by Diane Weiner
He must be on foot. If he killed Ellie, certainly he had the resources to hoof it out of town. He couldn’t be stupid enough to have stayed in town and taken a chance by coming to her house, which he knew the police were all over. Unless…he was still searching for the ring. Maybe he thinks I found it? No, he didn’t even mention the ring. What if he’s right and Travis killed her? I’ve been staying with a murderer. No. In her heart, she didn’t believe Travis could have done that.
When she was convinced of her safety, she locked the back door, then went out front to retrieve her phone. She started to call Detective Lambert, then reconsidered. Maybe she should do a little digging first. If Preston realizes I called, I could be putting myself in danger. Besides, he’ll flee the country if he gets a whiff of the fact that the police know he’s still in town.
She summoned her courage, and took her bags from her car.
She lugged her things in from the car. Can I handle staying in this house? The expense of staying in a pet friendly hotel for six months was out of her budget, leaving her without an option. Besides, if Preston wanted to kill her she’d already be dead. Same with Travis. They both had the opportunity.
She unfolded the black dress she’d packed in case they went out somewhere fancy. Now she’d be wearing it to Ellie’s funeral. Ellie loved dresses. It would have been a lot of fun going wedding dress shopping with her. Too bad she hadn’t gotten the chance.
Senior prom. She and Ellie took the train to the city and shopped for the perfect dresses. Frustrated at the prices, Ellie had dragged her into a second-hand shop and for the price of Chinese takeout, Ellie had walked away with a blue satin gown and a cameo brooch. She herself found an ivory, off the shoulder, tea-length which she imagined was once someone’s wedding dress. All the girls at the prom wanted to know where they’d found those vintage gowns. She hung the black dress in the closet and unpacked her shoes.
When the doorbell rang, Sara felt the hairs on her arms stand up. Calm down, the bad guys don’t announce themselves by ringing the doorbell in broad daylight. She grabbed Panther and went down the stairs.
“Who is it?” She tried to line her eye up with the peephole but couldn’t make out the distorted image.
“Home Security Systems. We have a work order.” She undid the chain and talked through the small opening. The man in the gray uniform showed his ID badge and presented her with paperwork. “Are you Ellie Rossi?”
“Just a minute.” She unlocked the door. Reluctant to explain that Ellie was dead, she said, “I’ll sign for it. How much is this going to cost?”
“It’s already been paid for. No worries. We’ll start with the motion sensors.” A second man grabbed equipment from the van. A new security system, new locks. She’d be safe here, wouldn’t she? Ellie had bought an expensive home security system after turning her closet into a safe room? She had to have been terrified.
Her phone vibrated. “Mom, everything okay? You’re swamped at the station? Sure, I can pick up Grandpa and bring him to his appointment. Lunch was nice. Yeah, he’s nice. Yes, he is a gentleman. Yes, he could be in a toothpaste commercial with those pearly whites. I’ll swing by and get Grandpa.”
The security workers assured her they didn’t need access to the inside of the house. Sara drove to her parents’ house and picked up her grandfather. It took so long for him to answer the door, she was beginning to panic that he’d fallen, or worse. The door creaked open.
“Sara? What are you doing here?”
“Mom said she told you. I’m here to bring you to your appointment.”
“I could’ve skipped it.”
She ignored the comment. “Here, I’ll help you. The walk is slippery.”
Pulling away, he said, “Don’t you think I know? I’ve walked this path nearly every day for the past eighty years.” He tossed his cane into the back of her car. “When are you going home?”
Sara’s stomach turned every time she lied to her family, but with party planning, Scott away in Iraq, and now the situation with the family business, she couldn’t pile more problems on her parents. “When my vacation is over.” Technically that was true.
“You can take off whenever you feel like it? You’re lucky to have that job you know.”
“They’re on a month long tour. I’m not the only oboist. I had vacation time coming.”
“I never take a vacation from work.”
