Polly Dent Loses Grip (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery)

by S. Dionne Moore

“Two children?”

  A smile tugged at her lips, coming into full bloom as only a proud mother’s smile can. “Twins.”

  “Woo-wee! You had your hands full.”

  Her smile went brittle. “Phil never got to meet them.”

  Before I melted into a sympathetic puddle, I knew I needed to continue my game of hardball. Understanding her motives for being a CNA at Bridgeton Towers had little to do with answering the real question. Why did she call me here? “What was it about that storage room, and why did you leave me?”

  “I’m sure you noticed that the treadmill in that room is the one Polly Dent was on when she fell. Someone made the switch in machines.”

  Should I let on that I suspected that already? Even if her confirmation helped boost my confidence it still didn’t explain why she took me up to that room. I was the amateur after all. “You took me up there. . .why?”

  Her expression became cautious. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do I need to remind you that you called me here?”

  She heaved a heavy sigh and shook the ice in her cup. “You’re right. I wanted you to know about my undercover work because I hoped you would help me.” She sucked in a breath. “I think Dr. Kwan killed Polly because she was on to him.”

  Stunned, that’s what I was. Completely stunned. But never speechless. . . “On to him for what?”

  She leaned in close and dropped her voice. “I. . .can’t. . .tell.”

  I pushed in hard against the table until our foreheads touched and my eyes lasered into hers. “Then. . .we’re. . .not. . .a. . .team.”

  I’m not sure who pulled back first, all I remember was turning toward the front door of the coffee shop in time to see a brassy blond slink inside. I’d recognize that hair anywhere. Just as my pipes filled to honk out a greeting, it was like an invisible hand slapped down on my mouth and rendered me speechless. Good thing, too, because another person came through the front door right behind Louise Payne. Tight t-shirt. Jeans with a hole in the knee. Tattoo on his right bicep. Dark brown hair and lots of it. Definitely not Otis.

  Louise barely raised her head as she crossed the room and swept across the vinyl seat of a booth adjacent to Sue and me. Speaking of Sue, I turned my head to see her reaction. Surely she would know what Louise Payne looked like. Sue’s brown gaze met mine. No smile. No recognition of any sort to give away her inner thoughts. One thing I liked less than tea was a person capable of playing stone-face better than me.

  Sue gave me a nod and made her exit. I watched her leave, wondering if I’d made the right decision. What if she knew something essential to the investigation? Being a CNA gave her an “in” that I didn’t have.

  I huffed and slid further into the booth, wedging myself in with my back to the wall so I could peek at Louise and Mr. Tattoo, as he slid in across from her. At least with her back to me I didn’t have any reason to think she’d see me gawking. Mr. Tattoo faced me though, so I kept busy with my mocha trying to maintain the show of a content patron relaxing for the evening. I couldn’t let my brain jump to conclusions. After all, this young man may just be her oldest son. Or a friend. Or her little brother. Very little.

  The barista served their drinks, blocking my view of the man’s face, but not the sight of Mrs. Payne’s sandaled foot doing a swipe along Tattoo’s leg. Definitely not a friend. Or little brother. Or her oldest.

  When they started sipping and talking in low tones, how I wished to be a spider spinning a strand down to within hearing distance of them. I could only discern by their body language what might be going on. Oh, and the foot. She had shed the sandal and now proceeded to go under his pant leg. His upper body swayed in toward the table. She met him halfway and they exchanged quite the kiss.

  I’d seen enough. Their distraction also made it a good time for me to leave this place in the dust. Instead of crossing toward the front door, I wrapped around the back toward the bathrooms, hoping for an emergency exit. I found it, noted the Do Not Open warning, and decided I had no choice.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Police lights didn’t flash in my rear view mirror, nor did I get pulled over. A good thing. I feared the alarm sounding at The Nuthouse would have the state’s best on my trail. After hot-footing it through the back alleys to Old Lou at Bridgeton Towers, I slipped into the Buick and pointed her toward Maple Gap. With almost an hour’s journey ahead of me, I wanted to hurry. I also wanted to talk to Hardy one last time and remind him to keep his eyes and ears open while I was gone. I never did like leaving and not saying good-bye to him face to face. A phone message didn’t seem like enough.

