| |
Louise’s office seems even smaller than I remember it and when I open the door she’s hunched over her desk, tapping furiously into her computer.
“Bad time?” I ask when she lifts her head. The dark scowl she was wearing recedes as she notices me and she beckons me swiftly inside.
“Not at all.” She smiles. “I’m glad you’re here. I need to talk to you.”
“About the job?” I frown at the way Louise’s smile slips. “Have you changed your mind about me coming to work here?” My temporary contentment begins to fade. Here was me thinking I was the only one wavering about accepting the job at Serenity Suites. Had Louise found someone else? “I thought we agreed last night...I mean, if you don’t want me -”
“Of course I want you!” Louise is her sunny, capable self again. “You just caught me off-guard. To be honest I haven’t been able to concentrate on a thing today, not after...”
“Right.” I swallow the last of my coffee and hang onto the cup, picking at its cardboard sleeve. Jessica’s death, in such a horrible manner, and so publicly, has to have upset a lot of people. Even if they didn’t like her very much to begin with.
“But let’s not dwell on that anymore.” Louise taps a few more buttons on her keyboard then leans over her desk, fixing me with a smile that is almost her old, mischievous self. “How would you like to see your new home?”
*
THE APARTMENT SHE’S picked out for me isn’t quite finished - the floor is still bare and I can see patches of spackle on the wall that haven’t been painted over yet - but it’s not bad. I can picture where some of my furniture would go, and the rest...well, there’s nothing like downsizing to let go of a few relics from the past.
“You’ll have access to a little private patio through the glass doors here,” Louise continues, leading me across the room. “The rooms on the first and second floors have balconies, but I hope -” She pauses before looking at me, and I realize I let out a little gasp almost without realizing it. “Cassie?” I hear Jessica Patterson’s voice echoing in my mind and close my eyes, praying for the moment to pass. Someone! Someone help me! “Maybe this is a little too soon....”
“No.” I force myself to smile. “I’m fine. And this place is lovely.” There’s a muffled shout as workmen elsewhere in the building start up the whirr of a power drill and I grimace. “Or it will be when it’s finished.”
There’s a knock at my open door and both Louise and I turn towards it. I’m startled to see a tall, dark-haired figure I notice.
“Oh!” Louise jumps away from me, glancing at her watch. “Am I late?”
“I’m early.” The man smiles, and I’m caught off-guard, thinking it’s the first time I’ve seen Patterson’s resident Grump wearing anything other than a scowl. “And you’re busy.”
“Not very.” Louise turns back to me. “How about I let you look around a bit more, Cassie? I have a meeting but feel free to stay here as long as you like. Take any measurements you need, and if you have any questions that the workmen can’t answer, you know where to find me.” She lays a comforting arm on my shoulder, then turns back to the new arrival. Her posture shifts, and she slides into professional mode as she steers him towards her office. I’m left alone, but the ripple of eager anticipation I’d felt on first seeing my soon-to-be new home fades into suspicion. Since when did those two know each other? I debate my course of action for all of a minute before trotting after them, fabricating some kind of reason to call out after my friend.
“Louise?”
She and Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Grumpy have already turned a corner and she doesn’t hear me, but somebody else does. I feel my good mood sink even further when Joe comes whistling down the corridor.
“Are you still here?”
“Are you?” I fire back. It’s too late to catch up to Louise now. With a sigh, I turn on my heel and stalk back to my soon-to-be apartment, not entirely surprised when Joe walks with me.
“So, when are you going to be moving in? It’s a room-and-board kind of deal, isn’t it?”
“Isn’t what?” I sound tired and try to inject a bit of good humor into my words with a smile. “Oh, the lifestyle manager job?”
“Lifestyle manager.” I can practically hear the air quotes Joe puts around my new job title. “What does that mean, anyway?”
“I have no idea,” I confess, stopping at my door. “But Louise seems to think I’m perfect for the job, so...”
“You can’t be any worse than the last person she tried to hire for it, anyway.” Joe peers over my shoulder, trying to see into the room, and I let it swing closed again before he can see through more than a three-inch gap.
“What last person?” I turn to look at him properly. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, nothing.” Joe’s smile is too quick and too wide to be even the least bit convincing.
“I know she had someone else lined up, but that fell through.”
“Which works out well for you, doesn’t it?” Joe winks. “Louise thinks you’re perfect for the job. Or you will be, once there are enough of us living here to require -” He clears his throat and I think he might be stifling a laugh. “Lifestyle management.” He starts to walk down the corridor, waving as he goes, and I hear the first few bars of an old hymn as he resumes his whistling, but the melody leaves me feeling a little confused, and a lot less enthusiastic about this situation than I was a few minutes ago. Who else did Teresa ask to take this job? I wonder. And what made them say no?
*
I SOON GET THE MEASURE of my new home, and once I’ve taken a few photos and made a few notes on my phone, I’m kind of at a loose end. I think of heading back out the way I came in but the thought of running into Joe again makes me rethink that plan, and after a little jimmying the lock of the glass doors I manage to stumble out of them and into the gardens. The rain has stopped, and I take that as a sign to go exploring. My private patio is little more than a few square feet of dusty cobbles, but I can already picture making it my own little piece of Eden. A few potted plants and a nice comfy lawn chair will make it feel like home in no time at all. I inelegantly manage to climb over the low fence into the wider grounds and look around with an eye to my future career. Lifestyle manager. When Louise first told me about the job she sold it as an admin position, a glorified RA, only my charges would be retirees instead of college kids. Now, after my latest run-in with Joe, I wonder if a gaggle of old people will be more or less work to manage than a bunch of teenagers. More, I think, surveying the rolling gardens with a grimace. Definitely more.
There’s a thud from behind me and I turn around, looking up just in time to see a shadow pass across the balcony above. My heart leaps into my throat and I’m reminded of the awful event I witnessed last evening. Then, just in time for me to really think I’m going mad, I hear a shout. My eyes go straight back to the balcony, but even as I blink I can see it’s empty, and I notice the shout didn’t come from there at all, but somewhere else. I follow the sound, walking through an arch of ivy until I see Louise arguing with one of Patterson’s enthusiastic young deputies as Sheriff Bob Cooper and the dark-haired stranger stand by watching.
“Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is, Ma’am,” the deputy pleads, his voice cracking as he tries to assert his non-existent authority.
“It’s just a few questions, Louise. You can’t object to a few questions, surely?”
“I can object to you dragging me out of my place of work to answer them,” Louise hisses, reddening as she looks around at the small crowd of curious workmen pretending not to watch her resisting arrest. She catches sight of me and beckons me over to join them. “Tell them, Cassie! You were with me at the party, weren’t you? There, see! I have an alibi.”
“Yes, I was with her,” I say, striding forward to help my friend. “What seems to be the problem, Deputy?” I can hear the grandmotherly tone in my voice and cringe, then decide age and infirmity might work in my favor. I lean heavily on one side, pretending I have a limp, and smile wearily at the young man. “Surely we can sort this out quite easily inside.” I let out an exhausted sigh. “Where we can sit down.”
“Sorry, Ms. Clinton.” Sheriff Cooper steps forward, exchanging a look with the dark-haired stranger that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think was one of amusement. I blink, and their faces are both neutral once more. “Louise, you’ll have to come with us to the station. It’ll only take a few minutes.” He glances at the stranger. “Your lawyer can accompany you.”
“I’m not -”
“He’s not -”
They scramble to provide an answer and I’m not the only one curious to hear who exactly this man is and what he and Louise have been discussing, but before anyone else can say a word, a shrill, demanding voice echoes across the gardens.
“Ms. Hamilton? Louise? What on earth is going on here?”