High Anxiety (25 page)

Finally, I sat up and stretched. “Okay, I’ll get sheets and blankets for the sofa,” I said, standing.

“I’m really sleeping on the couch?”

“Yup.”

“Well, there goes the
other
reason I offered to stay tonight.”

I heard the amusement in his voice as I started down the hall for the linen closet. Actually, I felt bad that I had never set up a guest room. The two spare bedrooms contained all my worldly possessions. Without them I would have had to rent a storage facility, which didn’t come cheap.

“Hey, did I tell you Mona flirted with me today?” he asked.

I turned. “No way!”

“She’s got it bad for me, Kate. I should probably ask her out. Only I think I’ll wait until that rash clears up, if you know what I mean.”

“What about your cute receptionist, Bunny?”

“There’s nothing going on between us. She’s just eye candy.”

“Sexist,” I said, frowning.

“I’m teasing, okay?”

I grabbed pillows and bedding from the closet and returned to the living room. “If you hurt Mona, you’ll have to answer to me.”

“I keep telling you I’ve changed.” His cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and checked. “It’s my answering service. I hope none of my patients got into the arsenic.”

“That is so
not
professional.”

“Lighten up, Kate.”

Thad spent ten minutes on the phone talking to a distraught patient while I made up the sofa and saw that there were fresh towels in the downstairs bath. He hung up his cell and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

He gave a grunt. “You know how it is. Patients wait until you close shop to get depressed.”

He pointed to the rolled-up newspaper in the chair. “Is that today’s paper?”

“Yeah.” I turned the TV back to CNN, where a reporter was interviewing a woman who had traveled to Tallahassee with her church to pray for the end of the fire. I suddenly recognized her. “Well, I’ll be damned if it’s not Sarah-Margaret!” I said.

“Should I recognize the name?” Thad asked.

“She’s the one who convinced everyone in Atlanta that I’m an atheist!” I turned up the volume. The reporter was asking her a question.

“Ma’am, are you saying that this fire is God’s way of punishing sinners?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she said. “It’s a wake-up call for all who have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God.” She surprised the reporter by taking his microphone. She looked right into the camera. “I just want everyone to know it’s never too late to repent. Now I would like to sing a song that I hope will inspire the whole world to get down on their knees and pray.”

She started singing a hymn, proving to the listening audience that she couldn’t hold a tune in a Mason jar. The reporter tried to get his microphone back, but she held on tight, eyes closed, singing her heart out. He was trying to wrestle it from her as they went to a commercial.

I shook my head sadly. “I should introduce her to Bitsy Stout,” I muttered.

Thad folded the newspaper.

“Nothing interesting?” I asked.

“It’s all about the fire.”

The phone rang. Thad and I looked at each other. After several rings, the caller hung up. “This could go on all night,” I said. “I’m going to unplug the phones so we can get some sleep.”

“Give a shout if you need me.”

“Thanks for staying tonight,” I said. “I’m really sorry I yelled at you earlier.”

“I enjoyed it,” he said. “It reminded me of old times.”

I smiled. “You should find everything you need in the bathroom, including a toothbrush. If you get hungry, there is Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer. Or you can make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

He patted his stomach. “I’m still stuffed from the grilled cheese.”

I went about the house locking up and sliding the chains in place. I set up the coffeepot, unplugged the downstairs phone, grabbed my cell phone, and headed upstairs. Mike followed.

I unplugged the phone in my bedroom as well. Then, remembering that Abigail had my cell number, I made certain it was off as I plugged it into the charger. I pulled off my clothes and left them on the floor, then took a shower and washed my hair, at the same time trying to rid myself of all the yuck I’d been through that day. As I dried off, I could not remember when I had felt so tired. I grabbed my Big Bird sleep shirt, pulled it over my head, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed. Mike jumped to the foot and curled at my feet.

I lay there for a moment, thinking I had forgotten something important, but I clearly recalled locking up and setting up the coffeepot. I shoved the worries from my mind and welcomed sleep.

