A Denial of Death (16 page)

Ed and Jack were about three vehicles ahead of her, discussing whether the current model year was an improvement or a step backwards for the car they were looking at. She stopped to lean on the nearest vehicle, an electric-blue, funky-looking thing, so she could slip off her shoe and remove whatever the irritant was. Too bad she couldn't remove the other irritants in her life as easily.

She turned her shoe over, and waited until she heard a tiny chip of her driveway gravel plop onto the asphalt before slipping the shoe back on. She was still leaning against the funky-looking car when Jack realized she'd been lagging behind and turned to see if she was okay.

Ed turned a moment later. "I should have known you'd be interested in the Mini Cooper Countryman. It's perfect for you."

"This thing?" Helen got a better look at it. "It's ugly."

"Cute-ugly," Ed said. "You know, like a bulldog puppy. Women just love this car."

Helen tried to imagine why. It certainly wasn't for its looks, except perhaps in the perverse way some women felt compelled to try to rescue the most damaged men, either because of some mother complex or because they didn't think they deserved anything better. Perhaps the Mini Cooper had some virtue that wasn't apparent on the surface. "Is it particularly reliable?"

"It's not bad," he said. "But mostly people like it because it's different."

That was one way of putting it.

"It's functional too," Ed added. "Seats five, reasonable gas mileage, comfortable ride."

"This is perfect for you, Ms. Binney," Jack put in. "You always say you want people to pay attention to you. They won't be able to miss you riding around in this."

More likely, she thought, she'd be even more easily overlooked while everyone was gawking at the shockingly blue oddity that was this car. Still, she wouldn't know for sure unless she tried it. She might just be prejudiced against it because she hadn't chosen it herself.

"Let's take it out for a spin," Helen said. "We can get some other opinions of it at the nursing home."

As it turned out, the funky-looking car was actually quite comfortable, and Jack didn't have any complaints about the way it handled.

On the way to the nursing home, Helen said, "Could you do me a favor, Jack?"

"Anything for you Ms. Binney."

"I was wondering if anyone could confirm Charlene's story about how Angie came to her house for a ride to the casino. Do you think you might be able to find the cabbie who drove her there?"

"Sure," Jack said. "I can hit some popular spots for picking up fares while you're visiting with Betty and Josie. Unless you don't think you'll be here that long. I could wait until after I take you home instead, if you prefer, but I do need to spend some time tonight working on my clay pieces."

All Jack would be doing was confirming what they already knew, so there wasn't a huge rush. Still, if she was wrong about Angie's actions on the day she disappeared, the sooner they had some answers, the better. "I'd rather not wait, and I can visit with Betty and Josie for as long as you need to ask around."

"I'll come back to get you in an hour," Jack said as he pulled into the nursing home's driveway. "Can't promise I'll have any answers by then, though."

"Just do what you can. I've got my crochet project to work on if you're running late."

He glanced sideways at her. "No need for that. I'll be back in an hour."

Jack left the Mini Cooper idling in front of the nursing home while Helen got out, which was as easy as getting in had been. Perhaps she'd been a little hasty in rejecting it based on its unusual looks.

She'd barely crossed the sidewalk on the way to the front stairs before the car was completely surrounded by a collection of staff members, ambulatory residents, and visiting guests. Helen had never seen that many people outside the nursing home before. A dozen faces were staring out from the activity room's front windows too.

That settled it, Helen decided. This was definitely not the right car for her. She wanted a car that blended into the background rather than being more interesting than she was.

Martha Waddell raced down the front porch stairs to stand next to Helen and shout, "Back to work, everyone. Right now or I'll be making notes in your files about leaving your stations."

Within moments, the crowd was gone and Jack was able to climb behind the wheel and leave.

Martha turned on Helen, obviously irritated but unwilling to go so far as to upset a potentially valuable ally in the quest to take over her boss's job. "What on earth are you doing riding around in that car? It's not your style."

"That's what I said, but no one ever listens to me."

