Organized to Death (9 page)

She stood up. “We have nothing to talk about. I didn’t kill Crystal with my gun. I don’t know where it is. Let the police handle it.”

Tina stomped up the stairs, wishing she had the self-control to go up them with dignity. When she stepped into her room, she had a wild impulse to search it herself, but she knew the police had probably been more thorough than she could be. She flopped on the bed, picked up the phone, and called Hank’s cell.

He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Red.”

“Hank. The police were here, asking about an argument I had with Crystal. They wanted to know if I owned a gun. Of course, I said I did. But when I went to get it from my nightstand, it was gone. You didn’t take it, did you?”

For a long moment, there was silence. “No, doll, I didn’t take it. I would have told you if I had. Who’s been in your room lately?”

“No one,” she said quickly. “I mean, just me and the maid. Perhaps Mother.”

“No friends or lovers, eh?”

“I don’t entertain my girlfriends in my room any longer, Hank. We’re too old for that. As for lovers, I always take them to the Viking Hotel.”

He chuckled. “I see. Then I would guess your mother has it.”

“What?”

“I imagine she took it to protect you. Ask her. I have another call. We’ll talk later.” He hung up.

Tina sat staring at the receiver, then slowly put it back into the cradle. Was it possible? Had her mother taken the gun? Pretended she didn’t know Tina had one in front of the police? With her mother, Tina knew, anything was possible.

She ran down the back stairs. Her mother and Uncle Bob were in the kitchen having a glass of wine while the aroma of meatloaf and potatoes cooking permeated the air.

“You took the gun, didn’t you?” she asked her mother, gasping for breath, both from the run and from shock.

“Of course not,” Laura said. But she said it a beat too late, and she wouldn’t meet Tina’s stare. Tina knew her mother could lie to other people with impunity, but she seemed to have trouble lying to her daughter. She’d fooled the cops, though.

“Yes, you did. Did you take it before or after Crystal’s murder?” The question just popped out of her mouth, and she put her hand over it, but it was too late.

The silence was deafening.

Then her mother said, “I told you, I didn’t take it.”

Tina knew Laura would never tell her what she’d done with the gun. Perhaps she’d disposed of it. Perhaps she thought Tina had killed Crystal with it!

Quickly turning away, Tina said, “I won’t be here for dinner.”

She ran back upstairs for her purse, then down the front stairs for her coat and out the door to her car.

Without much thought, she drove to Hank’s place.

Hank lived in a modest, three-bedroom ranch in Middletown. It felt like a spaceship inside to Tina, all glass and chrome, but she supposed it suited him.

He stood in the doorway talking to a very tall, very blond, very beautiful woman who wore very tight designer jeans, a very tight red sweater, very shiny black, high-heeled boots, and a hip-length, very furry, unbuttoned coat.

Tina sat in her car. She knew Hank had seen her drive up, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Finally the woman kissed Hank on the cheek and came down the walk toward her car, a Lexus, Tina noticed. Black. Sleek.

As the woman climbed into the Lexus, Tina climbed out of her VW, not allowing herself to give in to the urge to kick it. She walked up the path, aware the other woman watched her. Hank leaned on the doorjamb, arms crossed, a slight smile on his face. Did he hope she was jealous? Was she jealous?

Her emotions were so mixed, she couldn’t tell what she felt right now.

Hank took her arm and led her into his living room, helped her take off her coat, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Too restless to sit down, Tina paced the room. Nothing there lacked taste—no statues of nude women, no kitsch. Crystal vases filled with real flowers. A seascape over the mantel.

Hank came back with two glasses of wine. “Here. Sit down.” He put one glass next to the most comfortable-looking chair in the room, and Tina sank into it, suddenly weak-kneed.

She wouldn’t ask him who the woman was. It would be tacky. Instead she said, “My mother took the gun.”

“She admitted it?” Hank sat down, a surprised look on his face.

“No. But I can tell when she’s lying.”

“I imagine you can.” That was the difference between Hank and Brandon. Brandon would have dismissed her conclusion because Laura had not actually said she took the gun. “I’m sure she only took it to protect you,” Hank said.

“But I’m sure it makes me look worse in the eyes of the police. It looks as if I disposed of it. After murdering Crystal, of course.”

“Possibly.” Again, he was treating her seriously.

