A Diet to Die For (18 page)
Authors: Joan Hess
“Is that the only place you’re going?” she said suspiciously.
“It’s apt to be the last time I have to take them,” I said, neatly averting the question. “They’re entitled to two free classes, and then it costs money. Neither one of them is enjoying the class enough to actually pay for it. They’ll decide they’ve reached their optimum weight, which will be whatever they weigh at the time.”
“You’re not going to Maribeth’s house?”
It was her fault. After Peter’s call that morning, I’d abandoned my admittedly screwy plan to search the house, but after her question in the fine arts basement, I’d changed my mind. This convoluted reasoning allowed me to say, “Of course not. Will you be home a little before six?”
“No. I’ll leave the car key in your mailbox—if you’re quite sure you’re not planning anything Peter would disapprove of, Claire.”
“Me?” I chuckled at the very idea.
“All right, then, as long as you’ve promised. I was in such a rush earlier that I didn’t tell you what Betty Lou’s daughter said about Gerald Galleston.”
“You asked her about him? The last thing we need to do is make him suspicious, Joanie.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said in a haughty voice.
“I merely asked if she knew about poor Maribeth Galleston’s condition, an innocent question. She said she’d heard something, but that Gerald rarely mentions his wife and never brings her to faculty functions. I was more than discreet; she was the one who offered the information.”
“I merely asked if she knew about poor Maribeth Galleston’s condition, an innocent question. She said she’d heard something, but that Gerald rarely mentions his wife and never brings her to faculty functions. I was more than discreet; she was the one who offered the information.”
“Did she say anything else about Gerald?”
“Only that he may need the Farber trust fund by the end of the spring semester, because his drinking problem is interfering with his academic duties and he’s liable to find himself at a cocktail party for his successor.” She paused to allow me to make a thoughtful noise. “What’s more, she knows one of the trustees of the fund, who told her the approximate amount of money coming to Maribeth. It’s in the range of twelve million dollars, give or take a few hundred thousand.”
My mouth fell open, and it took me a moment to regain control of it. “Twelve million dollars? I don’t know what I thought the figure was, but I think I was underestimating Thurber Farber’s business acumen. There are a lot of people who’d steal their grandmother’s cotter pin for that kind of money.”
“And prefer to be married to an heiress in a coma rather than to one in an attorney’s office inquiring about the daily special on divorces. As long as you’re not plotting anything illegal, I’ll leave the car key for you, but if you’re lying, then you can kiss off any hope of an exquisite hand-built vase on your mantel.”
“I never lie,” I said mendaciously. I thanked her, then hung up and waited until the last moment to lock the store and walk home. Dr. Brandisi had not returned my call, but I wouldn’t bet more than a nickel, give or take a few cents, that the receptionist had put
my message on his desk. When I reached the duplex, the key was in the mailbox, the girls were in their shorts and T-shirts, and, if all was right with the world, Gerald Galleston was in Betty Lou’s daughter’s dining room, sipping sherry and hurling trick questions at the candidate.
my message on his desk. When I reached the duplex, the key was in the mailbox, the girls were in their shorts and T-shirts, and, if all was right with the world, Gerald Galleston was in Betty Lou’s daughter’s dining room, sipping sherry and hurling trick questions at the candidate.
I dropped the girls off and drove to the Galleston house, which was dark. I parked on the street, but as I approached the gate, an elderly woman in a long overcoat, scarf, and thick-soled shoes came around the corner, or, more accurately, was dragged around the corner by a fierce German shepherd at the end of a leash.
“Are you planning to visit Mrs. Galleston?” the woman chirped. She yanked at the leash and said, “Sit, you filthy animal.” She looked back at me, her eyes brightly inquisitive.
I had no idea if the woman knew that Maribeth was in the hospital. “I was just dropping off a few things for her, ah, Avon products she ordered last week.”
She took in my empty hands. “Isn’t that nice,” she said, yanked again on the leash, and trudged ahead. The dog looked back at me, his expression as skeptical as his mistress’s.
I felt silly as I walked up the driveway, but I had no time to run back to the woman and further fray the situation with a garbled explanation. The doorbell rang hollowly, as it had before, and I waited a prudent five minutes before testing the front door. It was locked, a very un-Farberville-ish gesture. The windows along the side of the house were locked, as were the back door and the windows on the other side. According to cop shows and PI novels, all one had to
do was slip a credit card into the lock, but I’d left home without it.
do was slip a credit card into the lock, but I’d left home without it.
