by Cassie Page
Olivia’s tenant looked over her shoulder. “Well I can tell when I’m not wanted, but if he goes into convulsions, don’t come crying to me.”
Olivia took a breath and tried to muster all of her patience. “We’ll take good care of him. If there’s a problem, you’ll be the first person I call.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Family Affair
Olivia tried to help Cody out of his chair, whispering over his shoulder to Brooks. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to show up at my house after what you’ve done to me and my reputation. And now this.” She pointed to Cody.
“Olivia, I didn’t hit the kid. I came because I can’t have you think I’d sabotage you. Just let me explain about that quote on cable news.” He turned and glared at Matt. “Then I’ll leave you to your maniacal boyfriend.”
“Not now. I have to get Cody to the ER.”
Cody whined, “Olivia! No. Not the ER.”
“Don’t argue,” she ordered. “Mrs. Harmon was right. We need to have you checked out. I’ll call 911.”
“Now you sound like Mrs. Harmon,” he moaned. “But I don’t have a concussion. I didn’t hit my head.” But when Cody slumped back down and put his head on the table, she said, “That’s it,” and called the paramedics.
In the few minutes it took for the ambulance to show up, Brooks gave his side of the story. Olivia stood behind Cody and gently massaged his shoulders. Tuesday held his hand. Matt leaned forlornly against the refrigerator. Brooks cleared his throat and pleaded his case to an unforgiving audience.
“Some guy named Dan Arlo came up to me at the hospital. He recognized me from . . . oh, I don’t know where. My picture is all over the net. You know that. He had found out I knew you and wanted a quote for his blog. And here is what I said. ‘Olivia Granville is one of the most talented and honorable women I know. She is ahead of her time in design and a tireless advocate on behalf of her clients. She is capable of achieving anything she sets her mind to. But she is not capable of murder.’ I swear, that is what I said to him.”
He looked around for a friendly smile, but found none. “Some reporter heard it, chopped it up and turned it into that hateful quote. ‘She is . . . capable of murder,’ conveniently leaving out the not.”
Olivia demanded, “What were you doing with Payne in the first place? Explain that.”
Brooks was losing his bravado. His shoulders slumped and he pulled out a chair to sit down. “That one is easy. JR was awarded a huge research grant that includes funds for a new lab. He’s asked me to design it. I came up here for a business meeting to go over some things. Spur of the moment.”
Olivia’s face remained hard. “And to try to take my client away from me. Marguerite Fredericks.”
“That was just sociable.”
Olivia snarled, “Likely story. But back to JR. His stepmother just died, his father is at death’s door and he’s taking time out to design a lab? That’s pretty cold-blooded.”
Brooks circled his finger at his temple. “You know how scientists are. They compartmentalize their feelings. Crazy.”
Olivia said, “Like architects.”
Brooks closed his eyes, squinting as if in pain. “I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead and not defend myself on that one. JR’s a strange guy. A huge brain but short on social skills. But he develops new treatments for rare diseases. He got the grant for his work on snakebites of all things. There is talk he’ll get a Nobel Prize for it. Supposedly it will save half the world’s population. Or something like that. It’s a real coup for my firm to get the commission for his lab.”
Leave it to Brooks, Olivia thought, to make this all about him. And then the paramedics arrived.
After checking out Cody, the paramedics said he needed stitches and a neurologic workup to be sure there was no concussion. The ER doc they had on the phone said that because his vital signs were stable, he didn’t need to come in by ambulance if someone would drive him to the nearest Urgicenter, rather than stress him with the longer haul into a San Rafael hospital.
Brooks, overhearing, said, “Do you need a ride? Can I help?”
Olivia snapped, “Absolutely not. Just go. Please.” And he slipped down the stairs without another word.
Tuesday sidled up to Olivia and whispered, “Snakebites, huh? The signs keep popping up. Very interesting.”
Olivia ignored her, turning back to her patient. “C’mon, Cody, and if you don’t stop protesting, I’ll blacken the other eye.”
