Running on Empty (21 page)

'Cried?' Dr. Stanton didn't understand, but AnnaLise lost the chance to explain when
Daisy rejoined them.

'Good, you're back.' Dr. Stanton waved her into the chair next to AnnaLise. 'So, let's
talk about where we go from here.'

He opened a folder on his desk. 'We've covered the physical exam and we should have
the results of the blood work and other labs in a few days. If that all checks out,
I'd suggest a neurologist.'

AnnaLise blanched, but Daisy was nodding. 'I think that's a good idea. And maybe a
psychiatrist or psychologist?'

'I'd like to hear from the neurologist first.'

AnnaLise, open-mouthed, was looking at her mother.

'What?' Daisy said. 'You don't think I know how to research stuff on the Internet?'

Dr. Stanton laughed and stood to shake hands with both of them. 'Recognizing the problem,
along with wanting to address it, constitutes a very good start.'

'Thanks for your time, doctor,' AnnaLise said. 'I'm sure you have a long day ahead
of you.'

'No, though not for any pleasant reason,' Jackson Stanton said, holding the door to
the waiting room open for them to pass through. 'I'm leaving at noon to attend Rance
Smoaks's funeral.'

Rance Smoaks might have been universally despised, but what small town doesn't love
a potentially toxic funeral? And Sutherton loved Kathleen Smoaks, as well, so 'planting
Rance' made for a double celebration.

The widow stood in the vestibule between the chapel portion of the church, where the
service had just been concluded, and Fellowship Hall, where lunch was about to be
served.

'I didn't know the guy well,' Joy Tamarack said to AnnaLise as the two waited in line
in front of Daisy and Mama to pay their respects. 'But there doesn't seem to be a
whole lot of mourning at his funeral.'

'Let's just say to know the deceased was to hate him,' AnnaLise said over the general
chatter and frivolity that surrounded them.

'If you didn't like him, why are
you
here?' Joy asked.

'Because I've known Kathleen for a long time and wanted to support her.' This despite
the fact that, until Dr. Stanton mentioned it, AnnaLise had completely forgotten about
the funeral.

'Looks like the young widow's got lots of support.' Joy craned her neck to see around
Bobby's mother in front of them. 'In fact, I think she was just high-fived.'

Joy held up her hands. 'Not that I'm criticizing. If the man was an ass, good riddance,
I say.'

'Amen,' Daisy intoned from behind them and a half-dozen people around the vestibule
echoed it, though not for the same reason. Mama exchanged looks with AnnaLise and
shrugged.

An older gentleman, who had been talking with Kathleen, moved away, taking five family
members with him, and suddenly Mrs. Bradenham was at the front of the receiving line.

Kathleen Smoaks was about five foot seven, with honey-colored locks trailing past
her shoulder. She'd always reminded AnnaLise of a Barbie doll, but with non-synthetic
hair.

'Kathleen,' Mrs. B was saying as the two air-kissed. 'I am so sorry to see you again
under these circumstances.'

'Bullshit,' Sheree, who'd been standing with the widow, said in AnnaLise's ear. 'That
shrew hated seeing Kathleen under any circumstances. Thought she wasn't good enough
for Bobby.'

'Nobody was.' Especially AnnaLise, way back when. Gradually, though, Bobby's mother
had seen that AnnaLise and Bobby really were 'just friends' and laid off her, at least.

'A mama's boy, then?' Joy said. 'I wondered why he's still single.'

'My opinion?' Sheree nodded toward Kathleen as Mrs. B moved on. 'Bobby never stopped
loving the one who got away.'

AnnaLise didn't see Bobby Bradenham until she and Daisy, Mama and Joy Tamarack were
sitting down to eat in Fellowship Hall. He came over to say hello, but was promptly
flagged down by Sheree Pepper at the next table with Kathleen Smoaks.

'Interesting,' Joy said with a nod toward the neighboring clump. 'I mean if what Sheree
was saying about Bobby and—'

'Sheree Pepper?' Daisy said, jumping into the conversation by shattering its context
and shifting its drift. 'Bobby should watch out for her. That girl was loose all through
school, remember, AnnaLise?'

Friend glanced at friend, not ten feet away, and stammered, 'I... uhhh... no...'

Joy laughed. 'It's a stage we girls go through, Daisy. You know what people used to
say about me?'

'No, what?' Daisy responded eagerly.

'That wherever I went, I spread... Joy.'

'But it's true,' Sheree said, later that night.

'That I spread 'em?' Joy asked. She was sprawled on her back on the inn's living-room
floor, a half-filled margarita glass balanced on her flat stomach.

'Well, yes. I'm certain of that, too,' Sheree said. 'But I meant what Daisy said.
Everyone thought I was a slut in high school, even though I was practically a virgin.'

Practically.

'True or not,' AnnaLise said sternly, 'it's not like Daisy to blurt out something
like that.'

