I found Robbie in full egg scrambling mode. The sight and smell of the eggs made me queasy, so I popped two slices of bread in the toaster and waited for them. Since it was just the two of us, I pointed out to him that Ester and Leah had long thin implements that could easily have killed Dr. Hyman.
“All the Jimmy Girls suffered from botched rhinoplasty,” I said, as I poured hot water over my tea bag. “Not just Sheila. So all of them could be considered suspects. Especially seeing as how Dr. Hyman died. Someone was definitely trying to make a statement. And the Jimmy Girls were wandering around before the service started. Remember? They kept walking in and out of Leighton’s house to use the restroom. What if we have the timeframe wrong? That could happen.”
“Sure, it could.”
“So?” I said. The toast was ready to be buttered and I slathered it on. “Can you check out the needles? See if there’s any blood on them? At least see if they’d work as murder weapons?”
“No, I can’t.”
I paused in the middle of chewing. “Why not?”
“Normally, I’d be happy to look into that possibility,” said Robbie. “But Jim Hagg specifically warned me about interfering with Prescott’s investigation.”
“But you have friends!” I waved my butter knife in the air.
“Friends who have already stuck their necks out for me.”
“What about Sheila? Don’t you think Prescott will continue to come after her?”
“No, I don’t. He’s too scared of Hagg. So is Tom White. Hagg knows where all the bodies are buried.”
A piece of turkey bacon spit grease at him. To my surprise, he swore at the frying pan. Usually Robbie is calm, cool, and collected.
“Wow, this is really getting to you,” I said, as I bit into the second piece of toast.
“Kiki, the day I watched them handcuff Sheila and shove her into the back of a squad car was the worst day of my life. Bar none. I’ve seen all sorts of creeps take a ride to the jail, but this was different. It was personal. Watching her, knowing she was innocent, and realizing that she was only being persecuted to get back at me, well, I felt about this high.” He raised his index finger and thumb to measure a hair’s width of space. “I always thought I could protect the people I love. Instead, I had to stand by and watch her being treated like a common criminal. And why? Because of me.”
“I’m sure she forgives you.”
“Yes, so she’s said. But can I forgive myself?”
Chapter 72
Our conversation ended abruptly because Anya wandered in. To my surprise, although she’d been up late the night before, she was eager to go back to work on the construction project. “Feel my muscle, Robbie,” she told him as she presented her bicep.
As Robbie dished out her eggs, Anya told him about how much fun she was having.
Since I’d finished my toast and tea, I went into the other room and packed up Sheila’s album. I figured that after Vincent dropped off the photos, I’d finish the book and scan it. If the Jimmy Girls wanted their own copies, it would be easy enough to send them the scans. Even one room away, I could hear Anya as she chattered happily, telling Robbie about how much fun she was having doing “hard labor.”
“Today we’re going to use the nail gun!”
“Be careful with that,” warned Robbie. “You wouldn’t believe all the people who get injured using nail guns. Those are lethal weapons.”
Anya promised that she would. I made a mental note to get a similar promise from Aunt Penny.
In short order, my daughter, Gracie, and I were in the Beemer, headed for U City. Most of the downed branches had been pulled to the side of the road, but a few required that I steer far to one side so I didn’t hit the debris. Anya stared at the broken branches, many as thick as my thigh. Her head swiveled to look at one in particular.
“What if a branch had come down on you, Mom?”
I smiled at her. “That didn’t happen. Angels were watching over me.”
As we drove toward U City, my phone rang.
“Hey, it’s me,” said Rebekkah. “Look, I need to pick up Dad from the hospital. They’ve finished all his tests, and they want to talk with us. I don’t know when I’ll be free.”
I told her not to worry and to phone me if I could help.
Once Aunt Penny was in my car, I rehashed my conversation with Robbie about the dangers of nail guns.
“Shoot, Kiki. Don’t be such an old lady. Anya’s almost a grown woman, and she’s smart as a whip. Of course, I’ll watch her. Roy is going to go through all the safety points with us when he drops the gun off. Does that make you feel better?”
