Fever Rich: A Mercy Mares Cozy Mystery (3 page)

“Can I ask, what is wrong with Cash?” I asked as I followed her back through the kitchen and into the hallway toward the front door.

She stopped suddenly. “No one told you?”

“No, I'm afraid not.” I answered. I'd been so wound up about James' wedding that I didn't listen when Ruby gave me all the details about this new placement.

“He developed severe migraines. I think the doctor called them 'prodrome' and the doctor found that he had an irregular heartbeat.” She said.

I nodded. “Arrhythmias.”

“Yes, that's what they were, so Sir Rich didn't want anything to go untreated and ordered a bunch of tests. We thought they were unnecessary at first. But, it turned out that Cash needed surgery to close a valve in his heart.” Lucilla explained.

“So, he's already had the surgery? You wouldn't happen to have his treatment plan, would you? I haven't had a chance to stop by the office to see what his orders are.” I didn't like going into situations blind.

Lucilla scrunched up her lips as she thought about it. “Let me get it for you. Stay right here.” She pointed to the dining room. I stepped in and my jaw dropped.

Everything about the room smelled of money and not just any money. This room smelled expensive. The table sat twelve people and looked like something out of King Arthur's Court. It was a bit too fancy for my taste, but still impressive. Large paintings covered the walls.

I took a few minutes to casually smooth my fingers over the hand embroidered cushions on the dining chairs. Now, they were stunning. I could never make twelve chairs fit in my kitchen, but I was creative, I could figure something out.

The doorbell rang, startling me. The melody it played reminded me of what doorbells sounded like in old Vincent Price movies. I didn't know whether to run and hide or to applaud.

Whoever it was must have been turned away by Lucilla immediately, but I had no idea how or when Lucy would have gone past me without me noticing her. I didn't hear her footsteps on the floors, but, then again, she'd mentioned that I shouldn't wear shoes, so maybe she wasn't wearing shoes. It wasn't important. I didn't mind waiting. It gave me more time to snoop around and get more insight into the world of a wealthy man and his staff.

After about fifteen minutes, my eagerness to take a look around began to wane. Lucilla hadn't bothered to come back and check on me.

“Great. I'm so beneath these people that I don't warrant a heads up that she wasn't going to come back,” I spoke to a bust that sat on a side table. Getting a better look at the face, I was compelled to say something nice in case someone was listening to me. “Beautiful home.”

“Oh, hello, dear.” A small man dressed in a very dapper suit stood in the doorway. “Can I help you with something?” He offered me his hand. “I'm Nathaniel Rich and you are?”

Wow! He was a lot older than I expected him to be.

“I'm good. I'm Mercy, the nurse from Nightingale Nurses.” He held on to my hand a little longer than I felt comfortable with, but I let it go because I was trying to remain employed for a bit longer. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”

He slowly let go of my hand and looked behind him. I answered the question I'm sure he wanted to ask. “I just interviewed with Lucilla. She went to find Cash's treatment plan for me, but I think she got distracted by the person at the door.”

He smiled, seemingly distracted. “Someone was at the door. I didn't hear the door, but I was upstairs in my... well, I was predisposed, maybe I missed it.”

Predisposed? Was that code for napping? He was sure dressed awfully well for someone who was supposedly sleeping.

“Have you met the boy yet?” He asked.

“The boy? Cash? No, I haven't met him yet.” I answered.

“Well, why don't you go on up and introduce yourself. I'm not sure if he's awake, but you'll find out when you get there.” He pointed to the grand staircase in front of the front entrance and walked out of the room. “Excuse me while I see who was at the door.”

I eagerly bounded up the stairs, paying no mind to my failing knees. I was dying to see what the rest of the home looked like and eager to meet my young charge.

Down below, I heard Nathaniel call Lucilla's name as he went from room to room looking for her. When I reached the top of the stairs, I was met with a series of closed doors and the faint smell of perfume in the air.

“Door number one, two, or three?” I asked myself. By my count, there were five separate doors on this floor and the staircase continued up to another floor.

“The urination station is the first door on your left,” a small hoarse voice said.

I jumped, surprised that someone was in the hallway with me. I hadn't seen anyone there.

“The urination station?” I asked the boy. “You must be Cash? Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

“Are you supposed to be wearing pajamas?”  He asked, looking at my scrubs.

I had to laugh. “I'm a nurse, your nurse, in fact. My name is...”

There was a scream down below. Cash immediately clutched my arm as I nearly swallowed my tongue.

“Stay here. No, you should get into bed. I'll be right back.” Going down the stairs wasn't as much fun as going up the stairs, especially with my heart racing and my stomach turning. I hoped that Nathaniel hadn't taken a dive and fallen on the floor. Caring for someone with a broken hip wasn't on my list of required duties.

