by Terri Reid
“Morning sickness,” she said.
“What the hell is…,” he paused and the concern on his face slowly turned into a grin. “Really? Morning sickness? Like having a crying, screaming, little brat in nine months kind of sickness?”
She smiled back and nodded. “Yep, just like that.”
“Wow,” he replied, a wide smile on his face. “That’s so cool! What are you having?”
“A baby,” she said. “I thought we just established that.”
“No, I mean, yes we did. But which kind, a boy kind or a girl kind?”
“Oh. It’s too early to know about that yet,” she said, putting her hands on her abdomen. “Just a baby kind.”
“So, should you be up?” he asked, starting to panic. “Can I get you a chair or a blanket or something?”
Chuckling, she shook her head and took a deep breath. “Well, if you could remove the smell of peppers and onions from the house, that would be amazing,” she said. “I find I’m a little sensitive to odors.”
“Ah, Bradley was making your favorite breakfast, breakfast burritos with chorizo,” he replied.
Mary clapped a hand back over her mouth and took a deep breath, counting slowly to ten.
Mike waited. “You okay?”
After another deep breath, Mary nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Hey, you stay up here for another couple of minutes,” he said. “I’ll run interference in the kitchen. How does herb tea to go sound?”
“That and a package of soda crackers sounds perfect,” she said.
“You’ve got it,” he said with a quick smile before he disappeared. Immediately, he reappeared. “Hey, by the way, congratulations.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
He faded away once more. And once more, he reappeared. “Uh, I’m guessing Bradley knows, but how about Clarissa?”
“Oh, thanks for asking,” she replied. “No, she doesn’t know yet. We’re waiting for the right time.”
“Got it!” He faded away and Mary held her breath, waiting for him to reappear. After a few minutes, she figured he was downstairs, delivering her message. Taking a deep breath, she left the bathroom and hurried down the stairs where Bradley was standing next to the bottom step with a covered mug in one hand and a paper sack in the other.
“Hey,” he smiled at her. “Sorry about the breakfast surprise, I wasn’t thinking.”
“It was really sweet of you,” she said. “But, I’m feeling that it’s more of a crackers and herb tea morning.”
“Are you sick?” Clarissa asked as she dug into her burrito.
Mary could barely look at the forkful of thick melted cheese and eggs in Clarissa’s hand. Taking another deep breath, she shook her head quickly and smiled. “Just a queasy stomach,” she said. “That’s all.”
Bradley put his arm around her and walked her to the front door. “I’ll air out the kitchen before I go to work, so you don’t have green peppers and onions greeting you when you get home,” he said. “And I’ll make lunch for Clarissa. I’m thinking any sandwich combination she’d like might kick morning sickness into overdrive.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, Clarissa and I are fine,” he said. “Why don’t you head to the office where it doesn’t smell like a taco place?”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, I think I will,” she said. “Did you tell Clarissa about Dr. Springler?”
“No, I haven’t done that yet,” he said. “Would you like me to mention it once you’re gone?”
Sipping on the tea, she felt her stomach calm a little. “No, we should do it together,” she said. “I think I’m fine right now.”
She walked back across the room and stood by the table. “Clarissa,” she called. “We have an appointment this afternoon with Dr. Karen Springler.”
“Who’s she?” Clarissa asked.
“She’s a lovely lady who talks to people about their feelings,” Mary said. “And she helps families figure out how to be happier.”
“I thought we were happy,” Clarissa replied, a shadow of concern crossing over her face. “I’m trying to do better.”
Mary slipped into the chair next to Clarissa and Bradley strategically moved Clarissa’s plate further away, earning a grateful smile from Mary.
“You are doing a great job,” Mary said to Clarissa. “And we love you so much. But we realize that a lot has happened to all of us, especially you, during these past few months. Dr. Springler is the kind of doctor that helps us fix some of the hurts and worries we have on the inside.”