It was almost six-thirty; I’d wasted nearly half of my allotted time. The whole scheme was seeming madder by the minute. I returned to the back door and rattled it, then noticed the window above it was open partially. To be precise, the second-story window. Of an older house, with very high ceilings.
There was a ratty shed behind the house, and it looked like a perfect place to keep a ladder. Offering a silent prayer to the god of propitiousness, I yanked open the door and squinted into the dim interior. There were cardboard boxes filled with yellowed newspapers, a stack of tires, a small forest of battered gallon paint cans, several rolls of chicken wire, and in the far corner, a cobweb-coated ladder. It took several sneezes, a bruised shin, a close encounter with a dead mouse, and more than ten minutes to extricate the ladder, but eventually I dragged it to the back of the house and propped it beneath the window.
Trying not to dwell on my aversion to heights, I crawled up the ladder and opened the window wide enough so that I could slither through it. I landed on the floor of what I brilliantly deduced to be a bathroom of nineteenth-century vintage, complete with a bathtub on claws, a rusted gas heater in the wall, and buckling linoleum.
It was as good a place to start as any. I had less than twenty minutes left if I wanted to be at the fitness center at seven o’clock to pick up Caron and Inez, and any inconvenience on their part would be broadcast loudly to anyone who would listen, including Joanie Powell and Super Cop.
The shelves behind the mirrored medicine cabinet
contained ancient tubes of toothpaste, an encrusted disposable razor, a book of matches, and a box of Dr. Browning’s Digestive Powder. The cabinets below the sink held a toilet brush, a pile of rags, a copy of
Life
magazine with Eisenhower on the cover, a book on auction bridge by Ely Culbertson, and a dog-eared copy of
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
. Thurber Farber had had eclectic taste in reading material.
contained ancient tubes of toothpaste, an encrusted disposable razor, a book of matches, and a box of Dr. Browning’s Digestive Powder. The cabinets below the sink held a toilet brush, a pile of rags, a copy of
Life
magazine with Eisenhower on the cover, a book on auction bridge by Ely Culbertson, and a dog-eared copy of
Lady Chatterley’s Lover
. Thurber Farber had had eclectic taste in reading material.
I opened the door and peered in both directions down the shadowy hall. There was no sound from downstairs to indicate anyone had entered in the interim; the house seemed to be holding its breath, as was I. Resolutely reminding myself that I had to be in Joanie’s car in ten minutes, I went to the top of the stairs, listened intently for a squeak or footstep, then went down and hurried to the kitchen.
In the first few cabinets, I found pots, pans, spices, and canned vegetables, but in the one next to the sink I found Maribeth’s Ultima products: vitamins, packets of protein mixes (chicken soup, orange-flavored drink, and vanilla pudding, none of which sounded especially appetizing). I presumed the police had taken the bottles of potassium caplets. I glanced at my watch, then looked frantically around the kitchen, trying to think of a reason why Maribeth might have misplaced a bottle. My eyes landed on a bulging plastic garbage bag.
I bent over it and began digging through soursmelling beer cans, whiskey bottles, coffee grinds, eggshells, greasy chicken bones, limp, oily lettuce, and all those delightful things one tends to discard over several weeks of riotous living. My fingers brushed a smooth plastic surface; I forced myself to
plunge my hand all the way through the disgusting depths and grappled for it.
plunge my hand all the way through the disgusting depths and grappled for it.
I came up with a plastic bottle. It had the Ultima label and through a patina of catsup and speckles of coffee grinds I could make out the word POTASSIUM. I shook it and was rewarded with the smallest rattle of what I dearly hoped was a solitary caplet. It was too late to dally in the kitchen for a round of self-congratulations. The bottle firmly in hand, I headed for the front door, debating whether to return the ladder to the shed or simply leave it there.
I unlocked the front door and opened it. Gerald Galleston stared at me, a key in one hand and a briefcase in the other.
“What are you doing in my house?” he demanded harshly.
