Cadbury Creme Murder (3 page)

Heather
sat silently until Seth came back and she handed him the money.  “No change,”
she said.  “Thank you very much.”

“Thank
you,” Seth said.  “Have a nice day.  Come back and see us.”

Heather
nodded and tried to smile.  When Seth walked away, she headed for the door. 
And wondered if she would, indeed, be back.

Because
unlike the first time they were here, this time, Ryan had seemed distant. 
Preoccupied.  And a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that
there was more on his mind than just the case.

Something
was wrong.  Something he wasn’t ready to tell her.

She
could only hope it wasn’t something she didn’t want to hear.

Heather
made it to Caring Hearts with fifteen minute to spare before her appointment
with the hospice supervisor.  After finding out that the hospitals’ volunteer
coordinator was at lunch, she had decided that maybe it would be a good idea to
call and make an appointment next time she wanted to talk with someone.

Not
that things had turned out badly at the hospital; quite the opposite, in fact.

Talking
with Kristen, the ICU nurse, had been what Heather considered quite productive,
even if it hadn’t led to any specific clues.  At least she felt that she now
understood Verna better, as well as the impact Verna had had on others.

Heather
gave her name to the receptionist and sat down to wait.  She hadn’t even gotten
bored enough to pull out her phone before a door down the hall opened, and a
smiling woman in dress slacks and a loose-fitting top came toward her.  “Are
you Heather?”

“Yes. 
Claudia?”

“That’s
me.  Come on back, and let’s talk.”

Claudia
led the way to her office, ushered Heather inside, and shut the door behind
them.  Heather sat down in a comfy chair in front of Claudia’s desk and glanced
around.  Plants shared space on the bookshelves with a few books.  A painting
of a field of bluebonnets, the Texas state flower, graced one wall.  Pictures
of people Heather assumed were Claudia’s children and grandchildren occupied
pride of place on her desk. 

It
was simple, homey, and relaxing.  Heather supposed that was a good thing in
Claudia’s line of work, for people to feel at rest in her office.  “You have a
lovely office,” she said.  “Very relaxing.”

“Thank
you,” Claudia said.  “That’s my intention.  When most people come here, they’re
coming to discuss putting their loved one under our care.  They’re stressed. 
It’s a traumatic and difficult time in their lives.  Anything I can do to put
them at ease, I want to do.”

“Makes
sense,” Heather said.

Claudia
sat down in the chair behind her desk and folded her hands loosely together.  “You
wanted to talk about Verna Dixon,” she said.  “What did you want to know?”

“I
want to know what she was like,” Heather said.  “Did she get along well with
you?  With the other volunteers?  With her clients?”

“But
you’re not a detective.  Just a friend of the family.”

“Well,
a friend of one of Verna’s friends,” Heather said.  “We have a mutual friend
who asked me to kind of look into things.”

“I
can at least listen to your questions,” Claudia said.  “If I can help you, I
will.”

“Thank
you.  I won’t ask anything that would require you to break any kind of
confidentiality.”

“I
appreciate your sensitivity to those issues.”

“Did
you know Verna pretty well?” Heather asked.

“As
well as anybody here.  I have to know the volunteers pretty well if I’m going
to send them into somebody’s home when that person is nearing the end of his or
her life.  Most people aren’t in hospice for very long, you know.  Less than a
month.”

“Really? 
I thought people were in hospice for a long time.”

“Some
are.  The average length of stay is about 72 days.  There are a few people who
are under hospice care much longer than that.  But most aren’t.  That’s why I
want to be very confident in the volunteers I send into people’s homes when they
may only have a week or two to live.  It’s a very stressful, yet very important
and meaningful time for them and their family.”

“From
what I’ve heard, Verna was exactly the kind of person you would want to send to
someone whose death was approaching.”

Claudia
nodded.  “She was.  So caring.  So loving.  So unflappable.  She wasn’t fazed
by anything—not the medical treatments, not the smells, or the sounds, or the
patient’s pain, or the family dynamics.”

“She
was used to dealing with all of those things?”

“She
was.”

“I
talked to a nurse whose unit Verna volunteered on at Hillside Regional.  She
said Verna would sometimes just sit with patients who didn’t have anybody, just
because she wanted them to know they at least had her.  Does that sound like
the Verna you knew?”

“Mm-hmm,
that sounds like Verna,” Claudia said.  “Let me ask you something: Did you know
her personally?”

“I
had met her a few times.  She was always gracious.  But other than that, I
didn’t really know her very well.”

“Then
you missed out,” Claudia said.  “Verna was a wonderful woman and a great
volunteer.”

“Can
you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill her?”

“No,
I can’t,” she said.  “That’s the first thought that hit me when I heard the
news: Who in the world would want to kill Verna?  What could anyone have had
against her?”

“So
she never had any trouble while she was volunteering with Caring Hearts?”

“Not
a bit.”

“No
calls from patients or their families about her?  No complaints, even unfounded
ones?”

“Not
a one.  Although I did sometimes have families call after their loved one had
passed and express how much Verna meant to them.”

“So
everybody loved Verna.”