Clarissa glanced at Bradley and Mike, and then back at Mary. “Are we all going to talk to her?” she asked.
Mary nodded. “The first time we meet, we all get to talk to her and explain how we feel,” she said. “But then we also get to meet with her individually, in case there are things we need to talk about that we don’t want someone else to hear. Dr. Springler is very good at keeping secrets.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay home,” Mike said. “But, Clarissa, if you ever need to talk to someone, I’m your guy. And if you want me to go with you, I can do that too.”
Sitting quietly for a few moments, Clarissa seemed to be contemplating the conversation. Finally she looked up at her parents. “But we’re still good?” she asked. “We still love each other?”
Bradley reached down and kissed Clarissa on the top of her head. “We are great,” he said. “But we want to be even better because we want our family to last forever. And Dr. Springler can help us learn how to communicate even better and get closer together.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” she agreed.
“Great,” Mary said. “Your dad will pick you up after school today, so don’t get on the bus. I’ll call the school and remind them.”
“Okay,” Clarissa said and then she smiled up at Bradley. “Can we drive with the sirens on?”
Bradley shook his head. “No, sorry, sweetheart,” he replied. “Sirens are only for emergencies.”
Mary bent forward and gave Clarissa a kiss. “Good try though,” she whispered with a smile and Clarissa laughed.
“I’ll see you both later,” Mary added, and then she grabbed her coat and briefcase as she hurried out of the house.
Unlocking the car door, she quickly sat in the front seat of the Roadster and breathed deeply for a few moments while another wave of nausea passed. Finally, she ripped open the sleeve of crackers, shoved one in her mouth and crunched down. “Oh, yeah, this is going to be fun,” she muttered before putting the car in gear and driving away.
Chapter Sixteen
“Protein,” Rosie said, marching into Mary’s office and dropping a small bag on the top of her desk.
“Protein?” Mary asked.
Rosie nodded. “Yes, protein first thing in the morning helps you overcome morning sickness.”
Mary unwrapped the brown paper sack and looked inside. There were several small plastic bags filled with cubes of cheese or meat. She pulled one out that was filled with yellow cubes of cheese, opened it and sniffed.
“Oh, that was my favorite,” Rosie said. “Aged cheddar. That set my stomach to right most mornings.”
Reaching in, Mary pulled out a square and popped it into her mouth. The cheese nearly melted in her mouth, the sharp taste actually settling her stomach. “This is good,” she said, pulling out another piece and putting it in her mouth.
“Just take it easy,” Rosie warned. “A piece at a time, just to be sure your stomach really likes it and isn’t messing with your mind.”
“My stomach will mess with my mind?”
Nodding sagely, Rosie sat in the chair across from Mary. “Oh, yes, pregnancy pretty much turns your whole body into foreign territory—intense cravings, rollercoaster emotions, acne, hair loss, exhaustion, insomnia. And that’s just the start.”
Mary sat back in her chair and stared at Rosie, her eyes wide with shock. “You can’t be serious. Why does anyo
ne get pregnant a second time?”
Rosie’s smiled warmed. “Because once you hold your baby in your arms, you forget about all of the little annoyances. You know you’ve just taken part in a miracle and the rest doesn’t seem to matter anymore.”
Mary pulled out another bag; this one filled with cubes of chicken, picked up a cube and bit it. “Protein, huh?” she asked.
Nodding, Rosie grinned. “You’ve got it.”
“So, what else do you have for me this morning?” Mary asked, picking up another cube of chicken and actually feeling much better.
“I brought the real estate contracts you asked me about yesterday,” she said, pulling out a manila folder filled with paper. “It looks like the property was sold soon after Dale’s death.”
Mary took the proffered folder and looked through the paperwork. “It was all sold to a large corporate farming organization, Maughold International,” Mary said. “Are you familiar with them?”