Tuesday wrapped more ice in a plastic bag, this time for Matt’s hand, which had caromed off the wall after it hit Cody.
“Is it broken?” she asked.
Matt brushed her away. “It’s fine. Can I drive you?”
Olivia stuffed her phone and a wad of paper towels in her bag and dismissed Matt. “Time for this circus to fold up its tent and go home. I’ve got this.”
Cody needed a paper towel refill by the time she backed out of her driveway. She stopped the truck and dashed into the garage, ripping another roll of towels out of its six-pack on the storage shelf. Cody held the entire roll up to his eye. They pulled up in front of the Urgicenter with Cody looking like the loser in a street fight.
Olivia knew Cody didn’t have any insurance; benefits were on the table for his next review. So she handed over her credit card to the receptionist while an attendant whisked him into a wheelchair and down the hall to an examining room. Two stitches under his cheek and a black eye later, Cody came out grinning and weaving drunkenly from pain pills.
“You shoulda seen the other guy,” he said to Olivia. She took his prescriptions and after care instructions from the nurse, listened carefully to the signs of head trauma that would mandate another call to 911 and steered him back to the truck.
“Buckled up?” she asked before turning on the ignition. Cody just grinned and rested his head against the window. In a moment he was out cold. She tucked his hoodie around his neck as a pillow, fastened his seatbelt and prepared to take off.
She had to wait to back out, though, until another truck came around from behind and pulled into the space next to her. Something familiar caught her eye and she stared at the logo on the side panel. Michelangelo Landscaping. She looked into the truck to catch a glimpse of the driver. There he was, the Fabio lookalike helping a girl undo her seat belt. As soon as it released, she slumped over onto the dashboard. Like Olivia’s own passenger, the girl was unconscious, though probably not from medically prescribed drugs.
The gardener was trying to keep her upright and get her out of the truck, a losing proposition. He snapped her back into the seat belt, ran around to her door and wrangled with her until her head fell on his shoulder and he half-carried her into the Urgicenter.
Olivia could not take her eyes off the scene. The girl was none other than Melissa Payne, Jocelyn’s stepdaughter.
Michelangelo kicked on the glass door until an orderly came running to open it and help him in with the girl.
What was that all about, Olivia whispered in the dark. There was only one way to find out. She hurriedly checked the sleeping Cody to make sure he was secure in his seat and said, “Back in a sec, Cody. Don’t go anywhere.” Cody was in happy oblivion.
She rushed back into the lobby of the Urgicenter as attendants settled the girl into a wheelchair and pressed Michelangelo for information. A nurse asked Olivia if she could help her. Michelangelo was near tears, crying “My girlfriend. She took something.”
The girl was unconscious and wouldn’t recognize her, and she doubted Michelangelo would remember her from the brief hardware store encounter. But just in case, Olivia turned and hurried out of the lobby.
Cody was still snoring softly against the window. Olivia headed home wondering what to think about this strange turn of events. His girlfriend? The daughter was barely out of high school. She tried to make sense of the photo of Jocelyn with Michelangelo, and then with Melissa collapsed in his arms. Was it a family affair?
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The
Rocky Course of True Love
“Can you hear me, Cody? Are you still alive?”
He hadn’t moved for three stoplights. At the next one, Olivia leaned into his chest and listened for a heartbeat. She felt his breath on her nose and sat up, relieved.
Matt’s car was still at the curb when she pulled into the driveway. She eased the truck past Mrs. Harmon’s front door to the very back of the house. The outdoor light was on and she texted Tuesday to come down and help her. Before she had her phone back in her purse Matt was down the stairs and rushing towards the truck, Tuesday racing up behind him.
Olivia unhooked Cody’s seatbelt. His head flopped around and he wore a drug-fueled grin.
“Help me get him upstairs,” she said when Matt opened the passenger door. “He’ll sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll take his sleeping bag.”
Tuesday offered to rough it in the showroom, but Olivia said no way, as they wrestled Cody out of the truck and inside. He did his best to wake up but it took the three of them to get him up the stairs, down the hall, out of his work boots and into Olivia’s bed. She covered him, bloody tee shirt and all, with her comforter, and left the door open a crack in case he needed help during the night.
