Trudy, Madly, Deeply (Working Stiffs Mystery Series) (12 page)

I and all the sheep I’d been counting for the past week were depending on it.

By the time I hung up the phone, Marietta had a Tuesday appointment at two-thirty. Now, all I had to do was break the news over dinner.

I called Gram to make sure there was plenty of wine in the house.

Sitting in my grandmother’s dining room almost four hours later, Marietta’s fingertips traced the hollow of her throat as she stared across the table at me. “You want me to do what?”

I picked up the bottle of merlot and refilled her glass. “I want you to see Dr. Straitham tomorrow. You have a two-thirty appointment.”

Her extended eyelashes fluttered. “Whatever for?”

“I need to talk to him, but given how things went at Trudy’s funeral, I think he’d be more willing to see you than me.”

Gram scowled. “Rather underhanded, don’t you think?”

Maybe. I topped off her glass for good measure. “You know it’s true.”

“What I know is that you’re poking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Gram said.

“I’m just going to go along and ask a few questions.”

Marietta’s eyelids tightened as she met my gaze. “While you’re there at
my
appointment?”

I had no intention of being in the examination room with her. “More like before and after your appointment.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “So, what you’re really sayin’ is that you need my help to get to the bottom of the mystery of poor Trudy’s death.”

I wouldn’t have used those exact words, but …. “Yes.”

Her collagen-enhanced lips curled into a satisfied smile as she reached for her wine glass. “Well, if you put it that way. I’ll just let Barry know that I’ll have to cut our lunch date a little short.”

She couldn’t be serious. “You have a lunch date tomorrow with Barry Ferris?”

“He’s so sweet. Persistent, too. Ah do like that in a man.”

I didn’t, especially when he was my former biology teacher. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“Chah-maine, don’t be silly.”

“He’s practically
your
age.”

Marietta’s eyes darkened. “Which gives us a lot in common,” she said without a trace of the Georgia peach accent.

Gram and I exchanged worried glances as Marietta sipped her wine.

My mother pointed a manicured index finger at me. “I saw that look.”

Gram pursed her mouth, accentuating the puckers gathered around her lips. “He’s a nice man, Mary Jo.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I wouldn’t be having a lunch date with him if he weren’t. Ah swear, you two are making mountains out of molehills. It’s not like I’m gonna marry the man. I’m just having some fun.”

That’s what I was worried about.

* * *

The next morning I woke up to a metal bracket in the Crippler poking me in the butt like a cattle prod. I lifted an eyelid to peek at the clock. Five twenty-seven.

I’d wanted to get over to Chimacam Memorial to talk to Cindy Tobias before I had to be in court, but even my ex-husband had the good sense not to poke me this early with any appendage he wanted to keep.

After a long, hot shower, I took a little extra time doing the hair and makeup thing. If I was going to make an appearance at the hospital, I might as well look halfway decent doing it, especially if I was going to run into Dr. Forsythe. Or any other doctor for that matter.

An hour later at Duke’s, I ladled some oatmeal into a white ceramic bowl, grabbed a small dish of strawberries, and took them over to the counter and sat next to Stanley.

The ninety-year-old stared through his thick glasses at my bowl.

“What?” I asked, dumping the sliced strawberries into the oatmeal.

He gave me a curt nod. “Very sensible.”

“It happens every once in a while.”

“Must be a full moon,” Steve said as he parked himself on the barstool to my right.

I shot him my best glare.

He stood deferentially. “Where are my manners? I should have asked. Is this seat taken?”

Between Stanley and a burly trucker slurping his coffee at the other end of the counter were seven empty seats, including Steve’s usual spot in front of Duke’s grill.

I shrugged. “Sit wherever you want.”

Settling back into his seat, Steve motioned Lucille over with the coffee carafe. “I thought I’d better ask in case you were waiting for a
date
.”

I was tempted to ask whether he’d had a date in Seattle yesterday but kept my mouth shut.

Lucille’s gaze shifted to me as she poured his coffee.

“Nope, I’m flying solo this morning,” I said.

Stanley elbowed me as Lucille topped off his coffee cup. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“Sorry, Stanley.” I turned to Steve. “You and everyone else will have to get in line.”

