CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

 

My heart pounded in my ears and drowned out the rest of Ronnie’s recitation. I heard Dad’s warning words, “Don’t say anything, Ida!”

Jordan’s hands flew up. “There you have it. Ida killed Grace.”

“Ida didn’t kill anyone,” Dad said.

I closed my eyes, opened them, and pleaded. “Pete, you’ve got to do something.”

“I think I’ve already done too much.” The lovely brown in his eyes faded. He turned and followed Ronnie and Ida.

“We’ll reconvene in five days.” Dorene grabbed the file and gave me a penetrating look. “Proof.” She nodded and exited.

Carlee, Ana and her parents, Dad, and I waited until the rest of the heirs filed out. “Dad, what do we do now?”

“You’re going to figure out who killed Miss Loehr,” said Carlee. “Means, motive, opportunity. Who? And why? But first, we have to see Ricky.” Even with everything else going on, thoughts of the imp could bring out a smile.

Ana and Carlee embraced. I trundled the wheelchair through the snow over the sidewalk one block to Columbia Community Hospital. When I stopped at the doors, Dad took control of the wheelchair and said knowingly, “It can’t hurt you. Come on darlin’.”

When the elevator doors to the children’s ward opened, Tucker galloped our way but sat at the toot of a whistle. Rachel cocked her head and one side of her mouth turned up in a half smile.

“We came to see Ricky.”

“He’s on his way up from his last treatment before Christmas.”

The elevator doors whooshed. Ricky looked zapped until he snapped his fingers and Tucker landed in his lap. They rolled toward Carlee, playing a momentary game of chicken, Carlee trying to pass a much quicker Ricky.

Anita Jones followed Ricky off the elevator. She didn’t seem surprised to see me. “Carlee’s an angel, isn’t she?”

“Hey, Mom, Carlee brought the sequel to the book.” He lowered his voice an octave. “The book which shall not be named. Can we read it?”

Anita said, “Just once, though. I don’t want you to drive Rachel crazy.” She whispered. “He feels better when he rests after his treatment, but he misses his friend.”

“Excuse me,” Dad said. “The first book was a hoot. I’ve got to hear the follow-up.” He slid a chair next to Ricky.

“Ricky’s such a good kid, but I’m sure he’s a handful. This must be difficult.”

“Yes, he is. But with the settlement to the McCall Institute, I’ll finally get paid and that will go a long way.” Anita’s ears turned crimson.

“You haven’t been paid?”

“It’s all good now.” A harried look haunted her eyes. I waited for her to say more. “McCall promised he’d help me make a name for myself and when I finish the pieces for the institute, Paula said she’d help make it happen. But, for now …” She pasted a huge grin on her face. “Ricky’s coming home, and I’ve got some Christmas shopping to do.” Anita beamed, trying to contain her joy at hearing her son’s uproarious laugh. “Excuse me.”

Dad gave up his chair and Anita joined Ricky and Carlee.

“Don’t you want to hear the story, Dad?”

“I already read it. Why so serious?”

“I just had a strange conversation with Anita, Ricky’s mom.”

“Wasn’t she the screamer at the gala? You know, the one who found the mannequin floating in the ice pool.”

I nodded. “And she might be a whole lot more.”

Rachel took her place next to me. She crossed her arms in front of her. “We could use a rousing round of “Jingle Bells” before you leave.”

When Carlee closed the cover of the book and handed it to a beaming Ricky, we sang two carols and made our way to the exit.

The elevator doors slid open, and Paula McCall stepped off. Her tan flats slapped the linoleum tiles all the way up to Anita and we heard her say, “We have to talk.”