Remote Consequences (8 page)

Great mansions have slippery doors. –Irish Proverb

I'd worked at The Country Club one summer during high school as a lifeguard. Honestly, it had been the only way to spend the summer near a pool for me, but I'd not been fond of a job where I was forced to sit around all day and watch the wealthy lounge about and spend their family money.

I didn't know what it was like to have luxuries such as country club memberships and private tennis lessons. But I did know what it was like to work for an honest day's living, and that's what I was doing here today.

No sense dwelling on the past. I was here to focus on my job.

Exiting the vehicle, I heard the screech of tires and looked up to find the same sleek BMW I'd seen at the mayor's house yesterday. The license plate read
Matson
—it was the mayor's son again. I watched as the driver haphazardly parked across two parking spaces one of them a handicapped spot.

What a jerk.

He exited the car, wearing the same type of tennis whites I'd observed him in yesterday, but today he had a certain weariness about him. Dark circles under his eyes and less-than-perfect hair sprang out from beneath his cap.

Bad night at the mayor's house? The thought occurred to me as I affixed the tool belt to my waist and watched him bounce a tennis ball on his racket as he made his way through the gated entrance and toward the courts.

Ty had mentioned that my lunch chat with Penny may have comprised his crime scene, so I assumed that even though the cops hadn't given me a proper welcome at the station that they'd checked out my gruesome discovery nonetheless. But I wondered how the family had responded to the exposure this and the news article was sure to rain down upon them.

My mind worked through the possible scenarios of how the mayor would have found out about this. Did Ty get a warrant and search the premises after I'd left? Did he give the mayor a heads-up and the opportunity to explain before he headed to court for that warrant? Or did he drag his feet until the paper came out and then was forced to follow up? I imagined the cocky Ty Dempsey standing in front of the mayor's desk this morning, hands clasped behind his back, and chin down like a petulant school boy caught ditching class.

The thought more than appealed to me.

He hadn't really been clear on it this morning, and I kicked myself for not asking for more details. There were too many distractions in my life. But it would have been cool to have something to report to Colin this evening. The thought of playing sleuth suddenly held a growing appeal to me. In some ways it was like being a doctor. You looked at the symptoms as if they were clues and then solved the mystery of the illness when you issued a diagnosis. This was kind of like that—of course, as a doctor you tried to avoid turning your patients into corpses.

Clipboard in hand, I headed toward the clubhouse, my mind sorting through the possibilities of how best to kick-start my own little investigation. After all, what if the Mills family managed to sweep this entire thing under the proverbial rug? I suddenly felt that it was my responsibility to ensure that didn't happen.

"Excuse me. You can't park that work vehicle there." A gravelly voice broke through my mental wanderings. I stopped and turned to find a dark-complexioned man wearing gardener's attire, complete with gloves and a rake in hand.

"What?"

"I said, you can't park that van there. Those parking spaces are for club members only. All work staff and contractors have to park around back."

What he meant to say was that the menial labor had to stay out of sight. I frowned. It was difficult to get back into the swing of being on the low end of the totem pole. I didn't know why it should come as any surprise after a lifetime of being treated this way in this town. But somehow, after the last ten years away, I'd begun to think of myself as worthy of respect. In college and med school, we were all at the same level, and our backgrounds hadn't mattered all that much. Here, who your family was or
wasn't
made all the difference in the world.

"Well, they can tow it if they want to. Wouldn't be the first time I've parked where I'm not supposed to."

He frowned at me as if my bad attitude was bringing him down. Then he shrugged. "If you want to lose your job over a parking space, who am I to judge, chica?"

"Doubt I'll lose my job over this in particular. I'm already on thin ice over something much bigger."

He stifled a smile, and I smiled back at him. I liked this guy.

"I'm Mandy. Mandy Murrin." I held out my hand, and he hastily removed his right glove and shook it.

"I'm Rigo."

"Nice to meet you, Rigo. Have you worked here long?"

