Better Off Thread, page 10
“That’s scary,” I said. “If the Martin brothers are that ruthless, who knows what else they might do?”
“Exactly.” She spread her hands. “I wouldn’t doubt they use substandard materials and cut corners every way they can.”
“And they might not be above killing someone.”
* * *
I didn’t have time to go back home and eat dinner before class, so I ate a protein bar I had in my desk drawer. Vera arrived early for class.
“Yoo-hoo! It’s Vera!”
“Hi, Vera! I’m in the office. Come on back.”
She came in and sat on the chair beside my desk. “Is that your dinner?”
I nodded.
“Bleh. You should’ve called me. I’d have brought you something.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Did you ever find out anything about Melanie Carstairs and why she didn’t get the hospital administration job?”
“I did.” I told her what Veronica had told me after having lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs. “They’re apparently pieces of work.”
She harrumphed. “I think that’s sad. Poor Melanie would’ve probably been good at that job. She has more motivation than most, you know?”
“That’s what I thought.”
My phone rang. I looked down at the screen and saw that it was Veronica. I hadn’t come up with an appropriate ringtone for her yet, so it was just my default ring.
“Let me get this,” I told Vera. “Hold on.”
I took the call and was surprised that Veronica was inviting Ted and me to a holiday soiree at her complex Friday night.
“The Carstairs will be there,” said Veronica. “All of them. Mrs. Carstairs just told me so in the lobby.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
After ending the call, I gave Vera the news.
“I’ll tell Paul. Of course, he might know about it already and just assumed it was simply another boring party. No offense to Veronica.”
“None taken.”
“But I think it would be good for Paul and me to be there as well, don’t you? That way we could all do some sleuthing.”
“The more, the merrier,” I said.
Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday evening’s crewel class had been a nice distraction from all the craziness that had been going on for the past few days. When I got home, I’d called Ted and we worked out the details of attending the visitation for Dani’s mother and then attending his mother’s party on Friday.
“Have you heard anything new about the case from your friend at the TCPD?” I asked.
“No. It appears that Ray and Bailey are certain they have the right guy. I suppose it doesn’t help that Captain Moe’s brother is currently serving time in federal prison.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know, but keep in mind that Doug is there at the station, and he’s still looking for suspects.”
“But is he actively working the case?”
“As actively as the rest of us are,” he said.
I went to bed that night feeling rather dejected for Captain Moe.
Yet I rose this morning with renewed optimism. The rest of us—me, Ted, Vera, Paul, Doug, Veronica, and Riley—were working as hard as we could to get justice for our friend, and we’d get him exonerated. I knew we would. Whether that affirmation remained with me throughout the rest of the day remained to be seen, but I set off for the Seven-Year Stitch feeling hopeful.
Angus seemed hopeful, too . . . or, at least, frisky. He raced into the Stitch as soon as I opened the door, grabbed his Kodiak bear, and tossed it into the air. He played like that for several minutes until he wore himself out and lay down on his bed beneath the counter.
I was cross-stitching an angel Christmas ornament when Riley came through the front door with a drink carrier and a bag from MacKenzies’ Mochas. She went to the sit-and-stitch square and put the bag on the coffee table.
“I have a mint mocha and a cinnamon latte. I love them both. Which would you like?”
“I’ll take whichever one you want the least,” I said.
Without looking to see which was which, she took one coffee out of the carrier and handed it to me. It was the mint mocha, and it was wonderful.
She took two huge cinnamon rolls out of the bag and handed me one of those.
“You know how you’re not an alcoholic if you don’t drink alone?”
“Okay.” I dragged out the word.
“Well, I’m not depressed if I have breakfast with a friend rather than stuffing my face and crying in my office, right?”
“Okay.”
“Stop saying that and eat your cinnamon roll.”
At the smell of cinnamon roll and coffee, Angus came out from under the counter, sniffing curiously.
“You can have a bite of mine in a few minutes,” Riley told him. “That way I’ll only have to run on the treadmill an extra hour rather than an extra hour and a half.”
Thankful that I’d set my cross-stich work on the seat of the red club chair when Riley came in, I tore a piece off the sticky cinnamon roll and popped it into my mouth. It, too, was wonderful.
“Is it Captain Moe’s case that’s got you down?” I asked.
“I’m not down. I’m merely having breakfast with a friend. But, yes, the case could be going much better.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She sipped her latte. “Cam Whitting can’t be here in person. He’s working on a case in Seattle that has him tied up for the next few weeks. But at least he has agreed to consult.”
“What advice is he giving?”
“Nothing I didn’t know already. He says not to give an inch to the Tallulah County Police Department. All the evidence against Uncle Moe is circumstantial. And Uncle Moe had no motive to kill Sandra Vincent. Cam also told me I need to hire a private investigator to look into Ms. Vincent’s personal life.”
