CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three days after Bibi’s death Mackenzie, who’d packed up her emotions into a mental box, determining to deal with them later, strolled into the reception area of Good Livin’. Patti Warner was seated behind the desk as was a much younger woman who looked like she was still a teen. Her name tag read: GISELLE.
“Hi, Giselle,” Mac said, a smile in her voice. “I was wondering about joining the club.”
Giselle smiled right back, then looked over at Patti, who was embroiled in something on her phone that had her brows drawn together. “Well, hi. So glad you’re here. You won’t be sorry. The club’s got everything! Umm . . . Patti will help you, just as soon as she’s free. You can take a seat over there.” She swept a hand to include the row of navy upholstered chairs grouped around a square, rough-hewn table that sported a dull, metallic vase bursting with an eye-popping bouquet of yellow daffodils and cobalt hyacinths. Patti glanced up at her as she clicked off and Mac held her breath. She’d purposely borrowed a pair of Stephanie’s aviator glasses, the prescription mild enough that she could navigate without too much effort. She was going to have to get a pair of plain glass ones for herself if she kept this up.
Patti didn’t react to her except for a practiced, welcoming smile. “I can sure help you.”
There wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm in her greeting, but neither was there any recognition and since Mac had no intention of actually joining Good Livin’, she counted it as a win.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, throwing a look at the same row of chairs before turning to the monitor on her desk.
“Okay.”
Mac dutifully took one of the navy chairs and positioned herself behind the flowers in a way that allowed her to still see a section of the counter where Patti was seated. She hadn’t spoken with Taft since he’d fired her. He’d paid her for her work, but there was a big silence between them. Fired her might be too harsh a term, but that’s what it felt like. She’d thought about telling him that fine, she didn’t need him, she was striking out on her own, following her own path of investigation, showing herself to Patti and Seth, but he would have undoubtedly told her to back off and she didn’t feel like hearing it.
In the meantime she’d called Detective Haynes at the station, asking for more information on Bibi’s death, and if Rayne’s fall had definitively been ruled an accident. She’d half expected to be told it was police business and to butt out. That’s what Ricky would have said. But Haynes told her both investigations were ongoing, and that Bibi’s husband, Hank Engstrom, was still considered a person of interest in his wife’s death.
“So, that one is a homicide?” Mac had pressed, her antennae raised.
“Laughlin, I’ll let you know as soon as I can,” he’d answered.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Fair enough.”
At least Haynes hadn’t just blown her off. They’d gotten along well when she’d been a part of the department, even though their paths had crossed infrequently. She’d dealt with the minor miscreants like Doobie Gillis, while he’d worked the investigations. She’d added Hank Engstrom to her list of people she wanted to interview.
Mac had half moved her belongings to Stephanie and Nolan’s as Stephanie had insisted when she’d learned Mac was moving out by hook or by crook. The baby wasn’t due for seven more months and she wanted Mac to take the spare room and be with her, especially since Nolan was working long hours based on the varying stages of development of the Laidlaw homes that were under construction, homes that dotted the triangular region of River Glen, Laurelton, and Portland. Mac had packed her bag of clothes and ensconced herself in the baby’s room, which housed a twin bed and a chest of drawers and was still a shade of pink from when Stephanie and Nolan had moved in. They weren’t changing it till they knew the sex of the baby. Stephanie and Nolan hadn’t ordered a crib yet, but when they did, Mac figured she’d move to the couch in the den, though Stephanie insisted the twin bed was staying. In truth, Mac didn’t know how long this arrangement would last but it was fine for now.
To say her stepsister was glowing was inadequate. Stephanie radiated joy as if she’d swallowed sunlight. She didn’t want anyone other than Mac to know yet, but Mac couldn’t see how she would keep the news from Dan the Man. One look at her and you just knew something wonderful had happened to her. Mom had been sad to see Mac leave, but she had encouraged her. She’d seen firsthand how difficult it was for her daughter and husband to get along. She hugged Mac before Mac left in her loaded car, telling her she was continually delighted that she and Stephanie had become such good friends. Dan’s reaction was a little different. He didn’t seem to know how to feel. He had a tendency to look like he’d smelled something noxious on a good day, to Mac’s mind, and when he heard she was moving in with his daughter and her husband, he questioned whether they really had room for a vagabond.
