Organized to Death (19 page)

It felt strange to walk into the empty house. No Uncle Bob and Princess in the kitchen. No feeling of her mother up in her bedroom. She made hot chocolate and slumped in a chair at the kitchen table, alone, to think.

How could she find out more about Sally? She could call the other daughters and ask what they remembered. That would be a start. Of course, there weren’t a lot of daughters left to ask. Sally and Crystal dead, Brenda in the hospital, not talking. That left Rachel and Leslie. She didn’t think Rachel knew anything. She was younger than the rest, so would have heard even less talk. She flipped open her cell phone and called Leslie.

As she waited for Leslie to answer, Tina decided it would be better to talk to her in person.

“Tina, how are you?” Leslie asked.

“Hi, Leslie. I’ve been better. How about you?”

“I’m fine. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if we could talk. I’d like to come by and see you. You have some time today?”

“Sure. A new client just cancelled an appointment, so I’m free right now.”

“Great. I’ll be there in ten minutes or less.”

“Okay.”

They hung up and Tina drove to Spring Street, found a parking spot about a block away from Leslie’s shop, and walked to the tall, narrow, gray-shingled building in the center of the block. Once a private home, now it had a huge glass front. Leslie had created a window display with classic Victorian furniture, all red velvets and gold and pale yellow paint. Tina stepped inside, and the bell attached to the bright red door tinkled.

Leslie looked up from the cashier’s desk and came to hug Tina. Then she led Tina to the back where the original kitchen remained. It had old-fashioned fixtures, sink, and a huge stove, but a modern refrigerator. There was room for a large, round oak table and six high-backed chairs, and Leslie gestured toward them, so Tina sat.

“Tea? Coffee?” Leslie asked. She’d put her long, dark hair into a French twist that suited her face with its high cheekbones, perfect nose, and high forehead. Anyone looking at her could tell she was Brandon’s sister. Of medium height, she had a lush figure that Tina had always envied. She wore an expensive lavender suit and purple high heels.

“Coffee, I think,” Tina said, shrugging off her coat and removing her scarf.

Leslie turned to pour them each a cup of already-brewed coffee and returned with the mugs. “Do you take cream now? I remember you used to drink it black.”

“No, I still drink it that way.”

Leslie sat down. She helped herself to two heaping spoonsful of sugar from the bowl on the table and stirred. “What’s going on?”

Tina took a careful sip from her mug and found the coffee too hot to drink. She set it down and watched Leslie as she asked, “Did you know Brenda is in the hospital?”

Leslie looked shocked. “No. Why?”

“I don’t know. She said for tests. Said it was nothing serious. But they don’t put people in the hospital for tests if they don’t think it’s serious, do they?”

“Not usually, I don’t think,” Leslie said. “I don’t know much about medical stuff. No one in the family has ever been ill enough to be in the hospital since I was born.”

“Well, that’s great,” Tina said. “Uncle Bob is in there right now—he has ulcers.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is he okay?”

“Yes, thank goodness. Did you know they’re caused by an infection? Not stress, they’ve found out. Anyway, he should be able to go home tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yeah. But I understand that Brenda isn’t so lucky. I asked the temp who’s replacing her how Brenda was doing, and she said ‘As expected, I suppose, after getting the news.’”

Leslie almost choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken. “What news?”

“I don’t know. Then I talked to Ted.” When Leslie looked puzzled, Tina said, “The doctor who took over from old Dr. Stevenson.”

“You call him Ted?”

“Well, he’s young. He asked me to. I’m helping him organize his office—Dr. Stevenson left it in kind of a mess.”

Leslie just stared at Tina, then shook her head. “I’m sure that’s an interesting story.”

Tina felt herself blushing. “For later. Anyway, after I explained a little about the Lunch Bunch and two daughters being dead and another sick, he asked me what kind of cancer Sally had. Do you know?”

Leslie blinked, then looked off into space. “I don’t think so. I can’t remember anyone ever saying. Of course, we were younger then. They didn’t really discuss it in front of me.”

“Me, either. We weren’t that young, Leslie. In our early twenties. They were keeping it a secret from us. I’m positive of that now.”

“How can we find out, I wonder?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think our mothers will tell us. Maybe Brenda will, eventually. Maybe I can talk to Mitzi.”

