by Carol Durand
She didn’t know what she’d do if something awful happened to Ben. He just had to get well, so that she could apologize to him and thank him for his loyalty and hard work all the years that she’d known him. He was like family to her and she’d mistreated him because she was worried and stressed. Cheryl was a new addition, but family nonetheless, and she had treated her poorly because she may have committed a crime of passion. Missy didn’t know whether the girl was innocent or guilty, but, if she was being honest, she hadn’t even given her the benefit of doubt.
She stood when Chas came back in, looking at him expectantly. He sat down next to her to explain what he had found out from the investigating officer.
“Cheryl said that they were driving along just fine, but when they came to the part of Sheldon Road that has a steep incline with a curve at the bottom, Ben tried to use the brakes and they didn’t work, so the car slid right through the guard rail and over the embankment. The ground was muddy and soft because of the rain we’ve had recently, which cushioned the fall a bit, but the car didn’t stop moving until it hit a tree, which smashed in Ben’s door and gave him the head injury. The rescue crew had to cut the top of the car off to get him to safety.”
Missy had begun crying as Chas described the series of events, and shook her head in horror as he finished. “Oh Chas, that’s awful,” she cried. “But it’s so strange that Ben’s brakes didn’t work. He’s meticulous about maintaining his car.”
“That’s one of the disturbing details,” the detective grimaced. “After Cheryl told the officer who was interviewing her about the brakes, he had another guy on the scene check out the car, and they discovered that the brake lines had been punctured.”
Missy’s hands flew to her mouth in horror. “You mean someone…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Chas nodded. “Someone either wanted Ben hurt, or…”
“Dead,” Missy whispered. “But who would do such a thing? Ben is a sweet, innocent young man.”
“Maybe someone who didn’t want him to confess what he knows about the murder,” the detective raised his eyebrows.
“Cheryl?” Missy asked.
Beckett opened his mouth to answer, closing it again when a doctor walked into the room.
“Detective Beckett?” the doctor asked, ignoring Missy entirely.
“Yes, and you are?” Chas asked holding out his hand.
The doctor shook it perfunctorily. “Dr. Aston,” was the terse response. “I’ve been monitoring Ben Radigan’s progress. He seems to have stabilized, but has not yet regained consciousness. Since I’m assuming that you have better things to do, I’ll advise you that sitting here, waiting is really just a waste of time. We’ll notify your office when…or if, he regains consciousness,” he said, without the slightest touch of compassion.
Missy stood, wanting to speak to him before he left the room. “Dr. Aston, my name is Meliss…” she began before he cut her off.
“I know who you are, and I have nothing to say to you,” he said, arrogantly. “Detective,” he nodded in Chas’s direction, and left the room.
“Chas!” Missy grabbed Beckett’s arm. “Isn’t this some sort of conflict of interest? I don’t feel comfortable with Ben’s doctor being the man who is suing him,” she exclaimed. “You saw how uncaring he seemed. What if he tries to get back at Ben by not giving him proper care?”
The detective placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, leading her from the room. “Let’s maintain a little bit of perspective here, shall we? There’s no way that Dr. Bernard Aston would throw away his career just because he was angry and involved in a lawsuit. His responsibilities as a caregiver are the same, regardless of whom he’s treating,” he explained gently. “I know you’re upset, but we just have to trust that Ben is in good hands. He’s a young, strong guy – he’ll be fine. Would you feel better bringing Toffee over and staying at my place tonight?” he asked, at a loss as to how to comfort her.
Missy shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine at home. I’m just going to go to bed,” she replied numbly.
Chapter 11
Missy lay under her hand-stitched quilt, staring into the darkness of her room. Sleep seemed an impossibility as her mind whirled with thoughts, doubts, fears and anger. In the morning, she would have to close her LaChance store, because Cheryl would need to stay home and recover, and even with the decrease in traffic, she couldn’t expect Grayson to run it by himself all day every day. She had called to let the sensitive youth know that he needed to report to the Dellville store the next day. He agreed immediately, wanting to do whatever he could to help. Little did Missy know that, since he didn’t have a car, he’d have to get up extra early and ride his bike to Dellville, thanking his lucky stars that at least Louisiana winters were generally pretty mild. Had she known, Missy would’ve picked him up herself, but the polite young man didn’t want to impose, so he kept his transportation woes to himself.
Both of her managers were unable to work, leaving one shop closed entirely, and the other staffed by two assistants and herself. Determined to have a business for Ben to return to, she planned to rise to the occasion and bravely gut out her circumstances as best she could. The trickle of customers that had remained faithful to the LaChance store, despite Loretta Christianson’s gossip, had slowed to a degree that she wouldn’t be losing much business by closing the store for a few days until either Cheryl was ready to come back, or she had hired someone else. She was more than aware that if the young woman was arrested for murder, she’d have to hire someone else to fill the position, and that probability seemed more and more likely.
When the blessed oblivion of sleep finally claimed her, she was tormented by dreams that left her feeling weary and unrefreshed when she peeled her eyes open in the morning. Her first order of business, after letting Toffee out briefly, was a phone call to Chas to check on Ben’s progress. The young manager had been moved out of the ICU and into his own room, but had not yet regained consciousness. She made plans to visit him after breakfast, and headed over to the Dellville store to see how Grayson and Chris were doing.