 

 

I was awakened
by a knock on my bedroom door the next morning. It was almost seven a.m. I’d slept for nine hours.

“Come in,” I said.

Thad pushed the door open. He held two steaming mugs. “I poured you a cup of coffee.”

I yawned widely. “My hero,” I said.

He carried the cup to the bed and offered it to me. As I took it, I noticed the odd look on his face. “Damn, Kate, you’ve done it now. You’ve gone and turned me on with your sleepwear.”

“Don’t hate me because I’m sexy,” I said.

He sat on the edge of the bed as though it was an everyday thing for him to be in my bedroom. We sipped our coffee in silence.

“You want to take a shower first, or should I?” he asked. “Or would you rather we shower together, which is more economical when you think about it.”

“You go ahead,” I said. I thought it only fitting that, as a guest, he should have a shot at the hot water.

He started from the room. “You don’t happen to have a good razor on hand, do you?” he called out.

“Left side of the medicine cabinet.”

“Thanks.”

I finished my coffee, plugged in the phone, and started downstairs, pausing in the living room to turn on the TV and CNN. I turned up the volume and hurried into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, pausing to plug in that phone as well.

The doorbell rang. I froze. I tiptoed toward it and looked through the peephole. I groaned at the sight of my mother and aunt. How had I missed the sound of their monster truck? I opened the door.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” my mother demanded. “I’ve called three times. I even called your cell phone.”

“It’s complicated, Mom.”

“So, what else is new?” She suddenly became tearful. “Kate, why didn’t you tell me you were a lesbian?”

I blinked several times, figuring the caffeine had not hit my brain yet. “Excuse me?”

“Bad enough everybody thinks you’re an atheist, but you should have come to me and discussed your sexual preferences. Trixie and I would never turn our backs on you. I mean, we’ve got a half man, half woman living with us.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I got a call this morning from a young woman named Abigail who claimed the two of you were lovers. I told Trixie it was no wonder you and Jay were having problems.” She looked at Trixie. “Isn’t that what I said?”

Trixie nodded. “Those were your very words.”

“But this poor Abigail person said you broke her heart. It was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. You could have at least let her down gently.”

I heard whistling from the bathroom. The door opened, and Thad came down the hall wearing only a towel. “Uh-oh,” he said the minute he saw my mother.

My mother slapped her hand over her mouth in horror.

“I think you just rendered her speechless,” Trixie said.

I could feel a stress headache coming on. “Mom, I know it looks bad,” I said, “but—”

“I think I understand now,” she said. “You swing both ways.”

I was in no mood for a lengthy explanation, but I knew she would gnaw on it like a bone unless I said something. “Mom, please, I don’t have the time or energy to explain everything right now, but this Abigail person is crazy.”

“I can vouch for that,” Thad said, still standing there wearing his towel. “I only stayed the night to protect your daughter. See? My covers are still on the sofa.”

“It could be a ruse,” my mother said, “to throw me off.”

“See what I keep telling you, Dixie?” my aunt said. “You always assume the worst. You should at least give Kate the benefit of the doubt.”

“On second thought, I don’t really need shaving cream,” Thad said. “I’ll just use soap.” He turned and strode down the hall.

My phone rang, but I was still trying to calm my mother so I didn’t think. Abigail’s voice came on. “Kate, I’m willing to forgive you for last night and give you what you want, but I refuse to take a backseat to Mona. I know of a cheap motel where we can meet. Call me.” She gave me her phone number.

My mother gasped. “Is Mona a lesbian, too?” she whispered. She looked at Trixie. “That would certainly explain why she has never remarried.”

I didn’t bother with a response. The doorbell rang. I gave a sigh that felt like it had come up from my toes. I could already tell it was going to be a bad day. I checked the peephole. Mona stood on the other side in her black outfit. I opened the door. She spoke to my mother and aunt, who took a double take at her attire but said nothing.