“Mitzi? If she remembers.”

“I think she’ll remember. But you’re positive you don’t know?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. Now that I think of it, I remember the feeling of being shut out, of vague whisperings behind hands. Don’t you?”

“Yes, as if it were shameful. I was too timid to ask. Not anymore.” Tina stood up, resolute. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.”

Leslie stood, too. “You know it’s not going to be good, don’t you?”

“Yes. No, I mean, it’s not going to be good. But I can’t stand not knowing.”

Leslie sighed. “I’m not so sure I do want to know.”

Tina put her hand on Leslie’s arm. “That’s okay. If I find out anything, I won’t tell you until you tell me if you want to know.”

“Thanks. You’ll think I’m a coward.”

“No. You haven’t had as long to think about all this as I have. I’m pretty sure you’ll want to know in a while.”

They walked to the front. A middle-aged woman entered the shop, the bell tinkling over her head. Leslie walked toward her, asking her if she could help, leading her into the room. Tina said a quick goodbye and left.

In the car, she dialed Mitzi’s number, but there was no answer. She looked at her watch. Lunch time. She’d go home and see what was in the fridge.

As she pulled into her driveway, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw John and Lisbeth stepping out of their cruiser, their faces solemn. She climbed out of her VW, wondering what they wanted now, realizing she hadn’t thought about her missing gun in a long time. Maybe she should have.

The two officers approached her in their usual style, John aggressively, Lisbeth more casual. But for all her off-handedness, Lisbeth was probably the smarter of the two, and maybe even more intense inside than John.

John carried a gun in a clear plastic bag.

Tina swallowed hard and without a word walked up the side path to the front door, unlocked it, and held it open for the other two.

They entered the living room and all sat down. John put the bagged gun on the coffee table, where it sat as a threatening centerpiece.

“Is that mine?” She wasn’t going to be polite and make small talk. She’d treat them as they treated her.

“It’s registered to you,” John said. “When did you see it last?” He took out his notebook.

“I don’t know. It’s not something I mark down on my calendar. ‘Saw gun today.’ ‘Didn’t see gun today.’”

“Too bad.”

“Yes.”

No one said anything for a moment.

Tina reached for it. “So, you came to return it to me,” she said, deliberately not making it a question.

“Don’t touch it!” John said.

Tina withdrew her hand. “Is it the murder weapon, then?” Her heart beat faster at the thought, and her vision grayed around the edges. She was glad her voice didn’t shake. At least, she didn’t think it shook.

Lisbeth sighed. “No. It’s not. However, since you found the body and your gun was missing, we need to hold onto it for a bit.”

“What’s a bit? There’s a killer out there. It might be a good idea for me to have my gun back.”

“If you were so concerned,” John said, “you would have purchased a new one by now. Or your friend, Hank, would have given you one.”

“Do you know Hank?” Tina held her breath.

The three of them looked at one other. “Yes,” Lisbeth said. John didn’t answer.

“How?”

“How? What do you mean how?” Lisbeth wrinkled her forehead and shrugged.

“You know him because of your job?”

“I know him socially,” Lisbeth said stiffly.

“Oh,” Tina said. “How’d you meet old Hank?”

She could see it on the tip of Lisbeth’s tongue—“None of your business.” But Lisbeth had more control than that. She shrugged again. “Don’t remember, exactly.”

“At work, I bet,” Tina said.

But Lisbeth didn’t give it away. John did. His body jerked just slightly, and he scowled at Tina. “Look,” he said. “We’re here about this gun.”

“Well, where did you find it?” Tina asked.

They looked at each other. Lisbeth nodded slightly.

“A woman was dumpster diving in back of La Forge’s,” John said with distaste. “She found it and turned it in.”

“A model citizen,” Tina said. “Who was she?”

“We can’t tell you that,” John snapped.

“Why not?” Tina made her eyes widen as if surprised.

“Policy. We don’t tell one person in an investigation about the other people.”

“I see.” Tina probably didn’t know the woman anyway. As far as she knew, none of her friends or acquaintances dumpster dived. She hoped.

“So, you have no idea how your gun got into the dumpster behind La Forge’s?” John asked.

“None whatsoever. By the way, did the bullets from Crystal and Nicky’s shooting match?”

“Yes,” Lisbeth said.