Pleased that things were operating smoothly, even without the guidance and supervision of management, Missy felt comfortable leaving the guys at the Dellville store so that she could drop in and visit Ben. Arriving at his room with a teddy bear, an elaborate arrangement of flowers and a bouquet of helium mylar “Get Well” balloons, she was surprised to see Cheryl, bruised and bandaged, sitting miserably in a faux leather recliner in a corner of Ben’s room.
“Hi Ms. G.,” she said tentatively, as Missy placed her colorful gifts on the window sill where Ben would see them when he woke up.
“Hi Cheryl. How are you feeling?” she asked quietly, barely able to look at the young woman.
“Everything hurts,” she admitted with a slight shrug. “But, all things considered, I was the lucky one,” her faced was pained as she gazed at her comatose former fiancé.
“No progress?” Missy asked, also looking at Ben.
Cheryl shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “What am I going to do if he never…” her voice choked off as she struggled not to cry.
“We can’t think in those terms,” Missy asserted, having had the same thought process the night before. “We’re not going to give up on him. He’s strong, he’ll get through this,” she said, with more conviction than she felt. “How long have you been here?”
“Visitor hours are from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., so I’ve been here since 7:30. I waited in the coffeeshop downstairs until it was time to come up,” she said, staring at the floor. She sighed and raised her eyes to meet Missy’s, looking as though she was drowning in despair. “Please don’t hate me, Ms. G. I swear to you, I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t know who killed my stepfather, or why, but it wasn’t me,” her eyes begged for understanding that Missy wasn’t quite prepared to give.
“Let’s just concentrate on you and Ben getting better, okay?” she said, pitying the pale young woman before her
, but not quite trusting her.
Cheryl nodded sadly, returning her gaze to the floor, and tucked her feet up under her in the chair, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Missy walked to the side of Ben’s bed, taking in all the tubes and wires attached to the man whom she loved like a son. She swallowed a lump in her throat and patted his hand.
“Take all the time you need, but come back to us, sugar. We’re waiting for you,” she whispered. Without another word to the girl huddled in the corner behind her, she turned to go.
Chapter 12
Missy’s daily routine now consisted of a disturbing rhythm which included, checking on Grayson and Chris every morning, and delivering any orders that had been placed through the Dellville store, followed by a visit to Ben’s room, haunted by the shadow of a girl perched in the corner chair, then back home to interrogate her boyfriend about the case and run out her anxieties with Toffee. She wasn’t sleeping well, and had no interest in food, even leaving the baking of cupcakes, muffins and cookies for the shop to Grayson, who had an incredible aptitude for it. Yet, despite her lack of appetite, she agreed to meet Chas for lunch at the local steakhouse.
“I just don’t understand it, Chas,” Missy complained, cutting tiny bits from her petite filet. “Ben is still not waking up. I’m sorry, I know you feel that we should trust Dr. Aston, but I just don’t. He didn’t act like any doctor that I’ve ever seen. Even if we’re in the midst of legal action, he could’ve at least spoken compassionately about Ben.”
“I’ve run into some top-notch doctors whose bedside manners are horrible. When Aston spoke with me, it was from one professional to another, he has no idea that Ben means anything to me, so he didn’t feel the need for diplomacy or tact, he just presented the facts,” Chas shrugged. “I’m sure Ben is getting the best care possible.”
“Well, I’m not so sure. Dr. Aston was positively nasty to me, and I can’t help but think that if he’s so bitter about what happened to his daughter, he might just take it out on Ben. Isn’t there some way that you can check up on him? Maybe see if he’s made poor decisions in the past? It’d make me feel so much better if I believed that he was actually a good doctor, even if he’s a cold human being.”
“Sure, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll do some checking,” he assured her, adding a dash of salt to his fluffy baked potato. “In the meantime, please just try to relax, okay?”
Missy nodded and speared a green bean with her fork, nibbling the end of it. A man walking in with a thin, beautiful blonde woman caught her eye, and she realized that it was none other than Sidney Christianson, Loretta’s husband and the lawyer who was suing her on Dr. Aston’s behalf. “Don’t be obvious about it, but when you have a moment, take a look at the table in the corner. The man sitting there is Sidney Christianson, but I don’t recognize the woman.”
Chas nodded, chewing a bite of steak. After he swallowed and washed down the bite with a sip of sweet tea, he casually glanced to his left and took in the occupants of the corner table. “Interesting,” he remarked, turning back to Missy.
“What? What’s interesting?” her curiosity was piqued.
“Well, I could be wrong, but if my memory of the society pages is correct, I believe that Christianson is with Mrs. Aston,” he said in a low voice.
“As in Dr. Aston’s wife?” Missy asked, eyebrows raised. When Chas nodded, she looked over again, subtly using her peripherals. “Looks to me like they have a bit cozier relationship than just that of lawyer and client,” she whispered, observing the way that the couple was interacting.
“That was my thought too,” Chas agreed. “Like I said, interesting.”
