Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 10 - Wedding Duress (12 page)

Tori was just setting a gift bag and box of chocolates on the floor of the passenger seat when she heard the familiar squeak and hum of Margaret Louise’s car as it pulled up alongside her own. She turned and waited as her friend rolled down the window for conversational purposes.

“Hey. I’m on my way over to Leona’s to make sure she’s settled in with her caregiver and to bring her a few things to keep her busy.”

Margaret Louise stuck her pudgy hand through the open window and shooed Tori from her field of vision. “What’s in the bag?”

Tori backed herself against the side of her car and did her best to give a verbal inventory of the gift bag’s contents. “A few romantic comedies she can watch on the DVD player in her room, a few travel and antique magazines,
those gummy bears she refuses to admit she likes, a crossword puzzle book, and a carrot for Paris.”

“You’re wastin’ your money if you think my twin is goin’ to eat those chocolates.” Margaret Louise pointed toward the rectangular-shaped box beside the bag. “If there’s one thing I know ’bout Leona, it’s that gettin’ her to eat chocolate is like gettin’ her to smile at anyone who falls in the diaper-wearin’ demographic.”

“Oh, I know that, but she likes to
receive
them. Once she does, though, she’s more than happy to hand them off to someone else.”

A fleeting grin brought a much-needed, albeit short-lived, interior light to her friend’s eyes. “Now don’t you go eatin’ that whole box by yourself, Victoria. You’ve got a weddin’ dress to wear in eight days and you don’t want to be lookin’ like me.”

“I wouldn’t want to have a beautiful smile and eyes that dance when I talk about everything and anything?”

A hint of crimson rose in Margaret Louise’s cheeks, prompting the woman to cover them with her hands. “I was referrin’ to my jigglin’ belly but thank you for sayin’ such nice things.”

“It’s easy to speak the truth.” She pointed between her car and her friend’s. “You want to come to Leona’s with me? We could say the chocolates are from
you
.”

Margaret Louise shifted in her seat and brought her hands back to the steering wheel. “No. I’ve got somethin’ of my own to do right now.”

Something in the woman’s voice brought Tori up short and sent her internal radar pinging. “You haven’t called her yet, have you?”

When her question was met with silence, she reached over, shut the door on Leona’s gifts, and stepped away from the car. “Margaret Louise, you’re going to regret this one day. Leona may have made a mistake on her show last week, but she’s still your sister. And you know as well as I do that there’s one positive for every not-so-positive where your sister is concerned.”

Margaret Louise shrugged and then shifted her car back into drive. “I reckon you’re right ’bout that. But I’m still digestin’ and decidin’.”

“Digesting and deciding what?”

“I’m digestin’ what she did to Rose, and decidin’ what I want to say to my twin.”

Tori closed the gap between their cars and leaned her head through the open window. “Don’t wait too long, okay?”

When Margaret Louise said nothing, Tori went for the most persuasive tactic of all. “Once you’ve figured out what to do with all of this, let me know, because I could use your keen eye on a little matter I promised Beatrice I’d look into.”

Like a dog alerted to the scent of a tasty bone, Margaret Louise shifted her wagon back into park. “Is this a matter that needs a little investigatin’?”

“It’s looking that way,” Tori teased while doing her best to maintain a straight face.

“And this has somethin’ to do with Beatrice?”

“It does.”

Reaching up, Margaret Louise scratched at her hairline. “Wait! The only time we’ve done any investigatin’ is when there’s been a body.”

“
Almost
every time, yes . . .”

“The only body havin’ anythin’ to do with Beatrice is her Miss Gracie.”

Tori retreated from the window and took a few steps back toward her own car. “Yes. That’s right.”

“Miss Gracie fell down a flight of stairs, Victoria. What kind of investigatin’ can we do with—” Reality dawned across Margaret Louise’s face, widening her eyes and gaping her mouth as it did. “Wait. Are you tellin’ me you’re thinkin’ she didn’t fall?”

Tori looped around the hood of her car and answered her friend across its roof. “Everything I’ve got so far is circumstantial, I know, but there’s a pretty good chance Miss Gracie’s fall was as a result of someone’s hand.”

“Count me in, Victoria!”

Tori yanked her door open, slid into place behind the steering wheel, turned the key in the ignition, and pressed open the passenger side window. “I’d love to have you ridin’ shotgun with me on this, Margaret Louise, but I think you’re too distracted with this whole Leona thing.”

