by Mary Maxwell
“That’s Tyler Armstrong,” I said. “Would it be too much trouble to tell me as well? If you’d rather not, I can talk to Tyler.”
“I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it,” Alma said. “But it’s like I told you; Dr. Whistler has been in a dark place since the break-in. The day after it happened, I found him in the library with his head in his hands, just muttering and weeping about Rose.”
“Wasn’t that his late wife?”
Alma nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It’s been three years.”
“Did you do his housekeeping and laundry back then?” I asked.
“I’ve cleaned house for the Whistlers for the past fifteen years,” she said. “My boy was six months old when I started the job. He just celebrated his birthday.” She laughed nervously. “Can you believe how fast time flies?”
“Too fast,” I said. “But it’s nice that you’ve been working for Dr. Whistler for such a long time. I mean, stability and security are very good things to have.”
“That is so true,” Alma agreed. “They’re especially important when you’re a single mother raising a little boy with the energy and mischief of ten kids combined.”
“Your son was a wild child, huh?”
She laughed. “He loves computers and that’s about it. If he graduates from high school, it’ll be a miracle. Luckily, he found a part-time telecommuting job with an outfit in Denver. It’s some kind of high tech company. At the moment, it’s perfect for after school, but there’s also a chance he can go full-time when he finishes senior year.”
“That’s terrific,” I said.
“Very much so,” she replied. “But let me get back to Dr. Whistler. I don’t want to bore you with my life.”
“You’re not boring me,” I told her. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Did I tell you about the lockets?”
I shook my head. “No. You haven’t mentioned anything about it.”
“Well, it took me a little work,” she said. “But Dr. Whistler finally confessed that he was muttering in his office that day after the break-in because they took his wife’s collection of antique lockets from the master bedroom during the burglary. Rose loved them so much. He gave her one every year on their anniversary. Dr. Whistler originally planned to move them at some point to his safety deposit box, but it kept slipping his mind.”
“Okay, so the person that broke into his house also took his wife’s lockets?”
“It seems so,” Alma said.
“Can you describe them to me?” I asked.
“I can do better than that,” she said. “I can actually show you one. I have a picture of my son and me with Dr. and Mrs. Whistler. It was the last Christmas before she passed. The photograph that I’m thinking of was taken when we were having a holiday brunch at a little restaurant in Winter Park that was owned by Dr. Whistler’s friends. Rose was wearing one of her lockets that day, as she always did for special occasions.”
“I’d love to take a look at the picture,” I said.
“Then sit tight,” Alma replied, getting to her feet and starting for the hallway. “I’ll run upstairs and get my photo album.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She stopped midway across the room. “For what?”
“For being so helpful,” I said. “It’s not every day that folks are willing to talk about difficult subjects.”
“Like an old picture?”
“Well, I was thinking more about your late friend and her husband’s current difficulties.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Alma said. “Now you sit tight. I’ll be right back with the picture of Rose and the locket.”
CHAPTER 19
Around five that afternoon, while I was in the Sky High office tweaking a few details for the Taste of the Tropics recipe, I heard the kitchen door open and close.
“Yoo-hoo!” someone called. “Anybody home?”
I didn’t immediately recognize the voice, but a quick glance at my calendar answered the question: Joni Ketchum. She was a half hour early to pickup two dozen blueberry scones that she’d ordered for a reunion brunch for her sorority sisters.
“Hey, Joni!” I called, jumping up from the desk. “I’ll be right there!”
When I scurried into the kitchen, she was leaning over the center island studying a batch of apricot linzer torte cookies that Julia had finished before leaving for the day.
“Those look amazing,” she said. “Maybe I should’ve gone with something like that instead.”
“You still can!”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“If you’d like,” I replied. “Jules can make them in her sleep. If you want that dozen, she can whip up another in the morning.”
“Are you sure?” Joni asked. “I wouldn’t want to steal anybody’s order.”
“Not a worry,” I told her. “Those were going up front in the display case.”
She cocked one eyebrow. “If you don’t mind,” she said with a grin. “Are they peach or apricot?”
I answered the question, she gave me a thumbs up and I reached under the counter for a bakery box.
“Thanks, Katie,” she said as I packed the goodies. “I’m probably buying too much food for tomorrow, but we haven’t seen one another for five years. What are a few more calories, right?”
I laughed. “That’s my favorite motto. Plus, if you don’t eat all of them during the party, your girlfriends can take something sweet home with them.”
“Great idea!” Joni said. “Otherwise, I’d have to arm wrestle Frank to see who gets the last one.”
“How’s he doing?”
She nodded. “Ornery and adorable. We’re getting ready for a trip to Nashville to see his folks.”
“That’s nice!” I said. “How long has it been since you all got together?”
Joni’s bubbly grin dimmed. “A month,” she said. “Frank’s mother insisted they come here to help celebrate his birthday.”
“And something tells me that wasn’t your idea of paradise?”