Not wanting to be seen by the lawyer who was threatening to destroy her life as she knew it, they had the leftovers boxed up and slipped out of the restaurant unseen by her foe.
Chapter 13
When the handsome detective dropped Missy off after boxing up almost her entire lunch so that she could take it home with her, she felt a bit better, and was oddly confident that Beckett would find something suspicious when he looked into Dr. Aston’s history, and perhaps that of his wandering wife. She went back to check on Ben and once more found Cheryl sitting, waiting, in the corner.
“Do you stay here all day?” she asked the tortured young woman in the shadows.
Cheryl nodded, responding quietly. “They’re pretty strict about visiting hours, but I stay as long as I’m allowed.”
“What about meals?” Missy frowned, noticing that her clothes were baggy and her cheeks seemed sunken underneath the bruises and scrapes.
“I’m not hungry. Sometimes I eat when I go home, other times I just can’t make myself do it,” she hugged her knees to her chest.
“I could make you some cupcakes,” Missy offered, concerned. “Which kind are your favorites?” She might suspect the girl of murder, but she could not stand idly by while the pitiful creature starved to death.
“Please don’t go to the trouble, I wouldn’t be able to eat them anyway,” Cheryl admitted. “Food doesn’t taste good, and I stopped feeling hungry a few days ago.”
“That’s not healthy,” her boss warned, heart torn between mistrust and compassion.
“I’m healthier than he is,” she replied, her eyes glued on Ben. “This shouldn’t have happened to him. It should have been me. I’d give anything to trade places with him,” she murmured, seemingly forgetting that Missy present, rocking slightly back and forth. Missy moved to the bed, and after kissing Ben’s forehead, slipped quietly from the room. Cheryl either didn’t notice or simply didn’t acknowledge her leaving.
Chapter 14
Curious about the relationship between Sidney Christianson and the coldly beautiful Mrs. Aston, Missy decided to do a little of her own detective work. Her findings would most likely have absolutely nothing to do with her own lawsuit, or the possible charges facing Ben and/or Cheryl, but it would at least give her something to do besides sitting around waiting for the results of the police investigation. After spending a little over an hour on her computer, Missy was able to track down the address of Dr. and Mrs. Aston, and decided to go for a drive that just happened to take her past that address.
The Aston home was a sprawling brick traditional three story house, tucked privately behind a gated brick wall with lots of trees and bushes for privacy. There was no way to see into the yard other than sitting right in front of the wrought iron, spear-topped gates, but luck was with Missy. As she turned onto the street that ran in front of the mini-mansion, a candy-apple-red convertible German car, driven by a blonde woman with giant sunglasses and a silk scarf around her neck, pulled out of the drive. The top of the convertible was up for the winter, but even through the lightly tinted glass, Missy caught a good enough glimpse of the driver to be nearly certain that it was indeed Mrs. Aston.
Following a safe distance behind, she trailed the doctor’s wife to the country club, where she handed off the keys to a valet, and dressed for tennis, she headed for the indoor courts.
Frustrated that her little adventure had revealed absolutely nothing, Missy started to pull away from her vantage point under some trees near the entrance, when she saw a car with a vanity plate that read, “ATTY SC,” pull into the front drive. She wasn’t terribly surprised to see Sidney Christianson climb out of the car and hand his keys to the valet, dressed for tennis.
Hurrying home, she told Chas about her findings while taking Toffee for a walk. He listened carefully, then told her he’d found out some things about Dr. Aston that were worth looking into, promising to fill her in at dinner.
Missy was on pins and needles, waiting for Chas to appear. She had prepared a homemade veggie lasagna that came out absolutely perfectly – the noodles tender, the cheese slightly browned on top, and the slices firm enough to stand on their own without sliding. She opened an opinionated Cabernet that would be the ultimate complement to the dish, and put crisp, green salads out as an appetizer. The bread sticks that baked in the oven after the la
sagna was done were lighter than air and slightly glazed with garlic butter. Her mouth watered at the food, and her heart skipped a beat when she heard Chas’s deep voice greeting Toffee in the living room.
She kissed him quickly, suffered impatiently through small talk while they got settled at the dining room table, then started pumping him mercilessly for information.
“So, what did you find out about Dr. Aston,” she asked, tearing the end off of a bread stick and dipping it lightly in her salad dressing.
“I’m fine, thank you, and how was your day,” the detective teased, dark eyes sparkling.
“Chas! You promised that you’d tell me about what you found out at dinner,” Missy reminded him. “This…” she said gesturing to the delicious meal in front of them, “…is dinner. Now tell me what you found out!”
Still grinning, Beckett ate a forkful of lasagna, chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of wine before responding, enjoying her impatience. “Okay, okay,” he raised his hands in surrender, then turned serious. “When I tried to look into Aston’s history, I came up with nearly nothing. It was as though he didn’t exist prior to about five years ago, so I looked outside the area for what I could find, and some very interesting things came up.”
“Like what?” she prompted, sipping her wine.
“Like, his track record for patients dying is very strange. He typically loses two to three a year, and they almost always die the same way, no matter what symptoms they had to begin with,” he explained.