Organized to Death (20 page)

Mitzi nodded, but still wouldn’t say anything.

“I can’t ask my mother right now. Uncle Bob is in the hospital.”

“I didn’t know that. What’s wrong?”

“Ulcers. He should be okay and home tomorrow.”

Mitzi nodded again and again couldn’t seem to stop. Tina wanted to press her but was afraid to. She just couldn’t be the cause of Mitzi going over the edge into that black hole again. She felt pulled in a dozen directions.

Tina forced herself to stop pacing and stood in front of Mitzi. “Can’t you at least tell me what kind of cancer? That wasn’t a secret, was it?”

Now Mitzi began to shake her head. She looked at Tina, and something in Tina’s expression must have made her whisper the word. “Uterine.”

Now Tina nodded. Made herself stop. She bent down and kissed Mitzi on her dry-skinned cheek. “Thank you.” She stood back up and studied Mitzi a moment. “Are you all right?”

A determined look crossed Mitzi’s face. “Yes.” She stood up. “And I know you want to leave. Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

Tina looked carefully at Mitzi one last time, then, satisfied that she would be okay, walked to the front door, Mitzi behind her.

Back to work. Maybe Dr. Ted would have some answers.

Ted’s waiting room was filled with patients. One even had to stand, an elderly man who looked as if he needed a seat more than several of the others. Everyone looked unhappy, so Tina scurried through the room and into the kitchen as quickly as she could after a fast hello to a distracted Sylvia.

The kitchen was deserted and quiet. Tina stuffed her purse and coat into the booth and plopped herself down. She needed to think for a few minutes.

Uterine cancer. So, Sally’s family might not have wanted to talk about that much—it seemed such a private thing. Because all the mothers had been so protective, so demanding of yearly pap smears, Tina had a sinking feeling that Brenda also had uterine cancer. Did they suspect some environmental cause? Some toxic substance in Newport that had caused women to contract uterine cancer more frequently than statistically average?

But Tina didn’t know of any other women who had it. Wouldn’t women of her mother’s generation get it? Her heart sank. Maybe they could, would. Maybe she now had to worry about her mother, just as her mother worried about her.

Dr. Ted rushed into the kitchen, said a quick, “Hi, Tina,” and grabbed a mug of coffee. “Haven’t got time to talk,” he said as he dumped some sugar into the mug and turned to leave.

“I found out what kind of cancer Sally had,” Tina said.

Dr. Ted nodded. “That’s good. Hang around until I’m done and we’ll discuss it.”

Disappointed, Tina watched him leave. Thinking about what she now knew wouldn’t get her anywhere. She needed more information. She stood up and walked over to the huge walk-in pantry. She’d glanced inside yesterday and closed the door quickly. It was stuffed with stuff. Just the job to take her mind off everything today.

There were cans of fruits and vegetables dated four years ago. She found mason jars filled with fruits and vegetables and didn’t want to even speculate on how old they were. She sighed. With recycling on the island, she needed to empty every can and jar, rinse them, and put them in the huge recycling bin in the detached garage. There was no disposal in the kitchen, which meant putting the food into a plastic sack purchased from town. She hoped fervently the bag wouldn’t break. She also hoped none of the food was spoiled, imagining the smell when she opened a can or jar.

Then there were the boxes of rice, beans, and pastas. She would have to empty them, as well, and put the cardboard boxes in another bin designated for paper and cardboard. She thought about billing the recycling company for all the work she was going to do for them. Wondered how much they made off this unpaid labor done by housewives all over America.

Well, Dr. Ted would pay her by the hour. Of course, when she’d started this business, she thought she’d be teaching her clients how to take charge and clean up their own clutter. She hadn’t expected to do it herself. But she could just see Dr. Ted cleaning out that pantry. She got to work.

Tina didn’t know how long she’d been at it when Sylvia, the temp nurse, Abby, and Dr. Ted entered the kitchen, all talking at once. They stopped when they saw Tina, then everyone smiled and said hello. Tina glanced at her watch. Five fifteen already.

Each had a coffee mug in hand, and they all went to the sink to rinse them out, Ted first. Sylvia wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?” she asked.

“I’ve been cleaning out the pantry and have to do the recycling bit.”

