Organized to Death (22 page)

When she passed Ted’s office, she heard him say, “You need to stop coming here. It just upsets you.”

“Yes, I suppose … “Dr. Stevenson said.

Tina found Abby in the kitchen getting a mug of coffee. “Here’s the next patient’s file,” Tina said.

Abby took it. “Last one of the morning, thank goodness. I’m bushed.”

Tina nodded. Realized she hadn’t an idea in her head about lunch. She walked over to the china cabinet and grabbed the polish to put away. “I’m going out to lunch,” she told Abby. “If anyone wonders.”

“Okay,” Abby said, taking a long gulp of coffee before setting the mug in the sink. She headed out the door, and Tina grabbed her purse and left.

Tiny snowflakes hit her in the face, and she zipped her jacket up quickly, fumbling with her keys when she reached her car, fingers already cold. Once she started the engine and put the heater on blast, she punched in Leslie’s number on her cell.

When Leslie answered, Tina asked, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Hi, Tina. I have some salad stuff in the fridge here.”

“How about I go to Subway and get us some sandwiches and bring them by? What do you like?”

“Oh, that would be great. I love their BLTs—double meat. Wicked, I know.” She laughed.

Tina smiled. “Yeah, I think I’ll have one too. Six inch, though, right? I mean, we have to show some restraint.”

“Yeah. But I really need some chips with that.”

Tina laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got us covered. You have sodas or something to drink in that fridge?”

“Sure thing.”

When Tina arrived at Leslie’s business, she stopped a moment to look in the window. Leslie had redone it with lovely carved furniture. Tina didn’t know what style it was, so that was the first thing she asked Leslie as they walked back to the kitchen.

“French provincial. Isn’t it fantastic?”

“Yes.” Tina placed the sandwich bags and chips on the table as Leslie retrieved two cans of root beer from the refrigerator, and they sat down.

“You and Brandon have a fight?” Leslie asked.

“Yeah, a little one. Did he tell you about it?”

“Yes.” Leslie unwrapped her sandwich and popped open a root beer. “He seemed surprised, perplexed.”

Tina unwrapped the other sandwich and her chips. “You know, Leslie, I love your brother. Sometimes I feel as if I love him like a brother. Other times, it’s a bit more than that. But he smothers me. He always wants to protect me. Sometimes he reminds me of my mother.” Tina laughed.

Leslie grinned. “Yeah, I’ve seen him do that with you. What he doesn’t understand is why you don’t appreciate that. He thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

Tina sighed. “I know. And I’ve tried to explain it to him. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. He really needs to find some woman who would appreciate that in him. Not that I wouldn’t love having you as a sister-in-law, but the two of you would probably clash for the rest of your lives.”

Tina ate some of her sandwich, and Leslie took a sip of root beer. “He said I was silly. That’s what set me off this time. That’s a demeaning word for a woman, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is. I would have punched him.”

Tina laughed. “Maybe I should have. Really would have got his attention.”

“So, tell me why you left Virginia and came back to Newport. Everyone’s dying to know, you know, but I promise to keep it a secret.”

Tina had been wanting to tell someone, but she was afraid. She couldn’t tell her mother. Almost told Uncle Bob, but didn’t want him to think less of her. Leslie had been her best friend since grammar school. They’d not kept in touch as much as Tina now wished they had when they both went away to college. Certainly she could never tell Brandon or Hank.

Leslie waited, munching on her sandwich, watching Tina. Tina sighed. “You promise?” As far as she knew, Leslie never gossiped and never broke a confidence.

“Yes. I solemnly promise, cross my heart, and hope to die.” She crossed her heart and looked at Tina earnestly.

“Okay. It’s not a nice story, but I guess you already guessed that.”

Leslie nodded.

“I had built up a rather good practice. About six clients a day. I was generally pleased with my life, but still a bit uncomfortable about digging so deeply into other people’s lives. Must be that old New England upbringing, you think?”

Leslie smiled. “Probably.”

“One patient in particular bothered me. He was a lovely young man, twenty years old. A painter, just beginning to get some recognition locally. I diagnosed him as bipolar.”

Leslie nodded, ate her last chip, then wiped her hands on a napkin. “Lots about all that in the news lately for some reason. I’ve read up on it.”

