Terry Odell - Mapleton 01 - Deadly Secrets (2 page)

Justin Nadell gripped his grandfather’s bony shoulder. “They’ll be here soon, Opa. Don’t worry.”

His grandmother tutted from the sofa. “I don’t know why you insist on making such a fuss. I slipped, that’s all.”

“Rosie, you were unconscious,” his grandfather said. “You didn’t slip, you fainted.”

“I don’t faint, Sam. I got a little lightheaded. From the paint fumes.”

Justin sat and slipped his arm around his grandmother. “Oma, I told you and Opa to leave until the work was done. A nice Florida vacation.”

“I’ve been to Florida. It was hot. Full of mosquitoes and old retired fuddy-duddys.”

The wail of the siren grew louder. Justin dashed to the front door, flung it open and peered down the street. Lights flashed through the aspen-lined avenue. The white-and-orange ambulance appeared, the siren shutting down as it neared the house. Justin waved to the driver and went inside.

He sat beside Oma, taking her hand. “They’re here. Everything will be fine.”

She glowered. “Everything
is
fine. What a waste of time. I’m sure there are people out there who truly need help.”

“Rosie, it shouldn’t hurt they take a look at you,” his grandfather said.

She struggled to rise, pushing Justin away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Justin said. “Sit down.” He motioned to the paramedics, then jumped to clear a path through the obstacle course of furniture in Oma’s living room. Two men, one a stocky African-American, the other a tall, lanky blond, pushed a gurney into the entryway.

“Such nonsense,” Oma said. She crossed her arms across her narrow chest. “Davey Gilman, you can take that contraption back out to your fancy ambulance.”

The African-American man crouched at her feet. “Long as we’re here, Mrs. Kretzer, might as well let us check you out.”

“Listen to them, Rosie,” Opa said. “The sooner they check you out, the sooner they’ll leave.”

She tsked, but unfolded her arms. “Oh, very well. Justin, why don’t you bring some lemonade and the platter of cookies from the kitchen. Might as well give these nice boys something for their troubles.”

The paramedic Oma had called Davey spread his lips in a wide grin, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “They wouldn’t be gingersnaps now, would they?”

“What else with lemonade?” Opa said. “And she baked them this morning.”

Davey’s grin widened even further. “Here we go.” He wrapped Oma’s arm in a blood pressure cuff and stuck the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Justin said, heading for the kitchen.

The second paramedic intercepted him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s in good hands,” he said. “She’s known Davey since he was a baby. He loves her like family.”

Justin stared into the cool blue eyes of the paramedic. “To me, she
is
family.” He shrugged away.

Justin arranged glasses and the pitcher of lemonade on one of Oma’s serving trays. As he peeled the plastic off the platter of cookies, he heard the paramedic’s radio squawk. He stopped what he was doing and rushed to the living room. Davey and his partner were fitting everything into their kit, concerned expressions on their faces.

“What’s wrong with her?” Justin asked.

“Nothing,” Davey said. “BP is normal, pulse is strong, respirations good, lungs clear.”

Oma gave her head an indignant shake. “As I told you.”

“It’s another call,” the partner said. “We’ve got to go.”

“You and Tommy can’t stay long enough for a nosh?” Oma asked. “Or Sam can put them in a bag for you.”

“Sorry,” Davey said. “Emergency.”

“Is she all right?” Justin asked. “Shouldn’t you take her to the hospital?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Davey patted Oma’s hand, but shifted his gaze to Justin’s grandfather. “Mr. Kretzer, make sure she calls her doctor.”

“I’ll do it myself,” Opa shot a no-nonsense glare at Oma and levered himself from the couch.

Justin followed the paramedics out the door, gripping the porch rail while they loaded the ambulance and sped away, lights flashing and sirens blaring. He stood there a long moment, taking slow, deep breaths. He released the wooden rail, giving it a solid whack before turning for the house.

He spun at the sound of an approaching car. A silver Chevy Cobalt peeled into the driveway, stirring up a whirlwind of leaves and dirt. The door opened and a frantic woman raced up the porch. She rushed into the house as if he didn’t exist. “Rose! Sam!”