“Steph’s got a husband,” he’d reminded Mac.
“Oh, right. What’s his name again?”
He opened his mouth to answer her, but then he caught himself, offering instead a tight-lipped smile. “You know.”
Maybe it was small-minded on her part, the urge to needle Dan, but she wasn’t going to dwell on it. She was imperfect. And sometimes she reveled in it.
“Hi,” Patti said as she swept over. She wore a long skirt and a white blouse with bell sleeves that looked like they were made for getting in the way, natural dust rags. “So, you’re interested in joining,” she greeted her with a faint lift of enthusiasm in her voice.
Mac had worked out what she planned to say beforehand. “A friend of mine mentioned Good Livin’. Rayne Sealy? I don’t know if you know the terrible tragedy that befell her, but . . .” Mac trailed off as Patti’s face tightened into a hard mask. “Are you okay? Oh, that’s right. She worked here briefly. You knew her?”
Patti breathed heavily and then pulled herself together. “Yes. I knew her. A tragedy. Like you said.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been more sensitive,” Mac said, watching her. No love lost here. “I was thinking about Rayne and I’ve been meaning to get into shape. I think she’d like that.”
Patti eyed her sharply. “Rayne?” She sounded incredulous.
“Well, she was employed here, at a fitness place . . .”
“Not for a while. How well did you know her?” she asked sharply.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Patti snapped back into her professionalism, as best as she could and it was clearly an effort. “Rayne wasn’t very serious about her commitment to health. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but she was a . . . was a . . . was a . . . she wasn’t a good employee.”
Mac thought she might be seeing the true Patti now. She nudged her a little further. “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, either, but Rayne and I had our difficulties. I liked her a lot . . . until she, well until I caught her with my boyfriend. Maybe that’s TMI.”
“Oh, God.” Patti shook her head in disgust, holding Mac’s gaze. “She went after my boyfriend with everything she had!” Her voice had started to rise and now she glanced over her shoulder. “I really don’t like gossip, but I’ve got to say, I’m surprised you’re even trying to be nice about her. I can’t. I’m sorry. She’s just . . .” She sighed. “Taking a selfie and falling over a cliff? That sounds just like her. But I am sorry she’s dead. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” She lifted her hands as if Mac had accused her of feeling otherwise. “I’ll get you the paperwork. There’s a onetime initiation fee and then we charge monthly to a credit or debit card.”
Mac strolled back toward the counter as Patti slipped around the side and into a back room. She returned a few moments later with a sheaf of papers, which she handed to Mac. “You can fill it out here, or turn it in later . . . ?”
“I’ll come back.” She hesitated, glancing at Giselle, who was looking through some papers, but had one eye on the front door. Maybe waiting for someone? To Patti, she added, “Hope it worked out for you and your boyfriend. It didn’t for me.”
“Oh, it did for me.” She was loudly positive about that. She shot Giselle a look that the other woman didn’t see, and Mac wondered if maybe Seth wasn’t as tied into the relationship as Patti would like. Remembering how angry Seth and Patti had been at the Waystation that first time she’d seen them there, and the second, too, it seemed like there might be trouble in paradise.
“Well, that’s good,” Mac said with a smile. She’d just started to turn on her heel when she saw Seth approaching outside the glass entrance doors, taking the front steps two at a time. He was in sweats and apparently coming to work.
“There he is now,” Patti declared.
Mac tried to duck her head and sneak out with a faint smile of greeting and nothing more as she didn’t want to brace him in front of the two women at the desk. Seth, however, did a double take on her. In fact, his eyes did such a thorough inventory Mac had insight into what was feeding Patti’s insecurity. It worried her that maybe he remembered her, but he moved right on by and up to Patti. Mac glanced back as she passed through the glass doors and Seth was now chatting up Giselle while Patti’s lips were frozen into a hard smile.
Mac was almost to her SUV when Seth suddenly came back outside.
