“He's planning on having his grandson over, but I can see if he'll sit with us anyway. As long as there’s room at the table, I'm sure he won't mind.”
“Wonderful,” Autumn said. “I've got to get back to work. Let me know when they get here.”
Emily was already in the kitchen, peeling the sweet potatoes over the sink. “It smells amazing in here,” she said. “Do you think there will be enough left over for the staff to have some?”
“I bought extra brisket with my own money,” Autumn said. “There'll be enough for everyone.”
Emily grinned, and Autumn smiled to see how excited she was. Brisket was expensive, but she and the other cook had both agreed that it was important to have one or two fancy meals every month. It gave the residents something to look forward to, and it helped lift everyone’s spirits. Just because they were in a nursing facility didn't mean that they shouldn't have wonderful meals and fun celebrations when the occasion arose.
While Emily finished peeling the potatoes and began dicing them, Autumn got to work on the coleslaw. Slaw was one of the many things that she had never made before she started working at Asheville Meadows, but she'd enjoyed learning how to do it. She took her time shredding the cabbage, carrots, and onions. There was something deeply peaceful about working in perfect rhythm with someone else in the kitchen to bring all of the various parts of the meal together.
Just as she was completing the coleslaw, she heard someone knock at the kitchen door and turned to see Nick standing in the doorway. He was smiling and carrying a bouquet of flowers, which he handed to her.
“Thanks,” she said. “What's the occasion?”
“No occasion, I just saw them while I was out shopping and thought of you.”
She shot a glance Emily, who was busy prodding the boiling sweet potatoes with a fork, then leaned over to give Nick a quick kiss. “Thank you,” she said. “You are a good boyfriend.”
“I try,” he said, smiling. “What on earth are you making? I know you're a good cook, but this smells like it’s really something special.”
“It's brisket night,” she said. “And before you ask, yes, I'll save some for you.”
“I don't know how I got so lucky,” he said.
Someone cleared their throat, and she turned to see her uncle standing in the doorway.
“Your friends are here,” he said. “We've got them playing a quick card game with us. Take your time cooking. Alicia seems like she'll be a decent opponent.”
“No gambling real money,” she reminded her uncle. “You know that's not allowed here.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “It's all just for fun, don't worry.”
On his way out, he winked at her. Autumn frowned for a second, then shook her head. Alicia was an adult; surely she could handle Uncle Al on her own.
It took her right up until serving time to make sure dinner was just perfect. Emily volunteered to stay back and get the carrot cake in the oven, so Autumn was free to join her friends and family at the table once everyone had been served. She didn't usually eat with the residents, but today she had her own plate of food. There was no way that she was going to miss out on the brisket.
“So, how is everyone?” she asked. “What do the two of you think of this place?” She directed the second question toward Bonnie and Alicia.
“It's lovely,” Alicia said. “I wouldn't mind living here myself, down the road of course.”
“Everyone seems very nice,” Bonnie said quietly. She was staring at her plate, and Autumn wondered what was wrong. Then she glanced at Westley Phillips and realized that Bonnie was probably just being shy.
Westley and Adrian had greeted her when she sat down but were now sunk deep into their own conversation. She realized after a moment, that it was about one of Westley's books – the one she was in the middle of reading. It was still sitting in her purse, in the administrative office.
“Hold on,” she said. “No spoilers. I'm halfway through that one.”
“Sorry,” Westley said. “We'll have to pick this up later, Adrian. I wouldn't want to wreck the mystery for her.”
“Very well,” Adrian said. “I just like what you did with Nico's character, that's all.”
“Oh, Nico. He's the best crime solving dog there is.”
Adrian looked puzzled. “Nico was the antagonist, grandpa, remember?”
“Of course. I was just testing you.” Westley chuckled, but it sounded forced. Autumn met Adrian's eyes across the table and knew that he had noticed it too. His grandfather's memory really was going.
To cover up the moment, she cleared her throat and said, “So, have you two gotten your autographs yet?”
“We did,” Alicia said. “Mr. Phillips was very nice. I didn't even have to ask. The second he saw my book, he knew what I wanted.”
“I told you to call me Westley,” he said. “Mr. Phillips was my father. There’s no reason to remind me how old I am. Besides, any friends of Autumn’s are friends of mine. She's the one living a real-life murder mystery right now, isn't she? Tell me, how are things going with that case?”
Autumn tensed, glancing over at Bonnie, who had resumed looking at her plate.
“I don't know if that's a good dinner topic,” she said. “I'm not the only one who knew him, and it's still a tough subject.”
Westley looked over at Bonnie too. “Oh, I'm so sorry. Were you close to him?”
