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“You’ve been staring at your phone for fifteen minutes.”
Megan, my roommate, was not exaggerating.
I’d broken into Anne’s office two days earlier and hadn’t managed to act on the information about Mary’s past residencies. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I hadn’t been able to find the time. A mini-conference on Friday had sucked away most of my time, especially because Anne had insisted I immediately share everything that had been discussed at the event. Her excuse was that she wanted to be engaged and involved in every aspect of Oasis Ridge, and that a debriefing right after any event meant that the information discussed would still be fresh in our minds.
I begged to differ. She wanted her employees in her office, telling her everything they’d learned or shared, so she wouldn’t feel left out.
Megan sat down at the kitchen table with a powdered donut and a steaming cup of coffee. Like me, she was still in her pajamas, and her long dark hair was pulled back in something that sort of resembled a ponytail.
She yawned and then tried to peer at my phone. “What are you reading?”
“Addresses,” I replied.
She bit into her donut. “Addresses? Where are you going?” Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re not moving, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Megan and I had it good in the little house we shared. Almost too good.
The tiny two-bedroom house belonged to Megan’s uncle, and he’d agreed to rent it to her at a staggeringly low price. Rent-control places didn’t exist where we lived, but it sure felt like it did for us.
She shoved the last piece of donut in her mouth and washed it down with a generous gulp of coffee. “What are your plans today?” she asked.
It was Saturday in late summer. I stole a glance out the kitchen window. The sky was blue and cloudless, and with any luck the humidity would be tolerable. It would be a good day to sneak down to the beach, to park a chair in the sand and slather on sunscreen to protect my fair skin and just enjoy the sound of the waves as they gently lapped the shore.
But reality won out. Because I knew I had laundry to do and groceries to shop for and dry cleaning to drop off. Bills to pay, a package to mail, a bathroom to scrub down—it was my week—and a bedroom that sorely needed a good cleaning.
And I also needed to call the places I’d captured in the photo of Mary’s application.
Megan kicked my foot with hers. “Are you even listening to me?”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “I asked what you were doing today.”
“Errands,” I said, running through my mental list again. “Chores.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s no fun. You should come with me and Dylan.”
“Where are you guys going?”
“Gonna hang out at his friend’s house. They just put in this amazing pool in their backyard. Even has a waterslide.”
I was tempted. Water on a hot summer day, and without the crowds that would come with a trip to the beach, sounded far better than cleaning and running errands.
I sighed. “I wish I could.”
“You could.” She stood up with a smile. “You’re just choosing not to.”
“I’m choosing to be responsible.”
“Whatever,” she said breezily. “Life is short, Sunny. Have fun while you can. Because before you know it you won’t be planning activities for senior citizens. You’ll be doing them.”
I just shook my head. Like Denise, Megan had a flair for the dramatic.
She was also the most carefree person I’d ever met. Her life consisted of spending time at the beach or with her boyfriend, raking in good money waitressing at a touristy restaurant in Destin, and doing whatever she pleased in her ample amount of free time. No college degree, no loans, no worries.
The complete opposite of me.
I envied her.
I pushed away from the table, too. I’d eaten a donut and a banana before she’d gotten out of bed, and had already drained two cups of coffee.
“Guess I better get started,” I said.
Megan was already headed down the hall toward her bedroom. “I’ll text you Raul’s address.”
“Who’s Raul?”
She chuckled. “The guy with the pool, silly.”
I’d already forgotten.
But I hadn’t forgotten about the other addresses and phone numbers already in my phone. In the form of a picture.
Mary’s old addresses.
I did have a lot to do...but I could definitely make time for that.
*
BY FOUR O’CLOCK, ERRANDS had been run, dishes were done, and I’d finished up the last of my chores.
The only thing left on my mental to-do list was staring me in the face.
Literally.
Because I was back at the kitchen table, a glass of water in one hand, my phone in the other.
My pictures were open, the image I’d captured from Mary’s file zoomed in on so the phone numbers of her past places of residence easily viewable.
I set down my water and picked up the pen sitting on top of the pad of paper I’d brought to the table. I jotted down both numbers, leaving space between each of them so I could record notes.
I’d formulated a rough plan to get the information I wanted. I just hoped it would work.
I took a deep breath and dialed the first number.
A woman answered on the first ring. “It’s another day in paradise at Paradise Palace,” she chirped.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “My name is Sunny Springfield and I’m calling from Oasis Ridge.”
There was a moment of silence. “Okay.” The word was a little dragged out.