“You own your own business. You can take time off whenever you want.” She watched him limp toward the door. “What’s going on with your hip? I don’t remember you limping last time I was here.” She handed him his cane.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He threw the cane on the floor. “Your father wants me to have a hip replacement, but I don’t want no operation.”
“Travis might be able to help. He’s a physical therapist. Want me to talk to him?”
“Barack? Like I said, I don’t want surgery.”
“Then after your appointment with Dr. Peters, I’ll bring you by to talk to Travis.”
He mumbled. “Yeah, yeah.”
“We’d better get going.” She grabbed the cane and tossed it in the back seat of her rental. When she neared the entrance, she followed signs to the parking area, surprised they managed without a separate medical tower for offices like the hospital back in San Francisco. After she parked, she grabbed the cane from the back seat and opened the passenger side door.
“Here. Take this.”
He knocked the cane out of her hand. “I don’t need that. I can walk. I’m not ready to be thrown out to pasture.”
She tossed it back in the car. “Come on, then. You’d better prove it and keep up with me.”
She walked more slowly than usual as she took her grandfather to the orthopedic floor.
“I can go in with you,” said Sara.
“What, like I’m going to see the pediatrician and need my mommy to hold my hand? Come back in an hour.”
“You got it.” How do my parents have patience with him? Although she loved him dearly, she couldn’t imagine living with him 24/7. She walked out into the corridor, where she saw someone come out of the back door of a neighboring office. Wait. That’s the back door to Dr. Peter’s office, I’m almost sure.
The man looked both ways, pulled up the collar of his jacket like a turtle retreating into his shell, and started toward the elevator. That’s Preston Montague! She didn’t want to lose sight of him, especially given the police hadn’t been able to locate him. How did he get by security? Surely the turtle act wouldn’t have cut it.
Keeping her distance, she watched him veer toward the stairs, not the elevator. She slipped through the door and followed him. Her heart raced. She summoned up every ounce of bravery she could, and kept on his tail. He was about to go through the emergency exit. If she left, she knew she couldn’t get back into the building. If she stayed, he’d be off in the wind. I have to do this for Ellie. Here goes.
She followed Preston up and down the rows of cars. He’s heading toward the stairs. He’s going to another garage level. While cars went in and out of this level, she knew the stairwell was likely to be deserted. Anyone parking for the hospital would take the elevator to the correct floor, not park a level or two away. It wasn’t San Francisco. It was possible to find a parking space close to your destination. Breathe in, breathe out. She followed him, careful not to clang her boot heels on the metal steps
Where’s he going? She followed him down two flights to the ground floor. She caught herself from tripping, but her heel clanked against the stoop. Preston stopped. He turned as if he’d heard a sound, and she immediately ducked behind an Audi, afraid to breathe. This is a possible murderer I’m following. Is he going to take off on foot?
In a flash, she heard chirping and saw headlights. Preston sped away. No way could she keep up, and her phone wasn’t getting a signal. The police were looking for his white BMW. Preston drove off in a black Tesla. The electric car barely made a noise. Maybe that’s why I did
n’t hear Preston drive away from Ellie’s after he cornered me.
She was out of the garage before she got a signal. Preston was still in town and he had an accomplice. Whoever owned the Tesla was working with him, and it had been parked in the spaces reserved for doctors! So much for the noisy Buick registered to an old lady in the next town.
“Detective Lambert please.” Please let him be there. Maybe they could be on the lookout for the car if they went for it right away. “Yes, Detective, Phil, I just spotted Preston Montague at Hudsonville Community Hospital, He left in the Tesla. Five or ten minutes ago. I’m at the hospital now with my Grandfather who’s at a doctor’s appointment. It was parked in the reserved doctor spaces in the parking garage and I saw him leaving out the back door of an orthopedic office.” She stopped to breathe. “I got some of the plate numbers. What? I will.”
She was about to hang up when he asked her one more question. “Dinner? Tomorrow night?” She was caught off guard by the abrupt change of topic, but the words slipped out of her mouth without effort. “I’d like that.” I’m sure Mom had something to do with that.