“I ain’t any more distracted by my sister and her mean ways than you are with your weddin’ . . . which, I will remind you again, is in eight days, Victoria!”

“I’ve got the wedding under control at this point. And having someone helping me get to the bottom of this woman’s death will make everything a whole lot easier.”

“Let me help you, Victoria,” Margaret Louise pleaded in a voice thick with saliva. “Please.”

“Sure thing. Just turn your car off, hop in here with me so we can visit your sister, and then we’ll talk about how we proceed with our investigation.” She glanced down at her dashboard clock and then back up at her friend. “It’s
only five thirty, Margaret Louise. We can fit a whole lot of investigating in between now and bedtime.”

Margaret Louise’s gaze dropped to what Tori assumed was her own dashboard clock and then disappeared behind closed lids. “I can’t right now, Victoria. I’ve got somewhere I need to be in less than twenty minutes.”

“Okay. Well, when you see fit to work things out with Leona, give me a call and we’ll talk motives and suspects then.” She applied just enough pressure to the window button to raise it halfway. “Unless, of course, I’ve figured out the truth all on my own by then . . .”

*   *   *

She was still chuckling to herself when, arms full, she was forced to use her elbow to ring Leona’s doorbell.

Half a minute later, the door swung open to reveal a familiar face. “Oh, hey, it’s you—the one who stepped in and saved the day with Paris before I had to go to work the other night.”

“Sam, right?” she said by way of response as she accepted his gestured invite inside. “Leona told me you were probably bringing her home today.”

He swept a hand through his disheveled hair then cast a longing glance toward the living room and the tired, yet always stylish woman seated in a straight-back chair in front of the fireplace. “Unfortunately, as you can see”—he pointed inward at his EMT uniform—“I’m still on the clock, which means I have to run out of here the second a call comes over the radio.”

“How’s she doing?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Was she able to handle the move without too much pain?”

“She’s an amazing woman,” Sam gushed. “I’ve never seen anyone come out of a hospital after hip surgery looking like that.”

Tori followed his gaze back to Leona and the facial pallor that painted a different picture for anyone in the know. She supposed she might see things the way Sam did if she didn’t know Leona so well, but after the barrage of makeup and posture talks she’d been given by the man-magnet over the last two-plus years, she knew there was more to the story.

“Is her caregiver here?”

Sam nodded and pointed to a young woman in her mid-twenties typing away on a handheld device, seemingly oblivious to everything about her surroundings, including Leona.

“Huh. Okay.”

“Hey, I’ve gotta step outside and check in on my partner. If he’s still content out there with his sandwich and his magazine, I’ll get to stay a little longer. Either way, though, I won’t leave without saying good-bye to Leona.”

“Sounds good, Sam. Thanks for getting her here safely.” She watched as he walked through the door he’d just held open for her and then turned and made her way into the living room. “I see you made it home, Leona.”

Setting the gift bag and the box on the end table to Leona’s left, she stepped close enough to her friend to whisper a kiss across her forehead. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

“Whatever . . . gave you that . . . idea, dear?”

“You mean other than the way your voice buckled just now?” She glanced toward the girl in the corner, still typing away on her device, and then plucked a blanket off the back of the couch and draped it across Leona. “Well, for
starters, you seem chilled. Next, there’s a paleness to your skin that your makeup simply isn’t hiding. And finally, there’s the row of lashes you missed with your mascara brush. Since I’ve never seen any of those things in all the time I’ve known you, and you’ve never fractured your hip before, I can only deduce they’re related.”

Then, hooking her finger over her shoulder while Leona grabbed for the mirror on the edge of the table, she lowered her voice so only Leona could hear. “And what’s with this one over there? Is she being paid to look after you and your needs, or to keep up with her friends on social media?”

Leona turned the mirror every which way before resting her head against her seat back with a groan. “I can’t believe I left the hospital looking like . . . well . . . looking like
you
, dear.”

“Why, thank you, Leona. I always know where to go for a slice of humble pie.”

Waving her words away, Leona addressed Tori’s most recent question. “I think it’s best she stay buried in her technology while Sam is here.”

“Why?” Tori asked, only to receive her answer in a second, longer look at Leona’s temporary employee.

Distracted or not, the girl was beautiful in the way twenty-somethings tended to be—full of life (even if it was lived on social media), void of wrinkles, and shapely without trying.

Leona released a second, but no less frustrated groan, successfully reclaiming Tori’s focus in the process. “I don’t eat chocolates, Victoria. You should know this by now. It’s why I look like this. Or rather, like I do every other moment except this one.”