“Now you’re talkin’,” Stanley said with a rheumy chuckle. “I do like my women to have spunk.”

Steve stirred creamer into his cup. “You’re living on the edge with this one, Stan.”

Stanley reached past me for the sugar. “What can I tell ya. I’m a livin’ on the edge kind of guy.”

What a happy bunch of liars we were this morning.

“The usual?” Lucille asked Steve.

He glanced at my bowl. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

One corner of Lucille’s mouth twitched into a hint of a smirk as she refilled my coffee cup. “It
must
be a full moon.”

After taking a sip of the steaming, dark-as-molasses brew, Steve dumped in another mini-cup of creamer. “So, what’s going on today?”

I figured I’d better steer clear of any topic of conversation that involved Heather, Warren Straitham, Kyle Cardinale, or Trudy, so that left just one thing to talk about.

“Marietta has a lunch date with Mr. Ferris.”

Steve grinned. “No shit.”

“It’s not funny.”

“I think it’s kind of funny,” Stanley chimed in.

Swell. “I don’t.”

Steve stirred his coffee. “I’m sure it’s harmless. He’s too old for her.”

I scraped the bottom of my bowl for the last spoonful of oatmeal. “That’s what I told her.”

“And?”

“She didn’t take it very well,” I said as Lucille delivered Steve’s breakfast.

“How much longer is your mother going to be in town?” he asked.

“Good question.” One that I had been asking since the day she arrived.

Aunt Alice inched around the corner with a tray of doughnuts. What had me concerned more than her slow progress to the bakery display case was the sight of her walking with a slight limp.

Lucille reached out to take the aluminum tray. “Let me help you with those, hon.”

“I can manage,” Alice barked.

Steve turned to me. “Why is she limping?”

“I don’t know.” I twisted out of my seat. “But I’m going to find out.”

I grabbed a cup from the rack under the counter and filled it from a freshly brewed pot of coffee. “Good morning,” I said to Duke as I entered the kitchen.

Grimacing, he flipped a pancake on the grill. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

I edged closer. “What’s wrong?”

He fixed his gaze on his wife. “Something’s hurting her. She won’t tell me what.”

I didn’t think she’d tell me, either, but I needed to give it a try.

I followed Alice back to the table in the center of the kitchen and set the coffee cup down in front of her. “How’s it going?”

“Peachy,” Alice grumbled, wincing as she eased herself down on the wooden barstool.

I didn’t have to read the strain in her eyes to see that something was very wrong. “Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine! I wish everyone would stop asking me that.” She picked up her rolling pin and a ball of piecrust dough. “I’m right as rain.”

Yeah, and I’d been sleeping like a baby.

“Why are you limping?”

“I stubbed my toe,” she said, rolling out the dough like I’d seen her do a thousand times.

“Liar.”

She glared at me. “Don’t you need to get to work?”

“Soon.”

I took the next few minutes of silence as my cue to get out of her kitchen.

“I’ll be back for lunch,” I told Duke as I walked past the grill.

“Why am I not surprised?” Duke deadpanned. “I’m going to have to start calling you
Free Lunch
.”

“If she’s any worse,” I said, ignoring the old coot, “I’ll take her to the doctor. I have an appointment later this afternoon.”

Duke raised a silvery eyebrow.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing. In fact, it’s Marietta’s appointment.” Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Duke cracked two eggs on the grill. “Sorry I asked.”

Stepping behind the counter, I grabbed the coffee carafe and refilled Steve’s cup. “I didn’t find out much. She’s not talking but she’s obviously in some pain. Denies it of course.”

“Of course.” Steve stood, pressing his palm to my shoulder. “I have to get to work, but I’ll stop by later to see how she’s doing.”

The warmth of his touch lingered for a moment, heating my core like a steaming mug of cocoa on a blustery winter morning.

Good thing I was a mocha latte girl.

“Oh, Free Lunch,” Duke sang out as I watched the door shut behind Steve.

I wheeled around. “You’re not really going to call me that, are you?”

“If the sandwich fits.” He pointed his spatula at Arlene Koker, who was sitting alone in a booth by the window. “Earn your keep and get Arlene’s breakfast order.”