“Goodness, don’t say that in front of Vera,” I said.
“Why not? Do you think she’d recommend someone? I mean, maybe she knows someone really good.”
“She thinks she is someone really good. She’s already been snooping at the hospital.”
“Oh, gee.” Riley stuffed a huge bite of the cinnamon roll into her mouth.
“In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I’ve been doing some snooping, too, and so have Ted and his mom and Ted’s friend on the TCPD.”
She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. “Turn up anything?”
“We’ve uncovered a few shady characters, but we haven’t been able to make a direct connection to Sandra Vincent and her murder yet.”
She sighed. “I wish Dad was here.”
“What advice is he giving you?”
“He says he’ll bet me dollars to doughnuts—of which he currently has neither—that there’s an ex-husband or boyfriend in Ms. Vincent’s recent past. Find him, Dad says, and we’ll find our killer.”
“So, do you have a private investigator on the case?” I asked.
“Only our usual guy, but this is not his forte. His typical day involves tailing cheating spouses or phony workers’-compensation claimants, not looking for killers.”
“If you’d like, I’ll ask Ted if he knows anyone.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”
I sipped my mint mocha before changing the subject to one I knew would lift Riley’s spirits. “How’s Laura doing?”
Riley’s face immediately relaxed into a smile. “She’s so precious. And growing so fast. Look at this photo I snapped of her just yesterday.” She took out her phone and pulled up the photo.
“Oh, my goodness! Look at those eyes,” I said. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”
* * *
I’d called Ted before lunchtime to ask him to bring me only a Cobb salad for lunch and to ask him if he knew of any private detectives he’d trust with Captain Moe’s case. He said he’d look into it and bring me some news when he brought our lunch.
When he arrived, he’d brought me the requested salad, plus nachos for himself. I offered to trade him a bite for a bite, but he declined.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “It has ranch dressing.”
“I’m positive. I was in the mood for nachos today. Would you like a nacho?”
“Just a teensy one.” I took the smallest—albeit cheesiest—one on his plate. “That’s delicious.”
He sighed. “Do you want to trade?”
“No, but I’m flattered that you love me enough to offer. You should’ve seen the size of that cinnamon roll Riley brought me for breakfast. She was indulging in some emotional eating, and she dragged me down with her.”
“Poor baby.”
I laughed. “Okay, so she didn’t have to twist my arm. I’m a good friend. Friends don’t let friends eat their depression alone.”
“You said she wants to hire a private investigator. I have a name for you: Harvey Gordon. He’s a retired police officer who opened his own investigations firm in Coos Bay a few months after leaving the force. He couldn’t handle sitting around doing nothing.”
“So, you think he can find out who killed Sandra Vincent?”
“I think he’s Riley’s best shot at turning up another suspect and at least throwing more reasonable doubt onto Captain Moe,” he said.
* * *
As I drove to the hospital that evening, I thought about Ted’s suggesting Harvey Gordon. Riley had been pleased with the recommendation and had said she’d call Gordon right away. I hoped he’d be able to help Captain Moe. It was Captain Moe who should be brightening these children’s day. Marcy the Elf was a mere liaison to the North Pole. Captain Moe was Santa himself.
I pulled into the parking lot and found an available space not terribly far from the building. I was dressed in the elf costume, but I’d brought clothes to change into so I could leave the costume with Carrie Monahan.
I had my head down and was putting my keys into my purse when two big hands shot out and took me by the shoulders. I gasped and looked up into the face of Charlie, the security guard.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just preventing a collision.”
“That’s okay.” My voice came out more normal that I’d expected, given the fact that my heart was racing.
“Hey, I know you. You’re the elf who was here on Sunday.”
“Right. And you’re the security guard who was standing at the door. Thank goodness you didn’t let me into that room. I might’ve had a heart attack, and you’d have had two bodies to deal with.”
He shook his head. “That was the scariest thing I’d ever seen. I understand they arrested that guy who was playing Santa. Is he a friend of yours?”
I nodded. “I heard you were the first to arrive. Did Mr. Patrick call out to you or did he phone the front desk?”
“He yelled when he found her. I was close enough that I heard him and went running to see what was going on.”
“Did he look guilty to you when you went into the room?”
“Nah. To be honest, he looked as scared as I felt.”
“So you don’t think he did it?”
He shrugged. “That’s not my job to say.”
“I’m talking completely off the record. Do you think that man killed Sandra Vincent?”
“Well, I’m not a police officer. I’m only a security guard. So I’m not trained like they are. But I’d imagine if he’d killed her, he’d have had some blood on him. Right?”
“That’s right.” I hadn’t heard anyone mention anything about blood, but it stood to reason that if Captain Moe had stabbed Sandra Vincent, he’d have had blood on his clothing. “Did Ms. Vincent have any enemies you were aware of, Charlie?”
“I’m not really sure. I’m not too privy to the opinions of the board members.”