“Oh, ugh. Annoys me every time I do it, and I vow not to vote for those in office again,” Sylvia said, looking at the almost-filled bag and the rinsed jars and cans drying along the countertops.

Ted looked baffled. “What do you have to do?” He shook the water from his mug and set it down near the only clear space next to the coffeepot.

Tina explained. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t suspect that some huge company was making a lot of money from this and that people have bought into the idea that they are helping the environment. I don’t know how much the water has cost you today to clean all of these cans and jars. Plus my time.”

Ted frowned, but Tina noticed that it didn’t mar his good looks. Just made him look serious and concerned. But his frown quickly cleared, and he waved his hand around. “No problem. It has to be done. I’m just glad you were available to do it.”

Sylvia and Abby nodded. “I used to temp for Dr. Stevenson sometimes,” Abby said. “This kitchen looks so much better now.”

“Thanks,” Tina said. “I’m kind of worried about Dr. Stevenson. He seemed a bit disoriented the last time I saw him.” She felt rather than saw Ted stiffen beside her. Forced herself not to look at him.

Abby shrugged. “He’s pretty old. Not too surprising.”

“So you noticed it, too?”

Abby straightened and looked Tina in the eye. “Yes. Actually, I was relieved when he retired.”

Tina turned to Ted with a sudden movement. “What did you think when you bought the practice?”

Startled, Ted stared at her, frowned, then began to look angry. “I am not going to discuss Dr. Stevenson with you.” He strode out of the kitchen, his back straight.

“Wait!” Tina rushed after him. “We were going to talk.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time,” Ted said over his shoulder. “Tomorrow.” He walked into his office, grabbed his jacket and briefcase, and left, softly closing the window-paneled door after himself. He locked it and headed for the paved area in the side yard where he parked his car.

“Damn,” she said. When she turned, she saw Sylvia and Abby in the hallway, watching her.

This was only the second time Ted had left her. Other times he seemed to prolong being with her. It had been flattering, she admitted to herself. But she was convinced that he had a secret, too, and she was getting damned sick and tired of secrets.

She went back to the kitchen and gathered up the cans and stuffed them into a plastic bag. She took them out to the old garage, which leaned slightly and looked as if it would fall down in the next big wind. Throwing the cans into the huge bin, she shivered—should have worn her coat. But she was burning mad. Back inside, Abby and Sylvia were loading up another bag with the jars.

“Thanks,” she said. “That’s a big help.” When they were done, she wiped down the counters. Abby said goodbye, and Sylvia and Tina left together, Sylvia locking up.

As they walked to their cars, Tina asked, “So, how is it, working for Dr. Ted?”

“Not bad. He’s kind of erratic, though. Quick to get mad, but then quick to apologize.” She lowered her voice. “Brenda said sometimes he didn’t seem to quite know what he was doing. I think she was worried.”

“How is Brenda, do you know?”

Sylvia shook her head. “No one will say anything. I visited her last night, and she hardly talked. She seemed both mad and scared. Her mother hovered something awful. I didn’t stay long.”

Tina couldn’t help thinking about cancer. She forced herself to not worry about Brenda right now.

Sylvia climbed into her car. “Wish winter were over, and it’s barely started. I’m tired of the cold, aren’t you?”

“A bit,” Tina said.

“Sometimes I think of moving to Florida.”

“Me, too.” Tina laughed, thinking of Hank. “Maybe we should run away together.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’ll discuss it tomorrow after you finish cleaning the kitchen.”

“Right.” Tina laughed again and waved as Sylvia drove away. Light snowflakes floated down and the streetlights came on. It should be magical, Tina thought. A historic town to live in, on an island. Old Victorian homes, mansions along Bellevue Avenue, the Ocean Drive that was a combination of winding roads where people could drive along and look at the water and more mansions, lots of history. But everything seemed to be piling up. Ever since Crystal had been murdered.

Why? Why would anyone want to kill her? And then shoot at Nicky? Tina shivered and walked to her car. After she turned the key in the ignition, she put the heat on high and drove the few blocks home.

Again the empty house. Well, she’d find something quick to eat, then go to the hospital and see what was happening with Uncle Bob and her mother. Maybe something would shake loose there, although she doubted it. And she had to remember to ask Laura about the gun. She decided to have a heart-to-heart, even with Uncle Bob there. She just couldn’t take not knowing things anymore.