“Not very,” Bonnie said, pushing her mashed sweet potatoes around with a fork. “We went on one date. I thought it went so well, but he didn't call me back afterward. I was disappointed, and angry, and now I just feel so terrible for feeling any of that. He wasn't ignoring me because he didn't like me. He was ignoring me because he was dead.” Her voice caught slightly, and she quickly swallowed a sip of water.
The conversation paused for a moment, then Uncle Al cleared his throat and said, “This brisket is wonderful, Autumn. I'd ask for the recipe, but I'm pretty sure I couldn’t make it in my microwave. You'll have to make some at home and bring it to us sometime.”
“I will,” she promised with a smile. “I'll make you some of Mom's famous brownies, too. I keep wanting to cook more often at home. There are so many recipes I want to try.”
They spent the rest of the dinner talking about food. Once they were done eating, Autumn got up to begin clearing the dishes with the other staff members. She was surprised when Adrian followed her and asked to talk to her privately.
“It's about my grandfather,” he said. “I'm worried about him.”
“Shouldn't you talk to Nick – Mr. Holt about it?” she asked.
“My grandfather is friends with your aunt and uncle, and I thought maybe you could talk to them for me. Can we meet somewhere after your shift today? I've noticed some things about him, and I'm concerned.”
“Sure,” she said. “I noticed them too – he keeps forgetting things, doesn't he?” Adrian nodded. She promised to meet with him when she got done with her shift, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to do much to help, but also knowing that just having someone to talk to might be a help in itself. She went out into the dining area to grab another stack of plates and ran into Alicia and Bonnie.
“Are you two heading out?” she asked.
“I think so,” Alicia said. “We might go grab another cup of coffee before heading home. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Thanks for setting this up,” Bonnie said, giving her a small smile – the first one Autumn had seen since Jessie’s death. “It really was nice meeting him.”
Autumn smiled as she carried the stack of plates back into the kitchen. She was glad that she hadn't brought up the circumstances surrounding Jessie's death to Bonnie. Right now, the poor woman seemed to believe that his death was accidental. What would she do when she found out that the police had been treating it as a murder?
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
She met Adrian in the parking lot after her shift. She was tired, and wanted to go
home, but had promised to speak with him about his grandfather and intended to keep that promise. She couldn't begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to watch the man that he loved and respected slowly losing his memory.
“Let's walk somewhere nicer,” he suggested when she found him. “It would be kind of weird to talk out here. It's dark, and there's only the one light in the parking lot.”
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.
“Do you know the park in the middle of town? When I was younger, my grandfather is used to take me fishing there. Let's head over there.”
The idea of going somewhere late at night with a strange young man made her uncomfortable, but she couldn't think of a good excuse not to go. He was obviously upset by what he had seen that evening and needed someone to talk to. Any friends his own age might not understand it.
“All right,” she said. “It can't take too long, though. I’ve got a dog to get home to.”
She followed him into town. She was beginning to wish that instead of agreeing to meet with him, she had gone out for coffee with Alicia and Bonnie. It would have been nice to hear the two of them talk about Westley Phillips. She was glad she had been able to give them the chance to meet him.
The park was well lit at night, and as she got out of the car, she had to agree that it would be nicer to walk there than to stand in the dark parking lot at the nursing home. It would only be a short drive to her house once they were done.
“I just don't understand how to deal with it when he forgets something like that,” Adrian said, jumping right into the topic. “I feel terrible about pointing out when he's wrong about something, but I would feel even worse not to. I feel like I would want to know, if I were him. What do you think?”
“I think gently correcting him is the right thing to do. I've seen families come in and humor their relatives when they say the wrong thing or make simple mistakes about something, and when the relative realizes it, they are always embarrassed. It's best just to be upfront and honest with him but do it gently. It's just as bad when I see one of the family members get angry at the relative for forgetting something or not understanding something.”
“It makes me sad to think that he is gradually forgetting everything about his life,” Adrian said. “He's lived this wonderful life, and has told so many great stories, but now everything's all jumbled in his mind.”
“He still seems to be thinking pretty clearly,” Autumn said. “I don't think he'll forget everything. Just bits and pieces.”
Far ahead of them was another pair of people. Autumn couldn't make them out very well, but she thought they looked familiar. The red jacket that one of them was wearing looked just like Alicia’s jacket. Had her friends opted for a walk in the park instead of coffee on a pleasant night like this? She wanted to catch up to them and say hi, if they were her friends, but they were too far ahead.
“One of his books almost got made into a movie a while ago,” Adrian said. “This was back when I was probably about ten or so. I remember how excited he was at the idea of his story coming to life in front of his eyes.”