"You need to stand up for yourself. Especially in male-dominated areas like car lots. Otherwise you end up going through life driving a car you hate and playing second fiddle to an incompetent twit whose only job qualification is his Y chromosome." Martha glanced down at a new text on her phone. Apparently, there was some new crisis inside, so she didn't wait for Helen to defend herself before racing off up the stairs at a pace Helen couldn't hope to match.

Helen made her slower way inside, signed the guest log, and then headed to the activity room where the ambulatory residents were relaxing after lunch.

Betty and Josie were in their usual spot, a pair of wingback chairs near the fireplace at the far end of the room where they would have missed out on seeing the Mini Cooper out front. They had their yarn tucked in beside them, but their hands were still for once. Betty's eyes were drooping and Josie was snoring softly.

The nonagenarian couple that had been necking during Helen's last visit were in the same corner, but today they were sitting with their backs to each other, making a show of their mutual irritation. Apparently they were re-living everything about adolescence, with all of the melodramatic game–playing and romantic angst.

Betty perked up as soon as she saw Helen, and she jabbed Josie's upper arm lightly with a knitting needle.

"What?" Josie said, rubbing her arm.

"Helen's here," Betty said. "She might have found Angie."

"I'm afraid not." Helen pulled a chair over beside them. "She isn't at the casino where Charlene said she was. I've hit a bit of a dead end."

"So have we," Betty said. "We've been trying to convince Hank's uncle to get him to take Angie's disappearance seriously."

"Yeah." Josie yawned. "Now we know where Hank got all his most irritating characteristics from: his uncle. He used to be a cop too."

"Detective Peterson does seem to have his head stuck in the mindset of a previous generation."

"Or stuck somewhere else just as dark," Josie said, as if she weren't from the same generation as Hank's uncle. "They may be willing to ignore Angie's disappearance, but we aren't. Are you sure there aren't any leads at all for you to pursue?"

"There might be one, but I'm still waiting for more information," Helen said. "I don't suppose either of you have heard of a company known as SLP, have you?"

"Not me," Josie said. "It sounds kind of secretive. Who uses initials, unless they're trying to hide something?"

"Just about everyone these days," Betty said, her no-nonsense tone taking on a tinge of irritation. "It's like we're living inside a knitting pattern. I know what K and P and PSSO stand for, and there are glossaries for any knitting abbreviations I don't recognize, but I don't have anything to translate all the other acronyms people use these days. Although, I have to say, I can't remember ever seeing SLP anywhere." Betty brightened. "Oh, wait, I did see it once. It was on the old VCR we had here before they finally got us a DVD player. It referred to one of the tape speeds. Super Long Play."

"I don't think an old VCR machine is what I'm looking for," Helen said. "Did Angie ever mention a business with those initials? Or maybe she didn't mention the company's name, but she said something about getting a part-time job or investing in some company that hit it big?"

"She didn't really discuss anything with us," Betty picked up her needles and resumed knitting. "She showed up with her preemie caps, told us all the things we were doing wrong, and then left."

"She could be a real pain," Josie said. "But she meant well. And she made beautiful little hats. The hospital will be disappointed not to get any more."

"We don't know for sure that she's gone permanently," Helen said. "Charlene was certain she'd be back."

"But now Charlene is gone too," Betty said. "Hank's uncle told us at lunch."

"I was hoping she'd been found by now," Helen said. "Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"

"Maybe Ralph killed her too," Josie suggested, stabbing her crochet hook into her cap with a bit of extra enthusiasm.

"I thought he was supposed to be having an affair with her," Helen said.

"Well, I could have been wrong about that," Josie said, unfazed by the inconsistency. "Ralph could have been having an affair with someone else, and Angie caught him, and he killed her, but then Charlene tried to blackmail him about it, and so he killed her too."

"Why are you so convinced Ralph was having an affair with someone?" Helen said. "He seems awfully devoted to Angie from the way he talks about her."

"It does seem unlikely he'd be cheating on her," Betty said, proving she was the more grounded of the two women, "but there are plenty of women who'd come running if he showed any interest at all."

"His office manager has had a crush on him for
ever
," Josie said.

