Gracie's Game: Sudden Anger, Accidentally on Purpose (39 page)

"You
do
remember that I don't have control over the money I inherited," Gracie wanted to make this clear from the beginning.

"Oh, honey, why would you think I'd ask
you
for money?"

"What else could it be?" Gracie mouthed the words silently.

"Nah, you gotta come take me to the bank, that's all," Jeanine said.

Gracie eyed the phone questioningly. "Why do you need to go to the bank?"

"I just gotta get me some cash out," Jeanine replied. "That's all."

"So why don't you just go to an ATM?"

"Cain't," was the succinct answer, even if it didn't explain anything.

"Why not? What's going on, Aunt Jeanine?" Gracie asked with some exasperation. Getting information from Jeanine was like pulling teeth; she could never manage to explain clearly, making you guess at half of the situation. "You're not in some kind of trouble with the bank, are you?"

"Hell, no!" Jeanine insisted. "I just cain't get there; you gotta take me."

Gracie sighed loudly. "
Why
can't you get there? Isn't there an ATM at the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment?"

"Yeah, but I busted my ankle and cain't walk. I told you that! Happened two, three weeks ago," Jeanine explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Aunt Jeanine!" Gracie said with real sympathy. "But you didn't tell me that; I tried to call you in September but your cell phone service was shut off." She looked more closely at the caller ID display. "Lookee here, you've gotten a new number. I'll have to add it to my address book," she said in a tone at once syrupy and derisive.

"Yeah, they charged me for minutes I didn't use and sent me this huge bill and I couldn't pay it," Jeanine declared. "But since I'm cooped up in this little place I
had
to have a phone or I'd go crazy and start talkin' to myself. Besides, since it happened at work they're paying me for my time off."

Gracie was pretty sure her aunt hadn't bothered to read the contract and had run up the bill out of stupidity, but she knew it wouldn't do any good to suggest that. "Did you have an accident at work and break your ankle?"

"You
sure
I didn't tell you all about it? Well, anyway, this guy comes into the store and buys a gallon of antifreeze. Then he goes out to his car – he was parked right in front of the store – pops the hood and proceeds to pour it in his car. Except that he didn't have a spout or nothin' so it just went everywhere." Jeanine stopped speaking as if that explained everything.

"And you walked out and stepped in it and fell," Gracie hazarded a guess. "How does that make it the store's fault?"

"It
was
!" Jeanine insisted. "See, someone reported it and they sent Greg out to clean it up but all he did was hit it with the garden hose and didn't do a very good job. That stuff's slicker than pink-frosted dog shit!"

"I see," Gracie said, mentally picturing her large and ungraceful aunt landing on her keister; it was not a pretty image. Doubtless the woman hadn't been paying attention and had stepped into the middle of the puddle. "I'm really sorry, Aunt Jeanine. I guess Kelly and I could come over and take you to the ATM."

Kelly looked up from his homework upon hearing his name, and began making frantic negative gestures.

"Not the ATM, I gotta go to the
bank
," Jeanine insisted.

Gracie suppressed the urge to sigh loudly. She took a deep breath to calm herself before asking "Why the bank? Do you need to pay bills there?"

"Cain't go to the ATM no more," her aunt replied. "Last time I was there I was so flustered on account of the check hadn't hit yet that I forgot to shut off that damned screen and some asshole took $200 outta my account. Least that's what that smart-ass girl at the bank says;
I
think they just made some kind of error and won't admit it."

Gracie slapped her forehead and shook her head in disbelief. She'd have thought even Aunt Jeanine had the sense to log-out of an ATM before walking off. Of course the next person that walked up had drained the account dry; and frankly, she was surprised there was $200 there to
take
. "I could use the break from homework; I'll be there in 20 minutes."

"Good," Jeanine said, and hung up. She never had learned how to say 'please' and 'thank you'.

Chapter 33

At school the next morning everything seemed back to normal. Gracie kept an ear open for mention of Mrs. Lane and/or the party, but heard nothing except the usual petty gossip. There was a substitute teaching her class, though presumably a permanent teacher would take over at some point. This being only the sub's second day there hadn't been time yet to evaluate him; probably the poor guy was going extra-easy on the classes out of sympathy for the students. Maybe he thought if they liked him he'd get the permanent position.

Kelly had a test in second hour and was in a hurry to get to class so he'd have a couple of minutes to look over his notes. Consequently Gracie arrived at math class early; she got out her book and homework and sat there fidgeting. Amy bustled in and dropped her backpack on the floor, making no move to open it.

"Hi, Gracie. I see you survived decorating last night," Amy said, laughing.

