Secrets to Die For, page 7
“No, you’re not.” He frowned and gripped her shoulders. “You’re shaking. Can I get you something?”
She shook her head. “Just hold me.”
“Of course, honey.” He drew her close, stroked her back, and nuzzled her hair with his sleep-warm lips.
You’re okay. Stephen’s here.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked after awhile.
“No, I want to go back to sleep.”
They lay down again, and she curled up against his side. She was afraid to sleep, though, afraid her awakening was only a brief intermission in a macabre play whose end she didn’t want to know.
The nightmare was not new. She’d dreamt it before, in different variations, many times. She called the sequence The Faceless Man Dream. A man without a face appeared and approached her. Although he was not particularly menacing, she was always afraid and ran away. Tonight was the first time his appearance sent her over a cliff.
Was the dream a symptom of deep psychological trouble, as Stephen thought? Trouble that needed the probing analysis of a professional? But everyone had nightmares occasionally, and recurring dreams were not uncommon. She was fine, Nina told herself, pressing a hand to her churning stomach. Just fine.
Chapter Seven
Monday morning, Nina returned to her job at the Seaview Library. After her upsetting weekend, she looked forward to answering questions at the information desk, to helping parents choose books to read to their children, and to working on a new book order. Nina’s job brought her great satisfaction. For one reason, being in the library, where books stood in rows on shelves, fulfilled her need for orderliness. For another, because she loved to read, she enjoyed sharing books with others. Yes, Nina had found the perfect profession.
Still, Ellie’s death preoccupied her, and she spent her lunch break sitting in her office creating a list of suspects. She divided a sheet of paper into three columns with the headings Name, Motive, Opportunity. Her entries were sketchy, but at least she’d made a start. First on the list, not necessarily because he was the most likely but simply because his name popped up first, was Ellie’s nephew, Roger Blanton. He had the opportunity because he lived in the area, visited his aunt, and presumably knew her habit of walking around the lake. The motive stumped Nina, though. Gaining control of her money didn’t fit, because he wasn’t the principal heir. Still, maybe the sum of his inheritance was enough to kill for. She didn’t know the amount and, other than asking him point blank, she had no idea how to find out.
After taking time to eat half of her tuna sandwich, Nina added Ellie’s other heir, Dorleen Longman, to her list. Maybe she couldn’t wait until Ellie passed away from natural causes to possess the money and had helped her along. Opportunity was a stumbling block, though, because Dorleen lived in Florida.
Dr. Ravensbarger was the next name she listed. She assumed he had opportunity, since he practiced in the area. Under Motive, she wrote, “Drugs,” with a question mark.
Harriet Hambly, Lakeside’s erstwhile home economist, came next. Opportunity, yes. Motive? She and Ellie had participated in a violent argument. Nina needed to find out more about that occasion.
Next was Person or Persons in the Boathouse. Perhaps Ellie discovered their hideaway.
She added Kimmie Hunter’s name, not as a suspect, but as someone she wanted to know more about, since she had been a special friend of Ellie’s.
Those names were all she could think of at the moment. She looked over her list. Not much to work with, she had to admit, and no one suspect stood out over another. Still, she felt better having made the list. All the roaming thoughts in her head were now organized.
Where to go from here? She would surely see Roger again. Dorleen she would meet at Ellie’s memorial, to be held in a few days. Dr. Ravensbarger? Short of making an appointment at his clinic, she couldn’t think how to discover more about him. Maybe a patient of his who lived here at Marley could help. She would need to be careful in her inquiries, though. She wouldn’t want word of her activities to reach Sergeant Russell.
****
“What do you want to do first?” Stephen asked. “The treadmill or the rowing machine?”
Gazing around the exercise room at the Evergreen Athletic Club, Nina pressed a finger to her cheek. Did she want to have sore legs or sore arms? “Treadmill,” she finally said.
“I see two available, side by side, over there.” He pointed across the room.