Tina nodded. “This patient I was working with had just started therapy, and a psychiatrist was adjusting his meds. I tried to explain everything to him, but he was impatient. He just wanted to be well. He wanted to be able to do his painting and get on with his life. I told him how important it was that he keep taking the meds. I thought he understood.” Tina paused, took the last sip of her root beer, swallowed hard. “But he must have decided to stop them anyway. He didn’t show up for an appointment. I called his apartment. The police answered. When they found out who I was, they told me he’d committed suicide the night before. I had to go to the station to be questioned.”

“Oh, no!” Leslie grasped Tina’s hand. “Oh, God, that must have been awful.”

“It was. It really was. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. Every time I saw another patient, I wondered if they were going to commit suicide. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. I needed therapy myself. I knew that. I went to see the therapist I’d used when getting my degree. He helped, but I couldn’t get past it. I went as far as I thought I could, then I decided I simply could not do it anymore.”

Leslie shook her head, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Tina. And you’ve kept this all inside since then.”

“Not exactly. I was able to go over it with my therapist. He told me that having a client commit suicide happened to many therapists, but most kept practicing. I was one of the exceptions. And around that time, I read about people doing professional organizing. I thought that might be a solution for me. I’d still be helping, but I wouldn’t be responsible for people’s lives. Just their possessions.” She laughed a little at that.

“You still feel responsible for that man’s death. But you shouldn’t, Tina.”

“I know. I know that in my mind. In my heart, it still hurts. It’s as if he didn’t have enough faith in me.”

“No, he didn’t have enough faith in himself.”

“That’s true, and I tried everything known to get over it. But I couldn’t get past the bad dreams. When they wouldn’t stop, I had to quit. Man, I hated doing that.”

“Yes, I know that must have been devastating. Then you come home and soon afterward a friend is murdered. And you find her.”

Tina nodded. “Almost makes me believe I have bad karma.”

“Don’t say that!”

“I’m only kidding. Really. A child believes everything revolves around her. That she’s the cause of everything. If she just wishes one of her parents ill and something happens to that parent, then she’s at fault. In my head I know things are random, that I can have an effect on very little in this world, except myself. But I also know I tend to take things personally. I feel responsible for other people a lot of the time. I hoped using that by being a therapist would be a good thing for the clients. It turned out not to be. My therapist sort of warned me, early on, in a gentle way. He could see how hard it would be for me because he’d been a therapist for so long. But I’m also stubborn.” Tina smiled, and so did Leslie. “I’d set my mind on it, and so I continued. All those years … “

“You don’t think they’re a waste?”

“No, not really. Well, maybe a little.” Tina gave herself a little shake. “But I didn’t come here so we could discuss me. Me, me, me.”

They both laughed, and Leslie stood up to throw away their garbage. When she sat down again, she said, “Okay, we’re worried about Brenda and that there’s some connection between the daughters of the Lunch Bunch and cancer now. But we could be taking a big leap here, Tina. Let’s talk about Crystal a minute. Can you see any connection between her murder and all of us?”

“No, of course not. I have no idea who murdered Crystal, do you? I got upset at my mother the other day and told her I thought there was a connection, but I don’t really see one.”

“Neither do I, and I’ve thought about it a lot. I go round and round in my mind, thinking of first one person she had a fight with, then the next. I wonder if Charles did it, then shiver all over.”

“Well, the police have made a big deal about my argument with her just days before. Over a party. As if that would make anyone, no matter how crazy, murder someone. Ah, here I go again—me, me, me.”

Leslie grinned. But she sobered quickly. “That’s just it. I think everyone on the planet was annoyed with Crystal at one time or another. But you don’t murder someone because you’re annoyed. You murder them because it will benefit you somehow, or because you’re afraid of them, that they found out some secret about you.”

“Another secret? I can’t take the idea of more secrets.”

“But there’s always a secret with a murder, isn’t there?” Leslie asked.

“I never thought about it.” She rolled the idea around in her head for a few moments. “I guess you’re right. But in Newport, our lives are open books. We know everything about everyone else.”

“Do we? We don’t know why our mothers meet once a month. Obviously, they’re discussing something secret, don’t you think?”

