Arson Takes a Dare: The Third Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 3) (4 page)

“She had black hair down to her ass—” Glancing at Althea, Flora May grimaced. “—I mean, her behind, and huge brown eyes in a pretty face.”

Althea sighed. “Mayla was the face of tragedy, at least until the media found something else more exciting.”

“Everyone thought the girl would become famous. They said that when Mayla played the piano, it was as if she plucked people’s emotions with her fingers on the piano keys.” Starla’s gentle eyes filled with tears.

Rolling her eyes, Flora May put her arm around her smaller friend. “Starla, that girl’s been dead a long time. Save your tears for the living. They’re the ones who need it.”

Starla leaned in her friend’s arm and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “She was my babysitter. I was too young to remember it, but my mother said Mayla did a good job. What happened was just an accident.” She allowed Flora May to guide her to the suite’s door.

Flora May stopped in surprise. She stared down at her little friend.

“Accident?” Althea’s thin eyebrows rose in her catlike face. “What do you mean, Starla?”

The petite nursing assistant shrugged. “My mom said I wandered out in the road while Mayla was watching me. A neighbor stopped, scooped me up, and carried me inside. The neighbor told my mom that Mayla was snoozing on the couch. My mother was horrified.”

Flora May frowned. “I’d have been more than horrified. I’d have ripped that girl a new one and fired her pretty ass.”

“Mom said she was mad, but Mayla told her she’d been up all night practicing for a show at school. She promised it would never happen again.”

“I have better things to do than talk about a dead kid.” Flora May grabbed Starla’s thin arm. “We’ll leave you alone to get settled, Mrs. Flaxton.” 

Starla elbowed Flora May.

The taller woman’s face twisted under the tower of dark hair. “Oh, we do have something to say. Mrs. Flaxton, Starla and I worked at the Home Away From Home nursing facility, and then we worked at the assisted living center.”

“I know.” Althea wondered about Starla’s elbow in Flora May’s ribs. “I was a resident at both locations.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve gotten to know you over the months. You’re a smart and brave lady.” She pulled away from Starla to plant her work-roughened hands on her wide hips. “But you were wrong to use Marisa Adair’s story in your books.”

“Flora May’s right, Mrs. Flaxton. Please don’t use us in your books. My mother doesn’t want her association with the nursing home made public. It was years ago, and she just wants to forget it.” She glanced at Flora May. “And my friend is very happy with her boyfriend, Henry Worthington. Please don’t destroy our lives like you did Marisa’s life.”

Althea’s mouth fell open as the two women pulled the door shut after them.

Clay put his arm around Althea’s shoulders.

Althea straightened her spine. “Clay, I started out as an obscure self-published author. I sold a handful of books a month. I felt safe using the details of Marisa’s life in my books. Fame, let alone fortune, never crossed my mind. I was convinced my work as Seretha Ranier would molder in obscurity. And I thought if Marisa did find out I had written about her childhood, I’d simply offer her my apologies.”

“Althea, are you saying you’d rather ask forgiveness than permission? That action without honor is permissible as long as you don’t get caught? Or if you’re found out, then all you have to do is to say you’re sorry?” Sadly shaking his head, Clay walked to the door. The lines in his face deepened and his shoulders slumped. “Are you really that person?”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Althea threw herself onto the couch and wept.

As dance music filled the conference room at work, Marisa’s head snapped up in surprise. At the doorway, a long, shapely leg swung back and forth in time with the music. The blue spike heel seemed to punctuate the beat of the music.

At the long table, Marisa’s best friend, Tara, the trauma hospital’s Marketing Director, elbowed Marisa in the side. “What the hell?”

As the music continued, the woman danced across the conference room, her state-of-the-art phone held aloft in one hand. The slim lines of her figure were emphasized by the pencil-straight sapphire skirt and skin-tight blue sweater. Where the short skirt stopped, her long, golden-brown legs flashed as she executed a leaping pirouette. Her spike heels were exclamation points at her trim ankles. 

Marisa met Tara’s bewildered green gaze and snarled. She turned to the newcomer. “Elizabeth Furlong, our interim Chief Financial Officer, I should have guessed it was you. Who else would enter a management team meeting with a dance number?” She glared around the conference table. The management team members’ reactions were twofold. Most of the male eyes avidly followed her every move. The female eyes rolled in disgust.

It’s the new millennium,
Marisa mused.
But by these men’s reactions, you’d think it was the nineteen fifties. Women like Elizabeth Furlong promote the outmoded stereotypes. No wonder women continue to earn less than men.
She repressed a groan.
 

Elizabeth was as beautiful as a model. All six feet of her was gorgeous and elegant. She was also smart and savvy. She had graduated at the top of her ivy-league college with a degree in finance. In the fifteen years since, she had built an impressive resume in finance. Now, Elizabeth was at loose ends after her last employer had been acquired by a global company with its own finance department. Marisa knew Alex felt lucky to have found her.

Marisa didn’t feel as fortunate. When she sighed, Tara turned to her and whispered. “What’s wrong, Marisa?”