I
stuck my hand behind my back and forced a smile. “Oh, good, you’re home early,” I said, willing myself not to retreat down the hall. “I was hoping you’d get here before I had to leave, but now I’m afraid it’s gotten late and I’ve got to pick up the girls at the fitness center. They’re likely to be sweaty and exhausted, so I’d better run along.”
stuck my hand behind my back and forced a smile. “Oh, good, you’re home early,” I said, willing myself not to retreat down the hall. “I was hoping you’d get here before I had to leave, but now I’m afraid it’s gotten late and I’ve got to pick up the girls at the fitness center. They’re likely to be sweaty and exhausted, so I’d better run along.”
He said exactly what I’d have said in the face of the above incoherent sputtering. “Huh?”
“The teen exercise class,” I elaborated while assessing the amount of space on either side of him. “Bobbi makes them bop until they drop, or so Caron said. Or was it Jody? Now that I think about it, Bobbi may have told me that herself. In any case, I really must run along now.”
Although he was not a large man, he managed to fill the doorway. Weaving just enough to keep both sides blocked, he said, “You still didn’t explain why you’re in my house. How’d you get in, anyway?”
“Didn’t I explain all that? I … ah, came by to pick up a few things for Maribeth. A nightgown, maybe some cosmetics. In case she wakes up and wants to
freshen up for her visitors. The door was open, but it was very naughty of me to come in like that, wasn’t it?”
freshen up for her visitors. The door was open, but it was very naughty of me to come in like that, wasn’t it?”
I tried a conspiratorial little laugh, but he wasn’t in the mood. The more I studied him, however, the more I realized that he was weaving not to block any escape attempts but from a faulty balance mechanism, most likely produced by alcohol. His eyes were wandering in opposite directions; he kept blinking and squinting in an attempt to control them, but he was having little success.
“Door was locked,” he said at last. “Whaddaya got behind your back, Claire?” He wrinkled his nose, then stepped back and snorted. “You stink worse than a month-old skunk carcass in the middle of the road. Holy Moses, I’ve been in slaughterhouses that smelled better than you do.”
I did not point out that any residual redolence was from his garbage, not mine. “I was in such a hurry I skipped my morning shower.” I ostentatiously looked at my watch and gasped. “It’s seven o’clock! I absolutely must leave, Gerald, so I’d deeply appreciate it if you’d let me by. Caron’s beastly when she’s kept waiting.” I feinted to the left, then back to the right, but he somehow managed to anticipate my ladylike lunges and counter them.
“Why do you think I’d do something to Maribeth?” he demanded in a burst of belligerence. “I’m the last person to want her dead, damn it. She’s getting more than ten million bucks in half a year. If she’s not around to collect it, it goes to some fool charity or other, and I’ll stay in genteel poverty the rest of my life. You think it’s easy to live on what they pay at this pissant college? My father makes more than I do,
and he works for a trucking company. A trucking company. Ha!”
and he works for a trucking company. A trucking company. Ha!”
“Perhaps your book will bring in a great deal of money.”
He sagged against one side of the doorway and let his head fall to the side, but he was watching me with a sly expression. “Real ironic, isn’t it? You kick and fight and step on people and do everything possible to get above a blue-collar existence, but then you find out all it means is bigger bills and bigger headaches. Farther to fall. Take a wild guess what the hotshot candidate from Toledo just published.” He grabbed my arm and shook it so violently I could hear the caplet rattle. His voice menacing, he said, “Go on, take a goddamn guess.”
“Something on international trade regulations?”
“Says it’s definitive. Says it got great reviews all over the damn place and already’s been adopted at several major law schools.”
“What a pity,” I murmured, realizing I’d been coerced into backing most of the way down the hall. As I tried to decide how best to handle the unnerving situation, he took a step toward me, gave me a surprised look, and slowly crumpled to the floor.
I stepped over him, went back down the hall, conscientiously closed the door behind me, and fled to Joanie’s car. If Gerald had been the least bit sober, I would have been obliged to come up with a halfway plausible explanation for being in his house. By the time he roused himself he might have forgotten the encounter, but I couldn’t rely on that. The ladder was under the window, and there might be a muddy footprint or two in the upstairs bathroom. If Gerald called
the police, it would result in a most uncomfortable confrontation, if not a felony warrant.
the police, it would result in a most uncomfortable confrontation, if not a felony warrant.
But I had the bottle tucked in my purse. As I pulled away from the curb, I saw the old woman and her filthy beast in the next yard, she feigning no awareness of what was happening to a neighbor’s japonica. I waved. She stared. The dog continued its business.