“I know you don’t eat chocolate, Leona. But I do.”

“Which is why you look like that, dear . . .”

Tori laughed off the anticipated response and lowered herself to the edge of the couch closest to Leona. “But I think you’ll enjoy what’s in the bag. It’ll certainly help keep you busy.

“Oh, and there’s a carrot in there for Paris, as well.” She took in their immediate surroundings and even snuck a peek around the back side of Leona’s chair. “Are you ready for her to come back home or do you think it would be wiser for her to stay with me for a while?”

“I can’t stand being away from her for another night.”

“Then I’ll give Milo a call and ask him to swing by my place and pick her up.”

“Thank you, dear. It’s nice to know I can count on
someone
from that group of women who believe lip service about loyalty and friendship is all that matters.”

The front door slammed shut behind them, prompting Leona’s head to part company with the back of her seat at the same time her plumped lips turned upward in a flirtatious smile. “Oh, good, I was hoping you hadn’t left, Sam.”

“There’s absolutely no way I would leave without saying good-bye to you, Leona.”

“I didn’t think so,” Leona purred before reaching for the chocolates. “I got you a little something in advance of the more”—Leona batted her partially made-up eyes at the uniformed man—“
thorough
thank-you that will be coming your way very, very soon.”

Tori took advantage of Leona’s flirting to cross the room and engage the caregiver who, until that moment, had yet to even look up at the injured woman.

“Hello. I’m Victoria Sinclair, Leona’s friend.” She held her hand out and waited as the twenty-something slowly lifted her head to pin Tori with a bored stare.

“Hey.”

“And you are?”

“The live-in help for the next week or so.” Relocating her handheld device to her lap, the young woman gathered her long dark hair into a high ponytail, secured it, fussed with it, and then let it cascade over her shapely shoulders once again. “But this should be an easy gig because that lady over there”—the girl pointed past Tori—“told me I’m really only here to make her doctor happy.”

It took everything she had not to pull the girl to her
feet and usher her straight toward the front door. But she couldn’t. Leona was an adult. She didn’t need Tori questioning her choices.

On the other hand, as Leona’s friend, she also couldn’t sit by and say nothing . . .

“I think we need to start this conversation over, which we can do by you shutting that off.” She guided the girl’s eyes to the still illuminated device and waited.

“But I’m snap chatting with my BFF.”

She waved aside the girl’s protests while simultaneously working to tame her own rising anger. “For the next week or so, your primary focus is
that lady over there
”—she pointed her finger at Leona—“who, by the way, is Miss Elkin. When Miss Elkin is sleeping, or otherwise occupied, you can check in on your BFF.”

“She looks pretty occupied to me,” the girl said, reclaiming a wad of gum from whichever molar it had been attached to prior to that moment.

“Miss Elkin just got home, and you just got here, too, isn’t that right?” At the girl’s nod, she continued, “Which means you really should be spending this time familiarizing yourself with her home and the doctor’s instructions for her care this next week or so.”

“You really think I’m going to be doing that much? I mean, she’s what? Seventy-five or something?”

The hair on the back of Tori’s neck stuck out as she waited for the gasp from the other side of the room. Fortunately, neither Leona nor Sam seemed to hear the caregiver’s words. As the cloud of fear passed, Tori focused on the still unnamed girl once again. “Miss Elkin fractured her hip. That alone means you’re here to make sure she doesn’t re-harm herself by moving around prematurely.”

“My boss said there will be a therapist and a home health nurse coming in to make sure Miss Elkin is moving around, so I think she’ll be fine.”

“What is your name?” Tori asked pointedly.

“Rachel. Why?”

“Because that’s usually an important piece of information to give a person when you’re speaking.” She heard the sarcasm in her voice but felt no need to soften it. “Miss Elkin has hired you to look after her needs until she no longer needs you to do so. That means, you get whatever she asks you to get, and you help her with whatever she needs you to help her with. If she tells you she’s got it covered, you essentially stand nearby to make sure that’s true.”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. Are you her granddaughter or something?”

This time, her shoulders lurched upward toward her ears as she braced for impact, but once again, there was nothing.

Sam might be worth keeping around . . .

She shook the part amusing/part very real thought from her head and answered the girl’s question. “Leona is one of
my
BFFs.”