He squinted slightly as if recalling. "Been about eight years now. My family moved here after the hurricane."

I bit my lower lip. He must mean Katrina. It had brought quite a few new families into town. I remembered Patty telling me that she'd helped fix up a temporary shelter in the school's gymnasium for displaced families. I wondered if Rigo's family was one of them.

"Well, I'm glad you found our town and hope everyone is treating you well here."

He tilted his head from side to side. "It's okay. I like the area. Most of the people are nice."

I gave a nod. I understood completely. There were two distinct classes in this town. Those who were the Mills or the Brooks, and those who worked for them. I'd always been in the latter category, and my new friend Rigo was as well.

"Yep. Well, looks like I'll be back in town for a little while. Maybe I'll see you around."

He seemed a little puzzled, and I got the sense that he thought I was flirting with him.

I laughed. It was funny, but I hadn't been flirting with him or any other man in what seemed like ages. My personal life had consisted of weekend study sessions in the library and weeknights at the lab. In other words, I was an absolute bore when it came to romance these days.

He tipped his hat then continued his raking of straw into the bricked-in circumference of a flowerbed.

"Hey, Rigo. Thanks for the parking tip."

He shrugged. But I could see him smiling as he turned back to his work.

Some folks were still nice in this world. That was another reason I wanted to get back to school. I wanted to complete my studies and become a part of something important—make a difference.

I headed for the clubhouse door but paused to look back at the tennis courts. There was Matson Mills stretching for his expensive tennis lesson with the club pro.

I wondered: had he ever done anything to make a difference?

*  *  *

I duck-walked along the baseboards of the pool house. The room had more than its share of humidity, and my hair inched up the back of my neck in response. The floor of this particular building did not sport the club's standard hardwood flooring. Instead, it was covered with green artificial turf. There were slightly sunken drains located at key junctures in the floor, and I couldn't help but think of the floor drains in the autopsy suites back at school.

I would never forget the first time I'd had to see and touch a cadaver. I'd been surprised at how hard and cold a body could feel, even through gloves. I'd learned to detach myself from the body. I tried to never think of it as a person. Someone's brother or father or boyfriend—nope, it was just a body. That was the only way I could cut into it, dissect it, and learn from it. Of course, that didn't mean that you lost respect for the body. You always had to respect this person for making a sacrifice so that others could learn. Giving your body to science takes guts—no pun intended.

A small shiver racked my body as my mind wavered back to the sight of the body in the freezer. I hadn't had the same detached reaction to this body. Why? I hadn't known the person. Why had I been so flustered by it? Why hadn't I taken the time to examine it a little further before I'd high-tailed it out of there?

I should have been glad that I didn't have to go back to the scene of the crime. But instead, I wished for a second chance. My reaction had been so out of character for me.

"Well, isn't this just the most awkward thing ever?"

The tightly wound voice of Allyson Harlow somehow managed to shrivel my hair another half-inch shorter. I looked up from the outlet I was wiring to find the busty brunette decked out in a yellow polka-dot bikini and a straw hat with matching yellow bow.

What is it with her and polka dots?

She twirled her sunglasses around and around by the ear stem in one hand and sloshed a cocktail around in the other. The pink umbrella in the drink was being sucked down into the whirlpool of what smelled like Malibu rum.

I faux-smiled at her and returned to my work with concentrated effort.

"Do you think you could hand me a towel from down there?"

I turned to look behind me and saw that there was, indeed, a wicker cabinet door that concealed shelves of large, fluffy white beach towels.

"Uh…let me think…no."

Allyson gasped in mock horror. "I mean, since you're down there already and all. You can't do me this one itty-bitty little favor, Mandy Candy?"

A tightening at the base of my spine threatened to rocket boost me up from my crouched position and knock the daylights out of this pest. But I took a deep breath and continued to work. I refused to stoop to the level of petty catfighting. It just wasn't worth it. We weren't in high school, after all.

That was when the sticky, ice-cold drink hit the top of my hair.

