“Come on, Kate. You know I’m daring and it comes naturally.”
“You told Larry as well as Kilroy, and you have no right! You don’t even know what you’re telling them. You’re lying!” She quickly corrected herself. “I’ve gotten a clean bill of health.”
“No, you’ve gotten an update, which includes running more tests,” she pointed out.
“Who’s your source?” she demanded, already envisioning having the hospital employee fired.
“What do you have for me?” said Olivia, settling into her chair on the business side of the desk. “I assume that’s why you’re here?”
“I don’t know anything you don’t already know, how is that not obvious to you?”
“You’re the Police Chief’s wife, and you just spoke with Mrs. Hyatt.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m everywhere, Kate. Everywhere. What did she tell you?” Olivia set her fingertips to her keyboard as if Kate was about to disclose every last shred of information she had collected.
“I’m not going to be bullied into working for you,” she declared.
“Ah,” said the editor, knowingly. Without hesitation, she pulled the lap drawer of her desk open and produced a checkbook. “Shall we start at five hundred?”
“What?”
Olivia eyed her for a long moment, and then spoke to her as though she was mentally deficient. “Kate, I’m offering to pay you for information, and when I said five hundred, I meant dollars.”
Folding her arms and glaring down her nose at the ruthless woman, she wracked her brain for a way to twist this confrontation to her advantage. She didn’t want payment and she didn’t want to be threatened into working for Olivia, but she didn’t want Mrs. Hyatt to go to prison for a crime she hadn’t committed.
“Mrs. Hyatt isn’t guilty.”
“I agree,” she stated quickly, pressing her pen to her cheek book, poised and ready for any reason to commence writing.
“If you really must know, I think Mr. Stone did it. I think he was having an affair with Doris and it went south for some reason. Maybe his wife found out, and he felt he had no choice but to kill Doris.”
“Proof?”
“He worked in construction.”
“That’s not proof, Kate.”
“Well, I’m a sleuth, and quite frankly, I don’t always need proof to catch the guilty person.”
Olivia tapped her pen against the cheek book.
“You can put that away. I don’t want your money.” After a tense moment, Kate added, “If you have any corrupt contacts at the precinct... Mrs. Hyatt seems to think the emerald ring Doris was found wearing holds the answers.”
The editor screwed her face up. “How could it?”
“Leave me alone,” Kate warned, grabbing the doorknob. “I’ve told you everything I know. If you continue spreading rumors about me, I’ll tell my husband and I’m sure it won’t be difficult for him to find a reason to have you arrested.”
Just as she was stepping into the hallway, Olivia said, “If you want my opinion as to why you’re so tired...”
Appalled, Kate turned on her heel and gaped at the woman.
“You should try eating twice as much as you do.”
Her response was slamming the door and stomping through the newsroom.
By the time she reached her truck she realized her hands were trembling.
Eat twice as much?
How dare she!
If anything, she needed a strong cup of coffee and to rid one very rude editor from her life. With that in mind, she drove to Bean There, labored out of her truck, dragged herself up the sidewalk, and struggled to push the entrance door open, all the while hoping like hell the coffee shop wouldn’t be crowded.
The barista, Clara, was in good spirits when Kate reached the counter. She feigned idle chitchat as Clara fetched a large, black coffee and a Danish for her, which she ate half of before she’d even paid for her items.
After paying with cash and thanking her, Kate started through the coffee shop in search of an empty table. It wasn’t until she was settling into one near the windows at the back that she realized Amy and Jack Roberts were seated a table away.
The young couple was huddled in deep conversation and completely oblivious to Kate’s proximity.
“You shouldn’t have fired her,” Amy hissed.
“How could I not?” Jack objected.
“Very easily. You could’ve kept your mouth shut.”
He leaned back in his chair, drawing in a deep breath as if distancing himself from his wife’s harsh criticism as she stared daggers at him. When he hunched over again, he stated, “Why didn’t you instruct her to stay out of the basement?”
