two later, Mariel returned. “The ambulance is on its way.”

  Jim made an effort to sit up, but slid back down to the floor. “This is ridiculous! I’m fine.”

  “Lie still,” Dylan said.

  My father pushed him away and struggled unsuccessfully to raise his head. “I’m not going back to any damn hospital!”

  “Daddy, you need to have a doctor look at you.”

  Mariel knelt beside my father. “Jim, I hope you feel better soon. I’m sorry the evening ended this way. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She stood and turned to me. “Carrie, Dina and I are leaving. Please get our jackets.”

  I blinked back tears as I went to the hall closet. What had I hoped to accomplish by saying those hurtful things to Dina and her mother? My father had gone to straighten out the Santa on the tree—if it was even necessary—in an attempt to change the subject. To get me to shut up.

  No one spoke as I handed Dina and Mariel their jackets. They left and I returned to my father. Dylan had brought him a glass of water that he sipped slowly.

  “I can’t see how two glasses of wine made me dizzy,” my father was saying.

  “By my count, you had three at least,” Dylan said. “Neither you nor Carrie should have been drinking tonight.”

  I knelt beside my father and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I riled up your guests.”

  He tried to laugh. “What the hell did you hope to achieve? Hearing one of them confess she offed Benton? Really, Caro. You make a lousy detective.”

  “Or was it your way of paying them back?” Dylan asked.

  His words stung, but I forced myself to answer honestly. “Partly. I wanted to see their reactions regarding Richard—if they suspected he might have killed his father. But I was angry at Dina for sending me off to the cabin alone, supposedly so she could spend the morning with her mother, then not bothering to let me know her mother had canceled their plans. And at Mariel for being the worst kind of hypocrite.”

  “And you’re worried Mariel Parr has her hooks in your father.”

  His bull’s-eye made me blush. I felt my ears grow warm. “That too,” I mumbled. I finally managed to look him in the eye. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Not mad. Disappointed is more like it.”

  “Oh.” I curled up into a ball beside my father.

  A siren blasted the silence as an ambulance approached the cottage. Smoky Joe, who had come to sniff my father and me, no doubt wondering why we were lying on the living room floor, scurried into my bedroom and hid under the bed. Minutes later, three emergency medical technicians—two men and a young woman—were at the door with a gurney. One asked me what had happened while the other two gently lifted my father onto the stretcher.

  “Caro, my wallet’s on my bureau. We’ll need to bring it to the hospital. My insurance information’s inside.”

  I went to get his wallet and my parka. “Can I ride with him in the ambulance?” I asked.

  “Sure,” the older of the two men answered.

  “Go ahead,” Dylan said. “I’ll follow in my car.”

  “You don’t have to come,” I said, still smarting from his earlier comments.

  “Please don’t argue, Caro,” my father said.

  “All right.” I turned to Dylan. “You can meet us at the hospital. Thanks,” I said none too graciously.

  He shot me a grin. “Don’t mention it.”

  Inside the ambulance, I held my father’s hand as we rode to the hospital.

  “Thanks, honey,” he said, giving me a lopsided grin.

  “For ruining dinner? You’re welcome.”

  “For calling me ‘Daddy’ instead of ‘Jim.’”

  I bent down to kiss his cheek. “Now that I’m thirty, I think I’ll change it to ‘Dad.’”

  Chapter Thirty

  When Dylan arrived at the hospital, my father was already in triage. We sat outside in the nearly empty waiting room while he provided a hospital worker with the necessary information.

  “The ER doesn’t appear to be very busy tonight,” Dylan said.

  “Good. The sooner a doctor checks him out, the better.”

  “They’ll probably want to do a CT scan and other tests. After all, he only left here a day ago.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I buried my face in my hands, trying not to cry.

  Dylan put his arm around me. “Stop beating yourself up. Jim knew he shouldn’t have been drinking.”

  “He was trying to get me to stop asking those dumb questions. As if they got us anywhere.”

  Dylan let out a sigh. “I’m beginning to wonder if those gems are gone for good. Nobody seems to know where Benton hid them. I’ll wait until after Christmas to write up my report.”

  A few minutes later, my father was wheeled into a cubicle. Dylan and I sat with him until a young Indian doctor arrived. She examined him and questioned him about his fall. Then she turned to me.

  “Are you his daughter?”

  “I am.”

  “We’re going to take a CT scan as soon as the machine is free. Given your dad’s history, we’ll be keeping him overnight.”

  My father tried to sit up. “I’m not staying here! I just got out of this place.”

  “Mr. Singleton, we’re doing what’s best for you,” the doctor said with more authority than I’d have expected. “You got dizzy, fell and hit your head, and lost consciousness for a few minutes. Please don’t make it any more difficult. We should have an available room within the hour.”

  “How long will he be staying?” I asked, concerned because I was scheduled to work the next day. I couldn’t keep on taking time off to bring him home from the hospital.