I drove as quickly as I dared to the fitness center, trying to formulate an excuse that would mollify Caron. I was working on a story involving a runaway train as I pulled up in front of Delano’s and parked. No one impatiently paced on the sidewalk. Assuming they were impatiently pacing inside, I opened the door and braced myself for a torrential outburst of music and acrimony.
The room was uninhabited, the offensive cassette player mute. Totally mystified, I sank down on the nearest chair and frowned at my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. The day had not gone well. Peter had made my theory evaporate, at least temporarily. Someone had stolen my cotter pin in an effort to demobilize me in more ways than one. My bribee had betrayed me and was ten dollars richer for his effort. I could ignore the ticket I’d receive from campus security, but I couldn’t ignore the mechanic’s bill if I wanted my car back. Dr. Brandisi had not returned my call. Gerald had caught me in his house, and at that very moment might be whining to Peter about it. I smelled like a denizen of a landfill. I’d lost Caron and Inez.
All I had for my industriousness was a plastic bottle with one caplet in it. It was apt to be a potassium caplet, which meant I’d been pierced and bruised and banged up for absolutely nothing. Miss Marple-Malloy
was a failure. A dismal failure. Not worthy of tea and crumpets, much less a gold medal for deductive prowess. Or silver. Not even bronze.
was a failure. A dismal failure. Not worthy of tea and crumpets, much less a gold medal for deductive prowess. Or silver. Not even bronze.
Bobbi came out of the office door, wearing a large white jacket over a leotard and carrying a canvas bag. She had a less than perky scowl on her face, but when she saw me, she almost leapt out of her leotard (white, with gold pinstripes to match her leg warmers). “What are you doing here?” she yelped.
“Resting, if you must know. I had an aerobic exercise of my own, although not to music by any means.”
“Are you hurt?” she said, still eyeing me as if there were a fuzzy black spider spinning a web in my hair, an idea I did not care to entertain—nor to explore.
“Why would I be hurt?”
“I don’t know. I mean, you said you were doing aerobics, and I thought you might have twisted your ankle or fallen or something.”
“It wasn’t quite that strenuous. Actually, I’m here to pick up Caron and Inez, but unless they’re still in the dressing room, I’m too late.”
“I always check the back rooms before I leave, and no one’s here but me,” she said firmly. “As for the girls, they waited around for a few minutes, then caught a ride with a friend. That was about ten or fifteen minutes ago.” She gave me an odd look, as if anticipating a challenge. When I shrugged, she came across the room and sat down beside me. “Wow, we had some workout today. After I go to the hospital, I’m going home and just soak in the bathtub for hours and hours.”
She was glowing from the earlier exertion, but she didn’t look as though she needed to visit an emergency
room. “The hospital?” I said blankly.
room. “The hospital?” I said blankly.
“Isn’t it so exciting!”
“To be frank, I find them rather dreary. The antiseptic smell, the little rooms painted in revolting colors, the nurses recruited from penal colony staffs. I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘exciting’ to describe a hospital.”
She sniffed several times, then made a face. “Ooh, the carpet smells terrible. Jody’s got to fire the janitor; he obviously hasn’t been doing his job. But I didn’t mean the hospital was exciting, Mrs. Malloy. I think they’re creepy, what with those big needles and bodily fluids and dead bodies in the basement. I was talking about Maribeth. I just thought you’d already heard.”
“Has she come out of the coma?” I said, allowing the janitor to take the blame for the malodorous ambiance. When she nodded, I added, “This is exciting. When did it happen?”
“Gee, I don’t know exactly. Jody’s been calling the hospital every hour ever since the accident, and he told me right before the teen class that Maribeth had been moved to a private room. He was as excited as a little kid; he left early to take her some flowers.”
At least he wouldn’t have bumped into Gerald, unless some sort of resurrection had taken place without any celestial displays. “I think I’ll run by for a visit too,” I said. A nice little visit during which Maribeth could explain a few things. I stood up, started for the door, and then looked back at Bobbi. “Did you know that Maribeth’s condition was caused by a potassium deficiency, that she didn’t take any caplets for two weeks?”
Bobbi gave me a bewildered look. “I can’t believe that. One of the Ultima staff rules is to ask the client
every single time if he or she is taking everything on the program. Maribeth always assured me that she was.”
every single time if he or she is taking everything on the program. Maribeth always assured me that she was.”