Tina took a sip of wine and relaxed into the chair. What a relief to talk to someone without worrying about what he thought. Well, she took that back. She did wonder what Hank really thought of her, but she could still relax in his presence.

“But possibly not?” she asked hopefully.

“Not if they have another, better suspect.”

“Have you heard anything?”

He smiled. “They always look most closely at the husband. Also, they’re pretty sure she ran from her house through the back yard into Nicky and Rach’s house, coming into the nursery. That’s about all I can tell you.”

Tina stared at him. “But you know more than you’re telling me, right? You love this, don’t you? Being secretive, playing games.” Suddenly she was angry. Angry and tired. The stress of the past few days had caught up with her.

His smile disappeared and his face softened. “No, it’s not a game. It’s too real to ever be a game. I’m interested because you’re involved, whether you want to be or not.”

He took her breath away. The anger drained out of her, leaving her exhausted. He pulled gently on her arms and lifted her out of the chair. Melting against him, she never wanted to leave the shelter of his arms.

But eventually, she drew away. Why did his holding her feel so different from Brandon doing the same thing? She chafed at Brandon’s concern, but Hank’s unexpected solicitude touched her.

“I should leave,” she said, hoping he’d ask her to stay.

He nodded. “You need a good night’s rest.” He helped her on with her coat and walked her to the door.

His lips brushed her cheek, and she felt his kiss all the way to her car.

The next morning Tina arrived at Dr. Ted’s office just after nine. She’d had a restless night and working on the kitchen would be the best thing for her. It would tire her out and keep her occupied. Since it was Thursday, she would work with Sylvia on the reception area in the afternoon.

Everyone kept busy all morning, and it was after one when the last patient left. Dr. Ted locked up, and he, Sylvia, and Brenda gathered in the kitchen, exclaiming on how nice it looked. Tina had cleared and scrubbed the breakfast area so they could all sit comfortably and eat the lunches they had brought with them.

“Any news about the murder?” Brenda asked.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Tina said.

“They said on the news that they brought in the husband for questioning,” Sylvia said.

“They always suspect the spouse first.” Brenda took a bite of her tuna sandwich.

“How do you know?” Sylvia stole one of Brenda’s potato chips.

“I read mysteries. And the newspapers. Anything about murder.”

“I could never do that,” Sylvia said. “Too gruesome for me. What about you, Tina, do you read mysteries?”

“Not much.”

“You know everyone involved?” Ted asked

“I’m afraid so. Known them all my life. Brenda knows them, too.”

“Yeah,” Brenda shuddered. “And even with all the mysteries I’ve read, I never would have thought anyone I knew would be murdered. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Crystal could be a pistol. But I don’t think she deserved being murdered.”

“What do you mean she could be a pistol?” Ted asked.

“She wanted to run things. Would argue at the drop of a hat. Crystal believed she knew everything and was never wrong.”

“That type of person sure can be annoying,” Ted said.

Brenda and Tina laughed.

“A bit more than annoying, I’d say,” Brenda said. “Tina, didn’t you two have an argument at the club a while ago?”

All eyes were on Tina, and she couldn’t help blushing. “Yeah,” she replied, trying to sound casual. “But it was only about decorating for the winter dance. She wanted a Hawaiian theme. I thought that was pretty silly for Newport.”

“Why?” Ted asked.

Now everyone was looking at him. Tina laughed. “Because we’re an island, too. We have a rich history. Why not do something with that?”

“Oh, so you convinced her to do something else?” Ted asked.

They laughed again. “No. I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Ah,” Brenda said, “then you killed her.”

No one said anything.

“Hey! I was just kidding.” They all looked at her uncertainly.

It wasn’t a joke when the police questioned me and searched my room,
Tina thought. How many other people remembered that argument? Tina could only hope they found the killer soon.

Everyone stood and threw away their trash. Brenda wiped the table, Tina was glad to see. After Ted and Brenda left, Tina and Sylvia spent the afternoon in the reception area clearing out everything Sylvia didn’t think she’d ever need, boxing it up and labeling it, and rearranging stuff so it would be convenient and easy to find. Tina explained how to handle routine tasks, such as the mail.

“Open it as soon as you can, next to the wastebasket. Open each piece, unless you can tell without opening it that it’s junk. If you find it’s junk after opening, throw it away, including inserts in bills and such. Put bills to pay in one pile, magazines in another, stuff to file in a third, and stuff you need to handle in yet another one. Having a standing file folder can help with that, or a tickler file, which I can help you set up another time.”

