Read Murder Is Private Online

Authors: Diane Weiner

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Amateur Sleuths, #Cozy, #Women Sleuths, #Private Investigators

Murder Is Private (14 page)

BOOK: Murder Is Private
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Chapter 31

The lights were out when they got back to the house. Susan was relieved that Audrey had already gone to bed. When Susan woke up in the morning, she laid in bed listening for the sound of Audrey’s shower, the blow dryer, the microwave beeping…. She stayed in bed until she heard the key locking the front door.
The coast is clear. Now I’ll get ready for work.

When she got to school, Susan searched Celia’s desk. She hoped to verify a romantic relationship between Celia and Alonzo. All she found were sticky notes, pens, and paperclips. Not surprising, since she’d been through the desk once before. Was she expecting more engraved jewelry?

Next she tried the filing cabinet, looking for fresh clues. The bottom drawer was locked, but Susan had recently found a key in the desk that looked as if it might be for the cabinet. Voila! She dug through the bottom drawer and rummaged through the papers and folders.
Here’s something interesting,
she said to herself. She pulled out a stack of photos.

When she flipped through the stack, there were photos of Celia’s chorus performing.

Then she found a picture of Celia with Schwartz, Alonzo, and Gabby, celebrating a birthday in the lounge. Another showed Alonzo and Celia dressed in evening wear. Celia was holding a dozen or so roses.
I wonder where that was taken. Were the roses from Alonzo?

Jackpot.
A shiny postcard from Paris. It said “Next time, we’ll be here together.” No name, just a bunch of
x
’s and
o
’s. Hugs and kisses. Was he afraid of someone knowing his identity? The handwriting was beautiful.
I’ll bet it’s from Alonzo,
she thought.

As she continued digging through the drawer, she found a folder of newspaper clippings.

She skimmed through reviews and articles highlighting various chorus performance.
These reviews are very complimentary. Celia must have been a good teacher. Wish I could have met her when she was alive.

What’s this?
Susan picked up a newspaper clipping. She read the story. It was about a viola that had been found in a farmhouse in Salzburg. The Austrian couple at the Disney World gift shop had talked about recovered stashes of hidden instruments stolen by the Nazis during the war. I
didn’t know Celia was interested in history
. She jumped when the bell rang, interrupting her sleuthing.

Susan was still upset over her confrontation with Audrey. She was angry, and was having a hard time getting over it.
What can I do? I’m surely going to run into Audrey soon.
She again considered leaving.
Then what? Never talk to Audrey again?
No, she’d have to swallow her feelings for now and make peace with Audrey. She had to pretend everything was hunky-dory.

After the morning classes, Susan went to smooth things over with Audrey. Evan would be leaving the next day, and she didn’t want him to be upset about last night’s argument. She stopped by Audrey’s office. Audrey was on the phone.

“It’ll be fine. It’s still our secret. No one will know,” said Audrey. She turned around in her chair and jumped when she saw Susan. She quickly ended the call.
Another secret phone conversation? What was Audrey up to?

Audrey smoothed her dress. “Susan, is everything alright?”

“Audrey, I wanted to talk about last night.” Susan’s stomach churned.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was being pushy. It’s hard for me not to dive in and grab the reins.”

“I understand, but it’s too much. I can’t snap my fingers and think of you as my mother… my children’s grandmother.” Angry words shot from her mouth before she could stop them. “Besides, I’m still hurt that you abandoned me at birth.”

Audrey froze, her eyes wide open. “Abandoned? Really? That’s how you see it? Susan, giving you up was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had no choice.”

“You had a choice. Your family had money. Why didn’t they hire a nanny to help raise me in the mansion you grew up in? Did you even ask them if you could keep me?”

“Hardly a mansion. I didn’t ask because I had no choice. I never would have won that fight. I was a disgrace to the family. Teenage daughters from respectable families didn’t get pregnant.”

“I was a disgrace to your family?”

“That’s not what I meant. I cried every night after I gave you up. Every birthday I wondered how you were celebrating. I’d have given anything to have kept you.”

Susan wasn’t buying it. “And my father? He could have helped!” She was shouting now.

Audrey matched Susan’s increased volume. “I told you, it was a summer fling. I never even told him I was pregnant! What would have been the point?”

“He could have helped convince your parents to keep me.”

“It wasn’t like that back then, Susan. You don’t understand. It was a different era.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” said Audrey. “Lynette and Evan, what a nice surprise.”

“We heard shouting. Is everything okay?” asked Lynette.

“Yes,” said Susan. “Everything is fine,” said Susan through her clenched jaw.

“Mom, Evan and I came by to eat lunch with you. Let’s eat outside. Audrey, do you want to join us?” Susan crossed her fingers and hoped Audrey would decline.

“No thank you; I’ve got too much to do. I’m trying to expand our list of potential donors. Not easy,” said Audrey, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

“Let’s go eat in the arboretum,” said Susan. “There are benches and we can enjoy the scenery.”

George, the sleazy son of a … was trimming trees in the arboretum. Branches were falling everywhere. One even flew back and hit him in the nose.

“George, can you take a lunch break?” said Lynette.

“I can sit for a while. Didn’t bring a lunch.”

“George, how long have you worked here?” said Susan. She wanted to add
and how long have you pretended to be a cop?
She stopped herself.

“A few years. Before that, I worked for a landscaping company.”

“Do you want some of my sandwich?” asked Lynette.

“No, thanks. I need to get back to work.” When he stood up, something fell out of his pocket. Susan bent down to pick it up.

“George, you dropped something,” said Susan. “Looks like medication. Be careful not to lose it.”
Or you won’t be able to sell it.