At the hospital, Tina found her mother and Uncle Bob watching television. She was glad to see her uncle looked a lot better, especially his color. She kissed him on the cheek and her mother for good measure, although they didn’t usually show much affection.

“What’s happening?” Tina asked as she settled into the other bed.

Uncle Bob cleared his throat. “The doctors have gabbled like gibbons, and they decided I can go home tomorrow morning. How’s my kumquat this evening?”

“Well, I’ve had an interesting day. I’ve argued with both Brandon and Hank, I’ve been visited by the police, I saw Mitzi again, and I cleaned out the pantry in Dr. Ted’s place.”

“What did you argue with Brandon about?” Laura asked sharply.

“What did the police want?” Uncle Bob said at the same time.

Tina ticked the items off on her fingers. “Brandon called me silly. The police found my gun. I also learned that Sally died of uterine cancer, the temp nurse thinks that Dr. Stevenson is losing it, and Dr. Ted is furious that I asked him about Dr. Stevenson’s mental health.”

For once she watched both mother and uncle sit speechless. The TV droned on—a game show’s announcer, whose forced smile you could hear in his voice, asking a question. Tina stood up and turned it off.

When she sat down again, Uncle Bob asked, “What did those bumpkin police want?”

“They wanted to show me the gun, and it was mine. They wanted to know when I’d last seen it. I finally got them to tell me that someone found it in the La Forge’s dumpster. Some woman dumpster diving.”

Laura shuddered and made a face.

“I suppose you didn’t think of someone doing something so awful when you threw it there, did you, Mother?” Tina asked.

“I never,” Laura sputtered.

“Of course you did. How else would it have gotten there? I know you took it. I know you were trying to protect me. You just made it worse.”

“And now you’re going to argue with your mother?” Uncle Bob scooted back on the bed so he could sit up straighter.

Shocked, sudden anger coursed through her, the worst she’d ever experienced. She couldn’t sit still, it felt so bad. She jumped up and paced from window to door and back again in the small room. “I’m going to argue with anyone from now on who stands in my way of learning the truth. One friend of mine has been murdered. Another died of uterine cancer. And a third probably has the same disease. Coincidence? I doubt it. I’m sick and tired of secrets. Secrets meant to protect me, I’m sure. I’m an adult. I don’t need protecting from the truth!” She flopped down in the chair again and glared at her mother.

“I’m sure Crystal’s murder had nothing to do with Sally and Brenda,” Laura said, her voice so faint Tina had to strain to hear. She’d paled, and tiny beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. She brushed them away, then continued to rub her forehead.

“There’s no way you can know that, and I’m just as sure that it’s all connected. I want the truth. And I want it now.”

Laura glared at Tina, stood up, grabbed her purse, and left the room without a word.

Tina stared, open-mouthed. “Well,” she said and clamped her mouth shut again.

“Your mother is a stubborn woman. Once she sets her mind to something, you can’t change it.”

“But I need to know!” It came out in a low wail, and Tina put her head in her hands.

Uncle Bob climbed out of bed and sat next to her on the other one. He patted her shoulder.

“Oh,” she said between her hands. “I wish you knew what it was. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” She looked at him, face tear streaked.

“Yes, I would,” he said.

Tina took a shuddery breath. “When did the Lunch Bunch start, anyway?”

Uncle Bob thought a minute, his hands clasped in his lap. “I’d say about a year or so after you were born. Maybe two.”

“Did my father know what it was really for, do you think?”

“I’m pretty sure he must have. I remember his face got kind of grim when your mother reminded him that she was seeing the other women for lunch. And they both looked sad.”

“Do you think I’m adopted?” Tina asked suddenly.

Uncle Bob looked startled. “Oh, no. Your mother was pregnant all right.”

“That can be faked, Uncle Bob.”

“Laura wouldn’t… .”

“Sure she would. She’ll do whatever it takes to get what she wants.”

“No, you came home a newborn, and your mother breast-fed you.”

“You can adopt a newborn, and she could have faked the breast-feeding, too.”

“Why bother, when most everyone back then bottle-fed? I really do think you’re Laura’s daughter, Tina. There are too many similarities.”