  “I can’t say for sure, but if he’s not concussed, he can probably leave some time tomorrow.” the doctor said.

  Dylan must have read my mind, because he said, “I don’t have anything scheduled tomorrow. I’ll pick him up and drive him to the cottage when he’s discharged.”

  “Thank you so much!”

  Dylan winked. “I can tell you mean it this time.”

  A technician arrived to escort my father to the radiology department in the basement.

  “That was fast,” the doctor said.

  “Go home, Caro,” my father said. “There’s no point in you waiting around. The CT scan will take awhile.”

  “I think I should—”

  “Dylan, please take her home and see that she gets some rest. She’s suffered her own share of blows today.”

  I rubbed my head. With all that had transpired in the past hour, I’d forgotten the assault at the cabin earlier in the day. It seemed to have happened a long time ago.

  “We’re leaving,” Dylan said, taking hold of my upper arm.

  “All right, Dad. I’m going. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Sorry to leave you with the cleaning up. I meant to take care of it.”

  “You’ll do the cleaning up next meal we make,” I said.

  Dylan and I didn’t speak as we headed to the parking lot and started for home.
At the first traffic light, he reached for my hand. “I’ve learned a lot about you these past few days.”

  “Really? Like what? That I’m impulsive and say things I’m better off not saying?”

  “Like being a loving daughter under the most trying circumstances. And wanting to help your father the best way you know how.”

  “I’ve come to accept that I love my father, warts and all, but I refuse to aid or abet him in his criminal activities. Nor will I allow him to destroy my relationship with you.”

  “I was wrong to stay on his case. I should have asked to be taken off it once I—”

  He stopped suddenly.

  “Once you what?” I prodded.

  “Once I realized I was falling in love with you.”

  “Oh.” A wave of happiness swept over me. I closed my eyes and saw fireworks. Or at least a very bright moon shining down on me and warming my heart on this cold December night. “You really mean it?”

  “I do.”

  I hesitated, then forged ahead. “You’re not just saying that because Jordan’s my brother and I’m a link to your happy childhood?”

  “My happy childhood.” Daryl let out a bark of laughter that held no humor. “I’ll fill you in on that mistaken notion some day. You don’t need to worry that I care about you for some convoluted reason. I love you because you’re you. I know the kind of life you led before you moved to Clover Ridge. How you tackled your new job and solved two murders. You’re a strong, competent, beautiful, sexy woman, Carolinda Singleton, and I adore you.”

  I punched his thigh none too gently. “I told you not to call me that. My name is Carrie. I changed it officially.”

  Dylan laughed. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

  We held hands the rest of the way home. As we turned onto the private road where we both lived, I knew I didn’t want to let him go.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” I asked.

  “I was going to suggest it.”

  * * *

  That night, we lay, side by side, holding hands. I had no idea what time I fell asleep, but a furry face butting against my cheek woke me up. I glanced at the clock. It was seven, the time I usually awoke when I had to be at work at nine.

  I turned to Dylan and found him smiling down at me.

  “Good morning,” I said, as though his presence in my bed was a usual occurrence.

  “Looks like a nice morning.”

  “You’ve been up,” I said.

  “For the past hour, but I wanted to be here when you woke up.” Dylan stroked my cheek with the back of his hand as he gazed into my eyes. “Tell you what. I’m going home to shower and dress. I’ll be back for some morning sustenance.”

  “You’re welcome, as long as you know it’s just toast and coffee.” I padded off to the bathroom.

  “That’s okay with me.”

  I showered and brushed my teeth, then called the hospital. The operator connected me to my father’s room, where his phone rang and rang. I figured he was either in the bathroom or having another test or scan. I got dressed and called again. Still no answer.

  Dylan returned half an hour later, a copy of The Wall Street Journal in hand, as I was finally connecting with my father.

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  “Getting another CT scan. They’re doing them early today because of the holiday.”

  “Did the doctor say when you can go home?”

  “He wants to keep me until midafternoon.”

  “I’ll be at work, so Dylan has offered to pick you up. Here’s his cell number.” I rattled it off.

  “Tell Dylan thanks for me—for looking after you and for everything else.”

  “I will.” We disconnected and I burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Dylan asked, glancing up from the newspaper.

  “My father. I think he knew you were here with me. And he thanks you—for everything.”

  “He’s welcome,” Dylan said with a broad grin.

  I poured out cups of coffee and asked Dylan if he wanted a roll, an English muffin, or a few slices of multigrain toast.

  “Toast,” he said. “Well done.”

  I put two slices and my English muffin in the toaster oven and sat down to sip my coffee. It felt so normal and right to be having breakfast with Dylan. I smiled, thinking that this could happen day after day—until he left on another assignment.

  “I have a few things to take care of this morning. I’ll call the hospital around noon to find out when they want Jim to vacate his room,” Dylan said as he spooned a healthy amount of apricot jelly onto his toast. “I suppose you’ll want to have a quiet dinner at home with him tonight.”

