Mayhem Takes a Dare: The Second Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 2) (15 page)

 A piercing scream shattered the early Sunday morning quiet of the assisted living center.

Unable to sleep, Clara Eastwood was already settled into her customary chair in the deserted lobby. She cocked her head. It sounded as if the noise came from the patio.

She debated with herself. On the one hand, if she’d dozed off and only dreamed the sound, she’d make a fool of herself if she reported it. She’d be the butt of everyone’s jokes, especially the contemptuous Mrs. Peters. On the other hand, if someone did scream and she didn’t report it, she’d probably be branded as either deaf or senile.

Clara decided to investigate for herself. After all, she’d been a lunch lady for fifty years at the elementary school. There wasn’t much in the world that students hadn’t said or done in her cafeteria. Bracing her cane on the floor in front of her, she hauled her bulk up from the chair. Taking a deep breath, she thumped her way to the patio.

The early morning sun had not yet had a chance to reach its potential for the heat of the summer day. The breeze riffling Clara’s short curls was a bit chilly. She drew her shawl closer with one hand as she slowly crossed the patio.

Clara drew a sharp breath. On the far side, she could see a lump sprawled in the seat normally occupied by Mrs. Peters. Long red hair trailed out from it and dangled through the lattice work of the metal chair. On the ground beside it, a figure in a pale blue uniform was crumpled in a heap of arms and legs.

Clara hurried the remainder of the distance, her cane thumping frantically on the concrete patio.

She stood over the tableau. She felt slightly dizzy. It looked just like the stage set of a play the eighth graders had put on one year. A tragedy, that was. In this case, though, there weren’t any girlish giggles escaping the young actors or shoulders shaking with restrained laughter.

The figure on the chair was sprawled over, as if it had simply slid over to the side. The long red hair covered the face. A knife was protruding from the back. Sprawled on the ground, the other figure was as slim as a half-starved waif.

Clara recognized the woman on the ground as the new nurses’ aid. Or ‘personal care assistant,’ as the management insisted upon calling them. Starla Farrell. She had accepted the job at the assisted living center after the brouhaha several months ago at the Home Away From Home nursing home had led to its being shut down and the residents transferred to other facilities.

Clara thought,
Starla must have seen the body in the chair, screamed, and fainted.

Clara realized she was putting off looking at the face of the woman in the chair.
If I don’t look, does that mean it’s not real?

Ordering herself to stop being such a baby, Clara took the last steps to the chair. For goodness sake, she had survived the time a couple of eighth grade boys had sneaked chocolate-flavored laxative into the brownie batter.

The principal, once he’d been able to leave the bathroom, had been on a witch hunt for the culprits. She knew that young scamp Shane and his best friend were behind it.
What was that other boy’s name? He’d had ears bigger than his runty little body. Buzzie was his name, Buzzie Caldwell.
Clara had convinced the principal that the eggs in the batter were spoiled. She’d warned the boys not to ever do such a thing again.

Clara frowned, remembering the knowing look on Mrs. Flaxton’s delicate face all those years ago. She was fairly certain Althea had known the truth.

Clara stared down at the unmoving lump. She’d put this off long enough. She reached out with trembling fingers and awkwardly pulled back the strands of red hair. As she recognized the dead face with its frozen expression of fear, she lowered her eyes.

Clara’s eyes narrowed when she realized she was staring at a thin strip of white. A slip of white paper was sticking out of the dead woman’s pocket over her still chest. Using her forefinger nail and her thumb nail, Clara carefully pulled the scrap of paper free. After all, she had seen enough crime shows not to leave fingerprints. The message on the note was carefully printed in block letters with a blue pen:

MEET ME ON THE PATIO.

The signature, also in block letters, was CLAY.

Clay Napier! The dapper man had been courting Althea Flaxton for months. Surely he would not have asked another woman to clandestinely meet him behind Mrs. Flaxton’s back.

On the ground at her feet, Starla moaned. Clara looked down at Starla. Starla looked up at Clara, then at the contorted face Clara had exposed. Without thinking through the ramifications, Clara stuffed the note into her pocket. Starla screamed. Rather than fainting again, she scrambled to her feet, clutched at Clara, and continued to scream.

Marisa slammed her car’s transmission into reverse, and backed quickly down the driveway.

Ker-chunk!

The impact threw Marisa into her steering wheel and deployed her air bag.

What the hell did I just hit?

Marisa fought the air bag, waved away particles of white powder, and finally pried herself out of the car. Holding onto the side of the car, she stared at the damage. The back of her car was completely smashed. It looked like a sad, red accordion.

The sporty silver car behind hers was virtually untouched. The only sign of damage was a jagged scuff of red paint along the bumper.

A silver car. A very familiar silver car.

The driver’s side door opened.

Alex.

He looked at her bumper. “Just minor damage, Marisa. A good body shop will have that fixed as good as new in no time at all.”

Alex bent over his own car.

His man screech was so high Marisa was positive it was only audible to dogs. “My car! Don’t you look behind you when you back up? Jeez, look at this!” He rubbed at the smudge of red paint on his silver bumper.

“What on earth happened here?”

Alex and Marisa jumped.

Dressed in a top and shorts covered in red and white checks, Verna was standing right next to them. With her stick-thin legs, her short gray hair covered in a matching red-and-white-checked kerchief and a wicker purse over her shriveled arm, the old lady looked like a tiny picnic table. “Is everyone OK? Do you want me to call an ambulance? Or the police?”

