by Arlene Kay
I had to think quickly. No doubt Sheriff Page’s troops were conducting a thorough search of the entire facility. They would find Magdalen if she was still there. If—a small word with a world of meaning. “Think hard, Irene. Does Magdalen have any friends who live nearby or places she likes to visit?”
Irene shrugged helplessly. “I can’t think of any. None of us even has a car. We rely on public transportation or the staff.”
Staff? That gave me an idea. Babette would call it an inspiration. “What type of car did Nurse Ross drive? Do you recall?”
Another shrug from Irene. “Some kind of sedan. Black, I think. Nothing that stood out.”
Babette rolled her eyes, but I stayed steady. “Great. Anything else strike you? What about her cell phone? I presume Magdalen had one.”
That brought a smile to Irene’s face. “Oh yes. Mags is technically savvy. A computer whiz too. Wouldn’t think it to look at her, but anyone with a problem went to Mags for help, even some of the staff. Nurse Ross got her to do several things.”
Hmm. A new and somewhat surprising side of Magdalen Melmoth had emerged. My own prejudices made me assume that a woman in her eighties would fear or reject technology. What other aspects of her character had I overlooked?
The sound of footsteps in the hallway announced the arrival of company and a temporary end to our inquiry. I answered the door and admitted Dr. Fergueson and Sheriff Aleita Page. The lithe form of Wing Pruett lurked behind them, beckoning me. I nudged Babette and made what I hoped was a graceful exit.
“You get some rest, Irene, and we’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Babette said. “I’m sure Magdalen is just fine.” Whenever Babette fibs about anything she bites her lip. She didn’t fool me and I’m fairly certain Irene saw through her as well. “You call me if you need anything,” Babette said as we hastily ducked out and joined Pruett. Better to beat a hasty retreat before the sheriff or Dr. Fergueson barred the door.
“Keep walking and don’t say a word.” Pruett’s benign smile was an obvious ruse. He pressed the elevator button and waved us in before him. “According to the ladies downstairs, they monitor these elevators. Guess nothing is sacred anymore.”
We walked single file through the front door, into the parking lot, and to my car. Fortunately, Pruett and I weren’t competitive. Still I couldn’t wait to steal the march on him by sharing what we had learned. The needs of my dogs came first, of course. I opened the rear hatch and released them, giving them the Schutzhund command for go. They immediately streaked off into the backfield and freedom. Pruett wrapped his arms around me as we watched them, admiring their grace and beauty.
“What did Irene say?” he asked. “I figured you two were up to something, so I tried to distract Aleita as long as I could.”
I looked up into dancing eyes, striving mightily and unsuccessfully to look innocent. “I’m pretty sure you did a good job of distracting the sheriff. More than enough.”
He shrugged. “Always was an overachiever,” he said trying hard to sound modest. “She’s a sharp cookie, though. Wasted in this Podunk place, if you ask me.”
I forced myself to forgo the foolishness and focus on the only thing that mattered: Magdalen Melmoth. “They suspect poison, I suppose. That candy was meant for Magdalen.” I recited a faithful account of Irene Wilson’s testimony.
Pruett played it cool at first. “They won’t be sure until the autopsy is finished. Could be natural causes, you know. Apparently, Nurse Ross had some health concerns of her own.”
I gave him my sweetest smile. “Just goes to show you. Stuffing candy into your mouth is hazardous even if it’s fine Belgian chocolate. According to Irene, the box was open, the contents scattered all over the floor.”
“Hmm. Most untidy.” He was baiting me, or trying to. I squeezed his hand and called to my dogs. Pruett immediately backed up. He had made giant strides toward conquering his demons, but charging dogs still unnerved him.
After we settled into my Suburban I leaned back on the headrest and closed my eyes—to think, not to sleep. That was my story, but before I knew it, Pruett was gently awakening me in my own driveway.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Babette will beat us into the house.” He kissed my forehead in a gesture so loving that my heart and several other more visceral organs reacted. Maybe he did love me after all. The thought warmed me from head to toe and sustained me as I faced a sobering reality. In my driveway, in front of Babette’s Mercedes, was a dark, nondescript sedan I’d never seen before.