  “And with you. There are plenty of leftovers.”

  “Or I was thinking of making one of my Moroccan dinners.”

  “I had no idea you knew Moroccan cuisine.”

  “Ah, Miss Singleton. There are many things you’ve yet to learn about me.”

  I grabbed him around the waist and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Beware, I intend to find out each and every one of them.”

  Dylan’s cell phone rang. “Maybe they’re letting Jim out earlier than he thought,” he said as he put it to his ear.

  “Really?!” he said a moment later. The tight seam of his lips told me it was bad news. “Carrie’s here with me. I’d like to share this with her.” He listened, then said, “Sure, I’ll put her on.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Did something happen to Uncle Bosco? Aunt Harriet?”

  Dylan shook his head as he handed me his phone.

  “Hello, Carrie. It’s John Mathers. Mariel Parr has been murdered.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I swallowed, but no words came. Moments passed before I could speak. “John, I—I can hardly believe Mariel’s dead! She and Dina were here last night, having dinner with my father, Dylan, and me.”

  “So Dina’s told us. I’m at the crime scene with the medical examiner and two investigators from the forensics lab. As soon as I’m finished, I’ll want to talk to everyone who came into contact with Mariel in the past forty-eight hours.”

  “I’m about to leave for work. I’ll be at the library until it closes at three. Then I’m off for the weekend.”

  “I’ll catch up with you, one place or another.” John let out a rueful chuckle. “I knew I shouldn’t have left my Christmas shopping this late. Tell your dad I’ll be stopping by the cottage for a chat.”

  “Jim’s in the hospital. Dylan’s bringing him home later today, and we’ll be in all evening. Dad took a tumble last night and lost consciousness. They kept him overnight to monitor him since he’d just been concussed.”

  “Sorry about that. Dina mentioned he’d fallen. Don’t you worry. I’ll catch up with you both. It’s merely a formality as far as you, Jim, and Dylan are concerned.”

  “Did someone break into the house? Is Dina all right?”

  “This was no break-in, and Dina’s fine. Mariel was stabbed—the ME estimates between three and six this morning. There’s no sign of the weapon.”

  “Oh, no! Do you think it’s the same person that killed Benton and Tom Quincy?”

  “I have to go, Carrie. Please put Dylan back on the line.”

  I handed the phone to Dylan. He and John conversed in low tones as I forced myself to finish my breakfast. Mariel was dead! Murdered! It sounded to me that the killer had used the same knife he’d used to kill Benton. But why kill Mariel? Was it over the gems, or had she managed to piss off the killer about something else? And where had this happened? John didn’t—or wouldn’t—say.

  I cleared the table, stepping around Dylan as he continued to speak to John in low tones. What was he finding out? Would he share it with me? I used the bathroom, shrugged into my winter parka, then gathered Smoky Joe in my arms. When I returned to the kitchen, Dylan was ending the conversation. He looked up at me as he slipped his phone in his pocket.

  “John asked what we talked about over
dinner.”

  I grimaced. “So he joins the ranks of those who know I tried to provoke Mariel and Dina into talking about Richard.”

  “I’m afraid so. John intends to question Dina and her brother as soon as the ME and techs finish up. They’ve been notified of Mariel’s death and have been asked to wait at home to be interviewed.”

  “At least he doesn’t consider us suspects.”

  Dylan laughed. “You and I can vouch for one another, and your father spent the night in the hospital.”

  “I just realized, this makes John privy to … er … aspects of our relationship.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Does it bother you?”

  I thought a moment. “Not in the least.”

  Smoky Joe began to squirm, so I set him down.

  Dylan grinned. “I’m glad, because word’s bound to get out that we’re a couple.”

  A couple! I drew in a deep breath. “Oh,” was all I could manage. Time to change the subject. “Where was Mariel found? John didn’t say.”

  “A few feet from the spot where they found Tom Quincy’s body. Near Jennifer and Paul Darby’s house.”

  “Oh, no! What was she doing there?”

  “That’s what John intends to find out.”

  “Who discovered the body?”

  “You won’t believe it.”

  I stared at him. “Not Paul Darby.”

  “He claimed he was out taking a walk because he couldn’t sleep. Despite the fact that early this morning the temperature was down in the twenties.”

  “Paul Darby had no reason to kill Mariel. But Dina resented her mother, and so did her brother.”

  “They’ll all be questioned in time.” Dylan kissed me soundly on the lips. “Now leave, woman, or you’ll be late to work.”

  I picked up the remote control to the small TV on the kitchen wall. “I will as soon as I find out if the media has the news about Mariel’s murder.”

  I clicked to the local channel and had to wait through three commercials. First, a newscaster interviewed shoppers waiting to enter the mall, followed by a snippet of an accident involving two cars. I turned off the TV.