Elizabeth touched her phone. The music stopped. As if they had a strong will of their own, her disproportionately large breasts jiggled in the scooped top as she slid the phone in her skirt pocket. She smiled. “I should be on the television show
Prancing with the Stars
.”

Alex skidded into the conference room. “Sorry I’m late.” He dropped his open computer on the gleaming tabletop and fell into the chair.

As if her impromptu dance had never happened, Elizabeth Furlong purred. “I’ll start the meeting with my information. Alex, it’ll take me a moment to load it.” Her dark hair swinging at her jaw and shoulder in asymmetrical wings, Elizabeth Furlong glided to the podium at the front of the room.

Alex glanced up from his computer. “I’ll read and answer emails while you get your presentation ready, Elizabeth.” He bent his dark head over the computer.

Elizabeth fished a flash drive from her skirt pocket and inserted it in the conference room computer.

Marisa’s gaze drifted to Alex. He was intent on his open laptop, his strong fingers flying over the keys. Against the pristine white of his shirt, his tan was exotic under the fluorescent lights.
I know what he looks like under that conservative navy suit,
she thought.
Well, not everything under his clothes. I’ve seen him in a snug t-shirt, his muscles rippling, and shorts, his legs tanned and manly. Whew, is it getting warm in here or is it me?
She fanned her heated face with her hand.

At the front of the conference room, Elizabeth laughed. One fall of hair tickled her ear and the other, longer fall brushed her sapphire-jacketed shoulder. “Poor Marisa. Are you having hot flashes?”

Marisa stopped in mid-fan. “Excuse me?”

“At your age, you must be in menopause.” At the podium, Elizabeth bent her head over the computer, her hair falling forward. She minimized the PowerPoint presentation. Her fingers flew on the keys. “Symptoms of Menopause” appeared on the large screen.

“Along with hot flashes, you definitely have the other symptoms.” Elizabeth used her fingers to tick off her points. “Stubborn weight gain in the stomach. Fatigue.
Bags under the eyes.” Her full lips curved into a vicious smile. “This one is not as obvious. Do you have low libido, Marisa?”

Director of Nursing Tom Cordon, his pale face and thin neck flushed and his bright red hair standing straight up in a rooster-like brush, was seated across from Marisa and Tara. He turned to Carlos Santana. He and the Maintenance Director exchanged bewildered glances. As if on a string, their heads turned in tandem to the interim finance manager. “Elizabeth, what are you doing? I thought—”

“—the next item on our agenda is my financial review of Marisa Adair’s little idea for the hospital.” Elizabeth cut across his words and deftly minimized the menopause information.

Alex looked up from his computer. “Great, Elizabeth, you’re ready.”

The conference room door smashed inward and bounced off the wall. “Oops. Sorry about the door and sorry I’m late for the meeting.” Vickie Miller shoved at the door. She abruptly staggered after it. “Oh, my sleeve is caught on the doorknob.” Her auburn hair straggled from its messy bun at the back of her head as she struggled to free herself.

Jerry Holt, the Continuous Quality Improvement Director, started to rise from his seat at the table.

Vickie pivoted in the direction of the movement. “No, I’m fine.” Finally free, Vickie closed the door and dashed toward the empty chair next to Tara. Vickie’s toe caught on the electrical cord leading to the podium. “Aaahhhh!”

Tara deftly spun the vacant chair 180 degrees.

Vickie fell into the chair. Her tablet landed on the conference table behind her.

Tara twirled the chair, leaving Vickie facing the table.  

“If Vickie is finished with her impromptu ballet across the conference room, shall we get started?” Wielding a laser pointer like a light saber and seeming to forget her own dance moves just moments before, Elizabeth smiled. Her teeth were perfect and white. Her pale blue eyes shone as she glanced at Alex. Her face, as sweet and brown as a molasses cookie, crinkled engagingly. “We’re here to discuss Marisa’s proposal.”

When Alex smiled encouragingly at Elizabeth, his own temporary replacement, Marisa gritted her teeth. She knew Alex needed an experienced professional to fill his place as Chief Financial Officer, since he now functioned as the interim Chief Executive Officer.
But does it have to be Elizabeth?

“This chart shows the budget dollars associated with Marisa’s department,” Elizabeth said. “Unfortunately, her department sucks up our hospital resources and doesn’t generate revenue—”

Tom and Carlos made twin tut-tutting sounds and sadly shook their heads.

Marisa narrowed her eyes.
What the hell? Are they Elizabeth’s Greek chorus?

Elizabeth used the remote to advance to the next slide. “This is my evaluation of Marisa’s proposal to build an online system to charge banks and financial institutions for information on our employees.”

Marisa winced.
Our employees? Does Elizabeth think Alex is going to hire her as the permanent CFO if he gets offered the CEO job?

“While her proposal was very difficult to read due to the grammatical errors, I completed an objective evaluation.” Elizabeth clicked the remote. “Unfortunately, Marisa’s idea is not financially viable. Banks and financial institutions won’t pay for information on our employees.”

Allowing Elizabeth’s words to drone in the background like annoying bees, Marisa frowned.
And what if Alex gets the job as the Chief Executive Officer? We can’t conduct a personal relationship if he’s my boss. Can we?