The rescue unit congregated in the kitchen where Olivia collapsed into a chair. “You have the graveyard shift, Tuesday. That’s your payback for getting to sleep in a bed.”
Tuesday gave her a thumbs up and put the kettle on. She set out two mugs and tea bags. Matt pulled out a chair for himself, but refused more tea. Tuesday had been feeding it to him while they watched one of the Rocky movies to take their minds off Cody. Matt found the scenes in the ring too close for comfort.
Tuesday sat across from Olivia. “I’m happy to bond with the sleeping bag if you want, Ollie, but I’ll leave my door open so I can hear him in case you don’t change your mind. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable on the couch?”
Olivia shook her head. “Nah, I’d have to pull out sheets and blankets.” She put her feet up on one of the vacant chairs. “You won’t believe who I saw in the Urgicenter.”
When there was no response from Tuesday, she answered her own question. “Michelangelo.”
Tuesday looked up from her steaming mug. “Jocelyn’s Greek god?”
Olivia put her feet back on the floor and leaned into the table, speaking in earnest now. “None other. And you won’t guess who he was carrying in. Melissa Payne.”
It took a few seconds before the name registered. Tuesday said, “You mean the sister?” just as Matt guessed the daughter.
“None other.” She filled them in on the details.
The part about the girlfriend rendered Tuesday and Matt speechless for a moment.
Then disgust registered on Tuesday’s face, while Matt pulled out his ever-present notebook and jotted down a few things.
Olivia pointed to the pad. “What’s up? I thought you were off the case.”
“I am. But I’m sure Johnson would like to know this tidbit. A drug overdose?”
Tuesday was still trying to figure out the triangle. “So, I’m guessing he’s crushed at the loss of his paramour and consoling himself with the stepdaughter? Or was he two-timing both of them?”
Olivia dunked her teabag in her mug, watching the amber brew spread out like a cloud in the hot water. “This raises a new possibility, doesn’t it?”
Matt waited for her theory.
“Was Melissa jealous of her stepmother? Could she have killed Jocelyn in a jealous rage?” Olivia sipped her tea, then yawned.
Matt said, “I think this is enough for tonight, Olivia. You’re beat. We’ve had a helluva day. We should all sleep on it. I’m going now.”
Tuesday pulled a jar of a green, gelatinous substance from the refrigerator. “A nightcap anyone? It’s good for rebalancing the chakras, what we all need tonight. A spoonful will make you feel like a new person.”
She knew better than to offer it to Olivia but she held it under Matt’s nose. He made a face and said, “No thanks. I don’t eat pond scum at night. Gives me heartburn.”
“None so blind,” Tuesday said, scooping out her own dose and gagging until it went down with a large glass of water. Then she air kissed everyone goodnight and tiptoed down the hall, poking her head into Cody’s door for a quick check before she disappeared into her room.
Wearily, Matt rose from his chair, the stress of the evening’s ordeal written all over his face. “Walk with me to my car?”
Olivia nodded and followed him downstairs. They tiptoed into the back yard and around to the driveway, past Mrs. Harmon’s windows and front door, coming to rest at Matt’s car, parked at the curb. The moon, the street lights, the mailbox in front of them got their attention. They looked anywhere but at each other, neither one saying anything at first.
Finally, Matt broke the ice. “Olivia, I don’t know what to say about tonight. When I saw that arrogant jerk insulting you I just lost it and started flailing my arms around like an idiot. I’m so sorry.”
She looked up at him. “Cody’s the one who needs the apology, but you didn’t do it on purpose. Although for a moment I thought you were really going to sock Brooks in the nose.”
Matt studied his hand as if to conjure up the altercation. “Ah, Cody. How am I ever going to face him?”
“Well, he’s on those happy pills for now, so you have time until he comes down from his high to think of something. It’s a good thing you didn’t slug Brooks, though. He would have brought a police brutality suit against you.”