“I didn’t sleep all night,” she said. She lifted her veil. “Just look at the circles under my eyes.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Kate. I am still angry with you for meeting Abigail behind my back. If you do that again, I’m never going to speak to you.”

“Mona, please try to understand,” I said.

“Furthermore, you’re sleeping at my place tonight. I don’t trust you not to go running to her the minute she calls.”

My mother gaped.

“We should go,” Aunt Trixie said.

My mother stood and headed for the door. She turned and looked at me. “I suppose you’re too busy to come to dinner tonight,” she said. “I promised Mr. Smith a home-cooked meal. It’s the least I can do for a big war hero like him. Plus, Trixie and I have a surprise for him.”

“I’d love to come to dinner,” I said.

“Fine, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Arnell what you’re up to these days. He’s already confused enough.”

Aunt Trixie kissed me on the cheek. “Everything is going to be okay,” she said. She looked at Mona. “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope whoever died is at peace now.” They hurried out.

“Did I miss something?” Mona asked.

“I’ll try to explain it when I have more time.”

“Well, you need to get ready for work. Jimbo is waiting in the car. Where is Thad?”

“In the shower.” I heard a shout from the bathroom. “Uh-oh, he just ran out of hot water. Good thing I grabbed a shower last night. Tell Jimbo to come in and have a cup of coffee. It won’t take me long to get ready.”

 

 

Once I’d dressed,
I hurried downstairs. Mona and Thad were chatting face-to-face on my sofa, and Jimbo was trying to put the previous day’s newspaper in order.

“Why are you reading yesterday’s paper?” I asked him.

He glanced up. “Today’s hasn’t arrived yet.”

“I think we have a new carrier,” I said, “because the paper has been late several times over the past week. I noticed it wasn’t here when we left for the office yesterday.”

I barely got the words out of my mouth before I realized the significance of what I’d just said. “Oh, no.” I covered my mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Thad said, coming to his feet.

I moved my hand. “Did you bring the newspaper in last night?”

“No. I grabbed it from that chair.” He pointed to where Jimbo was sitting. “Why?”

I clearly remembered him reaching for it, but I’d thought nothing of it at the time. Only later did I have the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right, but I was too tired to figure it out. Now I knew.

I walked into the kitchen and searched for the pad of paper on which I had recorded my encounters with Abigail. It was gone.

“What is it, Kate?” Mona asked, standing in the doorway.

“The newspaper hadn’t been delivered when we left for my office yesterday,” I said. I went into the living room. “Jimbo, did you bring the newspaper in when we met with the locksmith at noon?”

He shook his head. “I don’t even recall seeing it, but I wasn’t looking for it.”

“Somebody else brought it into the house,” I announced. “That same person also took the diary Officer Jenkins told me to keep, listing all my interactions with Abigail.” I took a deep breath. “The bitch has been in my house again.”

I sat on
the sofa between Thad and Mona. I couldn’t stop shaking. It was as if I’d caught a chill and was unable to get warm. It was not fear-based. I was angry enough to chew my way through a chain-link fence.

“Okay,” Thad said, “before you start getting paranoid, remember, you already suspected Abigail of coming into the house while you were away. That’s why you had the locks changed to begin with. She probably came by after you left for work and carried the newspaper inside, knowing you would figure it out and get scared. She
wants
you to be afraid.”

“But she can’t play her little games anymore,” Mona said, “because the key she has no longer fits. Think how PO’d she’s going to be when she discovers she can’t get inside.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” I said. “I just can’t get the upper hand as long as she has those files. I do
not
like feeling powerless. I do
not
like feeling victimized.”

“You’re not a victim,” Mona said.

I looked at her. “What do you call it when your friends have to go to work with you or sleep at your house because there’s a damn psychopath on your ass? And it’s not enough that she is out to get
me
; she has to involve my friends and family.” I realized I was ranting.