"Hi! Yeah, I did," Gracie responded. "I don't know what the deal was, nothing seemed to go right. You have a good evening after that?"

"It was okay, I guess," Amy said. "I was tired when I got home, didn't feel like doing my homework."

"I got mine done, but it was late when I finished. My aunt called and I had to drive her all over town," Gracie explained.

"Doesn't she have a car?" Amy asked.

"Oh, you wouldn't
believe
the mess she's in!" Gracie said. "She works at a grocery store, and some customer spilled antifreeze in the parking lot; the boss told one of the guys to clean it up but apparently he just dumped some water on it. And Aunt Jeanine is
not
known for watching where she walks, so she just steps off the curb right into the middle of the puddle and slips and breaks her ankle."

Amy laughed. "Let me guess, it's her right ankle so she can't drive."

"You got it!"

"Didn't you tell me before that she's always in some kind of trouble?" Amy asked.

"Constantly," Gracie agreed. "She told me she just needed to go to the bank, but when I got there she informed me that she 'really had' to run just a
few
errands. It took me two hours!"

"And you came home from that and did your homework? I'm impressed," Amy said.

Gracie made a face. "Had to," she said. "I'm having enough trouble figuring this stuff out as it is. Gotta bring my grade up in this class."

Amy waved a hand as if to say grades weren't everything. "I understand it, I just don't see why I have to do a zillion examples to prove that."

The bell rang at that moment, saving Gracie from having to figure out a reply. Amy was smart enough, she just didn't take school seriously. How she expected to get into college – or what she thought she could do with just a high school diploma – Gracie couldn't figure out.

Ken Freeman drummed his fingers on his desk. Yesterday he'd spoken with most of the kids who'd been at that party. He was sure he'd missed a few, nobody ever remembered everyone that had been at a party that big. A few of the kids swore they weren't there, that always happened too. But in each case only one person had claimed to see them, so it was probably just a way to get back at someone they didn't like. He'd ask Gracie; though she hadn't stayed 'til the bitter end, he did trust her word.

Most of them had commented unfavorably on the teacher's behavior, though they worded their remarks a little more generously now that she was dead. A few of them hadn't been quite so nice, but even so he hadn't learned anything he didn't already know. Not counting, of course, who'd come with whom and who was stepping out on whom. He'd pretended to write it all down, but he knew next week the couples would have changed again.

He mentally ticked off what he knew. Maggie Lane had flirted with the entire football team and ignored everyone else. She'd been drinking fairly heavily and either giving, or allowing, the boys alcohol. She'd yelled at the tomboy about making marks on the floor, but that had ended peaceably. The party had ended around 1:30 in the morning; as usually happened the stragglers left
en masse
after realizing the time. They all agreed that no one person had stayed behind, nor had Mrs. Lane ordered them to go. In fact, she hadn't seemed to care about the lateness of the hour. That seemed to Ken to indicate that she wasn't expecting a late-night lover, though it could simply be that she was so drunk she hadn't cared.

He'd spent the morning talking to some of the parents; that had been a wash, too. Not surprisingly most of them had sworn their little darlings had been fast asleep in bed by midnight on Friday. A few had insisted their kids had gone to the official school party and/or that they wouldn't under any circumstances have allowed them to attend a private party at a teacher's house for God's sake.

Ken shook his head sadly at their stupidity. He had two teenagers himself and, remembering the hell he'd raised at that age, he spent time talking to them and their friends and made damn sure he knew where they were going and with whom. They might roll their eyes when he explained why something wasn't a good idea, but they listened because they knew he loved them and wanted to keep them safe. He had a low opinion of parents who not only didn't check up on their kids, but lied for them as well. Or maybe they were just lying to themselves.

Mrs. Salazar seemed to be different. She was obviously proud of her son Jake and had given him enough details about the football game that he was sure she had been there to watch. She'd then calmly explained that she and her husband had gone home, knowing Jake would want to spend time with his teammates and friends. But she'd maintained a vigil in the front room waiting for him to come home. That had been at 1:00 AM. She'd insisted that he hadn't left again, claiming she was a light sleeper and would've known. There'd been no defensiveness or apology in her tone, and Ken was inclined to believe her.

All of which left him exactly nowhere in the investigation. There just wasn't enough evidence to conclusively call it foul play, but neither was it obviously an accidental death. The only thing he could be pretty sure of was that Maggie Lane's state of inebriation had contributed heavily to her death. The ME had given cause of death as "a blow to the head caused by a fall" without speculating on what might have caused the fall itself. He wasn't yet ready to give up, but he wasn't sure what avenue to pursue next.

Gracie popped into the ladies' room before she headed to her car after school. Emily was standing at the sink, laboriously soaping not only her hands but forearms and the rather large amount of skin left visible by her low-cut sweater. "Did you spill something?" Gracie asked.