“Hmm,” Pruett said. “Looks like you have company. Should I be jealous?”
If only it were that simple. I’m not blessed with second sight, but somehow I knew what I would find in that vehicle. As we approached the driver’s side door, it opened, and the fragile frame of Magdalen Melmoth emerged.
Chapter 7
“Perri—I hope I haven’t disturbed you. I didn’t know where else to go.” Despite the horrendous circumstances of the day, Magdalen was perfectly composed. Oddly so.
I was too shocked to speak but, fortunately, Babette was not. She flung open her side door, leapt from my car and confronted Magdalen. “How in the world did you get here?” she asked. “They’ve got half the state searching for you.”
Magdalen bowed her head, acknowledging the problem. “I drove, of course. Fortunately, my night vision is still excellent. Perri gave me her business card the first time we met, so I looked up her address on the Internet. Thank heaven for GPS.”
Before we continued our discussion, Pruett nudged us toward the house. The weather had gotten chilly, and despite her obvious spunk, Ms. Melmoth was, in her own words, no spring chicken. Sounded like a good idea.
“We all need a hot toddy,” Babette said as she bustled about my kitchen. “I’ll make them.” We made ourselves comfortable in the family room, while Pruett lit a fire. Thatcher, my irascible Maine coon, sized up our guest and immediately plopped in her lap, purring loudly. Clara the border collie, wrapped herself around Magdalen’s feet.
“You’re quite a hit with animals,” Pruett said.
Magdalen stretched out her arms and sighed. “True. I love them and they seem to reciprocate.” After Babette served our hot toddies Magdalen took a sip and stared directly into his eyes. “I know you have some questions for me, so ask away. Please. Don’t feel shy.”
“Is that Nurse Ross’s car?” I asked.
“Oh yes. All the staff leave their keys in the ignitions, you know, so that made it easy. Luckily her sedan is older. Keys, not those newfangled fob things. I had no trouble at all and, quite obviously, she wasn’t going to need it.” Magdalen saw the look of shock on our faces and reacted immediately. “Forgive me, dears. That sounded so callous.”
Pruett, who holds an advanced degree in mendacity, brushed away her apology. “You did what you had to do. I presume you felt threatened.”
She nodded. “This is so selfish of me. I don’t want to endanger you by staying. I’ll find some other shelter. A hotel.”
The toddy, combined with my recent nap, helped to settle me down. “Don’t even think of it. My guest room is always ready for visitors. What else can we do for you?” My head spun with thoughts of police reaction and the agony suffered by Irene Wilson.
Magdalen, on the other hand, seemed composed and clearheaded. “I know I need to go back there, but first I must speak with an attorney. Do you know one who might help me?”
I knew Babette employed a battery of lawyers, but Pruett spoke up first. “My attorney is one of the best. I’ll set up an appointment with him first thing tomorrow if you like.” He pulled out his cell phone, dialed, and stepped out of the room.
“Such a nice young man,” Magdalen trilled. “You are one lucky girl, Perri.”
I am way too old to blush and well beyond girlhood, but nevertheless that’s what happened. Magdalen tut-tutt
ed and Babette laughed out loud.
“That’s just what I tell her, Magdalen. Pruett adores Perri. Anyone can see that.”
I quickly changed course from my personal life to Magdalen’s. “How many people know about the manuscript? Irene does, but have you mentioned it to anyone else?”
“No.”
“What about your doctor?” Babette asked. “He hinted that you made stuff up. That tells me he knows or suspects somethin’ fishy.”
Before she answered, Pruett glided back into the room, sat next to Magdalen on the sofa, and squeezed her hand. “Everything’s all set. Bright and early tomorrow at nine thirty. Micah Briggs is one of the good guys, plus he’s tops in his field. You’ll like him.”
Magdalen closed her eyes with fatigue or relief, I couldn’t say which. That was my cue to lead her to the guest room and make her comfortable.
“Everything will work out,” I told her. “You’re safe here. We’ve got dogs, a security system, and a big, strong man to protect us.” I felt hypocritical about the big, strong man remark, but for women of Magdalen’s generation it seemed appropriate and comforting.