“Marginally,” I said. To be honest, I was ticked off at Aunt Penny, and she knew it. The more I thought about her keeping her knowledge of Catherine a secret, the angrier I became.
“Shoot fire,” said my aunt. The look she cast my way was one of pure disgust.
I didn’t flinch. Instead, I shot my own angry glance toward her—and I must have done a great job of expressing my chagrin because Aunt Penny actually flinched.
What I really wanted to do was to get Aunt Penny in private, but it seemed that would have to wait. I sure didn’t want to confront her with Anya in the car. I had a sick feeling that whatever I learned was going to be ugly. My daughter didn’t need to hear the sordid details of life with my dad. Her interaction with my mother was bad enough.
“Must have been one powerful storm tore through here,” said Aunt Penny.
“Yup.” With gritted teeth, I turned my attention to the task at hand, getting us to the store where we would all start work on our separate projects. Normally, we would have had an easy drive, but the litter from the storm was worse as we headed south of 40.
By the time we arrived, my neck was sore with tension. It wasn’t just the drive that had annoyed me. It was pent-up anger at Aunt Penny.
True to his word, Roy gave both women a safety demo. He’d even shown me all the safety features. I still wasn’t convinced that this was a great idea, but I knew I couldn’t protect Anya from every danger in life. If I held the reins too tightly, she was more likely to rebel. So I busied myself restocking shelves and filling out paperwork related to the adoptive parents’ crop. The more I thought about Bernice Stottlemeyer’s rude behavior, the more upset that made me. After an hour of the pft-pft-pft of the nail gun, my head started to throb.
I badly needed a distraction. I wanted to finish Sheila’s album, but I’d have to wait until Vincent arrived with the photos.
Clancy walked up to my table. I hadn’t heard her with all the banging and the noise of the nail gun.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked.
“Better,” she said. “Hey, have you started work on a project for our Friday night crop? We only have our regulars signed up. I think people are waiting to see what I post as the project.”
“I’ll get cracking on it,” I said. “After I take Gracie for a walk. You still don’t feel well, do you?”
“I’ve been better.” Before heading back toward the office, she said, “I’m sending in the orders today.”
Gracie and I headed out the back door, walked through the parking lot, and around the block. She took her sweet time about emptying her tanks, but gosh, since she spends the rest of the day snoozing in her playpen, I can hardly complain. Besides, her walks are my walks, and the fresh air does both of us good. By the time we’d made our circuit, I had a few ideas brewing for the crop.
Under my work table I keep a box full of “idea starters.” Most are old craft magazines and super-old crafting books I’ve found at used bookstores. After flipping through one of them, my germ of an idea sprouted into a full-sized plant.
Lately, I’d taken to “tangling” or drawing Zentangle designs on brown wrapping paper, the stuff typically used to cover a box that’s being mailed. Zentangle is an art form that’s easy to teach and simple to do, but it yields wildly sophisticated results. At first glance, it looks like doodling, but whereas
doodling is aimless, Zentangle relies on a vocabulary of purposeful designs made one stroke at a time. In my supplies bin, I had a collection of priority mail boxes that had already been used. Instead of pitching them into the recycling bin, I’d hung onto them. Now I painted Mod Podge on one of the small priority mail boxes and covered it with brown paper on which I’d tangled various designs. After I adjusted the paper so it fit perfectly, I painted the brown paper itself with a coat of Mod Podge. This, I figured, would strengthen the paper, add a rich patina, and make the final product water-proof.
Once painted, the box needed to dry. I set it aside and picked up Sheila’s album. I had promised to scan all the pages so I could send copies of the album to the Jimmy Girls. Even though some of the pages weren’t finished, I could scan them while my Zentangle project was drying. I opened the album and detached the cover page. I hit the scan button on my computer and the door minder rang.