She took a deep breath to calm herself before fetching her grandfather. In and out, in and out. Maybe Preston Montague and Dr. Peters got back together now that Ellie is out of the picture. They had broken up before his engagement to Ellie, but exes get back together all the time. Well, maybe not all the time. It’ll be a cold day in you know where before I’d ever take Brandon back. I would make a bet that the Buick belongs to the doctor.
Montague knows the police are on the lookout for his BMW so he’s using her car. Does she normally drive a Tesla? Is he staying at her place? I forgot to say it was Jailyn Peter’s office Preston came from. Should she call Phil back and suggest checking it out, or would it seem like she was trying to tell him how to do his job? She’d casually mention it at dinner tomorrow night.
She glanced at her watch. Grandpa! Surely he was done by now and wondering where she was. She slipped into the elevator just as it was closing. A neatly dressed gentleman was talking to one of the doctors. He’s the man from the cafeteria. The one who was sitting with Jailyn Peters.
“These hold up longer and are less expensive than the previous models.”
“What about the clinical trials? Did the data support these?”
“Absolutely. Patented and FDA approved.” He pulled a pamphlet from his briefcase.
“Great. I’ll look into it.”
“Here’s my card if you have any questions.”
When the elevator stopped at the orthopedic floor, the gentleman followed her into Dr. Peter’s waiting room. The receptionist didn’t even ask his name.
“Dr. Peters will be with you shortly. She’s expecting you.” She buzzed him in. He must be a frequent visitor. She didn’t even ask for ID. Grandpa struggled to get up from the plastic chair. Sara handed him his cane.
“Where’ve you been, Sara? I’ve been waiting here twenty minutes.”
“Sorry, Grandpa.”
“Come on, Sara. I’ve got things to do.”
Things to do? Like take a nap? “Let’s go. Oh, do you want to talk to Travis about the physical therapy?”
He grumbled. “Let’s make it quick.”
She led Grandpa to the other end of the floor where the physical therapy facilities were located. The receptionist was on the phone. Grandpa drummed his fingers on the counter, louder and more quickly as time progressed. Then he said quite loudly, “I guess she doesn’t see us waiting.”
“Shh, Grandpa. Making appointments and answering the phone is part of her job. She knows we’re here. Stop being so rude.” She looked through the window to the other side of the counter and saw a business card. Craig Danalchek, Medivision Medical Devices.
With a deliberate motion and a look that could kill in spite of an appropriate customer service tone, the receptionist hung up the phone and said, “Can I help you?”
“I was wondering if we could talk to Mr. Jennings for a moment. I’m a friend.”
The receptionist looked her up and down. “He’s busy with patients.”
A nurse was filing papers behind the reception desk and spoke up. “His patient just left. He’s available.”
The receptionist made a disapproving sound and called Travis. She glared at Grandpa. “Go on back.”
Grandpa mumbled, “It’s about time” as he followed Sara back.
Travis was jotting notes in his iPad. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Grandpa wants to talk to you about physical therapy for his hip. He’d like to avoid surgery if it’s possible.”
“Sure. I can’t operate on a damaged hip, but I may be able to ease the pain. At least you may be able to delay the surgery.”
“How much does this cost? Do you take Medicare? I got Medicare.”
“Yes, no problem. The receptionist can help you with that. Make an appointment with her on your way out.”
Oh, I’m sure she can’t wait to help Grandpa now that he made such a great first impression. “Thanks, Travis.”
“Did you settle in at Ellie’s? You got the new key, right?”
“Yes, and some security company showed up. They’re installing motion sensors and monitors. Ellie must have felt threatened, what with making her closet into a safe room and purchasing an expensive security system.”
“As it turns out, her instincts were spot on.”
“Travis, I saw Preston Montague right here in the hospital. He was leaving the back way out of Jailyn Peter’s office. I followed him into the parking garage.”
“You did what?”