“Well, thanks, Charlie. I’d better get in here and read to the kids.”
“Yeah. That’s awfully nice of you. And about what I said . . .”
“It won’t come back to bite you.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
I went inside. Since I’d been slowed down by talking with Charlie, I took the elevator rather than the stairs up to the pediatric ward. I went to the nurse’s desk. Carrie Monahan was engaged in an intimate conversation with a muscular man leaning familiarly across the desk.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Carrie, but I just wanted to let you know I’m here.”
“Sure thing! Marcy, this is my fiancé, John Martin. He’s part owner of Martin Brothers Construction, the crew that built our cancer ward. Have you visited the new ward yet?”
“I haven’t. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Martin.”
John Martin nodded an acknowledgment.
“You really should see the cancer ward,” Carrie said. “It’s state-of-the-art.”
“Maybe I can get over there before I leave this evening.”
“Why don’t I see if they’re ready for you? If they’re not, then John and I can walk over there with you right quick before you go in.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I opened my arms and looked pointedly at my costume. “I’d hate to scare the patients or make them think they were hallucinating.”
Carrie laughed. “I guess you have a point there. Maybe you should wait until you’re in your street clothes before going over there. I’ll show you around when you’re done reading.” She turned to Mr. Martin. “The kids adore Marcy. Give me a second to show her into the playroom, and I’ll be right back.”
Again, Mr. Martin merely nodded. It appeared he was a man of few words . . . or maybe no words.
When I went into the playroom, I saw a couple of new faces and many of the same ones. One pale child with dark circles beneath his eyes sat front and center. He seemed to be struggling to remain upright and awake.
“Hi.” I stooped down in front of him. “I’m Marcy. What’s your name?”
“Brendan.”
“Brendan, what would you like for me to tell Santa you want for Christmas?”
He shrugged his bony shoulders.
Carrie pulled me aside. “Good job. Do you know his family?”
“No. Why?”
“They’re the Carstairs,” she whispered. “His dad’s on the hospital’s board of directors. He’ll appreciate that you were kind to Brendan.”
But, like Captain Moe, I hadn’t intended to single anyone out. I was going to be kind to all of these children. It was the reason I was here.
Chapter Fourteen
Instead of going straight home, I went to Ted’s apartment. His complex consists of three identical chocolate-and-tan, two-story buildings, each sectioned into four individual units. The buildings were named the Lincoln, the Somerville, and the Westchester. Ted lived in the right corner unit of the Westchester building. I was glad the complex was well lit as I navigated the beige stepping stones to Ted’s door.
Ted, wearing navy plaid lounge pants and a white T-shirt, answered my knock. He closed the door behind me and took me in his arms. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I just needed to see you.”
“I’m glad.” Leaving one arm around me and still holding me close, he walked me over to the long, black-leather sofa that was the centerpiece of his living room. “Want me to turn on the fireplace?”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
We sat down on the sofa, and I nestled against him.
“So, what’s on your mind?” he asked.
“I ran into Charlie the security guard as I went into the hospital this evening. He pointed out that Captain Moe didn’t have any blood on him when Charlie entered the conference room.”
He turned his mouth down at the corners. “I hadn’t heard that. I’ll check with Doug and see what the official report says about it.”
“If the security guard who was the first on the scene doesn’t think Captain Moe killed Sandra Vincent, then he’d be an excellent witness, wouldn’t he?”
“Did he tell you he doesn’t think Captain Moe killed her?”
“Well, the way he put is was that he isn’t trained like police officers, but he thought Captain Moe would’ve had blood on his clothes had he killed Ms. Vincent,” I said. “You don’t think that would be helpful to Captain Moe’s case?”
“I don’t think the security guard would be very helpful other than to admit that he didn’t see Captain Moe stab Ms. Vincent, but Captain Moe not having blood on his clothing is a strong plus in his defense.”
I gazed at the beige brick fireplace across from us. “Talking with Charlie wasn’t my only interesting encounter. I also got to meet one of the infamous Martin brothers.”
“Really?”
“Really. He’s apparently engaged to Carrie Monahan, the head nurse of the pediatric ward. She introduced us and bragged about what a terrific job his company did on the cancer ward,” I said. “She wanted me to let the two of them show me around the ward right then and there, but it was time for me to go read to the children. I did go with Carrie when I was finished reading, though.”
“What did you think?”
“It looks impressive. But after everything I’ve heard about Martin Brothers Construction, I had to wonder if it was all style and no substance.”
He inclined his head slightly. “I’m not sure they could get away with subpar building practices on something as important as a hospital cancer ward. Maybe they just strong-arm the competition out of the way but then do an adequate job on the actual construction.”
“Maybe. But it’s usually been my experience that if someone is unethical in one area, they will be in another.”
I went on to tell him about meeting Brendan Carstairs.