Marisa jumped when Tara kicked her under the conference table. “Ow!”

Tara whispered furiously. “Pay attention. Elizabeth is trashing your brain child.” She jerked her head at the projection screen, sending her blonde curls tumbling around her china-doll face.

Bending to surreptitiously rub her throbbing ankle, Marisa focused on the screen. Her eyes widening, she forgot about her ankle. “Elizabeth, your bright red editorial corrections make it almost impossible to read. I only asked you to assess its financial viability.” She squinted. “And even with the red slashes, I can see some of that text isn’t mine. I know how to put together complete sentences.”

Elizabeth’s full mouth curved. The smile didn’t reach her light blue eyes. “This is what I received in my email, Marisa. Perhaps next time you’ll read over your… work… before sending it to your superiors.”

Marisa’s fingers curled on the table in front of her. “I—”

“Alex, Marisa’s little idea is cute.” Tom rose from his chair and braced his square hands on the conference table. “But it’s nothing more than a delusional daydream.” He stood up straight and adjusted his tie, a bright slash of blue against his white dress shirt. His avid eyes rested on Elizabeth as he ran one hand through his hair, tousling the shocking red spikes. “Elizabeth is absolutely correct.”

“I agree.” Carlos chimed in, the lines deepening at the corners of his dark brown eyes and around his thin mouth. The Maintenance Director tugged at his tie, like it was tied too tightly around his thick neck. He fidgeted, his round stomach bumping the table. “Elizabeth is right.”

At the head of the table, Alex raised one hand. His face was smooth and professional. His navy eyes were unreadable. “Tom, Marisa stayed all night helping you prepare for the last Joint Commission Accreditation visit. Because of your lack of organization and planning, you were panicking. She graciously helped you prepare for the visit, even though you’d had three years to get ready.”

Alex turned to Carlos. “And you, Carlos. A few months ago, Marisa and her friends saved you from the bulldozer-like advances of Teresa Root. She was your administrative assistant, but she saw her role as more personal than the tasks on her job description. Teresa had already worked her way through the employees of your maintenance department. You were the only… frontier left for her to conquer.”

Carlos choked.

Alex raised his hand. “I’m not finished. Teresa claimed she got hurt on the job. In reality, she got injured when she was humping one of your maintenance workers, on hospital time and on hospital property. Marisa saved your department thousands of dollars when she unmasked Teresa’s fraudulent attempt to get workers compensation. She was there to witness the supposedly injured Teresa chasing you through a restaurant.”

“Alex is right. Marisa saved both your asses.” Tara forced the words past clenched teeth. “And now, you’re shooting down her great idea.”

Marisa spread her hands. “We’re professionals. If you don’t like the proposal, Tom and Carlos, it’s fine. Just tell us all why you’re opposed to the idea.”

“Marisa’s right.” Tara straightened in her chair and tossed back her golden curls. “Tom and Carlos, tell us your reasons.” She smiled, her green eyes darting to Elizabeth. “In detail, please, and without any help.” She glared.

Tom clenched his fists in anger. Carlos’ dark face reddened under his white hair. They both turned to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was exasperated. “It’s simply not a good idea.” 

Alex raised his eyebrows.

“My gut says it’s a mistake.” Elizabeth avoided his eyes.

Andrea Tartin laughed and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “We don’t make management decisions based on our guts, Elizabeth. We’re objective. We evaluate the facts.” The Rehab Services Director leaned back in her chair. “I’m in favor of the idea. Tara and I are two yeas against Tom and Carlos’ nays.”

The conference room door inched open. Brandon Proctor, the lanky customer service director, stared around the room. His eyes fell on Alex. “Sorry, Alex. May I see you for a moment?” Brandon’s usual uniform of white shirt and kakis were perfectly laundered and pressed. Sketching along the edges of both jaws, the charcoal line of precisely trimmed stubble converged at the cleft in his chin. His golden brown skin caught the rays of sunlight streaming across the lobby.

Alex frowned as he clicked his laptop shut. He rose from his seat and followed Brandon into the hall.

“Andrea.” Elizabeth’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I didn’t get the chance earlier to tell you. I am so sorry one of your former employees posted a rant about you through her Phiz Phase account. How unfortunate she chose a picture of a badger to depict you on her Phase Page. Did you know a badger uses her teeth, claws, and smell to fight her enemies?”

Andrea drew a deep breath in outrage. Her eyes narrowed as she started to rise.

Tara handed Andrea her phone and pointed at the screen. Her green eyes shone as Tara smiled at Elizabeth. Like a small bobcat zeroing in on her prey, she pounced. “If I were you, Elizabeth, I’d be on the lookout for people posting pictures of snakes on their pages.”

Andrea relaxed in her chair. She held up Tara’s phone for the others to see. “Badgers kill snakes, Elizabeth.”

Tara laughed. “We may soon see country-fried
snake
on the cafeteria menu.”

Elizabeth’s face and neck flushed blood-red and her hands clenched as everyone except Tom and Carlos laughed.

Alex entered the conference room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Sorry about that.” He took his seat at the table.