Better Off Thread, page 8
“A nutty person or an actual fruitcake?”
She smiled. “The cake.”
Reggie left and headed toward MacKenzies’ Mochas. I opened the fruitcake book and began reading it. In minutes, I was laughing aloud. Marcy the Elf was definitely reading this to the children.
* * *
After work, I went home and changed into my elf costume. Ted had called before I left work and said he’d be there soon to feed Angus, so before leaving the house, I kissed the top of the dog’s furry head and told him to be good and that Ted would be there to feed him and watch TV with him. In turn, he licked my nose. I felt we’d understood each other perfectly.
When I walked up to the nurse’s station on the pediatric floor of Tallulah County General Hospital, I saw the woman I’d nearly bumped into when Angus and I were walking past Scentsibilities.
“Hi,” I said. “I apologize again for nearly plowing over you earlier today.”
She looked confused until I mentioned the words Irish wolfhound.
“Oh, it’s you!” She hooted with laughter. “I’m just glad to see you made it back from your walk in one piece.”
“Thanks. I’m here to read to the children this evening.”
“Right. I wrote myself a note about that.” She looked around on the desktop until she located a sticky note. “You’re Marcy?”
“That’s me.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Marcy. I’m Carrie Monahan.”
“Good to meet you. I suppose I also need to turn in my elf costume after the reading. It does belong to the hospital, doesn’t it?”
“Gee, I have no idea. I’ll have to look into that.”
“I was thinking it belonged to the hospital because Sandra Vincent gave it to me to put on when I came in to take the place of the elf whose child got sick on Friday,” I said. “I was here Saturday, and then I came back on Sunday. Of course, the security guard didn’t let me in. I was stunned to find out about what had happened.”
“I know. It was awful. And Ms. Vincent must’ve been murdered not long before you’d arrived.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Poor Charlie. He’s the security guard put in charge of guarding the door by the homicide detectives. He was only supposed to be there until the crime-scene technicians arrived, but he stayed his whole shift.”
“Well, no one can accuse him of abandoning his post.”
“That’s for sure, even though I know the entire ordeal probably scared him half to death. He looks tough, but he’s really a softie.”
“I know it would’ve freaked me out. What was your opinion of Sandra Vincent?” I asked. “I only met her once, and though she didn’t strike me as overly friendly, I wouldn’t have thought she’d have an enemy who’d go so far as to kill her.”
“You never do know.” Carrie shook her head sadly. “I think that for the most part, Ms. Vincent was a pretty good administrator, but I don’t believe she was prepared for all of the politics involved. In order to keep her job and to keep the hospital running smoothly, she had to keep the board members satisfied. And, naturally, each of them have their own agendas—construction kickbacks, favorite programs.”
“I do recall her asking the man who played Santa to show favoritism to a child by the name of Carstairs,” I said. “But Santa refused.”
“Brendan Carstairs is a good kid,” she said. “Yeah, he comes from a privileged home, but if I had a son with leukemia and I had the means, I’d give him everything he could possibly want.” She glanced at the clock. “We’d better get you into the playroom. The natives will be getting restless.”
She led me into the playroom, which was primarily an empty room with cushions and bean-bag chairs on the floor gathered around a large wooden rocking chair. The nurse was right. The children were already there and waiting. They cheered when she brought me into the room.
The ones who were unable to sit on the floor were in wheelchairs. I wondered if Brendan Carstairs was among those gathered to hear the story.
I sat down on the rocking chair and read to my captive audience for nearly an hour. When I got up to leave, many of them raised their arms for a hug. There were a handful of nurses standing about the room. I caught one’s eyes, and she gave me a nod that it was all right for me to hug the children. I guessed they would’ve been quarantined or I’d have been asked to wear a surgical mask had germs been a high risk for these particular patients. I hugged each one of them at least once.
I went back out to the nurse’s station. Carrie Monahan wasn’t at her post, but she returned after only a few moments.
“How’d it go?” she asked. “I heard lots of laughter coming from the room.”
“I wish I could stay. And the kids seemed to want that, too, but I could tell some of them were getting tired. Someone asked if I could come back, and I said I’d try. I don’t think I’d be as much fun if I returned as just Marcy as opposed to Marcy the Elf.”
“Everyone in the administration office has gone home tonight. Let me check with them tomorrow and see what I can find out about the costume, and I’ll give you a call and let you know when and where to return it.” She shrugged. “For all I know, some costume shop is wondering where its elf suit went.”
I wished her a good night and headed for the elevator. The car stopped on the floor below, and a woman got in. She was sobbing.
She raised her head to make sure the car was headed for the lobby, and I could see that it was Dani, the woman who’d come into the Seven-Year Stitch, looking for the huck-embroidery patterns.
“Dani?” I put my hand on her sleeve.
She turned slowly. “D-do I know you?”
“I’m Marcy Singer from the Seven-Year Stitch.”