"Oopsie…"

I shot up and smacked the glass out of Allyson's manicured hand. It hit the turf-covered floor with a
thunk
but managed not to break.

"Are you out of your mind?" I snatched a towel out of the now-open door to the cabinet.

"Well, you see, that's why I asked you to get it for me. When I bent over to open the cabinet, I must have accidentally fumbled my drink. Oopsie…"

"I'll oopsie you." My eyes were on fire as I fought back the sudden urge to cry. I towel dried my now-sticky strands as I tried to control my emotions. I would not—absolutely would
not
—let this jerk get to me.

"I said I was sorry."

"No, you didn't."

"Oh, well, I'm sure you know it was an accident. I know it is early in the day, but I've been having brunch with Mrs. Mills, and she does enjoy a morning cocktail by the pool."

My hand slowed its motion as I immediately began to wonder if Allyson and Mrs. Mills had chatted about the matter of a little dead body situation in the attic. I wondered how to broach the subject.

"I wanted to tell you that I loved the little article you starred in this morning. Too bad they didn't include a picture of you. I know how much the town will welcome you back with open arms now that you've become enemy number one of the Mills family."

Yep. If Allyson and Mrs. Mills were in cahoots then it had definitely been spoken about already. That was probably why the mayor's wife was at the club drinking such strong refreshments long before noon. But I had to wonder what Allyson had in common with Myrna Mills.

"Look, I know what I saw, and the police will follow up on it, I'm sure. It is best you stay out of it." I was surprised at my own words. They were smart advice. A real reasonable warning for Allyson.

"I think you should be the one to stay out of it. No one wants you here. No one wants to hear a word out of your smart mouth."

Oh well, so much for Allyson taking sound advice. That little snarky remark plus the "accidental" spill on my head was the reason I couldn't hold back my next retort.

"Well, there's at least one person who wants to hear what I have to say. I have a lunch date with Ty."

No sooner had the words come out of my mouth did Allyson turn and grab a pitcher of water off the counter. She began to swirl it in the same motion as the cocktail, only this was a gallon-sized pitcher of ice-cold water with lemon slices in the mix. Trapped between the demon and the door, I braced myself for another cold shower.

Only Allyson turned and splashed the pitcher's contents into the open outlet in one swift motion. She dropped the pitcher on the floor; shards of glass rained down over my boots and a hissing sound from the outlet filled the air.

Then she turned and sauntered out of the pool house without another word. Slipping on her sunglasses as she exited the mirrored doors. A gray-haired man awaited her exit, and she giggled when he took her arm and led her away.

I stared down at the mess before me. This was a battle I hadn't wanted, but somehow—all these years later—I found myself right back in the same drama I'd endured once before in my life. Yep, high school
was
back again.

One man's meat is another man's poison. –Irish Proverb

I swung by the Flicks Vision office and gave Barry the thumbs-up on the country club job. He seemed happy about me completing my assignment despite the fact that, due to Allyson's little cocktail party with the cable outlet, the assignment had taken all morning shift long.

He'd seemed more than a little perturbed about my needing the rest of the afternoon off to meet with Ty and pick up Paget, but I managed to escape before he went into full face-reddening mode. I swapped out the rusty work van for my gorgeous beast of a car, stopped by the house for a quick shower and shampoo, and then I was en route to the police station. I was doing pretty good, only running half an hour late as I drove toward the station, my mind swirling over the events of the last two days—not to mention the dreaded conversation I was about to have with Ty Dempsey. I'd held a lot of resentment toward him for many years, and now he was back in my life and, apparently, Paget's new "hero" with a scary gun.

The thought of him as anyone's hero was hard for me to grasp. After taking advantage of my tender, school girl crush and stealing my virginity—things had gone downhill from there. Well, he didn't exactly
steal
it. I'd pretty much offered it up on a silver platter. Or the hood of his silver Camero as fate would have it. And then when he got offered that huge football scholarship to Auburn University, I may have told one little lie—well maybe not exactly
little
…