“What happened?” Autumn asked. She was only half focused on the conversation. She was busy squinting at the people walking in front of them. She was almost certain that they were her friends. Should she call out to them?
“The studio that was going to make it went bankrupt. I wish he had been able to see something he wrote come to life before he died.”
“So do I,” Autumn said.
“I'm glad you feel the same way I do,” Adrian said.
She decided that it would be weird to shout if it turned out that it wasn't Bonnie and Alicia. Instead, she decided to text her friend. Alicia almost always had her phone on her and was sure to see it.
She reached into her purse, looking down, and was caught completely unawares when Adrian grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her off the path. She didn't even have a chance to scream; he slapped his hand over her mouth, and she felt the prick of something sharp just below her rib cage.
She struggled, but even though he was young and weighed less than her, he was strong. Her eyes darted around, finally meeting his, which gleamed with light reflected from the streetlamps.
“Book four of his mystery series,” Adrian said. “A young man is found dead in the river by a fisherman. His death was ruled an accident, at first. Gradually, the police began to suspect murder – until a second victim's body shows up. It's the body of the young woman he was dating, with her wrists slit open. She was also found in the river, and the evidence led the police to believe that it was a murder suicide. They closed the case, but the protagonist had a feeling that something was off. The real killer was a mugger who killed the young man for his money, then when the police were hot on his trail, he decided to kill the girl and make it look like a suicide to throw them off. You’re the girl in this story. My uncle is going to see one of his stories come to life before he dies. I'm going to make sure of it.”
He's insane, Autumn thought, and began struggling harder than ever, until she felt the bite of the knife pressing deeper into her side. She froze, understanding that Adrian was very willing to kill her.
“Come with me to the river's edge. I'll make it quick. It's kind of perfect, isn't it? I didn't even know that you were dating that guy when I killed him. It's like this was meant to be.”
He kept his hand over her mouth but moved around behind her where he pressed the knife against her spine and forced her to walk toward the water's edge. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she realized that she was shaking all over.
He's killing people for his grandfather, she thought. Does he really think that this will make him happy?
Adrian was still talking. “When I saw that guy walking along the river late at night, it was like seeing the scene from the book play out in front of my eyes. I had already been thinking about doing something to help my grandfather see his dream come true, and that's when it clicked for me. Just like in the book, there was a big rock line near the trail. All I had to do was pick one up and sneak up behind him. He didn't see it coming. It's not perfect, of course; a jogger found him instead of a fisherman, and obviously I didn't steal his wallet, but it’s close enough to count. This is even better than a movie, isn't it? His book is really coming true.”
They had reached the river's edge. It was still close to overflowing, and Autumn could feel the spongy grass beneath her feet. Any closer, and the water would be lapping at her shoes.
“Now, how to do this?” Adrian mused. “I wanted to slit your wrists, but I think that would be hard to do with you struggling. The neck will have to do. It's not perfect, like I said, but it's still close enough.”
He fumbled as he tried to turn her around, and Autumn took the chance to rip away from him. She stumbled backward, her fleet feet splashing into the water. “You're crazy,” she spat, tasting the salt from his hands on her lips. “Do you really think that your grandfather's going to thank you for this?”
“He will remember this for the rest of his life,” Adrian said. “What writer doesn't want to see their stories come true?”
“They're just stories,” Autumn said. “He wrote them to entertain people, not to get people killed.”
“Maybe they'll make a movie out of this,” Adrian said, smiling as he stepped closer to her. “Don't scream. If you do, this will last longer. I can stab you a hundred times before anyone shows up to help you.”
In spite of his brave words, she could tell that he was hesitant about moving any closer to her. Her back was to the river, but she could still leap in if she had to. Then he would have to either come in after her or lose her.
“The killer got caught in the book,” she said. “Does that mean you're planning on getting caught in real life?”
“I don't think they’ll ever find out who did this,” Adrian said. “Unlike in my grandfather's books, there’s no handsome hero to save the day.”
That's when he made his move. He
lunged forward, the knife slashing out towards her face. She stumbled back, splashing knee-deep into the river. He moved toward her again, without giving her a moment's rest, and this time she moved to the side. She felt something tug at her sleeve but didn't look down. Behind her, she heard a splash and risked a glance back. Adrian had tripped on something and was on his hands and knees in the water, but he was rising quickly.
Autumn took a chance and hurried back toward him, shoving him with all her might. He toppled over backwards and fell into the river. She turned and ran away, hearing him spluttering and splashing behind her.
Her feet struck the pavement of the park's path, her wet shoes sending water droplets flying everywhere. She looked around frantically for help and her gaze landed on the two people that had been walking ahead of them. It no longer mattered if they were her friends or not; she called out and ran toward them.
Dating Is Murder Page 6