She shrugged. “I love them both dearly. But I get tired of people calling to announce that they’ve made plans to visit without checking to see if we’re busy or already doing something that weekend.”
“That can be a pain,” I said.
She patted her backside. “In the you-know-what!”
We shared a laugh as I continued packing the cookies. When I finished, I carried them to the back counter and placed them beside the boxes of blueberry scones.
“I put the scones on my credit card the other day,” she said, reaching into her purse, “but how much for the cookies?”
I waved one hand in the air. “On the house,” I said. “Consider them a belated birthday present for Frank.”
Joni shook her head. “That’s sweet, Katie, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
She crinkled her nose. “I don’t know…”
“Well, I do!” I said.
“If you insist,” she replied, putting away her billfold.
“I do,” I replied. “I hope your reunion is perfect tomorrow!”
“We’ll do our best,” she said. “But the timing isn’t exactly ideal.”
“Oh?”
Joni sighed. “Lucy Sterling won’t be there,” she said. “I thought about canceling the thing altogether, but some of the girls have already taken time off work and bought their plane tickets. It just seemed like going ahead was the best thing to do.”
“I didn’t know that you and Lucy went to school together,” I said.
“She left after sophomore year,” Joni said, “but she’s always been part of the gang.”
“Well, that’s sweet,” I said.
She smiled. “It was really sad at the time. Lucy’s dad got sick and her mother needed help around the house with the other little ones.”
“She comes from a big family, doesn’t she?”
; “Ten kids!” Joni’s voice brightened. “Can you imagine?”
“Not at all,” I said. “There are some days when I can barely take care of myself. I can’t imagine what that many kids would be like.”
“Madness!” Joni said. “And way too many diapers for way too long!”
We both laughed, but it was short-lived. The shadow of Don Sterling’s death made it seem awkward and inappropriate.
“Lucy’s a strong woman though,” Joni said with a somber tone to her voice.
I nodded. “Very strong.”
“It’s such a strange thing, too,” she added. “Don didn’t deserve to be…” She looked at me and blinked a few times. “…to die that way,” she continued. “He had his issues, particularly during the early years of their marriage, but Dr. Whistler was helping him sort out a few wrinkles that had happened lately.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“Lucy had confided in me a long time ago that Don struggled with gambling,” Joni said, lowering her voice even though we were alone. “His father was a mean drunk. Don got the strap all the time when he was a boy, and it left a scar on him that was really deep. And even though Don never once raised his hand to Lucy, he put them in financial peril more than once by betting on football and horses.”
“But wasn’t that all in the past?” I asked.
“Yes,” Joni said. “Although Don continued to work with Dr. Whistler to sort out the tangled family issues from his childhood.”
“I never knew about any of that,” I said.
She frowned. “He was so embarrassed about it. He never told a soul. Lucy shared it with me once when she was having a really hard time with it. But that was years ago. We only discussed it that one time, too. To be honest, I’d forgotten about it until…” She stopped. “…well, until I got a call from another one of our friends that Don had passed away.”
“So very sad,” I said quietly. “Have you talked to Lucy?”
Joni nodded. “A couple of times. I’m going over tonight to help her with a few things around the house.”
“That’s kind,” I said.
“It’s what friends do,” Joni replied. “Losing her husband is bad enough, but now there are folks all over town gossiping and whispering about Don. That’s like insult piled on injury. People can be so cruel.”
“Far too often,” I said. “Would you please give Lucy my regards when you see her?”
“Of course, Katie. I’ll be happy to do that. In fact, I’m stopping there on my way home to help with a couple of arrangements for the funeral. I just hope that awful Dr. Forney isn’t there. Lucy told me that he might be there at some point this evening.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
Joni offered a bemused grin. “You mean he hasn’t been in here looking for business yet?”
I shook my head.
“Well, consider yourself lucky,” she said. “Dr. Forney’s the new psychiatrist in town.” She laughed nervously before covering her mouth. “That sounds really weird. Like, you know, in old Westerns where the new sheriff rolls in?”
“But instead of a law man,” I said, “it’s a new therapist?”
“That’s right,” Joni said. “And why, right?”
“Sorry?”
“Why do we need him?” she said. “This is a small town. We already have three therapists in private practice as well as the staff at the Med Center.”
“So who’s Forney?” I asked. “Where did he come from?”
“California,” Joni answered. “He’s friends with that rich Silicon Valley guy that everybody’s talking about.”
I smiled. “Everybody but me.”
“Oh? Didn’t you hear about him?”
“I’ve actually heard the stories,” I said. “I’m just not gossiping about the guy.”
Her eyes lit up. “Talk about stories! Did you hear the one about Dr. Whistler and Stephanie Nielsen?”
I shook my head.
“They’re having an affair,” she continued. “Somebody posted a picture online of them at the Moonlight. I know you’re friends with Earl and his father, but their place has been used more than once for illicit rendezvous.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I saw Steph and her husband last week. They seemed like happy campers.”
Joni rolled her eyes. “Smoke and mirrors,” she said. “Smoke and mirrors.”