Arlene was a perky sixty-something with soft champagne blonde bangs sweeping her forehead and had been the activity director of the senior center for most of the last decade. You could count on her always wearing a smile and never varying her breakfast order—two poached eggs and a side of whole wheat toast, unbuttered.

I took the coffee carafe to her table and filled her cup. “Good morning. The usual?”

Arlene nodded, her smile dimming as she looked up at me. “Charmaine, I thought you had started a new job at the courthouse.”

“I did. I’m just working off my breakfast.” Taking it out in trade was probably more like it.

“You should come on over to the center. We have all sorts of good ways to work off calories.” Her gaze shifted to my thighs. “Aerobics, too. In fact, a class is going on right now. Your granny’s a member, so that gives you a family discount.”

“Thanks, Arlene. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” I said, hoping she’d get the hint that I had no intention of becoming an honorary Gray Lady.

She tore open a blue packet of sugar substitute and stirred it into her coffee. “And of course you know about Tango Tuesday.”

“I’ve heard of it.” Specifically from Nell.

Arlene pointed her spoon at me. “You should come. Bring Steve.”

Right. Like I could drag him onto a dance floor with a bunch of seniors. “That might not be Steve’s cup of tea.”

“Really? He seemed to have fun last time.”

Last time?

She reached for her cup. “He was a big hit with the ladies.”

“He always is.”

* * *

I arrived at the hospital around seven-forty. At the second floor nurse’s station I’d been told that Cindy Tobias was working in the ICU, so I took a right turn down a long hallway, pushed open the door marked
Intensive Care
, and found her standing at a monitor next to an elderly patient’s bed.

She didn’t look pleased to see me.

“I figured I’d be seeing you sooner or later,” she said softly, exiting the patient’s room.

I followed her to a dimly lit desk at the opposite side of the hallway. “Why do you say that?”

She sat at the computer station and made a few mouse clicks. “You want to talk to me about Trudy Bergeson, don’t you?”

And Rose and Mr. Elwood. “Do you have a few minutes?”

She blew out a breath, then pointed to a nutmeg brown upholstered chair next to her workstation that looked like it was held together with duct tape. “Have a seat.”

Ignoring the lumpy seat cushion, I scooted the chair a little closer to get a better view of Cindy’s face. “I’m just trying to get a sense of what happened.”

“Because of Dr. Cardinale calling Frankie Rickard.”

She knew. It made me wonder what else she knew. “Because it seems like Trudy died rather suddenly.”

The flicker at the corners of Cindy’s lips told me I’d struck paydirt. She opened her mouth, then pressed it closed. Whatever she’d thought about saying, she had censored herself.

“You were surprised when it happened,” I said for her.

She stared at her keyboard for several seconds. “We all thought she was going home the next day.”

“She was being released from the hospital?”

Cindy nodded, her blunt-cut honey brown hair bobbing at her shoulders. “There was a notation in her chart about it.”

“From?”

“Dr. Straitham.”

No big surprise since he was Trudy’s doctor, but I wrote it down in my notebook. “Now, I understand that Trudy Bergeson coded around three forty-five.”

“That’s when I did a bed check and discovered she wasn’t breathing.”

“There wasn’t an alarm that went off?”

Cindy shook her head. “She’d been moved out of the ICU and wasn’t on a heart monitor.”

Which would make it a little more convenient if someone wanted to kill her.

“Then what happened?”

“I called for help and started CPR. Dr. Cardinale arrived a minute later, but there wasn’t much he could do.”

“What about Tina Norton?”

Cindy’s mouth quirked. Maybe she’d been asking herself the same question.

“Was Tina working that night?” I asked.

“No.”

That didn’t explain the reaction I’d just seen. “Did you see her that night?”

“No.” She folded her thin arms across her chest, which I took as a cue that she wanted this to be the final word on the subject of Tina.

I decided to try a different approach. “Prior to discovering Trudy wasn’t breathing, did you notice anything unusual that night? Anything or anyone out of the ordinary?”

Cindy gave me another little headshake. “Until I went into Trudy’s room, it had been a pretty slow night.”

“Had you seen Dr. Forsythe prior to that?”

“Dr. Forsythe was in Hawaii for his sister’s wedding, so no.”

I crossed him off my potential suspect list.”