“Hey,” he called.
Mackenzie looked up and around, as if expecting him to be hailing someone else. Her pulse sped up. Maybe this interview was going to happen sooner than she expected. She’d wanted to talk to him, yes, but Seth Keppler was an unknown quantity. She regarded him politely as he moved her way across the parking lot. She hadn’t really paid that much attention to his physique, more to his hipster look, but now she saw the muscles stretching the fabric of his body-hugging jacket.
“You were talking about Rayne,” he stated flatly.
“Um, yeah. She told me how great Good Livin’ was.”
“You had a falling-out with her. What’s your name? I don’t remember you.”
“Well, I don’t know you, either. Rayne and I were more acquaintances than friends.”
“You look familiar.”
Mackenzie nodded. “I’ve heard that before. I remind people of their sister or someone on TV. Happens all the time.”
“No . . . I’ll think of it,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
She almost dropped the act right then and there. She wanted to know if he was Rayne’s latest boyfriend. She could believe he was cheating on Patti, although she seemed to have a pretty tight leash on him. But Seth was the kind of guy who would look for a way to slip that leash.
She smiled and climbed into her RAV. He was now going to know her vehicle, have her license number, if he cared to memorize it. Could he look her up from that? She suspected an enterprising crook could learn a lot with a minimum amount of trouble.
She watched Seth return to Good Livin’ before she pulled out of the lot.
I’ll think of it.
It put her nerves on edge.
* * *
Taft wasn’t the most domestic male when it came to housework, but he was vacuuming the furniture for all it was worth. Tommy had returned from his latest sojourn to Vegas and had picked up the pugs. After wondering if his neighbor was ever coming back and if he was, by default, now the owner of two dogs, Taft was feeling bereft that the pugs were gone. Carnoff had suffered an ankle injury on the vacation and extended his trip by a week to recover. He’d thought he’d left a message on Taft’s phone and had only learned it hadn’t gone through when he showed up at Taft’s door, wearing slippers and using a cane. His girlfriend had flown back solo.
“Sorry, Jesse,” Tommy had said, thrown from his usual panache.
“No problem. How are you doing?”
He’d lifted his cane to prove that he could stand without its help. “Damn nuisance, but it’s getting better. Thank you.”
“I like having them around,” Taft had told Tommy sincerely.
Carnoff’s eyes had twinkled. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Now Taft finished his task, put the vacuum away, then headed into the kitchen and the refrigerator. His mind was full of problems. He’d learned a few things recently about Mangella that had chilled his blood and he was still working out what to do about them. There was a thread that tied Mangella to Seth Keppler and it was that thread that had made him pull Mackenzie Laughlin off surveillance. He knew she felt like he’d abandoned her, but he didn’t want her anywhere near Keppler until he fully understood the link between the two men.
She’s an ex-cop. She knows the risks.
“Yeah, well . . . maybe . . .” He reached into the refrigerator and took out a beer. He wanted to work with her and wanted to protect her at the same time.
* * *
Things were winding up at the thrift shop when the bike donation came in. Emma watched the man wheel in the child’s bike as Theo was in the back room. “It’s just the right size,” she told him.
“Yeah? My daughter outgrew it. Can I get a receipt?”
Emma very carefully pulled out the pad of receipts. This was the tricky part. She had no idea what it was worth. Calculating amounts fell into the blank spot of her brain. Harley had told her it was her superpower that she couldn’t use numbers very well.
“It’s not a numbers game for you,” Harley had told her. “That’s brilliant.”
Emma was still trying to figure out what she’d meant.
Theo came out of the back room with Dummy trotting at her heels. Seeing him made Emma worry about Duchess. She’d left Ian, the skunky-smelling guy who had liked Harley, in charge because she didn’t have anyone else. But when she thought about it, it made her feel itchy all over.
Theo quickly scribbled out a receipt and handed it to the man, who folded it into his pocket and left, doffing his baseball cap to them on the way out. “‘Doffing’ is a good word,” Emma told Theo.