'Maybe not,' Sheree said. 'But it is what it is.'

'Stupid expression,' Chuck said. It was his night off and he was taking advantage
of it, stretched out on the floral couch. '"It is what it is." What's "it", anyway?'

He leaned over for his glass on the coffee table and nearly slid off the couch. AnnaLise
pushed the margarita closer to him. She was on the floor, back against the couch and
Sheree was sitting in the red chair, feet tucked under her.

'What is it? And it is what?' Sheree intoned, Zen-like.

'It's sort of like, I am what I am and that's all what I am,' Joy offered.

'Popeye, the Sailor Man!' Chuck sang out and, having sat up heroically to take a sip
of margarita, collapsed back into the couch.

'Aww, geez,' AnnaLise said. 'And we didn't even do drugs in our youth, so we can't
blame this conversation on burnout or flashback.'

'Speak for yourself,' Joy said, executing an ab crunch while still — incredibly —
balancing her margarita.

An intake of breath from Sheree, released as Joy — and liquid-filled glass — settled
back onto the rug. 'Doing drugs and spreading joy. Were you the bad ass you'd like
us to believe?'

'You want the truth?'

AnnaLise was looking at Joy upside down, so she scooted around so she could see her
face in normal orientation. 'Yes, please.'

'No.' Joy sat up, simultaneously lifting the glass carefully and putting it on the
coffee table.

'Umm, no what?' Chuck asked sleepily. Apparently his role tonight as inquisitor was
less than grand.

'No, I wasn't a bad ass. Worst thing I ever smoked was cigarettes, which is
not
recommended for an athlete. I play the bad girl because I was always a jock and when
you're a female one, people tend to think―'

'You're a lesbian,' Sheree finished. 'No offense,' to Chuck.

'None taken.' His eyes were closed.

AnnaLise rolled hers and turned back to Joy. 'So how did you end up married to Dickens
Hart?'

'I told y'all that he hired me to run the fitness center at the White Tail Spa, didn't
I?'

'Y'all?' Sheree repeated. 'Aren't you from Brooklyn?'

'Where'd you get that idea? I'm from Indiana.
Southern
Indiana. Now, may I continue?'

'Certainly,' Sheree said. 'But, to reprise, I think what AnnaLise meant was that if
you're truly not a slut, you clearly aren't Dickens' type.'

Joy looked at AnnaLise.

AnnaLise shrugged. 'I think Sheree meant more summarize than reprise, but... yeah,
I guess that's where I was eventually going.'

'Hah. Well then, good question,' Joy said. 'But surprisingly, Dickens is an honorable
guy in his own, self-involved way. Not quite the pig you might think.'

'How much of a pig is he?' Chuck, suddenly seeming alert.

'Not enough for me to shoot at him, if that's what you're wondering.' She retrieved
her glass from the low table. 'If I were you, I'd be looking at the people who've
been investing in Hart's Landing.'

Apparently, all gloves were now off when it came to keeping the development's financial
issues quiet.

'Hart's Landing?' Sheree asked. 'Why? Is there a problem?'

AnnaLise realized her friend had no way of knowing the development was underwater.
And wouldn't be terribly crushed by the news, given that she'd feared rentals there
would become competition for her inn.

Joy shrugged. 'Just Dickens and his partner over-promising, then under-delivering.
I wouldn't want to be in a room with them when the construction loan comes due.'

'Speaking of David Sabatino — what about him?' AnnaLise asked Chuck. 'Would he have
a reason to shoot Hart?'

The eyes stayed closed. 'Only if their partnership agreement stipulates that Hart's
half-interest goes to the survivor in the partnership instead of the decedent's personal
heirs,' Chuck said. 'Besides, half of noth―'

'Heirs?' Joy interrupted. 'And exactly how is that devil in the details defined?'

Chuck shrugged. 'Depends on whether Hart has a will or not. If he dies intestate,
his estate would be divided amongst his children or their descendants. Assuming he
didn't have children, you'd move on to his parents, then siblings, etc.'

'Sounds like
ex
-wives are pretty far down the list,' AnnaLise said. 'And even then, there are two
others ahead of you.'

'No ex-wives need apply,' Chuck said, 'unless there were children from the union.
Then Hart's ex might be able to glum something.'

'I think you mean "glom",' said AnnaLise. 'Like "glom onto something". Unless you're
talking "plumb", as in "plumb the depths".'

The other three turned to look at her.

'Sorry,' AnnaLise said meekly. 'The reporter in me.'

'More like the pain in the ass, in you,' Joy growled.

Sheree turned to Chuck. 'What about Bobby?'

'What about him?'

'You don't know?' she asked, looking eager to spread the word. 'From what I hear,
Hart sold Mrs. B that place for peanuts back in the Eighties. She has no visible means
of support, so how's she keeping it up?'

'I don't know,' Chuck said. 'I assumed she had family money or that Bobby's father,
the guy that died in the car crash, was loaded.'