Rachel looked from Tori to Leona and back again as surprise widened her previously half-mast eyes to something actually resembling circles. “Yeah, but you’re like forty and she’s like—”

She waved her index finger in front of Rachel. “I’m not forty, and Miss Elkin is not”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“seventy-five. And if you want to keep your job, I suggest you start by refraining from guessing her age.

“Beyond that, I’ll tell you that age doesn’t make or
define a friendship.
Caring
about one another does. Which is why I’m here now, and why I’ll be stopping by often to make sure Leona is doing okay.”

“Is she at least nice?” Rachel asked.

“Depends on who you ask, I guess.” She glanced over her shoulder at her friend and willed herself to see past the pale skin and tired eyes to the Leona she knew and loved. “She can be sharp-tongued and impatient as all get-out, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”

Rachel looked down at her now blackened screen and then set the device on the closest flat surface. “I guess I can do this for a week or so.”

“I take it you prefer working with little ones?”

The girl snickered. “Uh. No. I’ve stood in for a few of the other girls on occasion and all that nose-blowing and homework-helping is enough to drive me insane.”

“Well, if you don’t like working with kids, and you don’t seem to be particularly interested in the infirm, can I ask why you’re working for the Nanny Go Round Agency at all?”

“Honestly, this is the first true assignment I’ve been on for Tara in over a year. She needed an actual body this time and I didn’t really have anything else to do.” Rachel twisted her mouth to the left. “My boyfriend, or should I say
ex
-boyfriend, up and took off for California last week.”

“Who is Tara?” she asked.

“Tara Reed. She’s the owner of the agency. She went to school with my dad. That’s how Jeanine got in, too. Only I think Jeanine’s mom and Tara are real tight, which is why she’s not dealing with this kind of interrogation.”

She filed the name away for further inspection at a later date and moved on. “Jeanine?”

Tonguing her gum from one side of her mouth to the other, Rachel chewed through her answer. “The one I was trying to snap chat when you came over.”

Ahhh, the BFF . . .

“Does she work as a nanny for little ones or as a caregiver like you are?”

Rachel tapped her chin for a moment as she pondered Tori’s question. “You know, I think most of her gigs go down as kids. Which, I guess, makes sense since she actually talks about being a kindergarten teacher one day.”

“Did she study education in college?”

“Jeanine didn’t go to college. But you don’t really need college to be a teacher, do you? I mean, as long as you know how to tie your shoes and wipe your nose, you can teach a five-year-old.”

She stifled the second half of her snort with a quick hand. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Rachel.”

“Oh. Well, then maybe she can be a teacher on paper, too. After all, the money doesn’t change much if you actually
do
it, so why bother.”

“People don’t get into education to be rich, Rachel. They get into it because they love children.”

Rachel’s brows dipped forward in confusion, only to resume their normal position with a quick shrug. “If you ask me, there’s way too much to keep track of with kids. Just ask my friend, Cynthia.”

She swallowed. “Cynthia? As in Cynthia Marland?”

“Yeah. You know her?” Then without waiting for a response, Rachel continued. “She got railroaded on her last real call. She forgot to tell the school about some problem one of the kids had and they didn’t have the medicine they needed when the kid started twitching and
shaking and stuff. But c’mon, are you telling me Cynthia is supposed to keep track of
everything
?”

“When you’ve been hired as a nanny? Yes. That was her
job
, Rachel.”

Rachel crossed her arms and stopped just short of stamping her foot. “What
ever
 . . . Mrs. Brady didn’t have to threaten the rest of us, too!”

“The rest of you?”

“Me. My friends.
Everyone
on the agency’s books.”

Her curiosity aroused to an all new level, Tori stopped herself mid-lip-lick. “Hold on a minute. Are you saying Julie Brady threatened to sue the agency?”

“I wouldn’t know it even if she did. That kind of stuff is discussed above my pay level, as my father would say.” Softening her stance somewhat, Rachel yawned. “Cynthia just needs to make it right. If she does, none of us have to worry. If she doesn’t, and she decides to get all high-and-mighty, we’re all in trouble.”

Pointing toward the hallway off the condo’s main rooms, Rachel yawned a second time. “I’m thinking I might take a nap for a little while.”

“You can nap when Miss Elkin naps.” Tori swept her hand and Rachel’s focus toward Leona and the man she was currently offering a rather fond farewell. “Which, judging by the approaching dinner hour, won’t be happening anytime soon. Why don’t you see what she wants for dinner instead?”

Like a deer caught in the glaring headlights of a pickup truck with a well-appointed gun rack, Rachel froze. “Wait. You mean I have to
cook
, too?”