Eager to begin their exercise, Nina followed him to the machines. The club was a popular place, and today was no exception. Among the participants was a young woman wearing a white T-shirt and black tights using the stair-step. Her blonde ponytail bounced back and forth in time to her energetic steps. Farther on, an older, gray-haired man wearing headphones, his plump cheeks red with exertion, rode a bicycle, while a thirty-something guy with well-developed arm muscles lifted a barbell.
Nina and Stephen reached the vacant treadmills. Nina stepped onto what she called the conveyor belt, and punched buttons to select indicators such as “heart rate” and “calories burned.” When she first joined the club, she regarded this room as a virtual torture chamber, full of mysterious machines that punished her body, all in the name of good health. Now, with Stephen’s guidance, as well as help from Josie, her personal trainer, Nina had made friends with at least a few of the devices. She and Stephen visited the club an average of three times a week to work out and then soak in the hot tub. Being Tuesday, Nina’s library shift was afternoon and evening, which conveniently left the morning for other activities.
Nina started the conveyer belt and walked with her back straight and her arms swinging loosely at her sides. In front of the machines, several television sets, each tuned to a different station, hung from the ceiling. A talk show, a soap opera, and a news report were in progress. In place of sound, closed captioned dialogue rolled across the bottom of the screens like ticker tape.
“I have information from the police,” Stephen said, after they had both established their rhythm.
“You do? Fast work!” He’d seen his contact. Or not. Maybe they exchanged a phone call. But when? Yesterday? Last night? Nina pursed her lips. What was their relationship, anyway? Missing a beat, she grabbed the machine’s frame to keep her balance.
Stephen shot her a glance. “Are you okay?”
“I just missed a step.” Nina regained her footing and then her rhythm. “What did you find out?”
“The police are calling Ellie’s death accidental.”
Somehow, the decision didn’t surprise her. “Did they find evidence of drugs in her body?”
“Yes, the ones Dr. Ravensbarger prescribed. She did overdose, probably by mistake.”
“Do you”—Nina huffed a breath as she increased her speed—“know the names of the drugs?”
“I have them written down. I’ll give you the list later.”
“What was the actual cause of death?”
“Drowning. She had water in her lungs.”
“She just waded into the water and”—she paused to whoosh another breath—“drowned? Seems unlikely, especially since she was in shallow water.”
Stephen shook his head. “No, they figure she wandered onto the dock and fell off. Being doped up, she wasn’t able to get up and out of the water. So, she drowned.”
“Hmmm, I don’t know if I agree….”
“Well, accidental drowning is the official cause. I’m shutting up now as I crank up the speed. We’ll talk more later.”
Later turned out to be after they finished the treadmill, spent time on the weightlifting machines, and at last relaxed in the hot tub. Nina leaned to let a jet massage her back. “Oh, this warm water feels good.”
“Sure does.” Stephen scooted closer. “Nice to have the place all to ourselves, too.”
The hot tub room was an adjunct to the main building, with three walls of windows looking out onto the club grounds. Nina gazed at the pouring rain and the alder trees swaying in the wind, which made the warmth and coziness of the hot tub all the more pleasurable. She turned to Stephen. “Did your police source discover anything else?”
Stephen rested his outspread arms on the tub’s wall. “That information is all for now. More may be forthcoming. In the meantime, something else has come up.”
“Oh?” Nina rubbed her nose, tickling from the mist rising from the water.
“On Friday afternoon, I’m covering the opening of the Marsh Street Clinic.”
“I see. Then you don’t want to get together?” Her stomach knotted. Maybe he was using the occasion as an excuse to cut short their weekend. Maybe he wanted an out for the weekend altogether. They’d been getting along, but for her, anyway, the scars from their big argument last weekend still hurt.
Stephen frowned. “Nina, please stop jumping to conclusions.”
The studied patience she heard in his voice calmed her.
“I’m not avoiding you.” Stephen patted her shoulder. “On the contrary, I want you to go with me. Dr. Ravensbarger owns the clinic, and the opening would be a good chance for you to meet him.” He raised an eyebrow. “That is, if you're continuing your investigation?”