"I don't
know
! Emily wailed, continuing to scrub vigorously.

Gracie looked puzzled. "Then why are you washing?"

"Oh my God, it's
horrible
," Emily said. "I couldn't wait 'til I got home, I just had to do
something
right now. All day long I've had this
weird
feeling, and now it's starting to
itch
. I've been trying not to scratch, I really
have
, but it's just getting worse." She stuck an arm under the water to rinse the soap off and then held it out for Gracie's inspection.

Gracie duly peered at the arm, fully expecting to see nothing unusual. Emily was quite capable of freaking out just because her skin itched from being a little dry in this cooler weather. Instead she saw several little clear bumps just beginning to well up, along with faint jagged white marks where Emily had been scratching. "It
does
look like there's something there, but I don't know what."

Emily rinsed off the rest of the soap and checked the newly-cleansed skin. "It's all over here, too," she said worriedly, peering down at her chest.

"Does it itch anywhere else?" Gracie asked.

Emily was in the process of patting the skin dry, which wasn't easy with the cheap paper towels the school provided. She paused to mentally analyze each area of her body, twitching it slightly as she ticked it off the list. "Not that I can tell," she decided.

"Maybe you should show that to 'Doctor' Allison, she might know what it is," Gracie offered.

Emily snorted sarcastically and went back to drying her arms. "She'd probably be afraid she'd catch whatever it is!"

"Gimme a minute and I'll walk out with you," Gracie offered. "If we can find her I'll make it sound like the medical mystery of the year and she'll want to solve it even if she won't touch it. I don't know how she ever expects to treat patients without touching them."

"Latex gloves," Emily said succinctly.

"Funny you should say that," Gracie said as she chose a stall and opened its door. "There was a pair of latex gloves in the bathroom trash last night . I saw 'em when I made a pit stop just before I left after decorating. Allison's such a hypochondriac I could just see her putting them on so she wouldn't have to touch the toilet!"

"I know, right?" Emily replied with a laugh.

A few minutes later they stood at the edge of the parking lot, scanning the surrounding area in hopes of catching sight of Allison's red hair. For all they knew she'd already left, or had decided to go watch the team practice. Amy and Meaghan walked by and waved at them.

"Hi guys. Hey, have you seen Allison anywhere?" Emily asked a little too eagerly. Her right hand drifted toward her left arm and she dropped it to her side with an effort of will.

"I think I saw her at her locker a couple minutes ago," Meaghan said.

"Yeah," Amy put in. "She was talking to Tyler. You think she'll give up on Jake and start dating Tyler?"

"I don't know
why
," Emily said. "She'd have nearly as much competition with him."

"There's other fish in the sea besides Jake," Meaghan said. "Maybe it's time they got some attention."

"Yeah, but who'd want them?" Emily asked rhetorically.

"Hey, there's Allison coming out now," Gracie said, waving to get her attention.

"See ya later," Meaghan said. "We're off to the mall."

She and Amy walked away as Allison walked up to see what Gracie wanted.

"Hi, Allison," Gracie said. "Emily the weirdest thing going on, she doesn't have a
clue
what it is and I just knew you'd be able to tell her what's wrong."

Both girls watched as Allison's smile disappeared and her face took on a look of studious interest, with just a trace of pleasure at being consulted. "I see. What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

Emily handed her books to Gracie and pushed back the sleeves of her jacket and sweater to reveal her arms. "They started feeling weird this morning, and now they're itching like crazy."

Allison leaned closer but made no move to touch Emily's arm. "You've been scratching," she scolded. "Is this just on your arms?"

"It's on my chest, too," Emily said with obvious distress. She took hold of the lapels of her jacket and pulled it open.

Allison looked dispassionately and nodded her head in agreement.

"She says it doesn't itch anywhere else," Gracie said.

"Well, then, it's probably not measles," Allison pronounced. "The only other thing I know of that might look like that is poison ivy. Didn't you say the other day that you're particularly allergic to it?"

"Poison ivy?" Emily asked, looking like she'd just received a death sentence.
Um, yeah, I
am
allergic to it. But I haven't been around it, and besides, it's fall, it isn't growing now."

"There's still oil in the vines even if there aren't any leaves," Gracie told her. "You might not have even known what you touched was poison ivy."

"People with severe allergies can react to any part of the plant," Allison said, though she'd backed off noticeably. "Get some Caladryl and stop
scratching
it, Emily. That will only spread it." She smiled rather mockingly. If you hadn't worn such a revealing sweater you wouldn't have gotten it on your chest. You'd better hope you haven't touched your boobs!"