“He did doff his hat, didn’t he?” Theo smiled. Dummy started barking and standing on his hind legs. This is what he did whenever he got jealous of Theo’s attention being elsewhere.
“Stop it, Bartholomew,” Theo said, tsk-tsking the little dog in a teasing way. This only made Dummy bark and jump more.
“Should we tag the bike for Paige and Brianne?” asked Emma.
“Yeah, let’s. They’ve maybe come up with a different plan, but I’ll call Kendra and we’ll keep it for them just in case.”
Emma taped a RESERVED sign on the bike. She thought Paige and Brianne might be brats but their mom was frazzled and it would be good for them to have a bike. The bike that Emma had wanted had been purchased and was long gone. That was the way things went at Theo’s Thrift Shop.
Emma stayed till closing and Theo drove her to the bus stop as it had started to rain pretty hard. Emma rode the bus and thought about different things, her mind getting hung up on what Jewell had told her.
“Rayne’s friend is dead. It looks like her husband did it.”
Emma’s thoughts had immediately flown back to her own attack. It was always blurry but she knew what had happened. Her heart started thumping and she squeezed her eyes shut, even though she could still see inside her head. “I see his eyes!”
“Oh, shhh. Shhh!” Jewell had started flapping her hands and looking around. “I forgot, Emma. Stop it. You’re making a scene! Stop, stop!”
Emma had forced herself to come back from that dark place. She panted hard, sat down on a chair, and put her head between her knees like she’d been told to do whenever she got upset. Get the air moving through. A lot of the fear had passed since Jamie and Harley had moved back to River Glen and she had a family. She knew how to get herself under control before she was out of control. It was a lot better now.
“I’m sorry,” said Jewell. “I shouldn’t have told you. I just wanted you to be prepared.”
Emma’s eyes had had little tears in them, but she’d swiped them away. “You just wanted to be first to tell me.”
“Well, that’s not . . . that’s kind of . . . I’m not that way.”
Jewell was kind of that way.
The bus left Emma off and she walked back to Ridge Pointe. Bob, one of the administrators, smiled at her and asked her how her day was. Emma told him it was good. That’s all he really wanted to hear. Then she walked down to her room and got Duchess on a leash, and the two of them went for a long walk around the building three times before dinner.
As Emma stopped at the edge of the dining room, surveying the area for a table—her favorite table was already taken—she saw that “tall drink of water,” as Jewell called the man, work his way into the dining room with a cane and wearing slippers. The ladies Jewell often ate with liked him a lot and they were seated at a table near the window tonight. The man pointed the cane at their table and they all smiled and tittered as he winked at them. He liked Emma, too. More than once he’d tried to sit at a table with her, but Jewell had steered him back to the ladies’ table, so Emma had never said anything to him.
His name was Tommy and he knew one of Jewell’s friends, Maureen, best. Maureen had been at Ridge Pointe Independent and Assisted Living about as long as Emma had. They said she’d had a stroke. One of her arms didn’t work too well. She’d been Tommy’s “main squeeze” before her unfortunate stroke. Now she was happy to see him, but she was kind of a drifter, too. The rumor was that if there was room in Memory Care soon, she would probably go. Mrs. Throckmorton might be going there, too. They cared for your brain there, which was good because Maureen and Mrs. Throckmorton did not seem to be able to care for their brains on their own. Emma had to keep telling them her name.
The cat rubbed against Emma’s ankles, but her attention was on the dining room. It looked like she wanted to cross the threshold and join the diners, so Emma lifted a finger to the cat and warned, “No . . .” The cat stepped back and curled herself near the wall on the invisible line to the hallway.
The older man had the ladies laughing, but then he tipped his hat to Maureen and started to head out. He saw Emma as she claimed a small table just inside the door. He smiled at her, but Emma did not smile back because Jewell and the other ladies who liked him didn’t want her to talk to him.
“It’s just not seemly,” Jewell had told her.
“Seemly?” Emma had repeated.
“It wouldn’t be right for a man his age to talk to a girl your age.”
Emma had related this conversation to Jamie and Harley over dinner one night and Harley had choked on her glass of lemonade and said, “Aren’t you like, forty?”