“Excuse me? Ma’am!” He hurried after her.

Still ignoring him, she beelined to the sofa where Oma sat. “Oh, Rose. Where’s Sam?” Her head swiveled as she searched the room. “The ambulance. Is it Sam?”

Did everyone in this damn town know his grandparents? Stupid question. Not only knew them, but cared about them. The slightest incident seemed to bring them out of the woodwork. But how had this woman gotten here so fast? He cleared his throat and strode across the room.

“Excuse me? Ma’am?” he repeated. “They’re fine. Now, would you mind telling me who you are, and what you’re doing here?”

For the first time, she seemed aware of his presence. “I could say the same of you,” she said. She took a seat on the sofa and drew Oma into an embrace, apparently back to ignoring him.

Megan inhaled Rose’s citrus scent, the familiar 47-11 perfume engulfing her in comfort. “You’re okay? Sam, too?” Feeling Rose tense beneath her arms, she eased up on the bear hug.

Rose pushed away, squinting at her. “Meggie? Is that you?” She twisted toward the kitchen. “Sam! Come out here. Little Meggie’s home.” She returned her gaze to Megan. “Have you eaten?”

Megan smiled at the familiar greeting. Usually uttered before “Hello.”

Sam shuffled through the doorway, adjusting his glasses. “
Mein Gott
, Meggie doll. It
is
you.”

Tears sprang to Megan’s eyes and she blinked them away. When had Sam gotten so
old
? Where was the spring in his step? Rose, too. When she’d hugged her, Megan had been afraid she might crack one of Rose’s ribs. Guilt washed over her. No job was worth abandoning the ones you loved. She jumped up and rushed over to hug Sam. “I wanted to surprise you.” No need to mention it had taken a call from Angie to get her here.

“This calls for a celebration,” Rose said. “Meggie and Justin. Both home together.”

Megan studied the man in the room. If he was Justin, Rose and Sam weren’t the only ones who’d changed.

 She hoped her incredulity didn’t show on her face. Or her wariness, as Angie’s concerns threaded through her thoughts. She stood. Smiled politely. “Justin. Hi. Good to see you again.”

She looked more closely. No more thick glasses, just clear mocha-brown eyes. A strong jaw line instead of a pudgy face. Sun streaks lightening his brown hair. And a broad-shouldered, muscular torso tapering to narrow hips. But muscles notwithstanding, if he was out to hurt Sam and Rose, she’d strangle him barehanded.

“Megan. It’s been awhile. Hi,” Justin replied with the same lack of enthusiasm.

Rose got to her feet. Sam moved to her side with a speed that took Megan aback.

“Rosie, you stay put. Doctor Evans will see you tomorrow, and he said to take it easy until then. I am completely capable of carrying some cookies and lemonade.”

“I’ll help,” Megan said. She gave Justin a polite nod and followed Sam into the kitchen.

“The good glasses,” Rose shouted after them. “And real plates. And not the everyday ones. And there’s some
apfel kuchen
. Maybe some vanilla ice cream. Check the freezer.”

“I know, Rosie, I know,” Sam called. “As if after all these years I wouldn’t know,” he muttered. He took glasses from a tray on the counter, put them in the cabinet, and went to the dining room, returning with four cut-crystal tumblers.

“Let me, Sam,” Megan said, setting the tumblers on the tray. She took his hands. “What happened? Why the ambulance?”

“Rose got dizzy. Passed out for a couple of seconds. Said it was the fumes from the painters. Justin insisted we call the ambulance—they checked her out before they left on another call.”

Megan sniffed. “I don’t smell any paint.”

“Yesterday, they finished painting the trim. For almost two weeks, people in and out. Pounding and painting. Repaired the roof, the porch, the laundry room. Painted the whole outside.” He shook his head and lowered his voice. “I think Justin was smart to call the ambulance. Rose, she’ll never admit to any weakness. Always an excuse, a logical reason. Doctor Evans will see her tomorrow.”

“I’ll come too.” Pangs of worry wrestled their way through her system. Could Angie have been seeing signs of Rose’s failing health? Or Sam’s? But why assume Justin had anything to do with it, deliberate or otherwise?

