A Denial of Death (3 page)

It wasn't like Helen had anything else that urgent to do this week. The world would probably be a better place if she did
not
make another chemo cap. "I'll think about it and let you know when I bring in my next chemo cap."

The two women exchanged a glance before Betty said, "We were sort of hoping you'd do the investigating
instead
of crocheting."

Helen emerged from the nursing home’s barely adequate air conditioning, into the stifling heat, to find the Papa Bear vehicle she'd arrived in rolling to a stop in front of her. She didn't how Jack did it, but he could appear completely immersed in a game on his smartphone, oblivious to the world, and then, before she herself knew she was ready to leave, he'd be putting the car into gear to pick her up.

Jack had the ridiculous stepladder set up next to the front passenger door by the time she'd reached the bottom of the nursing home's stairs. She knew he would have preferred her to sit in the rear, the way a proper passenger would do, but he also preferred to work for her rather than the limo company, so he didn't complain. At least not to her. He was as much of a gossip as Betty and Josie, which sometimes came in handy. Unlike Helen, Jack had lived in Wharton all his life, so he was related to half the residents, knew the other half, and could fill her in on all the secrets of Wharton.

"Back to the cottage, Ms. Binney?"

"For now." Helen struggled up the stepladder, which, like crocheting, promised
not
to get any easier for her with practice. She waited until they'd left the nursing home's grounds before asking, "Do you know Ralph and Angie Decker?"

"Everyone in town knows them," Jack said. "Ralph's an insurance agent. Sells all sorts of policies, but he's known for his expertise with life insurance. You aren't fretting about people trying to kill you again, are you?"

"No, of course not." But getting a quote on life insurance might be a good cover story if she decided to look into Angie's purported disappearance. "I was just thinking it never hurts to be prepared. What else do you know about the Deckers?"

"Ralph is the nicest guy," Jack said. "Women all think he's good looking, but he doesn't let it go to his head. Everyone likes him."

"What about his wife?"

"She gets under people's skin." Jack checked for traffic before moving into the left lane to turn onto Helen's street. "She's always been a traditional sort of homemaker, even though they don't have kids. She's completely dependent on Ralph, and yet she has to be in charge, and she thinks she knows everything. Like, she never learned to drive, never so much as applied for a driver's license, but she's the absolutely most intrusive backseat driver I've ever met, expecting to be obeyed as if she were a licensed driving instructor. I only drove her once when I worked for the limo company, and that was enough." 

"What did you do to get even?"

"Nothing," Jack said defensively. "It was back before I started taking revenge on my rotten passengers. I probably wouldn't have done anything anyway, out of respect for Ralph. It wasn't his fault she was a jerk, and he did tip really well to make up for it. If anyone could tempt me back into old habits, though, it would be Angie."

"You promised you'd stay out of trouble with the law."

"I will, Ms. Binney. I've completely given up my criminal past. I'm too busy making my clay figures, anyway."

"I'm glad you've found something to keep you out of trouble," Helen said, convinced he had, indeed, kicked his retaliatory, petty-mischief habit.

She envied him his new passion. She'd tried a few different hobbies herself, looking for a distraction from her lupus flare-ups, but she hadn't found anything that really appealed to her. With each failure her frustration had grown. Everyone else seemed to find their creative passion without any false starts.

Take Jack, for example. He'd quickly established a name for himself, making clay avatars inspired by his clientele's gaming avatars. It was the perfect hobby for him—he was as good with a pottery wheel as he was with a steering wheel, there were no back-seat drivers to deal with, and he could draw on his knowledge of computer games to design the little figures. In another year or two, he might be too busy to drive her, even for the few hours a week she left her little cottage in the woods.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from your other work."

"I don't mind, Ms. Binney," he said. "I could take you to Ralph's insurance agency now, if you'd like. I put a batch of figures into the kiln this morning, and it'll be tomorrow before I can unload them. They're prototypes for a new line I'm offering, and I want to see how the first ones come out before I start any more like them."

