Angel Sleuth (6 page)

“Right. It also opened several spas here in the village.” Before anyone could interrupt, Barbara grabbed the chair, spun it around, sank into it with a weary sigh, and rushed ahead with her story. “And they went belly up soon after, but old Great Grandfather Pippel was smart. He saw it all coming and had the other partners buy him out before the businesses went south. He bided his time and finally took his money and bought IBM stock, a lot of it, when it was only pennies a share.”

“You mean…” said Kaitlin as Mary Jane called the eight and tapped the side pocket

“I mean that his son inherited it all and willed it to his son, Leda’s husband. And Leda and Robert Pippel never had children. She was a mighty wealthy woman. And now so is her nephew. Well, maybe.”

Kaitlin was spellbound by her story. In all the years she and her mother had known Leda Pippel, she appeared to be a woman who lived modestly, well within the means her small salary at the newspaper would have provided her.

Barbara crunched the last ice cube in her glass and scrutinized Kaitlin’s face. “Talking sure does make my mouth dry.” She peered into the bottom of her empty glass, then waggled her eyebrows at Kaitlin, who flew to the bar.

“She got you, right?” said Kenny.

“Huh?” said Kaitlin.

“She’s good at weaving tales, especially if the audience is as appreciative as you seem to be.”

Oh, she was appreciative all right. She knew Barbara had more to tell. And she now wondered if Leda’s wealth might have played a role in her death.

Kaitlin set the drink down in front of Barbara who took a long sip and smiled her thanks. “I was in ARC when Will showed up and confronted Dr. Baldo about Leda’s heart. They had quite a row. Dr. Will said there was nothing wrong with Leda’s heart, and Dr. Baldo told him he’d give him a copy of the autopsy report to read if he didn’t believe it.”

“Wait a minute.” Until now Mac had been listening on the sidelines. “Back up a little. You said maybe Will would be wealthy.”

“I meant maybe nephew Will’s gonna need all that money. He has some debts it seems. Gambles a bit and has borrowed from the wrong people I hear.”

“Who told you that?” asked Mary Jane. She was now attentively listening to Barbara’s story.

“Oh, folks at ARC. The people there know everything.”

Maybe not everything, decided Kaitlin. They didn’t seem to know who was stealing from them.

* * *

The next morning Kaitlin had a bit of a headache, which she attributed to the angst she was experiencing over finding out Leda Pippel was more complex than she had suspected. And there was all the beer she’d consumed too, she remembered. Perhaps a cappuccino before she tried once more to tackle the issue of a job she didn’t really want.
Or did she?

When she entered the café, she spotted Leda’s nephew Will and Dr. Baldo conversing in the corner. Obviously, they had reconciled their differences about Leda’s death. Although she told herself she was not really interested in what they were saying and she needed to be on her way, she picked up her coffee and sidled over to the table next to theirs.

“So my aunt was taking heart medication? I never knew she had any problems,” she overheard Will say.

“Yes, some. She exercised, watched her diet, and filled the prescription I wrote for her. I assume she took the pills,” said Baldo. “She hadn’t had a check-up in over a year. She said she felt fine. Well, you know how stubborn she was.”

“But there was evidence of a blow to the back of her head and significant bruising on the back and shoulders according to your report,” Will said.

“Yes, suffered when she fell.”

Will said something in a voice too soft for her to hear, but if she leaned over more, her head would be propped on their table.

“Well, hi there, sweetie.”

Wrapped up in spying on Will and Baldo, Kaitlin didn’t notice a man had approached her table. She looked up to see Hiram Blackman leaning over her chair. “Mind if I sit awhile?”

Both Will and Baldo turned their heads in Hiram’s direction, and Baldo nodded to her. Great. Now she couldn’t continue eavesdropping on their conversation.

Hiram grabbed the empty chair, spun it around, and straddled it. Probably a move he saw in some C-rated video and thought cool and sexy. Kaitlin guessed she was supposed to be impressed by the bulge this position showed in his jeans. She wasn’t.

“Long time, no see.”

Hiram hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen him. He was never a giant at conversation or at anything requiring him to engage the muscle between his ears too often.