Betty nodded. "I never thought Ralph even noticed, but Angie could have finally pushed him into her waiting arms. A sweet woman. I wouldn't have blamed Ralph if he'd fallen for her. He deserved some happiness."

It wasn't much of a lead, but Helen didn't have anything better. "What's the office manager's name?"

"Samantha Zacharias," Betty said. "You can find her at the insurance agency during business hours. Probably after hours too. She's dedicated to her work."

"And to Ralph," Josie added.

The female half of the feuding couple in the corner looked like she was having trouble breathing. Her lover turned to face her and then grabbed her hand and began to shout sweet nothings at her, promising her she'd be fine and he really did love her, and he hadn't meant to forget about their breakfast date. A few other patients glanced in their direction before going back to their television watching or card playing. Betty and Josie glanced at the commotion and then went on knitting and crocheting as if nothing were happening.

Helen started to push herself to her feet, although she didn't know what she could do to help the woman in distress. "Shouldn't we alert the staff?"

"They'll be here before you can dial your phone," Betty said. "She's got a heart condition, and fluid builds up in her lungs, and this sort of thing happens every few days. She wears a monitor that alerts the nursing staff whenever she's in serious distress."

Even as Betty explained, two nurses burst into the room with a syringe and an oxygen mask and tank. The first nurse gave the injection while the other one placed the oxygen mask over the patient's face. Almost immediately, the old woman was breathing more normally, and the man beside her relaxed. He kept hold of her hand, though, their earlier tiff forgotten, and the woman smiled back at him through her oxygen mask.

"See?" Betty said. "Martha Waddell may be annoying at times, but she runs a tight ship. No one dies unnecessarily on her watch. As much as we like to complain about her, we're really lucky to have her in charge. Not everyone sees it that way, of course."

"Angie was always trying to get Martha fired," Josie explained. "I think the last time I saw her she was arguing with Martha."

"I'd forgotten about that." Betty's busy hands stopped for a moment. "She was here on a day that wasn't Charity Caps Day. It must have been the day before she went missing. Even the residents who refuse to wear their hearing aids could hear the shouting from both women. Martha doesn't usually let anyone get her goat like that, but Angie is an expert at pushing buttons."

"What were they arguing about?"

Betty and Josie looked at each other, and they both shrugged. Betty spoke for them. "We could hear the voices but not the actual words. It could have been about anything, really. Angie didn't like having to sign in at the front desk when she was only dropping off some caps without staying for the whole event, like she'd done the week before. Maybe she was still mad about that and thought she'd find the home's administrator here, so she could go over Martha's head with the complaint. He usually works on Wednesdays, but he had some meeting to go to that week, so Martha was here instead."

Josie got the unfocused look she usually had when making up a story about one of the residents. "Maybe Martha scared Angie away. Not just from here but from the entire town. If anyone could do it, Martha could."

"Angie's not the running-away type," Betty said thoughtfully. "She
is
the threaten-a-person's-job type, though, and Martha is awfully attached to her career. I don't know what Martha would do if she felt her job was in jeopardy. She's got her heart set on replacing her boss, and she'll need an absolutely perfect record to be the first female director here."

"Maybe you should drop the investigation," Josie said anxiously. "I don't want Martha to get into any trouble. Just being suspected of murder, even if there's no proof, would be enough to scuttle her career."

"I may not be able to do much more investigating anyway," Helen said. "The police are officially involved now, so I need to watch my step. Tate's a good lawyer, but I shouldn't make a habit of dragging him out of his retirement to save me from obstruction of justice charges."

Betty waved one of her needles dismissively. "Don't worry about the local police. If they give you any trouble, we'll talk to Hank's uncle, and he'll have a word with his nephew. I don't think the cops will bother you, though. Probably won't even notice you. They don't mean to do it, I'm sure, but they tend to divide the world into people who are a threat to them and people who aren't. They're so busy looking for the dangerous ones that they don't notice the law-abiding ones. Your age and gender put you in a demographic that doesn't generally commit crimes and isn't a threat to the officers' safety, so they won't even see you unless you do something really outrageous."