“Of course. I d-didn’t recognize you. Like that.”
“I’ve been upstairs reading to the children,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”
She gulped. “M-mom just d-died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into the lobby together.
“Let me buy you a coffee,” I said. “Are you alone? You can’t possibly drive in this condition.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Please. Let’s go down to the cafeteria and get a coffee. I can’t leave you like this.”
“O-okay.”
The cafeteria was located on the basement floor, which was just below the lobby. We got back into the elevator and went down. The kitchen part of the cafeteria was closed, but there were vending machines, and the area where patients and staff could sit at the tables was still open.
Dani got a soda, and I got a hot cocoa. My cocoa tasted more like hot water than anything, but I only got it to keep Dani from feeling out of place. We sat at a table near the door.
“Is there someone I could call for you?” I asked softly.
She shook her head. “My husband is home with Nicole. She’s sleeping. The only other person I have here—or had here—in Tallulah Falls was Mom.” Fresh tears spilled onto her cheeks, and I got up and retrieved some napkins from the condiment counter.
Dani thanked me as she dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “This was just so unexpected. I mean, I realized there was a chance she could die, but I’d held on to the hope for so long that she’d get that liver transplant in time. I was shocked when her body just gave out.”
“I’m so terribly sorry.”
“You want to know the real kicker?” she asked. “The person who got put in front of Mom on the transplant list, his body rejected the liver, and he’s in intensive care. If they’d just left the list as it was supposed to have been—if they hadn’t bumped him up in front of Mom—then maybe they’d both have received the livers they were supposed to have received, the ones that would’ve been most compatible for them.”
I wanted to say there was no way of knowing that for sure, but I realized that wouldn’t have been of any comfort to Dani. So instead I said nothing.
“And now Nicole is going to grow up without her grandmother,” she said.
“But you’ll always keep her in your daughter’s heart,” I said. “I know you will. You’ll have photos and stories. . . .”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same. It’s not like they’ll get to make their own memories.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Dani said. “Here you are, trying to help, and all I can do is complain.”
“I don’t blame you a bit,” I said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be inconsolable. I’m here to listen whether you want to rant and rave or whether you just want to reflect. I’ll help you any way I can—goofy outfit and all.”
She smiled slightly. “Thank you. You’re sweet to do this. You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re hurting, and I wish I could help.”
“You have,” she said. “I think I’m actually calm enough to drive home now.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I really appreciate your staying with me.”
“You’re welcome. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”
* * *
I went home to the coziest, happiest scene. It almost made me feel guilty over my good fortune.
Ted, wearing jeans and an Oregon Ducks sweatshirt, was stretched out on the sofa, watching TV with a big bowl of popcorn on his lap. Lying on the floor beside him, Angus munched his bite of popcorn. There was a fire in the fireplace, and the Christmas-tree lights were twinkling.
I began to cry.
Ted jumped up off the couch, upsetting the popcorn bowl, and hurried to me. “Are you all right? I didn’t hear you come in. What’s wrong?”
Poor Angus was torn between seeing what was wrong with me and letting Ted handle it while he gobbled up the popcorn.
Ted enfolded me in his arms.
“I’m all right. In fact, I’m fantastic. I think I must be the luckiest woman alive.”
“And that makes you sad?”
“No. It makes me so happy.” I explained about meeting up with Dani in the elevator. “I didn’t know what to do, Ted. I couldn’t just leave her there. I wish I had her number so I could call and make sure she got home all right.”
“She’s fine, thanks to you. It was wonderful of you to take the time to help her calm down before she got out on the road.”
I snuggled against his chest. “And it wasn’t just Dani. Seeing all those children there in the hospital was terrible. Children shouldn’t be in a hospital. They should be running and jumping or swinging on the playground.”
“And, hopefully, they will again someday soon. You’re looking at all the bad and at none of the good. Did the kids enjoy having you read to them?”
I smiled. “They did. It was precious. And they all had to have a hug before I left.”
“See?”
“I do see,” I said. “It’s just that sometimes it strikes you how very blessed you are, and you need to take the time to cherish those blessings.”
“I have to agree with you there. Be like Angus. Gobble up those blessings, even if it means having to crawl under the sofa to find them.”
I laughed. Angus was doing a bang-up job of cleaning the carpet, although I’d get the vacuum cleaner and finish the job soon.
“Speaking of finding things, did you learn anything that might be helpful to Captain Moe’s case?” Ted asked.
“Maybe. I spoke with one of the nurses—Carrie Monahan. She said that she thought Ms. Vincent had tried to be a good administrator but that politics had gotten in her way. She mentioned construction kickbacks, and that made me remember a customer who came in the other day,” I said. “Her husband is a construction contractor. He put in the lowest bid for the hospital’s cancer ward but lost out to another company. After he began looking into the matter, his company stopped getting work, and they had to move to Lincoln City.”