I forged ahead. “I’m the...activity director at Oasis Ridge, and we’re conducting a resident satisfaction survey.”
“A what?”
“A satisfaction survey.”
“For your own residents? I’m not sure how that relates to Paradise Palace.”
I pressed my lips together. I’d expected a nice, friendly receptionist to patch me through to someone, not a person who would give me the third degree.
“May I speak with someone in administration?”
The woman paused again. “We don’t typically share information with our competition. Our public activity calendar is available on our web site.”
“I understand,” I gritted out. “I’m actually not calling about your activities.”
“I’m not following.”
“I’m doing a survey that relates more to the emotional health of our current residents,” I said. “So that we can plan activities that best addresses their needs.”
“Oh?” She sounded faintly interested.
“I understand a former resident, Mary Uhlrich, lost her fiancé while living at Paradise Palace.”
“Mary?” The receptionist sounded like she recognized the name, so that was a plus.
“Yes. Is that something you would be able to confirm? She noted it on the form she filled out for me, and I’m just doing some checking.”
“Mary was not engaged to Stuart,” the woman said firmly. “Not by a long shot.”
“Excuse me?”
The woman chortled. “Oh, Mary stuck to him like flies to honey but poor Stuart didn’t want anything to do with her. Folks around here still say he might have upped and died just so he could get away from her.”
My hand moved furiously across the pad of paper, trying to record as much as I could of what this woman was telling me. Now that I wasn’t considered a threat, trying to steal their activity secrets, she was suddenly an open book.
“You’re sure they weren’t engaged?”
“As sure as I’m talking to you,” she replied. “But not for her wont of trying. She was always chasing after Stu. Poor man, may he rest in peace. Literally.”
I thanked her and ended the call.
That was not the information I’d been expecting to hear.
I’d been under the distinct impression that Mary had been engaged before. That’s what Earl had said. And he’d heard it straight from Mary.
I glanced at the other number I’d written down. Maybe her actual fiancé had lived with her at this place. Maybe Earl had gotten the timeline wrong.
I reached for my phone again and punched in the new number.
I tried a different approach this time.
“Hi, my name is Sunny Springfield and I’m a research student conducting a survey on geriatric relationships.”
The woman who answered was not enthused. “Uh, okay.”
“Is there someone I could talk to about that?”
“Sure. Valerie is our assistant director and she’s in today. I’ll put you through.”
The line went to classical music. A minute later, Valerie picked up the call.
I gave her the same spiel, adding a few more details, and crossed my fingers in the hopes that I sounded legit.
She bought it. “Certainly, I’d be happy to help.”
“To the best of your knowledge, have there been any marriages or engagements at your facility in the last two years?”
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“No?” I repeated.
“We are a small community, just under five hundred residents.”
I swallowed. What did that make Oasis Ridge? A nano community?
“I believe I would remember if residents had met and either become engaged or gotten married within our community,” she told me. “That would be such a wonderful thing to celebrate!”
She was definitely more upbeat and positive than the receptionist I’d spoken to at Paradise Palace.
“That’s funny,” I said slowly. “Part of my research has had me speaking to elderly residents in the area. I was pretty sure a woman I spoke with said she had lived at Eternal Springs...and that she’d been engaged while living there.”
“Is that so?” Valerie said. “May I ask who you spoke with?”
“Her name was Mary...” I paused, hoping it sounded like I was trying to remember her last name. “Ah, here it is. Mary Uhlrich.”
“Mary?” Valerie gave a short laugh. “Mary was not engaged. Not while she was here, anyway.”
“I’m sure that’s what she said...”
“Perhaps she is misremembering,” Valerie suggested. “It happens as we age.”
“Maybe. She sounded pretty sure, though.”
“I remember her, and there was no engagement I was aware of. She had taken an intense interest in one of the gentlemen living here, but I’m positive they were not engaged before he died.”
“Died?”
“Yes, poor man. Passed away in the dining room during a meal. Heart attack, by the looks of it.”
My heart began to race and my hand was suddenly slick with sweat. I somehow managed to mumble a goodbye and hurriedly ended the call.
I dropped the phone to the table and stared at the notes I’d scrawled on the paper, but my mind was focused entirely on something else.
Every man Mary had pursued or taken an interest in over the last two years had died.
And one had met the exact same fate as Arthur Griggs.
Which led me to one startling conclusion.
Mary wasn’t a possible suspect in Arthur’s death.
It looked like she was the suspect.
Period.