“I heard you were back in town and was thinking of calling you. We should get together soon.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. Hiram’s version of a come-on.

“Hiram, we haven’t been together for over twenty years, and it’s obvious that neither of us missed the other. So why the sudden interest?” She couldn’t care a fig for why he was suddenly interested in her.

He shrugged his massive shoulders, threw back a head of spiky yellow hair, and produced what passed for a laugh, sounding like a braying donkey.

He had been Kaitlin’s boyfriend in high school, the heartthrob of most of the girls, and a star athlete. But times change. As they did for Hiram. She heard he was running a welding shop in a rundown garage at the edge of town. Rumor suggested he used his hands more in lifting a brew to his lips than he did applying an acetylene torch to metal.

She put the top on her untouched cappuccino and grabbed her backpack from the floor.

“Hey, not so fast. I heard that thing with what’s-his-name didn’t work out and that you’re free.”

As she stood to leave, he reached up and grabbed her arm. She let her eyes travel from his face to his hand and back and leveled her best cold look at him.

“That ‘thing’ you referred to was my marriage and ‘what’s-his-name’ was my husband Zack, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hey, now, Baby. Don’t get so uptight.”

“Remember what happened the last time you grabbed my arm? Or should I remind you?” He lowered his hands to his lap, and Kaitlin knew there was no need to jog his memory.

“Ah, Kaitlin, that was a long time ago. We were just kids. Let’s just forget the past and start again.”

“Right, but somehow the image of you humping my best friend in the front seat of
my
car the night of the junior prom you took
me
to is burned in my memory.”

And for good reason. On prom night her best friend admitted to her that Hiram was borrowing her car, not to get to his part-time job as he told when he begged her for it, but to use as a bedroom on wheels. So, Kaitlin returned the corsage he bought her. She pinned it to his crotch.

Kaitlin could tell her words had transported Hiram back to prom night, and he was remembering his trip to Dr. Baldo’s office in the wee hours of that morning. A look of sadness mixed with something akin to fear crossed his face, followed by the spread of a red flush up his throat and onto his cheeks.

She shoved around him.
Good. That got him in line.
But he jumped out of his chair and followed her, and as they passed Jameson and Baldo, she saw Baldo drop his eyes as if he didn’t want to catch Hiram’s attention and draw him over to their table. Hiram didn’t acknowledge Baldo’s presence. Instead Kaitlin heard him right behind her.

“Hey! I suppose you think you’re too good for me,” he said. Now he was drawing the attention of the café customers. She pushed through the door and onto the pavement where she spun around to face him.

“I was always too good for you. All of the girls in high school and all of the women since then who have had anything to do with you have been too good for you. Leave me alone.”

“Well, you may have that snooty education and all, but I’ve got something better. I’m gonna get me a home in the Bahamas soon. Retire and do a lot of sailing.”

She started down the sidewalk, trying to distance herself from him, but his legs were longer, and he remained near, his hot breath hitting the back of her neck and sending waves of disgust down her spine. She gave up and whirled around.

“You don’t know how to sail. And where would you possibly get money for a house in the Bahamas?” She tried jogging away, hoping she was in minimally better shape than he.

“I’m a businessman, you know. And a good one, too. You just don’t know.” She could hear him puffing after her, but falling behind.

“Go away.” She ran up the walk toward the newspaper office.

Once inside, Kaitlin slammed the door and leaned against it. Brittany looked at her in surprise, then peered around her through the glass door.

“Oh, oh. Hiram Blackman, I see. That’s enough to put any girl off her oats.”

“Oh, God, I detest that man. Why I ever thought he was sexy, I don’t know.”

“At one time or another, we all thought he was sexy. One date later, we wised up.”

“It took me more than one.”

“You were young then. Oh, I’ve got a few messages for you.”

“People are leaving messages here for me?”

“Well, yeah. You are our most famous employee, you know. There’s going to be a great bio of you in this week’s newspaper and the announcement you’re taking over Leda’s position.”

“You’ve got to stop Delbert from publishing that.”

“Can’t. It’s been sent to our press already. Don’t be so humble. People will be thrilled to know that an author of your caliber is writing for their local paper.”