“Was she upset when her steady weight loss dropped off and her progress slowed down?”
“The first time I was with her and she’d gained half a pound, she burst into tears, and I had an awful time calming her down. I was as distraught as she was. Then, a couple of visits later, when Candice was with another client, I weighed Maribeth, and she’d gained a little bit again. I was ready for her to start crying, but she just shrugged and didn’t make a big deal about it. I told her it was probably just a temporary water gain, especially since every last bite on her food list for the three days before was legal. It was kind of funny, though, because afterward I wondered if Maribeth heard one word I said.”
“She was so spaced out those last few days that she might not have assimilated anything.”
“But she wouldn’t lie to me about taking the potassium,” Bobbi said, shocked. “She was really friendly during the consultations. We just talked and talked about her husband and …” She paused for a moment, twisting a curl around her finger and staring into the distance. “You know, girl talk.”
“Hairstyles and boyfriends?”
Despite Caron’s avowals to the contrary, Bobbi was capable of sweating, because I could see the beads forming on her forehead and upper lip. In an odd voice, she said, “Clothes, hair, makeup, that kind of thing. One day she forgot her box of protein supplements and came back while Dr. Winder … Well, Shelly and I thought we were alone. I guess somebody might think it was a compromising position, although
1 just thought it was kind of funny. Maribeth’s not the sort to tattle.”
1 just thought it was kind of funny. Maribeth’s not the sort to tattle.”
“I wondered if you and Dr. Winder, ah, found each other attractive,” I said, smiling in hopes of eliciting more girl talk. “I hope you weren’t too irritated with me the night I made him discuss Maribeth’s chart while you were in the back room.”
“I wasn’t,” she said with a giggle, “but he was in a god-awful snit. His glasses fogged over and he stomped around for half an hour saying that you would blab all over town. For some reason, Shelly’s real touchy about his reputation.”
“Did Maribeth say anything to you about Jody?”
“No.” She stood up and fluffed her hair over her shoulders, her expression making it clear that giggly girlish confidences were done for the day. She wiggled her fingers at me, picked up her bag, and sailed out the door.
I sat for a moment, waiting for an intuitive flash. Nary a flicker came. I went to Joanie’s car and drove toward the hospital, then turned at the last minute and headed for my apartment. I’d grown accustomed to my stench, but I doubted others would be quite so adaptable, particularly in those places where cleanliness ranked well above godliness.
I’d rehearsed an alibi for Caron, but she wasn’t there. It was just as well, I thought, as I peeled off my shirt and stuffed it in the clothes hamper. I spent a good while in the shower. Telling lies required more mental dexterity than I possessed after being beaned with a brick, used as a dart board, and bounced off the roof of the car, all in less than seventy-two hours.
Amateur sleuthing has its drawbacks.
I dressed, combed my hair, and was at the door
when the telephone rang. Presuming (or praying, anyway) that it was Dr. Brandisi, I opted to answer it with a cautious, “Hello?”
when the telephone rang. Presuming (or praying, anyway) that it was Dr. Brandisi, I opted to answer it with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Claire,” Peter said with no perceptible warmth. “We need to talk. Can you come by the station?”
“I was on my way to the hospital,” I said evenly. “Have you heard the good news about Maribeth Galleston?”
“The hospital’s a couple of miles from your house, isn’t it?”
“That’s a fair estimate.”
“Quite a long walk, and even longer on the return, when it’s dark.”
“It would be a long walk,” I agreed.
“But not as far as to the Galleston house.”
“It’s probably twice as far,” I agreed again, wishing I knew what he had on me. There were numerous possibilities.
“But not as far as the police station.”
“No, the police station’s quite a bit closer. Now that we’ve established the distances between my house and various local points of interest, I’d like to get to the hospital to visit Maribeth.”
Other books
Rotten by Hardy, Victoria S.
My Sunshine Away by M. O. Walsh
Trouble Bruin by Rebekah Blue
Die With Me by Elena Forbes
Darkness Rising (The East Salem Trilogy) by Lis Wiehl
The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes
Brief Tales From The Bench by Henry Cecil
Eden's Pass by Kimberly Nee
Pink Ice by Carolina Soto
Drive Me Sane by Rogers, Dena