Verna’s little dog, his scrawny neck covered by a matching red-and-white-checked bandana, growled. He strained against his leash and tried to nip Marisa’s ankles.

“Punky! Marisa doesn’t have time to play with you right now.” Verna pulled at the red leash.

Punky growled.

Marisa bared her teeth at him and his owner. “Everything’s fine, Verna. Gee, I think I hear your phone ringing. You don’t want to miss an important call.”

Verna cocked her head. “I don’t hear anything. Guess I’d better check, just in case.” She set off toward her little house at a happy gallop.

Marisa laughed. “If she ever gets on a more modern page and gets a cell phone, that gambit won’t work anymore.”

Alex gurgled. Marisa turned to him in surprise. She could swear his eyes dilated in terror as he sagged against the side of his car. “Thank God you deflected her before she could question us! I swear, it’s like she uses some kind of mind control on me or something. This compulsion comes over me to answer her questions! I think she’s an alien from outer space, sent here to gather information about our planet!”

“Alex, get a grip! She’s just a nosy little old lady, for heaven’s sake!”

He grinned at her and madly rolled his eyes. “How do you explain the fact she just appeared out of thin air? Maybe she teleported from her yard and materialized right next to us!”

Marisa couldn’t help laughing. “She always wears her soft-soled orthopedic shoes when she walks the dog. That way, she can sneak up on people. It makes it easier for her to eavesdrop and spy on the neighbors.”

Marisa gasped. She was horrified to see blood welling at the side of his mouth. “Alex! You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing, Marisa. Just a bump.” He pulled a tissue from his pocket, and dabbed at the spot.

“Thank goodness you’re not hurt, although I’m not sure why I even care. You destroyed my car!”

“You rammed into me, Marisa, not the other way around.”

“You were lurking in my driveway!”

“I was not lurking! That is so unjust of you! I came over to talk to you!”

“You can’t call me on the phone, like a normal, rational human being?”

“I really wanted to talk to you about last night. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer the phone.” He craned his neck, looking in Marisa’s car. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He is so not my boyfriend. I never want to see him again as long as I live. As in never. Ever.”

Alex stared into her face.

“What?” Marisa felt cranky.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” One of his long, slender fingers very gently brushed the puffy skin under her eyes.

“I was not crying. I was shot at yesterday. I practically saw Sarah get brutally murdered. We were all at the police station most of the night. I just wrecked my car. In my
own driveway
! They’re reaction tears.”

“Why don’t you want to see Parvo-virus again? Never and ever are a pretty powerful combination.”

“Huh. You and Tara both call him that.” Marisa sneaked a peek into Alex’s eyes. They were gently trained on her face. She thought she could see compassion in their depths.
No trace of a single ‘I told you so.’

“Alex, when I was drinking, I spent a lot of time at the strip club. I experimented with a bisexual lifestyle. That’s over. After rehab, through counseling, I resolved any lingering doubts about my sexuality. I am heterosexual.”

Alex leaned against his car. “Stidham had a problem with your past history with females.”

A statement, not a question. Marisa felt her mouth fly open. “How did you figure that out?”

Alex rubbed at the scar on his car. “When we were at the gym yesterday, I saw him watching your interactions with Taylor, I mean Sarah, in an unusually close way. I also saw you both at the club last night, before you saw me. I could tell he didn’t like it when the naked dancer slithered up and down your body.”

“Diana doesn’t slither,” Marisa corrected automatically. “She... undulates.”

Alex frowned. “Whichever, he certainly didn’t like it.”

Marisa leaned against the car beside Alex. She sighed as she turned her head to look at him. “Last night, after we got back from the police station, I told him he could sleep over. I meant sleep over as in me in my room and him in the spare room, but he misunderstood. He told me casual sex was fine, but he can’t make a commitment to a woman who, in his words, has unresolved sexuality issues. He didn’t want to take a chance on my betraying him with the Mary Kay Lady.”

“What an asshole. You would never do that, to him or anyone else.”

Amazed, Marisa turned to Alex.

A red tinge of embarrassment stained his thin face. “You’re like an onion, Marisa. So many layers. The loving friend, devoted to Mrs. Flaxton layer. The consummate human resources professional layer. The fiercely loyal friend layer. The cat lover layer. The alcoholic in recovery layer. The sexuality experimenter layer. Marisa, you have all of those layers, and probably a bunch I never even dreamed of. Some of those layers don’t conform to society’s conception of normal. But at the center of the layers is a strong, unshakeable core. If you made a commitment, you’d honor it. If you did decide you wanted to be with someone else, male or female, you’d end the committed relationship, not cheat on your partner. You are a woman of honor. If Stidham couldn’t see that in you, then it’s his loss.”

The quiet words were a soothing balm for her bruised spirit. “Thank you, Alex.” A tear slipped down her cheek. Marisa turned her face away. “I think I need a tissue. Allergies.” She grabbed one out of her car, and mopped at her face. She really hoped she did not have any little pieces of tissue stuck to her damp nose. “Jesus, I can’t believe I forgot. Althea called, and left me a voice mail. She said she couldn’t speak freely on the phone, but that it was urgent she speak to me in person. I was on my way to the assisted living center when you plowed into me.”

Alex huffed his way to the passenger side, and opened the door. “Jump in and I’ll take you there. And by the way, you rammed into me. If you take me to court, I’ll subpoena Verna. I bet she caught it on her hidden surveillance camera to beam back to her home planet.”