Nodding her head, Rosie peered over the desk to look at the paperwork. “Yes, they were pretty active around here about fifteen years ago. They wanted to put in some big mega-dairy farms and the community was up in arms because they worried about the possibility of water contamination from so many animals on a relatively small tract of land.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, the county board finally voted it down,” Rosie explained. “The company was pretty upset because they had gone around purchasing a bunch of land assuming they had the county board’s approval.”
Mary looked up from the paperwork. “Sounds like an inside deal gone wrong,” she surmised.
Rosie nodded. “There was a lot of speculation about that,” she said. “Especially in the real estate profession. Those land brokers who were buying up for Maughold were pretty upset. And the broker from Chicago, Quinn Edmonson —the one that dated Dale’s daughter for a while—lost his job.”
“Quinn Edmonson,” Mary mused. “Why do I know that name?”
“Because once they fired him, he was left high and dry and stuck here in Freeport,” Rosie said. “One of the local bank presidents—the one who held the Maughold accounts for a while— felt sorry for him and gave him a job.”
“Okay, that’s how I know him,” Mary said. “I think I’ve met him at a couple of Chamber of Commerce Meet and Greets. He seemed nice enough.”
“Well, for a while he had more enemies than friends in town,” Rosie said. “But it’s been fifteen years, so some people have forgiven him.”
“How did the Johnson property figure into the Maughold project?”
“I’m not sure,” Rosie admitted. “I’ve asked the county recorder for some older Platte maps so we can determine the Johnson holdings before the sale and after. It should also show us the properties Maughold had in the area.”
Nodding, Mary shuffled the papers back into the folder. “So, the next step is to interview the family members. How do you want me to handle it?”
Sitting back in her chair, Rosie pondered Mary’s question for a few minutes. “I suppose if we are considering one of the children as possible murderers, we shouldn’t tell them we are looking into their father’s death, should we?”
“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” Mary agreed, laying a protective hand on her stomach. “I don’t want to put either of us in jeopardy.”
“I could tell them that you are interested in purchasing the property, but you had some questions about the history of the farm,” Rosie suggested. “I could introduce you to Greta and see where we go from there.”
“Is there a way I can get a key to the house?” Mary asked. “I’d like to talk to Dale…”
Mary stopped talking when Dale appeared behind Rosie’s chair in her office.
“I got the feeling someone was talking about me,” he said, slowly gazing around her office. “I thought about our conversation and suddenly I was here. How did that happen?”
“You and I are connected now,” Mary said.
“Why of course we’re connected, but I don’t see what that has to do with getting you a key,” Rosie said, confused at Mary’s statement.
“Rosie, Dale just joined us,” Mary replied.
Sitting up in her chair and glancing around the room, Rosie whispered, “I can’t see him.”
Dale grinned. “She does know I’m a ghost, right?”
Mary smiled at him and nodded. “Rosie, he’s still a ghost, but he’s right behind your chair.”
“Oh, of course,” Rosie replied, turning in her chair to face the space behind her. “I am so sorry about your untimely death and I do hope we can get to the bottom of everything.”
Dale’s grin softened to a rueful smile. “She’s a nice lady, isn’t she?” he asked.
“She’s the salt of the earth,” Mary answered.
Rosie turned back to Mary. “Who? Who else is here?” she asked.
“You are the salt of the earth,” Mary said. “And no one else is here, just you, Dale and me.”
Turning back again to face the empty space, Rosie said, “We were just talking about your murder and how to proceed.”
“Rosie,” Mary gasped.
“That’s okay,” Dale said. “She’s just calling a spade a spade, no mincing words. I like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosie said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Not wrong,” Mary replied. “Just very directly.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize…,” she began, and then started again. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say is we were just talking about…well…your um…”
Rosie sighed loudly and looked at Mary. “Well, really Mary, the man knows he’s dead and he knows he’s a ghost. I don’t see why we just don’t call a spade a spade and say the word murder.”
Dale shook his head sadly. “She’s exactly right,” he agreed. “I was murdered and, unfortunately, the most likely suspects are my children.”