  I debated giving him another try on the cell but considered the late hour.It could wait until morning. Events were spinning fast and furious in my brain. Somehow I couldn’t believe that Louise Payne would be so bold as to flaunt her affair openly, and within such close range of her husband’s job. Maybe I’d read things wrong, but no, the foot told the story. So did Otis’s pleas and his ominous, “I can guess with whom.”

  Sue’s theory about Dr. Kwan doing away with Polly flared in my mind and I mulled the possibilities. But without inside knowledge I would have no way of proving anything with Dr. Kwan. Drat!

  As Old Lou coughed along the road, I gave up to the silence of the night. Might as well tuck in and think pleasant thoughts for a while. Who knows, taking a break could even uncover a clue buried deep in my subconscious.

  Instead of feeling tired, I felt stimulated. Probably by the idea of returning to my cozy little home and resuming normal life again, however temporary. Which reminded me I needed to get registered for my last few classes to complete my degree. Had it really only been three days Hardy and I had been away from home? Guess I’m more of a homebody than I thought. Or maybe I just missed my routines. I loved Matilda, but taking care of her for these last few months had drained me. Hardy felt it too, I was sure.

  When Maple Gap came into view, I breathed in the night air like a starving man inhales food. Old Lou chugged past the police station and Sasha Blightman’s boutique. I checked to see if she had any new, cute hats in her front window. That gal just loved to tantalize me with a new hat. She even admitted it. But the hat on display was one I’d purchased three weeks ago. The price almost had Hardy pushing up daisies, but he recovered after I made him fried chicken.

  Then there was Your Goose Is Cooked. The FOR SALE sign in the window made my heart beat harder. Hardy thought owning the restaurant would be a good move. I knew it. Could feel his excitement over the prospect of opening our own little cafe. Hardy’s idea of Heaven is being near an endless supply of my cooking all day, every day. Can’t be mad at that, and indeed the cooking part was the least of my concerns. Thinking on the matter got me riled up. I put the subject aside. Plenty of time to be thinking on Mark Hamm’s exclusive low-ball offer to Hardy and me.

  I turned onto Goat Trail Road and blew out a contented sigh. Home. Even the arching tree branches that shaded during the day and made me think of protective arms arching over our neighborhood in the night, filled me with joy. I needed to lay out the key for Lela’s return home before I forgot. With so many things to take care of the following day, I might as well finish up at least one task right now.

  Hardy and I kept a spare key in the kitchen drawer closest to the side door. I set down the overnight bag and snatched the key out of the drawer and slid it under the doormat. Is there any other place to put a key? With all the warnings about the mat being the first place a burglar would look, well, who did those people hiding their keys in those obviously fake rocks think they were fooling anyhow? Besides, Maple Gap’s crime rate had peaked with the murder of Marion Peters, then flattened back to such major events as a child accidentally throwing a baseball through the grocery store window. Just the way I like things.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and let my eyes wander over all the things so dear and familiar to me. My pots, my pans, my stove and nearly empty refrigerator. The wall clock with a co
llage of pictures of our children, though Rhys, my newest son-in-law, wasn’t in those since he and Shayna had just tied the knot not even a year ago, and her already expecting their first.

  A good stretch and yawn session gave my legs the incentive they needed to climb the steps so I could get ready for bed. Not until I got to the top of the steps did I realize I’d forgotten the overnight bag. I’d just have to use a spare toothbrush and make do, because no way was I making the return trip to pick up that bag. Not tonight anyhow.

  Turns out the only spare toothbrush happened to be the one with hard bristles that Hardy hated to use, which is why he left it behind. He never could throw something away that still had some use in it. It made me smile big when I imagined his look of horror as I used his brush. If I’d had enough energy, I might plant a blob of something slimy on the bristles to accompany my story of using his toothbrush.