“What’s a tickler file?”

Tina explained the system, then asked, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes. And it sounds like a system I could use. Both here and at home.”

They smiled at each other.

Someone banged on the front door and Sylvia went to see who it was. Dr. Stevenson’s old office manager, Betsy, stepped into the reception area.

“You’re closed?” she asked in her hollow-sounding voice. In her late fifties, she hadn’t dyed her gray hair. Slightly plump with a round face, she wore brown slacks and a zipped-up, tan jacket.

“Yes,” Sylvia said.

“We always closed on Wednesdays. Middle of the week. Ridiculous to close on Thursday afternoons.”

Sylvia stiffened. “Doctor Ted has a standing tee time on Thursday afternoon. He couldn’t set it up for Wednesday.”

Betsy sniffed and walked around the counter to the receptionist’s area as if she still worked there.“Hello, Tina,” she said. “What have you done to the place? It’s all mixed up.”

“We’re making it more efficient,” Sylvia said. “Tina’s a professional organizer.”

“Really? That’s interesting. However, I found it quite good enough when I worked here.”

“Everyone has a different style,” Tina said, keeping her voice level. “Sylvia finds this easier to work in. I’m sure your systems were just fine for you.”

Betsy sniffed again. “I just broke my glasses frame and realized I must have left my old ones here. Have you found them in your re-organizational efforts?”

“I think so,” Tina said. “At least, I found a pair of prescription glasses. Maybe they’re yours.” She moved to the boxes and lifted off the one on top of the stack labeled “Left Behind.” Grabbing a pair of scissors, she cut through the tape and lifted up the flap. She located the glasses and handed them to Betsy. “These yours?”

Betsy put them on. “Yes.” She turned to leave.

“Nice seeing you again,” Tina said.

“Yes,” Betsy said and let herself out.

Sylvia went to lock the door. Tina re-taped the box and stood waiting.

“Whew,” Sylvia said. “I’m glad I didn’t have to work with her.”

“Me, too. She was always so polite when my mother and I came to see Dr. Stevenson. No company manners today, were there?”

Sylvia grinned. “That’s for sure.”

Betsy Holden left her old office feeling pretty old herself. It had been a huge jolt to see those two young women there, rearranging everything.

She’d never liked that Tina Shaw’s mother, and Tina had impressed her today as just as arrogant. The fruit didn’t fall far from the tree.

And since Tina was a friend of Crystal’s and had even been with Rachel when she found the body, Tina was on her list of people to get rid of.

Betsy smiled as she pulled into her driveway. After seeing Tina today, it would be a pleasure.

Tina and Sylvia finished around four thirty, and Tina said, “Let’s go look at the upstairs. I’d like to get an idea of how much time it will take to straighten up.”

“Okay,” Sylvia said, but she sounded a bit reluctant. “It’s kind of spooky up there.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it,” Sylvia said. Tina moved aside a tall, creaking, black metal gate that kept patients—especially children—from having access to the central staircase. The banister was dusty, as was the floor, they saw when they reached the top. Tina could make out a few scuffed footprints in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight that shone through a huge window at the end of the hall. She caught the smell of must and mildew and wrinkled her nose. To the right they found a large bedroom, fully furnished in old, solid pieces, layered in dust and cobwebs.

“Spooky, huh?” Sylvia said. “We could hold a Halloween party up here.”

“Yeah,” Tina said. But she was drawn into the room. She tried the light switch, and an overhead light came on, hardly penetrating the late afternoon gloom. She walked over to the front windows and opened the red drapes. Of heavy velvet, they made a dragging sound and were difficult to move, and as they did, gave off a large amount of dust. Both of them coughed. Sylvia sneezed.

The upholstered couch and chairs at one end of the room were covered in light green and deep red, solids and prints. A silver comb, brush, and mirror lay on the vanity. A man’s valet for watch and change sat on the bureau. The room was totally furnished down to crystal perfume bottles and porcelain knickknacks. Sylvia went to the closet and opened the door, which groaned like a door in an old horror movie. Gowns and suits from another era hung forlornly on padded hangers. Shoes lined the floor. Across from the closet was a huge bathroom with old-fashioned fixtures of copper and porcelain. White towels layered with dust were neatly fold on racks, and a grimy piece of yellow soap sat in a stainless-steel dish.