“I feel better already,” she said wryly, “although I’d bet you’re quite adept at protecting yourself. Army training, you know.” Before I left the room, she tugged at my sleeve. “Perhaps Mr. Pruett should move Nurse Ross’s car into your garage. No sense in advertising that you have a guest.” Magdalen winked at me, as if it were our little secret, emphasizing anew that despite her genteel ways, this woman was no pushover.
* * * *
Sleep eluded me that night. Every creaking board and shifting wind caused me to bolt upright and peer into the darkness. Images of the seemingly indestructible Nurse Carole Ross covered in chocolate haunted my dreams. At dawn I surrendered, tiptoed to the kitchen, and fired up my Nespresso machine. A pet parade immediately surrounded me, demanding tribute. After attending to their needs, I eased back into my wing chair, closed my eyes, and sipped the magic brew.
“Mind if I join you?” Pruett asked. Despite the early hour, he had already showered, shaved, and spruced up. He seldom wore a suit and when he did the results were spectacular. I tucked the throw under my chin and drank in the sight, mindful of the ragtag outfit I wore.
“Hope I didn’t wake you,” I said. “Good thing you left that suit here. Let me get you some espresso.”
He waved me away. “Not to worry, my liege. Even a humble bachelor can master a coffee capsule, you know. It’s my specialty.”
I must have dozed off because when I awakened Pruett was busily tapping his iPhone. As for my other guests, stentorian snores from above confirmed that Babette, who had elected to bunk in with Magdalen rather than return to her empty house, was still fast asleep. Magdalen had yet to make an appearance. After last evening’s shock, that was hardly surprising. Not a problem. I subscribed to the more the merrier philosophy and was pleased to host a full house.
“I’ll freshen up and fix breakfast,” I told Pruett.
“You look plenty fresh right now,” he teased. “Flannel always turns me on.”
In the dark, I had grabbed Pip’s old robe by mistake. There was nothing Freudian about that gesture. Pip and everything about him still comforted me like nothing else ever could. He was and always would be a vital part of my life. Pruett knew and respected that. I think.
“It won’t take long,” I said. “Natural beauty, you know.”
He ignored my joke and turned serious. “Right you are. ‘She walks in beauty, like the night…’ Lord Byron might have been describing you, my love.”
We locked eyes, and for a moment I considered leaping into his arms. The sudden appearance of Magdalen Melmoth saved me from perdition. She had apparently pressed her clothing from yesterday and applied a touch of lipstick. The term “fresh as a daisy” fit perfectly.
“Pardon me, children,” she said. “Am I interrupting anything?”
Pruett and I both assured her that she was not. “Just give me a few minutes. I’ll get dressed and make breakfast,” I said. For some unknown reason I felt guilty, as if I were a child caught in an indiscretion. I sped upstairs and did my best to revive myself. The results pleased me, although I fell far below Byron’s illusion of romance.
I emerged, tempted by the scent of eggs, bacon, and pancakes courtesy of that dazzling duo, Melmoth and Pruett. Apparently, a hint of the feast had wafted up to the guest room as well. Babette was busily setting the dining room table with my best china and a few added touches from the back garden.
She reached greedily for espresso, stifling a yawn as she did so. “Well, missy,” she said, “about time you put in an appearance. Now we can finally eat. I’m starvin’.” My pal was a woman with many appetites, all of them lusty. I couldn’t argue with the sentiment, though. Death and danger made me ravenously hungry too. Strange as it seemed, there was something life affirming about a plate filled with scrambled eggs.
“I’ll drive Magdalen into the city,” Pruett said. “That way she can meet Micah and get comfortable. Pick her up afterward at my place if you want.”
Magdalen removed her apron and dried her hands. “Nonsense. You’re not running a taxi service for me. Perri has a business to maintain. I’ll just call an Uber.”
Once again, Magdalen gobsmacked all three of us. Who would have expected the Uber phenomenon to penetrate all the way to the Falls?
“Are you sure?”