“Thanks.” George snatched it from her and stuffed it in his pocket. He stormed out of the arboretum.

“What’s with him?” said Evan.

“He didn’t want me to see what he dropped,” said Susan.

“And did you?” said Lynette.

“Sure did. It was a prescription bottle. I even caught the doctor’s name. Dr. Jacobs.”

Chapter 32

After school, Susan searched on her laptop for information about Dr. Jacobs. There were several in town. She went through each doctor’s webpage to see if something jumped out at her. One was a gynecologist. Nope. One was a pediatrician. Strike two. She was about to give up, when she noticed there was a Dr. Jacobs who worked at Trinity Village.

Dr. Paul Jacobs. He’s an internist who also owns a practice in town. Why was George, a tanned, muscular, youngish man, seeing a doctor?
If she walked across the street to Trinity Village, maybe she’d learn more.

Susan nearly gagged from the odor of cleaning fluid when she walked into Trinity. A custodian was waxing the floors. Another sprayed Windex on the glass. The receptionist was munching on a juicy apple as she typed on her computer. She recognized Susan right away.

“Mrs. Wiles! I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed hearing your chorus Thursday night.”

“It’s been a pleasure working with such talented students.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a doctor. Being new here, I could use a suggestion.”

“What kind of doctor?”

“My back has been acting up, and my allergies are killing me. Oh, and the heartburn from all the Mexican food I’ve been eating lately…”

“Sounds like you need a general doctor. We have an excellent internist here. His name is Dr. Jacobs.”

“Is he here now?”

“No. He has an office nearby though. Let me give you his information.” She scribbled down the information, and handed Susan a piece of note paper.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Susan stuffed the paper into her purse.

I have time before dinner. Maybe I’ll go take a look.
Outside Trinity Village, she flagged down a taxi.

The driver rolled down his window and turned down the roaring mariachi music. “Where to?”

 
“Do you know where this is?” She handed the address to the driver.

“Yep. It’s across town.”

She slid into the sticky back seat of the stuffy cab. Her hips ached as the cab bumped over railroad tracks and into an older section of town. Brightly painted, wooden houses stood in contrast to the bare, brown lawns, littered with car parts and empty beer bottles. The cab pulled into a strip mall with faded exteriors and missing roof tiles.
Doesn’t look like a place I’d choose to go.

She got out of the cab, telling the driver, “Wait for me. I’m just going to take a quick look inside.”

“Okay, but the meter’s running, lady.” He turned up the volume on the radio.

Half of the stores were vacant. A Laundromat, a Mom and Pop Pharmacia, and Harry’s Hoagies remained. A wooden shingle outside the doctor’s office read
specializing in pain management
. Don’t all doctors manage pain? Now it is a specialty?
Perhaps it’s a Florida thing.

Inside the generic office, the waiting room was packed. The stench of cigarette smoke and body odor made Susan reluctant to breathe. She scanned the seats. A few women were dressed professionally, with expensive haircuts and designer purses. Two men in plaid shirts appeared to be construction workers. Others looked and smelled like they’d wandered in from the homeless shelter. There was a beautiful medical tower just a mile from school. Why did George come all the way out here to see a doctor?

She got back into the hot taxi, wishing the driver would hurry up and turn on the air. Then, she saw someone she knew.
Why is he here
? she wondered. Marshall/Marco, the nurse from Trinity, came out of a back entrance carrying a large, cardboard box. He put it into the trunk of his car which was parked in the office lot.
Does he work here with Dr. Jacobs?
Susan adjusted her bifocals. It was definitely him.

 
“Where to, lady?” The cab driver’s breath reeked of garlic. Susan was nauseated.

She directed the driver to Audrey’s house, happy the taxi ride was done. She let herself in, and saw Audrey and Evan huddled together on the couch.

“Evan, I wish you could stay longer,” said Audrey.

“I’ll be seeing you soon. By summer’s end you’ll be sick of me.”

Audrey glanced over at Susan. Then she said, “Evan, remember what I told you last night. Weigh all the possibilities carefully. I never should have been so pushy about you coming to Florida this summer.”

Susan came over to them and said, “I appreciate that, Audrey. Whatever Evan decides, his family––his whole family––will be cheering from the sidelines. Evan, do you need help packing?”

“I got it. I learned a scientific approach to packing a suitcase to capacity. You can find anything on
YouTube
these days.”

“Go for it, Evan.” She turned to her mother. “Audrey, does George have any sort of health problems?”

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

“A bottle of pain pills fell out of his pocket earlier. I was just wondering.”

“He hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”

“If you or George need a doctor, where do you go?”

“There’s a state of the art health complex down the road that takes our school insurance,” replied Audrey. “Best place for healthcare. That’s where I took Lynette to get her cast removed.”

“Would there be any reason to travel to another part of town to go to a doctor? Any at all?”

“No. People come here from all over the state to be seen at that facility.”

“One more question. Have you ever heard of a pain management
specialist
? Don’t all doctors manage pain?”

“Susan, Florida is notorious for its pill mills. There are some sleazy doctors out there who make money by prescribing pain pills to patients who don’t need them. The patients start with a real need––say back pain from a car accident. Then they wind up getting addicted. A reputable doctor wouldn’t prescribe those things indefinitely, so they find a doctor who is willing.”

Dr. Jacobs fit the bill,
thought Susan. Now she understood why those upper class women were sitting in his office. They probably needed help they couldn’t get from their own doctors. It was time to make an appointment for herself. Her back was giving her trouble these days.

BOOK: Murder Is Private
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