Now her head really hurt. There was no way to back out of this job it seemed, unless she wanted to make a fool out of herself and embarrass the hell out of the newspaper.

Her heart delivered a final thud of acceptance. “So what are the messages?”

“Your agent called to remind you of your deadline…”

“She knows I’m writing here?”

“Sure. Delbert had to call her for information about you.”

“Do you have any Tylenol?”

“Here.” Brittany extracted a bottle from her desk drawer. “And your mother stopped by. She looks younger every time I see her.”

“She has a plastic surgeon on retainer, I think.”

“The Director of ARC wants you to call him.”

She’d never met the man, but, after the letters alluding to theft at the facility, she was mildly curious about his call. She slipped into what was now her office and dialed. She was shocked to hear what Director Toliver wanted of her.

“I know this is presumptuous of me, but I’d like to ask you a favor. Because of Leda’s passing, we’ve lost our long-term care ombudsman here. Of course, the County Office for Aging will appoint another sooner or later, but I thought you might be willing to fill in until that happens. You’re taking Leda’s position as advice columnist, and you have a degree in counseling. You’d be perfect.” His voice shook, making him sound tense, and he cleared his throat frequently. Annoying.

“Mr. Toliver, I don’t have the training for the position,” Kaitlin said.

“Well, I know, but the Office for Aging said they’d be happy to give you a quick run-through of what was needed. It would only take a few hours of your time and only one night or so a week here for the work. What do you say? It would be a help to me.” His tone lacked enthusiasm, and she thought that might let her off the hook. She guessed he was just making the offer because he couldn’t think of anyone else and she came to mind because she was replacing Leda at the paper.

“Well, thanks for thinking of me, but I…”

“You’ve got to help us! The state requires an ombudsman.”

She pulled the receiver away from her ear.

“You’re yelling, Mr. Toliver.”

“So sorry, I’m just excited to have you with us. I mean, the residents would love to have you here. Many of them remember you and your mother from when you were a little girl.”

“Okay, you’re on, but only until you get a new full-time ombudsman.”

* * *

Kaitlin looked up when Brittany rapped on the door casing and beckoned her into the office. She explained the reason behind Toliver’s call.

“Why did I say yes to that man? He was unpleasant on the phone and didn’t really sound as if he wanted me, but felt obligated to ask. Everybody seems to assume I’m Leda’s clone.”

“I don’t. I think you’re going to make a unique contribution to this paper. And, as for Mr. Toliver, the residents at ARC say he’s an efficient administrator, but no one seems to warm up to him. Leda didn’t have much good to say about him.”

A unique contribution? Brittany’s words lifted her spirits for a moment and then the mention of Leda’s name plunged her into a funk once more. She’d heard too much of what the deceased advice columnist felt, or did, or knew. Kaitlin felt as if she were being constantly compared to Leda.

“Oops,” said Brittany, “Sorry. That Leda reference again. So why not schedule a visit, take Toliver’s tour of the place, and decide for yourself? Make it your thing to do or not. You might like it.”

Brittany was right. Kaitlin had to have a life, after all. She didn’t play bridge or knit or take part in a quilting club. What did she do as a hobby or for fun? Oh, right, she was learning to play pool. But ombudsman? It was like a form of community service. It might round out her life. Besides, a little voice in the back of her skull said she’d have the opportunity to see for herself what those letters meant about thefts.

Brittany threw a packet of envelopes onto the desk, jerking her out of her reverie. “Mail call.”

“All of these are for me, already?”

“Some are still addressed to you-know-who, but most are yours. See? Already people are eager to get your advice.” Brittany turned with a wriggle of her fingers and walked out of the room. “Got to open my mail, my mail that’s addressed to the newspaper or Delbert, or to dear sir or madam, or to whom it may concern, anything but a personal ‘Dear Brittany’.”

“Okay, you made your point.”

Brittany smiled and closed the door, leaving Kaitlin chagrined at her earlier selfishness.

Only two of the letters opened with “Dear Leda.” Brittany was right. She was about to yell out to Brittany an apology for being so childish when she noticed that one of the letters felt heavier than the others. As she slit open the envelope she wondered, another letter from ARC with information about the thefts there? It was a note from one of her high school friends, Tom Slanski.