Tina nodded and stood up. She was pleased to see that both detectives stood as well. Lisbeth gave her a long, searching look, but John snatched up the gun and impatiently turned to leave.

Tina followed them to the front door. “So nice to see you again,” she murmured, forcing herself not to smile.

John glared, Lisbeth stared, and they left. Tina was delighted to close the door on their backs.

She walked to the kitchen, feet dragging. Her home felt empty without Uncle Bob and Princess. Not only that, she’d lost her appetite. She grabbed some cheese and an apple and stood at the sink eating them. After a quick trip upstairs to freshen up, she drove to Mitzi’s house.

Mitzi answered the door looking better than Tina had seen her in a long time. Her hair was combed, her hands clean, and she was dressed in clean brown slacks and a blue V-necked pullover. She smiled when she saw Tina and gestured for her to come in.

Now that she was here, Tina didn’t know how to begin. She couldn’t just blurt out her question. Second thoughts gnawed at her. She’d be better off tackling her mother.

“You look as if you feel better today,” she said.

Mitzi smiled. “I do feel better. Hopeful. You gave me that, Tina. And Hank came over earlier. We had a long talk. You were right, we didn’t share everything, and that big secret about Jasper … “

Tina nodded. “Seems Newport is full of secrets.”

“Yes. You’re right. You wonder what Hank does for a living.”

Tina held back a gasp of surprise.

Mitzi smiled. “Yes, I remember what you blurted out. I imagine you’re curious to know where I go every so often. And I can tell you that because it’s my secret to tell. I go to a spa so I can stay slim. I like to eat. I don’t like to exercise. So I need to go get tuned up every so often. All is vanity. Who said that?”

“I don’t know.” Tina stared at Mitzi. It wasn’t logical—Mitzi was often a mess. She and her clothes none too clean. But she worried about her figure?

Mitzi must have seen Tina’s confusion. “I can’t explain it. I do fine for a while, but then I fall into a dark hole, and it’s all I can do to get out of bed. Can I get you some coffee?” Mitzi stood up too quickly and staggered a little, making her way around the coffee table. Tina wondered about Mitzi’s diet, about whether she suffered from small strokes, or whether she just had poor balance because of age and neglect.

Tina squelched her urge to jump up and help. She knew it would embarrass Mitzi. Obviously, she could only open up so far before shutting down again. “Coffee would be nice,” Tina said in a faint voice.

Mitzi left and the kitchen was so far away that Tina couldn’t hear a thing. The grandfather clock in the hallway struck the quarter hour.

Tina wondered suddenly why she was concentrating so hard on the secret of the Lunch Bunch and practically ignoring Crystal’s murder. Denial? Fear? Probably a bit of both. And if the police couldn’t find out who killed Crystal, why would Tina think she could? Maybe because she could get some answers the police couldn’t? No, that wasn’t happening. The only secret she’d uncovered was the reason for Mitzi’s periodic disappearances. She didn’t think the police would be in the least interested.

She jumped up to help when Mitzi came back carrying a heavy tray. They fixed their coffees, and Tina took a cookie, obviously not homemade, but she suddenly felt hungry.

“You have something on your mind,” Mitzi said. “I’m doing well today, so just go ahead and ask.”

Tina cleared her throat and put down her coffee cup and saucer. “Did you know Brenda was in the hospital?”

“No!” Mitzi’s hand shook, and the cup rattled in its saucer. “Was she in an accident?” Her expression was hopeful.

“No. She and Dr. Ted said she was in for tests. But no one will tell me what’s going on, and I have a feeling that something is very wrong.”

Mitzi set her cup and saucer on the table, her hands still shaking. She wouldn’t look at Tina, and she pressed her lips together as if afraid to say anything.

“I hate to ask you this, but I’m going to,” Tina said. “I know Sally had cancer. I’m afraid Brenda might, too. What kind of cancer did Sally have?”

Mitzi shook her head and couldn’t seem to stop. “I can’t tell you anything,” she finally said. “We made a promise … “

“Who made a promise? The Lunch Bunch. What did you promise?”

Mitzi looked at Tina now, her eyes bleak. “We promised that only her own mother could tell a daughter.”

“I see,” Tina said. Anger and fear coursed through her. She stood up. Had to move. She paced from one end of the room to the other. “It’s not right, you know. Keeping secrets.”