Jamie said, “I think what she’s saying is that Emma is a lot younger than they are.”
“Well, she’s not a girl,” Harley sniffed.
“I think they’re jealous of me,” Emma had revealed, which had made both Jamie and Harley look at her.
“I think you’re right,” said Jamie.
So now Emma didn’t talk to the man, Tommy, unless he spoke to her first. When she did answer him, Jewell and her friends would look at her as if she’d done something wrong. It reminded Emma of some bad things from long ago, so she wished the man wouldn’t talk to her, but today he did.
“You’re looking well, Emma.”
“You doffed your hat,” she responded.
“I did, didn’t I?” he agreed, his face wrinkling into a big smile. “How’ve you been today?”
Emma glanced over and saw everyone at Jewell’s table was watching her. Everyone except Maureen, who was picking at her banana cream pie. “Are you Maureen’s boyfriend?” she asked.
“I was, mostly, until Maureen had a . . . an unfortunate health crisis.”
“She had a stroke.”
“Yes. She doesn’t really remember me anymore now. We used to go on trips together. Halfway around the world. A couple of Mediterranean cruises. Made it to Australia once.”
“That’s an ocean away.”
“It sure is. Have you ever been to Las Vegas, Emma?”
“No.”
“A lot of people call it Lost Wages and there’s a reason for that. You can lose your shirt.” He chuckled and then the smile slowly disappeared. “I can’t take Maureen with me anymore. I still go, but I go with other friends.” He glanced back at the table and Emma saw he was gazing sadly at Maureen.
“You don’t have to give me your life story,” she said soberly.
“I’m sorry if I bored you.”
“I’m not bored,” said Emma. She, too, looked again at the ladies at Jewell’s table. “They don’t like me talking to you.”
Tommy nodded. “Don’t let it stop you. I only talk to them because Maureen is with them. I’ve seen you with your dog. She’s a beauty.”
Emma frowned. “She’s a mutt.”
“I have two pugs. Maybe they can meet your dog sometime? Walk around the outside of the building here? Go to a dog park?”
Emma thought that over. “Duchess has a friend named . . . Dummy.”
“Dummy?” Tommy’s brows lifted.
“He has a dumb name.”
“Duchess is your dog?”
“She might be friends with yours. She’s friends with Dummy.”
“I’ll check back with you and maybe we can introduce them to each other sometime.”
“Okay.”
He turned and nodded to the ladies at Jewell’s table one more time before heading out. The cat batted at his foot as he went by but missed him. Emma looked at the cat, who was now gazing steadfastly into the room.
“You stay there,” Emma said to her as Jewell suddenly plopped down in the chair opposite hers.
“What did Tommy say to you?” she demanded.
Emma thought it was kind of rude of Jewell, who was always big on telling someone the rules but not so good at obeying them herself. “He said he had two pugs. Pugs are dogs.”
“I know what pugs are. Those are Maureen’s pugs. She helped him get them.” Jewell’s nostrils flared. “Did he ask you on a date?”
Emma immediately felt uncomfortable. She didn’t want to lie to Jewell, but she didn’t want to tell her that Tommy had said they would get their dogs together. “He doffed his hat,” she finally said, relieved she had some kind of answer.
“He’s a very attractive man and, I’m not saying who, but some of the women here would really like to go on a date with him. You and I both know it would be inappropriate for you to go with him, so maybe you could tell him as much. I’m not one to gossip, but he has a bit of a reputation. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, or hurt in any way.”
Emma felt her chest tighten and forced herself not to think about being hurt. Though she couldn’t feel it anymore, she knew she had a big, jagged scar on her back from a knife wound. “I don’t want to be hurt,” she agreed.
“Well, it’s just best if you keep out of Tom Carnoff’s way. He’s a regular Casanova with pretty women.”
Emma went back to her room a few minutes later. The cat followed her down the hallway and at her door, Emma held up her finger to it once more. “You stay away,” she ordered.
She didn’t want the cat sleeping with her, that was for sure. The cat cocked its head as Emma opened her door. One sharp bark from Duchess and the feline trotted away.