Amy scowled at him and asked, “Tell her not to do something? That’s the fastest way to get a person to do something.”
“We’ll hire someone else.”
“You think it’s so simple?”
“Why isn’t it?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Clearly, Amy is the brains behind this operation, thought Kate.
“There aren’t that many contractors in Rock Ridge. Her son doesn’t live here anymore, though he would’ve been a good choice. The other viable company, Wentworth Contractors, is run by the mayor, and I’m sure I don’t have to spell out for you why hiring him would be a terrible idea.”
“So what do we do?”
Amy fell silent, thinking.
“You keep pushing this arbitrary timeline,” Jack pointed out. “But we don’t have to flip the house so soon.”
“With a buyer breathing down our necks, honey, we do,” she snapped. After sighing out her pent-up tension, she commented, “At least she didn’t go into the attic...”
What’s in the attic? Kate wondered, leaning over her table and angling her ear toward their conversation. Another body?
“And she didn’t discover my dad lives in Rock Ridge,” she countered as if proving she was far brighter than her husband. He didn’t seem to appreciate it, which his body language indicated. Jack was folding his arms and frowning at his wife. “But she will. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Like you’re protecting your father,” he snorted, shaking his head.
“I’m protecting us,” she countered. “And I wish you’d start doing the same.”
“I did! I fired her!”
“We need to get practical, hire a contractor, and stay on target. The payment is already in escrow, and if this deal falls through...who is going to buy the house if not Olivia? With its history, no one in their right mind would live there.”
Olivia Tartt was in the process of buying the old Victorian? Kate wondered why. Did she legitimately want to live in that house, or did the editor-in-chief of the Rock Ridge Tribune assume there were countless stories hiding within its walls?
“Maybe we should talk to your dad again,” Jack suggested.
“With his wife there? That’s a bad idea.”
“Oh, he’ll get her to leave the house. He’s done it before. Or we can have him meet us somewhere.”
“We can’t be caught with him in public,” she pointed out. “But maybe you’re right.”
“I don’t know why you’re getting so bent out of shape over this. Mrs. Hyatt has been arrested. We played this perfectly.”
“It’s not over yet. The fact that Kate was asking the kinds of questions that she did just goes to show she suspects the killer is still out there. If she thinks that, then we can bet others are as well, her husband for example. Olivia’s trying to contain her, but I don’t trust she’ll be successful.”
“Olivia’s tactics are muddled, I’ll agree. Why aim Kate at investigating the house if she really wants to throw Kate off the trail?”
“We’re at her mercy,” said Amy. “We have to follow Olivia’s lead and let her do what she wants or else she’ll print that story about Daddy, and I can’t have that. It wouldn’t be local news. It would be national news, and I’m not going to spend the
rest of my life stigmatized.”
“I’ll come up with some contractors,” Jack told her, as if developing a plan would set his wife’s mind at ease. “We’ll hire someone by the end of the week. Olivia will get her house. Your dad will remain anonymous. We’ll get through this.”
Amy nodded her agreement, at a loss for a better course of action. She drank her coffee quietly then hissed, “I hate this town.”
“If we really want to protect your father,” Jack mentioned, “then we need to get that ring.”
“Let’s go back to the Inn and get down to business,” he suggested.
But Amy had another idea. “I think we should stay in the house.”
“Amy,” he said in a deep tone as if instilling some reason into his wife. “If you believe the legend, we can’t stay there.”
“Do you?”
He sighed and searched for the answer in the dregs of his coffee mug. “I wonder...”
Amy stood, collecting her plate and mug. After a moment, Jack joined her and they started through the coffee shop, deposited their dirty dishes on the counter, and made their way into the hot afternoon.