“She hates being fussed over.” Sam’s protest was half-hearted.

“Too bad. I’m here, and I’m going to fuss. She can take some of her own medicine.”

Sam chuckled. “That would be a sight to see. Now, we’d better get the food out.”

Megan went to the hutch and pulled out four dainty floral-patterned china plates, setting them on the polished cherry wood of the dining room table, then brought the cut-crystal pitcher that matched the tumblers to the kitchen. “You think we can get away with leaving the cookies on the everyday platter?” she asked, smiling. “Saves dirtying another dish.” When Sam raised his eyebrows, she stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his bald head. “Yeah, right.”

Once Megan was satisfied they’d met Rose’s hospitality requirements, she carried everything to the dining room. Justin held onto Rose’s elbow, escorting her to the table. He even held Rose’s chair for her. However, he avoided Rose’s apple cake with ice cream, and took only one gingersnap. She caught Rose’s frown. He’d lose points for that one.

She gazed across the table. “So, Justin. What brings you to Mapleton?”

Justin finished his cookie and accepted a second glass of lemonade. “Vacation,” he said to buy time as he pondered the best answer to Megan’s question.

“There’s something wrong with my gingersnaps?” Rose’s interruption was welcome. “You don’t like my
apfel kuchen?”

“Of course, Oma.” Justin patted his stomach. “I’m still stuffed from breakfast.”

“I remember when you were a boy, when you would come to visit,” she said. “Such a good eater you were then. A joy to feed.”

Justin managed a smile. He hadn’t eaten for joy in those days. But at least one of them had been happy.

A loud rap on the door rescued him. “I’ll get it.”

He opened the door to a tall, broad man in a leather jacket over jeans. Blue work shirt, open at the neck. Black tee underneath. Hiking boots on his feet. And a gun at his hip.

“Gordon Hepler.” He seemed to notice Justin’s gaze fix on the gun, and indicated the badge clipped to his belt. “Mapleton Police. I came by to check on Rose and Sam.”

“The paramedics didn’t find anything, but she’s going to see her doctor tomorrow,” Justin said. “There doesn’t seem to be any cause for alarm.”

“Good to know.” Gordon peered around Justin into the room. “Hey, Megan. Heard you were in town. Welcome home.”

Good lord, did everybody know everything about everyone?

“Gordon, come in,” Rose said. “Have you eaten? We have
kuchen
and gingersnaps.”

Or maybe the man wanted a snack. God knows, nobody ever left Oma’s hungry.

“Actually,” he said, “I’d like to talk to Megan for a minute.”

Wouldn’t anyone? The years had refined her looks. Thick, curly, dark brown hair. No more pigtails. Lush lips, spontaneous smile. Braces gone. Same hazel eyes, bright and intelligent. Maybe not quite so mischievous.

He was blood kin to the Kretzers, but she was their ward, who’d lived with them after her parents died when she was five. He was just someone who’d shown up during vacations.

Then, Megan had welcomed his arrivals with less than open arms, constantly devising ways to get under his skin, encouraging her playmates to follow suit. Eventually, she treated him with sisterly tolerance, but he’d never doubted she couldn’t wait for him to leave.

Justin backed away. “I’ll tell her.”

“Wait a minute.” Opa came into the room, pushing him forward. “Gordon, do you remember our grandson, Justin Nadell? I don’t know if the two of you ever met.”

“I wasn’t here much,” Justin said. “Only visited. Summers, mostly.”

Gordon extended his hand. “My folks usually shipped me off to summer camp. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Justin returned the handshake.

“Hey, Gordon.” Megan joined the group.

The cop gave Megan a quick, clearly appreciative once-over. “You have a minute? I thought we might walk and talk.”

Megan turned toward Sam, her eyebrows lifted in question.

“Go,” Sam said.

Gordon held the door for her, guided her with a hand at the small of her back, and then the door closed.

Justin’s cell vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, checked the display.
Shit. Not now
. Staring at the closed door in front of him, he frowned and let the call roll to voicemail.