In stomped Bernice Stottlemeyer, wearing a face as stormy as the weather had been last night. In her right hand was her adoption profile album. Before I could even say, “Hi,” the album went flying past my head.
I ducked.
The album smacked into a display of storage containers. Two jars hit the floor and exploded into tiny pieces of glass.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I jumped up off my stool.
“You sabotaged me!” she screamed.
“I did nothing of the kind!”
“Yes, you did! It’s all your fault that we didn’t get a kid! I want my money back!” Flecks of white spittle formed on her lips. I’ve never seen someone so mad. Correction: Not since my dad would go crazy have I seen someone so mad. But then I was little, and now I’m a grown woman. I don’t have to take this sort of abuse.
“You need to leave,” I said calmly, crossing my arms over my chest. “You are no longer welcome in my store. Either you can turn around and walk out the way you came, or I’ll call an officer of the law and have you escorted out.”
“Huh!” she laughed. “I’m not going anywhere until you reverse the charges on my credit card. You ripped me off! That girl barely glanced at our album. She told the adoption counselor that she wasn’t interested in us. Can you believe that? And it’s all your fault!”
“What’s going on here?” Aunt Penny approached us. Her hard hat was on her head, her tool belt around her waist, and she held something in her right hand. I couldn’t see what it was.
Clancy was right behind her.
“Give me my money back right now!” Bernice screamed, as she knocked over a display rack. Hundreds of dollars of inks tumbled onto the floor. Luckily, they were shrink-wrapped. But still, they’d been sorted by color. I was looking at an hour’s work getting them back where they belonged.
“Stop that! Stop it right now!” shouted Clancy. Then she saw the broken glass. “You are destroying our merchandise!”
“She destroyed my chance at being a mother,” Bernice said, as she pointed a finger at me.
“That’s it,” I said. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Bernice. “It’ll take them thirty minutes to get here.”
“Stan Hadcho lives a mile away,” I said to Clancy, as I pointed to my cell phone on the work table. “His number is in my favorites listings.”
I relaxed some when I heard her greet him.
“Mrs. Stottlemeyer,” I drew myself up as tall as I could stand. “I am truly sorry that things didn’t turn out as you had hoped, but you can’t honestly be suggesting that the birth mother’s lack of interest in you is my fault.”
“Of course it’s your fault! We can offer a child every advantage. Good schools, a nice home, stable family life—and there was no reason—none!—for this woman to reject us. The problem wasn’t with us. The problem was this crummy excuse for an album.”
“Look, why don’t you just calm down?” I said, in a soothing tone while Aunt Penny edged closer to Bernice.
“Why don’t you just give me a refund?”
“On his way.” Clancy snapped my phone closed and put it back on the work table.
“No,” I said. “I told you my work wasn’t guaranteed. The form you signed specifically said there weren’t any refunds on custom albums. Besides the fact, you’ve now ruined a lot of our merchandise. So, while I regret that you’re unhappy—”
“Unhappy? I am furious! I came for a refund and you better give me one! Every second I stay, I’m going to cost you money!” With that, she dropped her car keys into her purse. After zipping it closed, she used her Bottega Veneta handbag as a slingshot and knocked all the punches off a display unit.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I said. “That’s a very expensive purse.”
“You’re right about that! More than you make a month, I bet. But it was also made to last, so I think I’ll test it one more time,” and she hoisted it over her shoulder and aimed at a display of glitter. Fortunately, our glitter is packaged in plastic bottles. Unfortunately, one container broke open as they went flying and rolling all over the floor. Bernice paused long enough to turn to me and smirk. “See? I’m going to make you pay. When I finished with the store, you’re next.”
“Mrs. Stottlemeyer, destroying my store or hurting me isn’t going to help you,” I said. “If you have a police record, you’ll never get a child. Ever.”
Of course, I had no idea whether that was true or not, but it certainly sounded reasonable.
Bernice lowered her purse to her side. She moved closer to me, so close that I could feel her hot exhalations on my face.