So, Olivia Tartt was manipulating Jack and Amy Roberts just as badly as she’d strong-armed Kate. It seemed there could be more bodies hidden within and possibly around the Victorian house, and that was why the editor was attracted to the property. Even more curious was Amy’s mention of her father. He lived right here in Rock Ridge, but did that mean that the abusive man from South Carolina had followed Doris up north and killed her? Or had this mystery man been abusive because he’d discovered that he wasn’t Amy’s biological father? Had Doris left him in the south to be with Amy’s real father, and the plan of happily ever after went terribly wrong. Had he been some kind of lover who had moved on from the affair and ended up killing Doris in order to keep his past a secret?
Mr. Stone came to mind.
Chapter Five
Kate lumbered into the hospital. Her feet felt heavy and her legs were stiff. The crook in her neck from sleeping at a strange angle was causing a mild headache. She had drunk three cups of coffee and grabbed a shot of espresso from Bean There on the drive over, but it hadn’t helped. Though it was the Fourth, and she knew Dr. Faulkner wouldn’t be in the hospital today, she felt compelled to stop in but not because she felt ragged. Her dreams had gotten worse and she craved the expert opinion of a medical professional to put her mind at ease that she wasn’t insane.
When she reached the front desk, she set her identification on the counter, explaining, “I don’t have an appointment, but I’m hoping to see a doctor.”
The nurse behind the counter pulled up Kate’s medical history and asked, “Same issues?”
“Actually, I’ve been sleeping really badly.”
“Ah,” said the nurse. “Maybe Ambien or Lunesta—”
“I’m hoping not to have to jump to prescriptions,” she explained, but it only seemed to confuse the nurse so Kate quickly backtracked. “Well, if a prescription will help... I’d just really like to speak with a doctor.”
“We’ll get you in,” she assured her. “Have a seat. It shouldn’t be too long.”
Kate thanked her and made her way to the waiting area where there were a number of vacant chairs. After taking a seat, she glanced at the other patients and noted a sneezing young woman, an elderly man who was suffering with a grisly patch of psoriasis on his face, and a professionally dressed man whose thumb appeared swollen.
She should’ve brought some reading material, she thought, reaching for one of the magazines on the coffee table. It was a Redbook and at first blush looked entirely uninteresting.
Before she could crack it open, her cell phone vibrated in her overalls. Glancing at the screen, she saw that it was the mayor, Dean Wentworth, calling and she quickly answered with, “Dean, how are you?”
“Overwhelmed,” he said in a heavy voice. “I’ve been planning the Fourth of July celebration for weeks, and this morning two of my contractors called in sick.”
She was momentarily thrown by the term ‘contractors,’ but Dean clarified.
“It’s the guys who are supposed to set up the fireworks, string the decorations, and make the amusement park festive.”
“Okay...”
“I know it’s not exactly your forte, but I was hoping you might be available to lend a hand?”
If this exhaustion kept up, she wasn’t sure how helpful she would be, but she said, “What time would you need me?”
“The sooner the better,” he stated apologetically. “Now? I need to send someone over to Alvin’s Fireworks to pick up my order. You’ve got your truck so I figured—”
“Sure, that’s no problem, but I won’t be able to get over there for another hour or two.”
“On a fix-it job?”
“Something like that,” she fibbed.
“Once we have the fireworks, it’ll take a few hours to set them up, and then I was hoping you could stay at the amusement park to decorate. All told, it is a full day of work.”
He sounded nervous so she assured him, saying, “Dean, I’ve got your back. I’ll text you once I have the fireworks loaded up in my truck at Alvin’s.
“Kate Flaherty?” The nurse called out, scanning the waiting area, which Dean must have heard.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Eager to hop off the call, she said, “I’ll see you soon!” and hung up before meeting the nurse at the side of the counter.
Following the woman, Kate walked down a corridor and into an exam room where the nurse set a plastic cup on a stainless steel ledge near the exam table.
“When you feel ready,” she began explaining, “there’s a bathroom one door down in the hallway.”
“You need a urine sample because I’m not sleeping well?” Kate asked, confused.
Smiling, the nurse let out a breathy laugh. “No, not quite. But Dr. Faulkner was planning on taking a sample tomorrow during your scheduled appointment, so I figure we can get it out of the way now.”