"I don't have time for a detour today. Rebecca rescheduled her morning visit to this afternoon. If I'm not there, she'll report it to my nieces, and they'll worry," Helen said. "Once you drop me off at the cottage, you can return this vehicle to the lot. I really don't think it's right for me."

"Are you sure?" Jack's voice reflected his disappointment as he glanced at the onboard infotainment system. It must have lived up to the hype.

"I'm sure." It was going to be her car, after all. She didn't want to make his job harder, but he could always bring a laptop if he needed more gaming options than his smartphone provided. "I understand this particular model gets really poor mileage."

"I'll see what else Ed has that might suit you and bring it by for you to test ride tomorrow."

Part of her wanted to insist on having more input into the choice of her very first car. She couldn't just ignore Jack's advice, though. He knew a great deal more about cars than she did. All she had to do was keep trying out the different vehicles he recommended until she found the one that was just right.

"Let's aim for something a bit smaller," Helen said. "Something that doesn't require a ladder for me to get into it."

*  *  *

The SUV glided over the ruts in Helen's long, gravel driveway, but at least Jack refrained from saying "I told you so." The cottage was set back several hundred yards from the road, in the middle of a clearing in otherwise wooded acreage. She loved the privacy, although it sometimes worked against her. She could never see who was lurking in her driveway until it was too late to turn around.

This afternoon, there were two cars parked between the cottage and the detached garage. One belonged to Tate—his first name was Ambrose, but no one had called him by anything other than his last name since his first day in kindergarten when he'd refused to respond to anything else—a retired lawyer who rented the garage for use as a woodworking studio. Helen didn't mind his presence. In fact, she ought to talk to him before she made a decision about investigating Angie's disappearance. He had twenty-five years' experience with criminal defense work and was her best source of information on both criminal and anti-criminal behavior. He would know how the professionals went about investigating a missing person, and maybe she could use some of their tactics to find Angie. Assuming the woman wasn't safely at home, blissfully unaware of Betty's and Josie's worries.

Before she could talk to Tate, Helen had to deal with the owner of the other vehicle waiting for her: Rebecca Grainger. Her visiting nurse.

Helen rushed to get out of the huge SUV and down the stepladder before Rebecca could come over and help. The only time the shy young woman ever developed a backbone was when she thought her patient might hurt herself, and then she was implacable in foisting her assistance, wanted or not, on the hapless patient.

It was a close race, but Helen was on the ground, her cane in hand, before the nurse could interfere. Once Rebecca saw her patient was stable, she leaned against the SUV to catch her breath. She was a short, redheaded woman, and despite being in her mid-twenties, her forehead was already etched with permanent worry lines.

"Let's get this over with." Helen grabbed her yarn bag and followed the path leading to her front door. The increased pain in her hip confirmed that climbing that horrible stepladder on a regular basis would not be a good idea. "You can check my blood pressure, I'll tell you I feel fine, and then we're done for the day."

"You're limping more than usual," Rebecca said with a faintly accusing tone. "Did you fall again?"

"I've been climbing ladders." As she spoke, Helen could hear the oversized SUV leaving. "I'm not planning to do it ever again. It was a one-time experiment."

"All right," Rebecca said uncertainly. "Why don't you rest in the recliner for a few minutes, and then I'll take your blood pressure."

Helen considered it while she unlocked the front door and let them both inside. It was almost time for Tate to leave for the day, and she was hoping to speak to him before he left. She didn't have time for Rebecca's fussing. "I don't need to rest. Go ahead and cuff me. My blood pressure is fine. Or it was before you started fussing over me."

"The numbers are likely to be high right now, just from getting out of the SUV and walking to the cottage," Rebecca said. "But if you want to risk it, we can."

If the blood pressure reading was high, then Rebecca would need to come back tomorrow to test it again. Catching Tate before he left for the day wasn't worth an extra nurse's visit. "No, we can wait a few minutes."