“I insist,” Magdalen said quite firmly. The issue was closed as far as she was concerned.
Fortunately, Babette proposed an alternative. “Well, I don’t run any business, and it’s no big deal to drive into Georgetown. Besides, Magdalen and I can have lunch afterward. It’ll be fun!”
Magdalen was either too kind or too polite to disappoint Babette. She agreed, and after breakfast the trio made their exit. When he kissed me goodbye, Pruett whispered that he would notify the sheriff about Magdalen’s whereabouts. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”
Famous last words.
Chapter 8
After neglecting my business for several days, I finally paid the piper. A stack of invoices awaited me, and several customers inquired about pending orders they had yet to receive. No sole proprietor can afford such lapses if she expects to remain solvent. It was crunch time, nose to the grindstone at Creature Comforts. My absorption with leads, collars, and belts caused me to forget Magdalen Melmoth and her problems for a few hours at least. When Pruett called, I realized it was almost five p.m.
“Hey, leather lady,” he said. “Got some time for an update?”
Hearing his sultry tones warmed my soul. “For you, sure. I always have time.”
“Glad to hear it.” Pruett provided a concise summary of Magdalen’s conference with Micah Briggs, minus any specific details that might compromise her privacy.
“I bet she liked him,” I said. Most women did. Micah was a fortyish, sturdy fireplug of a man with curly red hair and twinkling blue eyes that radiated compassion. Sort of a modern-day Perry Mason crossed with Paul Bunyan.
Pruett chuckled. “I can’t say for certain, but Babette sure took a shine to him. It was hard prying her out of his office while he conferred with Magdalen.”
That sounded true to form. My ebullient pal developed instant crushes on any available male, and a few who were already spoken for. If I recalled correctly, Micah was a bachelor, so the field was clear for an all-out Croy assault. Suddenly I sensed a hesitation in Pruett’s voice, one that concerned me.
“Anything go wrong?” I asked.
He sighed. “Not wrong exactly. Micah called Babette and me back into his office to witness Magdalen’s will. Naturally we couldn’t see the provisions, but I did glimpse your name.”
I forced myself to take a deep breath. No sense in panicking or imagining things. “Okay.”
“Wait ’til s
he tells you herself. She and Babette should be back soon. By the way, I spoke with Aleita and she needs to take a statement from Magdalen. No big deal and no lab findings yet on those chocolates. Autopsy results on Nurse Ross should be finalized tomorrow.”
I wanted to ask where he would stay that evening, but pride and a sense of restraint ruled the day. Like many of us, Pruett needed his space. Besides, with daughter Ella on a European jaunt with her mother, his residence was empty. I closed my eyes, picturing a bacchanalia at the elegant Chez Pruett in Georgetown.
“Perri—you still there?”
“Sure.”
“Call me after you speak with Magdalen. I have things to do here, but I already miss you like crazy. You’ve gotten under my skin, lady.”
To stave off awkwardness, I resorted to flippancy. “They have medication to cure that, you know.”
Pruett had his own brand of medicine. “Nope. I’m a hopeless case. Terminal. Head over heels.” He blew a kiss into the receiver.
As I hung up, a tingling caused me to shiver. Talk about your hopeless cases!
Chapter 9
Babette, Clara, and Magdalen clambered into the house soon after that. All three women clutched bulging shopping bags from Babette’s mother ship—Neiman Marcus.
“Shopping?” I asked. “Sounds like trouble.”
“Mags needed a bunch of supplies,” Babette said, “so we had to stock up. It was fun. A spot of retail therapy works wonders.”
I had limited experience with that, and frankly I found shopping tedious. Still, I tried always to be a good sport. Perhaps I was the oddball after all. Magdalen’s cheeks were pink and her spirits seemed very high from the excursion.
“Hot toddy time,” Babette trilled, brandishing a bottle of whiskey and all the fixings. “Takes the chill right off.”
I looked pointedly at my watch. It was barely six p.m., although I supposed one could arguably call it cocktail time. Who was I to put the damper on another’s happiness? Until they made diet whiskey I would never worry about her predilections. Fear of fat kept Babette firmly in the social drinker lane.