  The coolness of the sheets raised gooseflesh on my skin, but being horizontal sure felt good. I slept like a dead person, which is probably why I didn’t hear any bumps in the night.

  “There’s no sign of forced entry, LaTisha.” Chief Chad Conrad said from the side door entry. He pointed to the mat at his feet. “I’m guessing your visitor used the key you so conveniently left under the mat. What possessed you?”

  I sat at the little table in our kitchen, sucking on a mocha and trying not to let Chief see how rattled I really felt. “Left it there last night for my baby when she arrives. Got to head back to Bridgeton Towers this afternoon. Hiding it somewhere was the best solution.”

  Chief stepped inside and let the door close behind him. “Not the best hiding place.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Now, I wanted to add. “Couldn’t have been anyone in Maple Gap. Everyone knows me and Hardy. What do we have that anyone would want anyhow?”

  Chief took the seat across from me and reached to pat my hand cupped around a mug of mocha. “What the two of you do have can’t be stolen by anyone, which is the main reason I think it was either a new resident in town…” Chief narrowed his eyes. “Mac Simpson is our newest, and even he’s been here for quite a while now. Or it’s someone who knows you and wanted to leave a silent message. Tell me again what happened.”

  First things first. “Are you hungry?”

  Chief grinned but shook his head. “I’d love nothing more than to eat your cooking, but we’d better not disturb too much until we figure out this thing.”

  Made sense. “I slept real good last night. When I woke up the sun was just rising. I laid there for a while before I came down here to make myself a hot drink. I opened the side door to see if the paper had been delivered, and it was unlocked, the key dangling on the outside.”

  Officer Mac Simpson stuck his head around the doorway leading from the kitchen into the front hallway. “Haven’t found anything, Chief. Neighbors didn’t see anything either. Something else I should do?”

  His boss waved a hand of dismissal. “No, you can head back to the station. Run those prints from the key through the database.”

  “Will do. I’m gone.” His head swiveled my direction. “I’m sorry this happened, Mrs. Barnhart. If you get scared tonight, call me.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wouldn’t be here. My relationship with Officer Simpson hasn’t always been so good, but we made our peace with each other during the investigation of Marion Peter’s murder and had become quite good buddies.

  His offer touched a tender spot inside me. I’d have to bake him a Derby pie or something when I got back from Bridgeton Towers for good.

  Chief tapped my hand with his finger, drawing my attention to him. “You clutch that mug any tighter and your arthritis will flare up.”

  “You’re spouting tales. I haven’t got arthritis!”

  He sat back in his chair and chuckled. As bad as Hardy, he is, getting me stoked up like that. How dare he?

  He slipped out his little notepad and flipped it open. “You were going to review the events of the morning for me.”

  It’d serve him right if I got mulish. Truth be told, I needed him, and not just for this investigation. I needed him for that shirt in my overnight. . .“Oh!”

  His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

  I scraped my chair back and headed out the kitchen and up the stairs as fast as I could go. In all the hubbub of the morning, I’d forgotten that this whole breaking and entering thing started when I’d come down this morning to retrieve my overnight bag. I took it upstairs, then decided I needed to wake up first and went back downstairs to heat milk for a mocha. I checked the side door for the paper, and found the door unlocked and the key in the door. I wondered now if the intruder had left something in my bag.

  “Get yourself up here and look at this,” I hollered down to the Chief.

  His feet pounded up the steps. When he came into view, I pointed to the overnight bag. “I brought this up here this morning. It was by the side door all night. I was too tired to think about getting ready for the day and decided to take it easy and went back downstairs. That’s when I found the key in the door and called you.”

  Chief put in a call for Mac to return and dust for fingerprints. When we finally cracked open the suitcase, the three of us saw the small note written in block letters right away.