His support both surprised and pleased her. “Oh, I am, until I’m satisfied one way or another. The clinic opening would be a good opportunity to meet the doctor. I’ve wondered how I might connect with him, short of pretending I need his services.”
“Okay, then.” He nodded. “We’ll go to the opening and to dinner afterward.”
“Sunday is Ellie’s memorial….” She cast him a glance. Would he want to accompany her on that occasion?
“Looks as though we have our weekend planned.” He moved closer and grasped her hand.
The knot in Nina’s stomach eased. He wasn’t leaving her. Not this weekend, anyway.
Chapter Eight
Nina sat in her living room that evening, a cup of tea at her elbow and her tablet computer on her lap. She researched the four drugs the police report said were found in Ellie’s body.
The first drug was for relief of discomfort resulting from muscle spasm of the gastrointestinal tract. She read the article, focusing on the side effects, which included excitement, confusion, and disturbed behavior.
Those conditions described Ellie the night of her death. Granted, the side effects were labeled unusual, unexpected, and infrequent, but, still, the adverse reactions were possible.
Nina looked up the other three drugs on the list. The results were most enlightening, or perhaps horrifying would be a better word. One medicine, used to treat high blood pressure, also had possible side effects of confusion and disturbed behavior. So did the third, which treated depression, and the fourth, which corrected irregular heartbeat.
Did Ellie really need all the drugs? Nina wondered as she sipped her tea. She admitted she herself went to the opposite extreme, unwilling to take even an aspirin for a headache unless absolutely necessary. Still, Ellie’s drug use seemed excessive. Also, the substances might react negatively with one another, creating even more undesirable and dangerous side effects.
Wouldn’t a doctor consider the danger of drug interactions? Nina wondered about Dr. Ravensbarger. Did Ellie have legitimate illnesses, or did he prescribe the medications for some other reason?
The police were satisfied Ellie’s death was accidental. She was just an addled old woman who didn’t know what she was doing when she climbed onto the dock during the rainstorm.
Nina disagreed. Ellie’s behavior and subsequent death were suspicious. She hoped attending the opening of Dr. Ravensbarger’s new clinic with Stephen this Friday would provide new information. If not, she’d have to come up with something else to prove her theory.
****
“I’ve decided to begin our work sessions with a short meeting.” Nina looked around the table at her Marley Manor library crew, which she had called together on Wednesday evening. Having another meeting to attend, Jessica was missing. But the others—Lily Ciliano, Mabel Whiteside, and Selma Bellari—faithfully arrived at the appointed time. While she enjoyed her project and was anxious to bring it to completion, Nina also hoped her presence at Marley would make her privy to information relevant to her investigation.
“Ah like meetings.” Mabel smoothed her bell-shaped, maroon skirt and then fingered the artificial orchid tucked into her silver-blonde hair.
“Me, too!” Lily’s magnified eyes sparkled.
Selma remained silent, her topknot tilting forward while she studied her fingernails.
“Selma?” Nina leaned toward the woman. “Is my plan okay with you?”
“I suppose.” Selma pursed her lips. “But when I worked as a teacher, we were meetinged to death. Faculty meetings, committee meetings, parent meetings, study group meetings, on and on.”
“Ours will be short, I promise. Let’s get started.” Nina consulted the notes on her tablet. “We’ve sorted the books into two broad categories, fiction and non-fiction. Now, we’ll put them into even smaller groups.”
Mabel raised a hand.
“Yes, Mabel?”
“Are we puttin’ numbers on the books? What do y’all call that? The Huey Decimal System?”
“The Dewey Decimal System.” Nina smiled.
“You’re thinking of Huey, Dewey, and Louie, Donald Duck’s nephews.” Selma giggled behind her hand.
“No, you are.” Mabel glared.
Lily wrinkled her nose. “Maybe you were thinking of Huey Long, that awful southern governor.”
“He wasn’t so awful.” Mabel lifted her chin. “He helped the poor.”