“Wellllll…” 
Claudia drew out the word.  “There was one person who didn’t get along with
Verna,” she said.  “Another volunteer.  Of course, that volunteer didn’t get
along with anyone.”

“Why
didn’t she get along with Verna?”

“Part
of it was that it was just the way she was.  But part of it was that I had to
inform that particular volunteer that she was no longer welcome to volunteer
with us.  She was found to have been stealing things from our offices.  Small
items, really, such as money from the petty cash, or supplies that were
supposed to go to patients and families.”

“What
did that have to do with her not getting along with Verna?”

“Verna
caught her with her hand in the petty cash drawer,” Claudia said.  “There was
no reason at all for her to be in there.  Verna told me, I investigated, and it
turned out that a lot of things had gone missing when she had opportunity to
take them.”

“But
you weren’t sure she took them.”

“We
couldn’t prove it.  But to me, Verna’s finding her with her hand in the drawer
was enough proof.  She, of course, blamed Verna.  She said Verna was lying.”

“But
you believed Verna.”

“Yes,
I did.  We didn’t have any cameras or anything set up to monitor the petty cash
area.  But I had to let one of the two of them go.  One of them was lying.” 
She shrugged.  “I believed Verna.”

“Sounds
like Verna had built up a history that showed she was worthy of trust.”

“Yes,
she had.  And there were some other problems with the other woman that had
caused me to have suspicions about her already.  So when Verna came to me and
told me what she had seen, I made an executive decision and chose to let the
other volunteer go.”

“Was
she angry?”

“You
could say that,” Claudia replied.  “But would she have been willing to kill
Verna over a volunteer position?”  She shook her head.  “I just don’t know.”

“Claudia,
thanks so much for your time.  I really appreciate your being willing to speak
with me.”

“You’re
welcome.  And if there’s anything else you need, or any other questions you
come up with, just let me know.  Verna didn’t deserve to die.  Whoever killed
her should be brought to justice.”

***

That
night for supper, Heather ordered Chinese take-out.  Orange chicken, mushroom
chicken, and fried rice for her, and a small portion of Mongolian beef for
Dave.  She stood at the kitchen counter, picking the vegetables out of Dave’s
supper with a fork and placing them on a plate for herself, as he waited
expectantly.  When she had finished, she set the Styrofoam container on the
floor next to Dave’s doggie bowl and let him go to town.

“You’re
lucky, Dave,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table with her own food. 
“Most people wouldn’t order Chinese food for their
dog
.”

Dave
ignored her.  He was busy eating.

Heather
had just forked a mouthful of orange chicken into her mouth when her cell phone
rang, displaying Amy’s number.  “Hello?” she mumbled through her food.

“Heather!”
Amy shrieked, causing Heather to hold the phone away from her ear.  “Guess
what?”

“What?”
she said, trying to chew and swallow.

“Are
you eating?  Oh, I’m sorry.  I can call you back later.”

“That’s
okay.  What’s up?”

“Kevin
asked me out!” Amy shrieked.  “We have a date for this weekend!” 

“That’s
great!  Is he the guy you met at your last art show?”

“No,
that was Keith.  This is Kevin.  We’re going out this Saturday.”

“Tell
me about him,” Heather said, reaching for another bite of orange chicken.

“He’s
hot—of course—and a great dresser.”

“Where’d
you meet him?”

“Oh,
you know…around.”

“Where,
Amy?” she demanded teasingly.

“Oh,
all right.  If you must know, I met him online.”  Amy’s voice got even
smaller.  “On a dating site.”

“You’re
on a dating site?”

“I
figured it couldn’t hurt.  It’s not like there are a ton of eligible men in
Hillside.”

“Well,
true.  But it’s not like you’ve ever had trouble getting a date.”

“Also
true.”

Heather
decided to let her off the hook.  “So where’s Kevin from?”

“Kentwood. 
Only twenty minutes away, so it wouldn’t be a long-distance relationship or
anything.  Anyway, he asked me out and told me he would meet me anywhere I
chose.  So that I could feel comfortable.”

“Is
he paying for the date?”

“Duh. 
Would I go out with someone who wouldn’t pay?”

“Probably
not,” she said, glancing at Dave, who was almost done with his entrée.

“
Definitely
not.  Anyway, since you have Ryan, and now I have Kevin—well,
maybe
I
have Kevin—now we can talk about men together, instead of me being jealous of
you all the time.”

“You’re
jealous of me?  What for?”

“Because
you have Ryan.”

But
did she have Ryan? Heather wondered.  Were they still together, or was he
losing interest?  Worry twisted itself into a knot in her stomach, followed
closely by anger at herself.  She could do just fine without a boyfriend. 
After all, hadn’t she done just fine when she and Don divorced?  Hadn’t she
moved back across the country to her hometown and started her own business? 

She
could do fine.  She
would
do fine.  She
was
fine.

Wasn’t
she?

Amy
didn’t seem to notice her silence.  “Anyway, I’ll let you eat your dinner, or
whatever you’re eating.  I just wanted to tell you the good news.”

“I’m
happy for you,” Heather said, the proper words coming automatically.  “Just be
careful.  I mean, you don’t really know this guy.  Yet.”