Aunt Penny took a step closer to Bernice.
“You think you’re better than I am, don’t you? Just because you have kids? Just like that girl yesterday. Sitting there so smug. Deciding to turn us down. What a crock! People like you shouldn’t be allowed to breed. Look at you! You’re poor! Unmarried. Ignorant. I can’t wait to wipe that self-satisfied look off your face.” With that Bernice poked me hard in the chest.
As she talked, she let her purse dangle so that it rested on my floor.
“Yes, you’re on to me. I’m poor. I’m unmarried. And I don’t have a college degree, so I suppose you could call me ‘ignorant,’” I said. Once upon a time, an assessment like hers would have devastated me. But today, I found it somewhat amusing. Sure, I was unmarried, poor, and uneducated, but I was also happier than I’d ever been. So none of those markers of success were as important as I once thought.
“Yup,” I said, struggling not to smile. “That’s me. Definitely the World’s Biggest Loser. But what does that make you, huh? You’ve got all that, but so what? Frankly, Mrs. Stottlemeyer, I think that young woman showed excellent taste. I wouldn’t trust you to babysit my dog!”
“Y-y-y-you, you, you—” Bernice was so mad she couldn’t spit the words out.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Aunt Penny brandished her nail gun.
Pft-pft-pft.
The Bottega Veneta was nailed to my floor.
Chapter 73
That was not the resolution I had in mind.
Nope. I wanted Bernice out of my store, and now she couldn’t leave. Her keys were in her purse, and her purse wasn’t going anywhere.
“Why you!” Bernice turned on my aunt. Her fists were balled up, ready for action.
“If I were you, I’d settle down, right quick,” said Aunt Penny, as she lifted the nail gun and pointed it at Bernice. “Because I’m packing this here nail gun and I won’t hesitate to use it on you! Step away from Kiki! Do it! Anya?”
“Coming.” Anya walked out of the back room. In her hands was a thick roll of duct tape.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Clancy. “Let’s keep the child out of it, shall we?”
“I’m not a child, and I already heard everything,” said Anya, raising her chin defiantly.
“You. Sit. Down. There.” Aunt Penny pointed to the empty stool right behind Bernice.
When the woman didn’t move, Aunt Penny shot the purs
e again with the nail gun. “Trust me,” said my aunt, “I’ve had enough of your baloney. Sit down and shut up, or I’ll shoot you next. Like you said, it’ll be a while before the cops get here. You could easily bleed to death.”
That put the fear of God into Bernice, and she backed onto the stool.
Under Aunt Penny’s watchful eyes, and with Clancy’s help, Anya taped Bernice’s legs to the stool legs. Next they taped Bernice’s wrists together, behind the woman’s back. The whole time Anya and Clancy worked, Bernice cursed and threatened us.
“Keep it up,” said Aunt Penny, “and I’ll put a piece of tape over your mouth. I promise you, when they rip it off, it hurts like holy what-for.”
That only encouraged Bernice to scream and curse more loudly.
“Hand over the tape. I’m tired of listening.” Clancy ripped off a piece and plastered it over Bernice’s lips.
The silence that followed was strangely satisfying.
“Has anyone ever done that to you? Taped your mouth shut?” Anya asked her great-aunt.
“Of course they have,” said Aunt Penny, as she scratched at a mosquito bite. “Down in Bogota, ten years ago. I was kidnapped as part of a raid on our church group. I was there working with street kids.”
“Wow,” said Anya, as Aunt Penny’s revelation totally distracted her from Bernice’s thrashing about.
“Where’s our camera?” asked Clancy. “This’ll make a great scrapbook page.”
I dug it out from under the worktable and watched as Clancy took photos from all angles. She also took shots of the mess that Bernice had made.
“Good deal,” I said. “Especially since I love using duct tape on pages. In fact, I bet we could do a whole duct tape project at our next crop.”
We were printing up the photos and discussing layout options when Hadcho arrived.
Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery) Page 24