“He didn’t see me. I watched him get into a black Tesla that was parked in the doctor’s area. I’ll bet it belonged to Jailyn Peters. Then I called the police but I’m fairly sure it’s too late to catch him.”
“That was pretty brazen. Don’t try to be the hero here.”
“I’m not. I just happened upon him. He and Dr. Peters must still be seeing each other. I think she lent him her car.”
Grandpa said, “If you two lovebirds are done, I’ve got things to do. Get me home, Sara.”
Travis’s phone buzzed. “Okay. Send him in.” He rose from his desk. “I have a meeting with the CEO of Medivision. Come by the house later.”
“Okay. Thank you.” She mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’ on the way out.
Grandpa waited until they were outside the office to say, “We could have been home already if you didn’t keep flirting with Barack.”
She felt her cheeks heat up. “I wasn’t flirting. He’s a jerk. And don’t call him Barack; it sounds racist.” And it’s an insult to Obama.
“Twirling your hair like a teenager? I wasn’t born yesterday. And he ate it up. He was looking at your chest, you know.”
“Let’s get you back home.” The sooner, the better.
Chapter 13
The next day, Sara pulled her black dress over her head and brushed her hair into a low ponytail. Ellie’s parents had gotten the funeral arrangements together in record time. Travis offered to give her a ride, and she dabbed on some face powder and pale pink lipstick.
When they got to the church, the parking lot was nearly full. She recognized her parents’ car and wondered if they’d brought Grandpa along. Small candles in colored glass jars were lined up along the sides of the church, filling the air with the aroma of incense. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows.
“Where do you want to sit?” asked Travis.
“Wherever there’s a spot. Who are all these people?”
“Looks like she had a lot of friends. I see Detective Lambert over there. Sometimes the police check out a murder victim’s funeral for possible suspects.”
“Or maybe he’s just paying his respects to her family?”
“Don’t think so. I watch a lot of detective shows. That guy over there owns the company Ellie worked for. The Montagues are heavily invested in it.”
She recognized him from the hospital. “He was at your offi
ce and I saw him talking to Dr. Peters at the hospital. Craig Danalchek, CEO of Medivision. Isn’t that Dr. Peters he’s talking to now?”
“Yeah. She uses their products in her surgeries.”
“Why was the busy CEO of Medivision on the orthopedic floor yesterday?”
“He’s CEO but he hustles, just like Sara did. It’s one of those companies where they motivate employees with shares of stock. Seems to work. The company is thriving.”
“Are they local?”
“Yeah, Montague owns the office building next to the hospital and warehouse at the edge of town. Looks like they’re starting the service.”
If the words at a funeral didn’t make her cry, the music always managed to. When a soprano who’d gone to school with Sara and Ellie sang Be Not Afraid from the choir loft, Sara couldn’t hold back the tears. To her surprise, Travis took her hand in his, then just as abruptly pulled it away.
Sara’s parents sat a few rows ahead of them. She knew her mother was empathizing—she’d picture herself in Mrs. Rossi’s shoes. Her mother wiped away tears. Ellie was an extension of her own family, with all the time she spent at their house growing up. Grandpa had stayed home. Thank God. He’d have told Mom to stop bawling or something similarly inappropriate. Sara looked to the front row. From behind, she saw Mr. Rossi hugging his wife as she fell apart.
Having grown up Catholic, Sara found the funeral services comforting, though less personal than others she’d been to. Rituals, order, the promise of an afterlife—reassuring when your world has been turned upside down. She recited the prayers from rote which she’d learned as child, sang the hymns she knew by heart, and followed the progression of stand, kneel, sit, make the sign of the cross.
After the service, the congregation followed the casket to the cemetery behind the church. Sara took a turn saying goodbye and tossed a rose on the casket. Her poor parents. How are they going to bounce back from this?
Afterwards, they headed downstairs to the church basement. Sara’s mother and members of the church had set up a buffet. Finger sandwiches, potato salad…brownies, cakes, cookies…a huge urn of coffee with a tempting aroma…