“Yes. And the mothers, individually, have secrets themselves. For example, where do Mitzi and your mother go every so often? Mitzi finally told me what she does, and it’s nothing to worry about. But what about—” Tina stopped when she saw Leslie’s stricken look.

“I really thought everyone knew,” Leslie said. “She goes to rehab. To dry out. Dad says she’s been an alcoholic since soon after I was born.”

“Oh, God, Leslie, I’m sorry. I really had no idea. I think it’s a well-kept secret. I know it’s a well-kept secret. Even Brandon doesn’t know.”

“Yeah. Dad wanted to keep it from him. I figured it out years ago. I think Brandon doesn’t really want to know, or he would have pushed harder for the answer. And it was well-kept from the kids, but I think everyone in Mother’s group of friends and acquaintances knows. But they wouldn’t share with those our age.”

“You’re right. Leslie, I hate to say this, but I think it gives us further proof that there’s something about us girls that has our mothers in an uproar. The overprotectiveness, the monthly meetings. It seems that my mother and Crystal’s and Rachel’s got tough, probably angry about whatever it is, and so they were able to function. But Mitzi and your mother were overwhelmed. Your mother dulled the pain with alcohol. Mitzi doesn’t drink, but her episodes of depression are deep. So deep, she hides the pain from herself. Doesn’t have to face it.”

“What about Brenda’s mother?”

“I don’t know her very well. I saw her the other day. She was angry, probably scared. You and Brenda are rather friendly—you don’t know anything?”

“We sort of drifted apart after high school. Her mother did hover—I remember that. And I don’t think she liked it that Brenda went to nursing school. I had the distinct impression she didn’t approve.”

Tina shook her heard. “What
do
our mothers approve of us doing with our lives?”

“The same old. Getting married, having children. Taking up knitting.”

“Yeah, knitting for charity. Really!” Tina laughed. “They want us to be safe, Leslie. And healthy. Which brings us back to Sally’s cancer and the possibility Brenda has it.”

“I know.” Leslie shifted in her chair. “I admit, I’m a bit scared now.”

“Me, too,” Tina said. A slight shiver traveled down her back. “Are you going to say anything to your mother?”

Leslie looked stricken. “I can’t. We don’t bring up anything that might upset her. Thinking about it, I’m surprised she still goes to the Lunch Bunch meetings. Maybe being with the other mothers helps.”

“It could. She sees them cope, draws strength from it. Well, I don’t have that issue with my mother. She’s one tough cookie. I’ll be having a long talk with her.” She stood up. “I think this has been productive. Thanks for listening to my tale of woe. I appreciate it.”

Leslie stood and they hugged. “I promised not to say a word to anyone about what happened in Virginia,” she said, “and I won’t. I can be as secretive as any of the Lunch Bunch.”

Tina laughed. “Good.” She walked toward the front, Leslie behind her. “I’ll let you know what I find out from my mother.”

When they reached the front, Brandon was coming in the door. He looked furious. “Why won’t you answer your cell?” he demanded, glaring at Tina.

“Because I’m mad at you,” Tina snapped back.

“Still?” He looked astonished.

“Hello, Brandon,” Leslie said, her voice dripping sweetness.

He glanced at her. “Hi. Tina, grow up. Don’t turn off your phone just because you’re miffed at me.”

“Great. First I’m silly, now I’m a child. A silly child. Good to know what you really think of me, Brandon. And I didn’t turn it off just because of you.” She clamped her mouth shut and rushed past him, close to tears.

She realized she was scared, and she had nowhere to go now to be comforted. Nowhere at all.

As Tina brushed past Brandon, he grabbed her arm. “I have something to tell you.”

She turned to him, unable to speak.

He made an obvious effort to calm down. “There’s been an accident. Rachel and Nicky were run off the road out in Portsmouth. Rachel’s okay, but Nicky’s in bad shape. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, the airbag didn’t deploy—it’s an old car—and the steering wheel almost crushed his chest.”

“He was driving?” Tina asked. “With that bum arm?”

“Yes. Probably why he wasn’t wearing the seat belt. Either too difficult to fasten, or uncomfortable. Anyway, they were transported to Newport Hospital and Nicky was admitted. They treated Rachel and let her go. Last I knew, she was still with Nicky, though. She tried to call you, but your phone was turned off.”