"Good." Rebecca pulled her laptop out of its case and set it up on the island that separated the kitchen from the living area of the great room. "That will give us time to talk about getting you a monitored alert system."

"I am not getting an electronic leash," Helen said. "I've got my cell phone, I've got Tate practically living in the garage, and I've got Jack beside me whenever I go out."

"You shouldn't think of it as a leash," Rebecca said earnestly, the worry wrinkles on her forehead deepening. "It's more of a security blanket. Or a teddy bear. Everyone loves teddy bears."

"My favorite stuffed animal when I was a child was a hedgehog. With sharp bristles."

Rebecca was only deterred briefly. She'd learned Helen's soft spot and wasn't afraid to use it. "Then think of it as a teddy bear for your nieces. They asked me to discuss the monitor with you. They worry about you, and they'd feel better if you had a monitored system that worked here and wherever you travel. Laura, in particular, is hoping you'll come visit her and her future children, and she'll worry about you while you're on the road."

"It's not like I'd be going halfway across the planet or to some undeveloped country. Laura only lives about two hours away, and most of the trip is on the highway, not some little back roads."

"All they ask is that you try it," Rebecca said. "I've got brochures from some reliable companies. We can review them together to see which one you think would provide the most, um, hedgehog-like comfort for you and teddy bear comfort for your nieces. Then we'll sign you up for a trial period, and you won't have to do anything else except carry it with you. I'll provide the monitoring company with the basic medical information a first-responder would need, in case you ever do need help."

"Just leave the information there on the counter. I'll look at it later," Helen said, aware the clock was creeping closer to 5:00 when Tate would evade her interrogation. "I'm ready for my blood pressure check now."

"It's only been three minutes," Rebecca said uncertainly, "and you look a little agitated."

"I wouldn't be agitated if you'd hurry up and take my blood pressure."

"Two more minutes." Rebecca signaled her determination to wait by concentrating on her laptop and typing in her notes from the visit.

Helen closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. The sooner she settled down, the sooner she could get this over with and go do what she really wanted to do: take her annoyance out on Tate. He hated having his woodworking interrupted every bit as much as she hated having her life interrupted by her lupus. Pestering him was the most fun she ever got to have these days.

*  *  *

Helen managed to shoo Rebecca out the door a few minutes before 5:00, but it was too late to corner Tate in his studio. He'd already left for the day. She'd have to wait until morning to grill him.

After dinner Helen went online to look for cars she might like. She quickly confirmed the huge SUV from yesterday had the poor mileage that Martha Waddell had warned her about. Trying to narrow down her options wasn't as easy, with the overwhelming number of choices the internet offered her. Did she want a car or an SUV? Big, medium or small? Gas, diesel or electric? Basic or luxury?

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Jack was eager to help her choose. She wasn't in any rush to buy a car after all, and he would enjoy test-driving every single vehicle on his cousin's lot if that was what it took to find the right one for her.

Helen sent him a text to arrange a surprise visit to the Deckers the next day to see if Angie was really missing. She could pester Tate for his advice before the car arrived. Jack texted back a few minutes later, agreeing to pick her up a little before noon with a new vehicle to test-ride.

The next morning, Helen was waiting at her front window when Tate arrived at 10:00, the usual start to his time in the studio. She knew he'd grumble a bit about having to give legal advice when he was retired, but he had agreed to give her the occasional bit of legal advice in return for the use of her garage as his woodworking studio.

By the time Helen got out to the studio, Tate was already bent over his workbench, ear protection in place and the lathe running. He was tall and lean, about five years older than Helen, and as anti-social as she was. Or maybe, she thought, he was only grouchy with her. She'd seen him interact with the staff at the county courthouse once, as skillfully as her ex-husband worked the crowds at fundraisers. Tate had chatted with everyone from the janitor to the clerk-magistrate. He hadn't told any of
them
that they were wasting his time. He saved that accusation for her, even on those occasions when she'd been paying him an outrageous amount of money for his time.