“Why would he need a urine sample?” she asked.
“We’ll, we are running more tests with your blood samples, but there’s a lot we can find out from your urine,” she mentioned without going into any actual detail.
Kate figured it was just as well. If the nurse listed all the ailments Dr. Faulkner was planning on testing, she would only feel more anxious, so she thanked the nurse and took the plastic cup up the hallway.
Good thing she had drunk all that coffee. Filling the cup was no problem and when she returned to the exam room, she set her sample on the steel ledge.
A moment later, another doctor entered the room and introduced herself as Dr. Beckett. “I understand you’re having difficulty sleeping?”
Grimacing, Kate clarified, “I fall asleep just fine and I’m pretty sure I’m sleeping through the night okay...”
Dr. Beckett looked confused as to what the problem was.
“But I’m having terrible dreams. If you’ll notice, I’ve been in to see Dr. Faulkner because I’ve been so tired, and now I’m starting to think the two symptoms are related. Maybe I’m exhausted because these nightmares are a sign I’m not really sleeping properly.”
As if in preparation of educating Kate on the ins and outs of sleep cycles, Dr. Beckett got comfortable, sitting on a stool, so Kate hopped onto the exam table, poised to listen.
“If you’re having vivid dreams—”
“Nightmares,” she quickly corrected.
“Nightmares. Then you really are reaching REM sleep, which is restful, though it's only meant to be a stage of sleep before you sink into deeper sleep.”
“Okay,” she said, understanding. “So, maybe I’m not reaching that deeper level of sleep.”
“What I’m saying, Kate,” she went on, resting her hand on Kate’s leg. “Is that having vivid dreams shouldn’t cause exhaustion.”
“Oh,” she said, disappointed.
“But Dr. Faulkner is still runnin
g tests.” If the doctor had meant to sound optimistic, Kate wasn’t relieved. “In the meantime, I can certainly prescribe something to help you sleep, but if you’re falling asleep as you say, the prescription might be unnecessary.”
“In general, I don’t really like to use prescriptions.”
“You could try melatonin, a supplement, if you like. But if you really want my medical opinion, I would suggest you try to incorporate relaxing activities into your day.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s possible you’re having nightmares because you’re stressed out. Or maybe you feel like you’re in moral conflict.”
Kate didn’t know why that would be.
“It’s also possible your hormones are in flux.”
Ah, the dreaded menopause, thought Kate. “Fine,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “It couldn’t hurt to have some sleeping pills on hand.”
Dr. Beckett nodded and began writing out a prescription, which she handed to Kate, saying, “There’s a pharmacy in the lobby, or you can get this filled at any local drugstore.”
“Thanks.”
The doctor plucked Kate’s sample off the ledge and opened the door for her.
In the lobby, Kate filled the prescription and shoved the little bottle of pills into her pocket, sensing deep down that these wouldn’t really help her.
Alvin’s Fireworks was located on the south side of Rock Ridge. After veering her truck off the highway, Kate drove past the high-rise condo she had renovated for Justina and Carnegie Real Estate a few years back. The building now housed nearly one hundred ex-convicts who had been released from the local prison. She smiled to herself, eyeing the apartment building and feeling as though she had done some good in this town. Last she had heard, Gillian O’Reilly lived there as well as countless others Kate had met who were committed to turning their lives around. Gillian still worked at Amelia Langley’s inn, Over the Moon.
Kate found it interesting that Amy and Jack Roberts were staying at the inn. She considered giving Gillian a call. Maybe she could find out if the wealthy couple had been up to anything suspicious. It didn’t sound like they could’ve possibly had a hand in killing Doris Chestnut, but they certainly knew who had. Why would Amy want to keep the real killer’s identity a secret, even if it was her own father? Did Amy’s loyalties lie with a man who hadn’t raised her? Why would she protect such a man at the expense of getting true justice for her own mother?
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