“Well, somebody didn’t like him, ’cause he was assassinated!” Lily made a fist and pounded the table.
“Ladies, please.” Nina spread her hands in gentle protest. “Let’s keep to the subject. We won’t use the Dewey Decimal System—”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Selma rolled her eyes. “Math was never my strong suit.”
“We’ll group the books into categories and put those names on the spines. Topics like Animals, Travel, History—you get the idea. I’ve made a list.” Nina held up a sheet of paper. “Categories will make finding books easy for the users and for us to organize the books on the shelves.”
“Won’t we have a catalog?” Mabel’s brow wrinkled.
“We will have a list on a computer, which I’ll bring soon. Do most of you use a computer?” Nina looked around the group. After this initial period of instruction, she hoped to learn something useful to her investigation into Ellie’s death.
Lily nodded. “My son set up mine and my email. He’s the only one who ever emails me, though.”
“Do you use your computer for anything else?” Nina asked.
Lily shook her head. “I could read news on it, my son says, but I’d rather read the newspaper or watch TV.”
“How about you two?” Nina looked at Mabel and Selma.
Mabel frowned and folded her arms. “Why can’t we have a card catalog like in the old days? Everyone who lives here will remember how to use the cards.”
“A computer catalog is much more efficient.” Nina kept a patient tone.
“Not if no one can use it.” Mabel sniffed.
“I’m betting Marley has a lot of computer-savvy residents.” Nina continued her attempt to bring the committee over to her side on the issue.
“My next door neighbor’s a whiz on the computer.” Lily looked around the table. “Maybe she could teach us.”
“Great idea.” Nina gave the woman an appreciative smile. “But, like I said, knowing how to use a computer will not be necessary in our library. We’re sorting the books into categories and labeling them. People will find what they want by simply browsing. Then they will record what they borrow on this clipboard.” She took a clipboard and held it up. “The computer will help us when we take inventory.”
“Inventory.” Selma frowned. “You mean counting the books?”
Nina put out a hand. “Yes, but don’t worry about that task now. Inventory is far in the future.”
“I had to take inventory when I worked at Maxwell’s Mercantile.” Lily pinched her nose with thumb and forefinger. “Bor-ing. I fell asleep.”
Nina gave an inward sigh but kept the smile glued to her lips. “Like I said, don’t worry about inventory now. Let’s work on our book stacks. Here’s the list of categories.” She handed a sheet of paper to each woman. “An empty box on the table corresponds with each topic on the list.” She pointed to the boxes. “Lily, while Mabel and Selma sort, you can put these labels on books I’ve already laid aside.” She gave her several rolls of stick-on labels.
The women set to work.
Although she kept an eye on their progress, Nina also took the time to relax. Organizing the committee and keeping them on track took more effort than she had anticipated. Still, she enjoyed the women and knew their hearts were in the project.
A few minutes later, Harriet Hambly arrived. She wore her usual blue jeans and a sweatshirt with “Harriet Hambly Rules” written in big letters across the front.
“I just dropped in to see how you’re doing.” Harriet spread her feet, planted her hands on her hips, and gazed around.
Lily frowned. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you join our committee?”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Harriet held up both hands, and the butterfly birthmark on her right hand spread its wings. “All I know about books is how to write them.” She looked toward Nina. “By the way, have you decided where mine will be shelved?”
“I haven’t, Harriet. We’re still sorting and labeling.” Nina pointed to the boxes and stacks of books on the table.
Harriet wandered around the room, stopping at a bookcase near the fireplace. She ran a hand over one of the shelves. “My books could go here, with a sign that says ‘The Harriet Hambly Collection.’ I’ll have the sign printed.” She smiled over her shoulder at Nina.
“I appreciate your wanting to help.” Nina struggled to maintain her patience. “But let’s wait until we see how many books we have in each category and how those groups fit on the shelves.”
Harriet shrugged. “Okay.” She reached into a box, pulled out a few books, and perused the titles.