“So, how would you like us to proceed?” Mary asked.
Chapter Seventeen
Mary had visited the nursing home near Krape Park a number of times. It was a lovely, upscale facility with a staff that catered to the more affluent members of Freeport’s elderly community. The sale of the farmland had been a good thing for Greta, Mary thought as she walked down the polished wood floors past expensive antique furniture. Stopping at the front desk she greeted the young receptionist who had helped her a number of times. “Hello, Jennika,” she said. “How are you today?”
“I’m great, Miss O’Reilly. How are you?”
“Well, actually, I’m not Miss O’Reilly any longer,” she replied with a smile. “I’m Mary Alden.”
“As in Police Chief Alden?” she asked, her eyes and her smile widening. “Good job! He’s a hunk.”
Mary laughed and nodded. “Yes he is,” she said. “And thank you.”
“So, who do you need to see today?” Jennika asked.
“Greta Johnson,” Mary said. “I think she’s new here.”
Nodding, Jennika scanned the computer screen in front of her. “Yes, she is and she’s a sweetheart,” she replied, and then looking up she handed Mary a guest badge and the sign-in clip board. “She’s in room 112. All you need to do is go down this hallway to the right and knock on 112.”
“Thanks for your help,” Mary said, clipping on the badge after signing her name. “Is there anything I should know about her before going in?”
“Well, I can’t divulge any official health information about her,” Jennika said. “But if you are going in to talk to her, you’re going to discover she doesn’t have any filters. She will say whatever is on her mind and it can be a little shocking sometimes. But, for the most part, she’s lucid.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her,” Mary said with a smile and walked down the hall towards the room.
“What the hell is Greta doing in a place like this?” Dale asked, as he appeared next to Mary.
He gazed up and down the hall and shook his head in disgust. “She’s
a farm girl,” he said. “She shouldn’t be cooped up in here.”
“Well, I’ll be sure to ask her,” Mary whispered, making sure no one was around to witness her speaking to thin air.
She tapped lightly on the door and in a moment the door was opened by a petite woman with silver hair and bright blue eyes.
“She’s still beautiful,” Dale said as he glided into the room.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson,” Mary said. “My name is Mary Alden. Rosie Wagner suggested I meet with you.”
Greta smiled warmly. “Well, of course,” she said, opening her door and inviting Mary in. “She called and told me you are interested in my house. Are you really interested? You seem awfully citified to be living in the country.”
“No, I’m interested,” Mary replied. “It’s a lovely place.”
Greta led her to a small dining room table placed near a window that overlooked the manicured grounds. “Please sit down. I’m so glad you like my house,” she said with a soft sigh. “I raised my family there and I have so many fond memories.”
“See, what did I tell you?” Dale growled. “They forced her in here.”
“Are you regretting your move here?” Mary asked.
“Oh, no, dear,” Greta said, placing her soft fragile hand over Mary’s hand. “I was so lonely in that big house all by myself. It was a wonderful place to raise a family, but it’s too empty when you’re all alone. I love being here. There’s so much to do and I have so many friends. And I learn the most interesting things about my neighbors.”
Dale snorted. “She’s just saying that.”
“Even if I don’t sell the house, I’ll still be able to stay here,” she added. “Dale left me very well-off. I don’t think he would have been happy here, he so loved the farm and the land. But I would love to see another family in there. Rosie mentioned that you encountered some troubles when you were looking into the deed for the house.”
“Yes, for some reason there is a lien on the house,” Mary said, as she shuffled through her purse and brought out some papers. “The deed search shows a lien issued by Rogers Construction.”
Greta shook her head in dismay. “I know that Steve Rogers did some work for us, years and years ago,” she said. “But there has to be some mistake, we paid him for the work. Of course, he was always forgetful and he didn’t do a very good job running his business either. I remember he did some plumbing work for us, disconnected the pipes to the sink, but forgot to turn off the water first. What a mess it was.”