  BACK OFF.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Someone’s trying to scare you, LaTisha,” Chief Conrad stated the obvious, as he lifted the note from its perch and placed it in an evidence bag. Standing at the Chief’s elbow, Officer Mac Simpson took the bag, the T-shirt with the powder from the treadmill, and the two notes from Thomas. “Take this over to Freedom Labs. Ask for Trevor.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  “Should I ask him to run them stat?”

  Chief grinned. “Trevor will process them fast because he can’t help himself. Curiosity is what made him go into bio-chemistry.”

  “Okay.” Simpson sent me a grin en route to the stairs. “Don’t hurt anyone, Mrs. Barnhart.”

  “Impertinent boy.” I smiled at the Chief.

  “He’s a real asset to our town.”

  We left the bedroom and headed back downstairs, Chief filling me in on Regina, his soon-to-be wife, and her continued grief of the loss of her mother. “She still grieves so hard. Guess it’ll be that way for a long time. She was Regina’s best friend and confidante for so long.”

  “She’ll be okay. You two settle down and start having babies and she’ll have the comfort of family all over again.” We reached the first floor and I turned to assess Chief’s reaction to my words. Just as I thought. His cheeks were pink. “Lots of babies,” I added for emphasis.

  He ducked his head. “Not everyone can afford seven children.”

  I reared back and gave a hoot. “Honey, not even Hardy and me could afford seven children. That’s what builds character. You learn to make due. Learn to work hard. Learn every penny counts and that weeding a garden has its own reward.” I got off my soapbox when we made it to the kitchen.

  “She wants four.”

  “And you?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  His grin went huge. “As many as the Lord will give us.”

  “Good, but you do it right and get married first.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chief Conrad swaggered to the door. “Well, I think we’ve got everything we need, LaTisha. Call us if something else comes up.” He raised his eyebrows a fraction. “You won’t be here tonight?”

  “Headed back to Bridgeton Towers after taking care of a few things around here.”

  He had the door open and was almost all the way out when he stuck his head back inside. “Hurry back. We sure miss having you around to sass us.” He shut the door real quick-like. I had to smile.

  With a couple of hours left before my doctor’s appointment, Old Lou carried me over to the Bright Sky Grocery where Shiny Portley did his best to keep the produce fresh and greet every customer who entered his store.

  “We’ve been missing you around
here. How’s Matilda?” was his greeting to me as I pushed my basket toward the spinach. He swiped his hands down his ever-present apron and over his bachelor’s belly and trolleyed his produce cart full of cabbages and bagged lettuce from the fruit section to salad fixings.

  “Doing well. She’s settling in okay.”

  One thing about Shiny is he knows people. He heard the hesitation in my voice and pounced on it almost as quick as I would have. “Has she had a hard time making the transition? I hear lots of things from children with aging parents; mood swings, stubborness, anger . . .”

  “And you’d think that was a parent talking about their child.”

  Shiny chuckled, starting his stomach to vibrating. “When it comes time for the kids to grow-up and start taking care of their weakening parent, it can become a real battle of wills.” He stacked another head of lettuce on the pile and started straightening the heads of cabbage.

  I reached for a package of pre-washed spinach. “Matilda’s been real good that way, but it’s Bridgeton Towers that’s got Hardy and me in a muddle. A resident there had a fall right after we arrived.”

  Shiny held a cabbage in place and stacked the other heads around it. “Can’t say that I’ve heard much about the place. I can ask around though. There’s bound to be someone in Maple Gap who’s had experience with Bridgeton Towers.”

  Now why hadn’t I thought about that? With Bridgeton Towers being less than an hour outside Maple Gap, surely someone around here knew of the place and its reputation.

  “Might want to check the Distant Echo’s office. Michael would know of any rumors.”

  I bagged a red onion, the light bulb shining bright in my head. Michael, editor of Maple Gap’s weekly paper, would have his journalistic ear to the ground. I grabbed some fresh sliced mushrooms, slid them into my basket, and mentally added stopping by the paper to my list of things to do.

  “You cooking for anyone in particular?” Shiny’s eyes held a hopeful gleam.

  I waved my hand at the fixings for the spinach salad. “For Sara.”