“Yeah, he probably would. I don’t know what happened.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t usually lose my cool. I’m mortified. I’ll talk to Cody tomorrow.”
“Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself.” Her eyes roamed over the rose bushes that offended Mrs. Harmon, and the fight scene came back to her in living color. “Cody was standing at the very edge of the landing away from the handrail. A feather would have toppled him over. There was nothing for him to grab on to.”
“But if I wasn’t trying to get in Baker’s face it wouldn’t have happened.”
“You know why they call them accidents, Matt?”
She grazed his arm gently with her knuckles. “Because they are accidents. You were gesturing, not swinging at Brooks. He pushed us all to the edge.”
Matt sniggered, “Cody, literally.”
She heard the distress in his voice, the way he was swallowing his words to choke down emotion. He had such high standards. She could only imagine how disappointed in himself he was. In addition, he had gouged the back of his hand with his ring when it ricocheted off the wall before it hit Cody, leaving it bloody.
Olivia pointed to it. “I think you’d better get yourself to the Urgicenter. That hand looks nasty. You might have broken something.”
Matt shook it as if to release the pain. They both stared at the swollen knuckles for a second, and Matt, unable to say anything else, kissed the top of her head, got in his car and drove off.
She walked back up the driveway to her back door thinking about the two men who’d had such a hold on her. Different in so many ways, identical in one. They both had two sides. Brooks’s infuriating arrogance was often tempered with a tenderness that had once melted her heart. Until it wasn’t enough. Matt was as calm and reasoned as Brooks was mercurial, until he showed a propensity for anger tonight that stunned her. Not because his outburst had been unreasonable-the blow to Cody had been an accident-but that it had appeared at all. She had thought Matt was incapable of raising his voice. What else was hidden under that composed exterior?
She thumped her hand against the screen door in frustration, then blurted out, “Why can’t a man be one thing only so I’ll always know what to expect?”
She might as well have asked, why isn’t there a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?
Part Three: Day Three
Chapter Thirty: Couples Counseling
“It’s too early,” Olivia groaned when her alarm went off at six
a.m. Fatigue had sealed her eyes shut. Blindly, she rolled over to turn her phone off and ran smack into a wall.
“Ouch.”
She rubbed her head. Oh, not a wall. She had crashed into an armoire, because she’d spent the night in Cody’s stale sleeping bag set amongst her antique treasures.
She rolled onto her back and willed herself up from the mire of sleep into consciousness. As the fog cleared, the memories came flooding in, Matt and Brooks dropping in unannounced, the fight, Cody’s horrible fall, the trip to the Urgicenter, and, oh, no. Michelangelo and Melissa Payne.
She rolled over and stuck her head under the sleeping bag again, but the odor was a bit rank. Cody! A pang of worry knifed through her chest. How is he? She forced herself to sit up, stretch her back and find her socks and robe. She tiptoed through the French doors that led into her office and took the stairs two at a time as softly as she could in case the other occupants of the house, Mrs. Harmon downstairs and Tuesday and Cody upstairs, were still asleep.
The smell of coffee stopped her in her tracks as she entered the kitchen. “Cody! What are you doing up? You’re not making coffee, are you?”
He put a finger to his lips. “Tuesday’s still sleeping. I kept her awake last night and she needs another thirty winks or so. Maybe thirty-five.”
Olivia had to look away from Cody’s face, the swollen lips, half-closed eyes, the deep purple smear down one cheek.
She rushed over to him. “Sit. Let me do this. You shouldn’t be up. What do you mean you kept her up all night? What happened? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“To play WFF?”
“What are you talking about?”
His smile was just this side of normal with a residue of druggy goofiness. “I came out of my narcotic-induced coma about two a.m. and I was starving. So I came into the kitchen to see if there were any leftovers and Tuesday heard me. She’d been awake for a while so we finished off the pizza and discussed the meaning of life. As it applies to relationships. She sucks at them as bad as I do. Although this Clipper guy sounds like a keeper. Has she told you about him?”