“What was the name of the other construction company?”
“She didn’t say. Vera was there at the time, and she mentioned after the woman left that she’d ask Paul to look into it. I haven’t heard anything more about it, though.”
“I might look into it myself.”
Chapter Eleven
Wednesday morning was unseasonably sunny and warm for Tallulah Falls in December. I loved it. When I went into the Stitch in my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt, I felt like changing Jill out of her dress and apron and putting her in a bathing suit. But, of course, I didn’t. Tomorrow it would probably be cold and rainy again.
While Angus was gnawing on a granola bone by the window, I did a quick inventory to see what I needed before the holiday rush. I knew I’d need more complete kits—cross-stitch, needlepoint, hand embroidery, and crewel—for those looking for last-minute gifts. And I needed pattern books and floss for those patrons who had projects they were trying to complete.
My cell phone rang. It was Salt-N-Pepa’s “Whatta Man,” so I knew before I even got the phone out of my pocket that it was Ted.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I answered.
“Hey, there. I found the name of that construction company that won the bid for Tallulah County General’s cancer ward. It’s Martin Brothers Construction. I called my friend at the TCPD and gave him the information.”
“Do you think he’ll pass it along to Bailey and Ray or look into it himself?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I wish I could follow up and talk with the Martins myself, but, of course, I can’t. It isn’t our case. And I have my own cases to work.”
“I know, babe. You’re doing all you can. I know that and so does Captain Moe.”
“I hope he does. Anyway, Doug will see to it that someone talks with the Martins if any connection can be made between them and Sandra Vincent. For example, if there was some new construction project in the works and she or the board had earmarked someone else for the job, then the Martins could be suspects in Vincent’s death.”
“It’s worth looking into,” I said.
“Doug will take care of it. I know you don’t particularly trust Ray and Bailey, but they’ll investigate the lead and find out whether or not there’s any possibility that someone at Martin Brothers Construction is involved in this murder. Those detectives don’t want an innocent man convicted, either, Inch-High.”
“I know.”
“Gotta run. See you at lunch.”
After talking with Ted, I finished my inventory and then got the laptop from my office and brought it into the sit-and-stitch square so I could order my supplies. I’d just pressed PLACE ORDER when Reggie came into the shop.
“Hi, there,” I said. “You didn’t have to make a special trip. I was going to drop your books off this afternoon.”
“It isn’t a special trip. I was on my way to MacKenzies’ Mochas. I stopped in to see if you’d like anything.”
“I would.” I put the laptop aside and got my purse. “Would you please bring me back a low-fat vanilla latte with cinnamon?”
“Will do.” She looked at Angus, who had come to sit at her feet. “And what would you like, Mr. O’Ruff?”
He just panted.
“Bring him a peanut butter or a shortbread cookie please. Tell Blake it’s for Angus and to pick out one that’s smaller than the others or broken or something.”
Reggie covered Angus’s ears with her hands. “You want Blake to give this baby an inferior cookie?”
“Well, if there was one he was going to throw away because he can’t sell it to a customer, then that would work out fine.”
She shook her head. “All right. Be back in a minute.”
When she returned, she had her cappuccino, my latte, and a peanut butter cookie as big as a saucer. There was a note written in Blake’s block-style handwriting: Angus doesn’t get reject cookies.
I rolled my eyes at Reggie. “Well, I’d settle for a reject cookie.”
“He said you say that,” Reggie said. “And he wanted me to tell you he doesn’t make reject cookies.”
I laughed. “And the win goes to Mr. MacKenzie.”
I handed Angus his cookie and he sprinted off to the office with it. That was probably smart, as he’d likely need a drink of water after eating it.
Reggie sat down on the sofa as I got her books from my tote behind the counter.
“You were right.” I brought the books over and sat on a red club chair. “The kids loved the little girl in this book. It was great.”
“I’m sure you did a fantastic job with it. Have you heard how things are going with Captain Moe’s case?”
“He was arrested on Monday.”
“I heard about that. He’s out on bail, right?”
“Right,” I said. “And hopefully another suspect will turn up soon. I know Captain Moe didn’t kill that woman.”
“Do the police have other suspects?”
“I have no idea. Detectives Bailey and Ray aren’t very forthcoming with information, at least not to anyone I know.” I told her about the customer whose husband had submitted the lowest bid for the cancer ward and had practically been run out of town by the company who was awarded the contract.
“What was the name of the other company?”
“Martin Brothers Construction.”
She frowned. “I know that name. I can’t remember the specifics, but they were involved in some shady business practices that had to do with a case Manu was working a few years back. I’ll ask him if he remembers the case.”
“Ted keeps telling me to have a little more faith in Ray and Bailey. He says they don’t want an innocent man to be convicted. I’m just afraid they want a conviction so badly that they’ll convince themselves of Captain Moe’s guilt.”