“What have you heard?” I asked. “When did the affair supposedly start?”
She shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you that, but I’ve seen the proof.” She pulled out her iPad, tapping and swiping the screen for a few seconds. When she was done, she rotated the device so I could see a slightly grainy image of Dr. Whistler and Stephanie Nielsen. She was carrying a six-pack of Coke and a bucket from KFC.
“Well, that’s definitely her,” I said.
Joni sighed. “So sad,” she said, putting away the iPad. “But I’m more interested in Lucy and that heathen! He just seems to be…” She paused. “…smarmy and insistent and the way he’s been trying to console Lucy is just—”
“Hold on,” I interrupted. “Are you talking about the psychiatrist or the wealthy guy?”
“Sorry,” she said. “I was talking about Forsey. He and Dr. Whistler went to school together. I guess they’d see one another at continuing education conferences, so Forsey and Lucy had met a few times.”
“But then Forsey decided out of the blue to move to Crescent Creek?”
She nodded. “Basically. And now he’s going around town introducing himself to people as an alternative for Dr. Whistler.”
“An alternative?”
“Well, not in so many words,” Joni said. “And it’s not like he’s shouting it from the rooftops or anything. But three or four people have told me that Dr. Forsey has been giving out his business cards to anyone that mentions the anonymous attacks.”
I thought about the comment. Was the other man simply thoughtless and insensitive? Did his self-interest hint at anything more than being a shrewd professional? Was he responsible for the series of attacks?
“Don’t you think the timing is suspicious?” Joni arched one eyebrow. “I mean, a new therapist opens an office and a few weeks later someone is trying to sabotage Dr. Whistler’s reputation.”
“Are you making an accusation?” I asked.
Joni smiled. “Not in so many words. But Dr. Forsey seems too slick for Crescent Creek. He has a fancy Ivy League degree, drives a seriously expensive sports car and acts like he’s better than the rest of us. I don’t know about you, but I sure think there’s something fishy about all of that.”
CHAPTER 20
An hour later, after Joni Ketchum left and I finished paying a couple of bills, I went into the kitchen, made a cup of tea and walked onto the front porch. I put my cup on a side table and sat in one of the rocking chairs. Then I leaned back and closed my eyes, conjuring an image of the last time Lucy and Don Sterling had come in for lunch. They’d been relaxed and happy that afternoon, enjoying the sunny weather and blue skies after an extended period of rainstorms.
And now he was gone, Lucy was alone and a new therapist was trolling Dr. Whistler’s patients at the same time some of them were being targeted by a series of random attacks.
Is there a connection? I thought. Could Forsey’s arrival be coincidental? Should I try and—
My phone rang.
“Not now,” I muttered. “I’m trying to relax.”
I reached into my pocket, pulled out the noisemaker and checked the screen. It was the only person that I wanted to hear from at any hour of the day or night.
“Hey, sweetie,” I said to Zack. “How’s your day going?”
He groaned. “If I could start over, I definitely would. It’s been a bear.”
“Something at work?”
“No, work’s been fine,” he said. “My cousin’s going through a really tough time. I had to finally tell him to stop calling.”
“What’s going on?”
>
“I don’t have all the details yet,” he said. “But it’s got something to do with one of his business deals. I swear that it feels like the whole world is going crazy.”
“How many times did he call you?” I asked.
“I lost count,” Zack said. “He’s so freaked out that I think it’s just pure panic.”
“Freaked out about a business deal?”
“The other people are threatening to sue Noah,” he said. “When we were kids, something similar happened to his father, so…” He heaved a sigh. “You know, I don’t want to take up our time with that right now. I was calling to tell you that I’ll be late tonight.”
“Because of Noah?”
Another hefty sigh came down the line.
“Sweetheart?” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Just tired,” Zack answered. “Barbara Turner asked for a bunch of reshoots for the freelance project that I’m doing for her client. And Gwen’s been in meltdown mode at the newspaper since early this morning. I guess the calls from Noah came at the worst possible time.”
“I get that,” I said. “But you need to take care of you first. Your cousin’s a big boy.”
He laughed; it was short and wobbly, but the familiar sound made my heart a bit lighter.
“Yep,” Zack said. “That’s what I told him.”
“Did you really?”
“For sure,” he replied. “And he’ll get through this. But ever since we were kids, Noah has counted on me to help him figure out how to navigate the rough patches.”
“Well, he’s not a kid anymore,” I said. “You’ll help him as much as possible, but he needs to figure out the best solution for himself and his family.”
“He knows that, babe. I think that he’s just a little scared at the moment.”
“Happens to the best of us,” I said.
Zack chuckled again. “Everyone but you,” he said. “You’re like the Energizer Bunny; you just keep going and going and going and—”
“Until I don’t,” I said. “But thank you for saying that.”
“Welcome,” Zack replied. “So I’ll try to be there by nine, okay?”
“Do you want me to bring something to you for dinner?” I asked.