When I reached the foyer, I could hear heavy breathing and panicked voices speaking. I followed their voices into the study. Lucilla stood looking at the floor behind the mahogany desk and Nathaniel stood in the doorway, clutching his chest.

“What happened?” I asked.

Neither spoke for a moment.

“Are you okay, Mr. Rich?” I assumed he'd been hurt.

“She's dead.” He answered.

I looked up at Lucilla, wondering if I'd missed something because she looked just fine to me, if fine meant scared and definitely breathing.

“Who?” I asked.

“Jane.” Lucilla said, her hand shaking as she pointed to the floor underneath the desk.

I walked around Nathaniel and the desk as gingerly as I could. Sure enough, a woman, dressed in a business suit was lying on the floor, face up, eyes wide open.

My instincts kicked in. It was my turn to give orders.

“Call 911.” I ordered.

While Lucilla scrambled to place the call, I felt for a pulse. There was none. I checked for a heartbeat. There was none. No breath sounds. Nothing, but a stain of blood on the front of her blazer.

I felt for the wound, just over the heart. No heartbeat.

Nathaniel yelled, “No, stop! Wait for the authorities.”

I continued on because he was clearly in shock and this woman was definitely in need of immediate assistance. I held my hand over the wound. It no longer bled.

“I don't need a babysitter,” Cash slammed his bedroom door shut in my face.

Let's see, a dead accountant in the study, a pouting ten-year-old, and a traveling nurse, who just wanted to take a job closer to home for a change.  In less than an hour since I'd arrived, life took a dramatic turn and not in a good way.

“Cash, please, open the door. Your grandfather hired me to care for you.” I pleaded, glancing over the railing at the commotion downstairs.

There was no protocol for what to do when someone is found dead in your home, but I'm pretty sure that alerting the media before the police arrived wasn't supposed to be on the top of the to-do list.

Nathaniel stood in front of an ornate, gilded mirror, adjusting his tie.
What was he preparing himself for?

“I'm not opening it. You can go home. You're fired.” Cash screamed through the door.

The way the morning had panned out, I was tempted to sneak out the back door and speed – if you call driving over thirty miles per hour in a twenty year old car speeding – through the tree lined streets of Lake Villa.

It had been many years since I'd dealt with an angry child, but I'd like to think it was like riding a bike and I'd be able to handle the situation swiftly.

“Please, open the door. The police will be here soon, Cash. Let me in so we can talk about this.” I begged. So much for taking a firm stand. Begging was my method of choice in this situation because I was in a hurry and my nerves were jumping in and out of my goose bump covered flesh.

“I don't have to listen to you.” Cash whispered through the door.

My method was failing. I needed to regroup and do something that was guaranteed to work.

I walked down the stairs and tried to keep my eyes focused on the floor in front of me. I'd seen plenty of dead people in my life, but seeing one that was murdered wasn't my cup of tea.

I'd seen a couple before and, let's just say that neither of those experiences were particularly pleasant for me or anyone else involved. Not that I hung out in dangerous neighborhoods or spent what little free time I had ambulance chasing, but within the last few months, I'd stumbled upon two murder victims. Long story short – death seemed to follow me everywhere.

Just as I expected, when I refused to engage any longer with Cash, I piqued his interest. He opened the door slightly to see if I was still there. I grinned, feeling pretty darn proud of myself, if I do say so myself and watched as he decided what his next move would be.

“Alright, come in, but don't touch my stuff,” he warned, opening the door.

He looked better than I imagined he would have and I was glad for that, but at the same time, I was worried about all that was going on and what his reaction to the chaos would be, both emotionally and physically. Stress had a way of wreaking havoc on the body.

“Thank you. I promise I won't touch anything I'm not supposed to.” I put my hand up, giving him my Scout's honor as I walked back up the stairs.

“Good, because this is the only place where I can get some peace and quiet, except when Lucilla decides my stuff is any of her business.” Cash had a sense of humor. I liked that.

“So, I'm going to need you to stay in here and get as much rest as possible. It will help with your healing process.” I explained.

“Is that what you told Mrs. Carter to do because, if it is, then no way am I doing that,” Cash giggled in between tight coughs.

“Does your chest hurt?” I asked.

“Duh, I had surgery there.” Cash answered in between more coughing.

He was right. I rephrased my question. “Does it hurt to breathe? Do you feel like you're getting enough air in your lungs?”

He shrugged and moved on to something much more interesting.

“I bet you some robbers came in here looking for my granddad's money or my video games. Mrs. Carter probably tried to fight them and she lost.” Cash showed me a little of his young imagination.

How sad that this poor child had to be exposed to such a horrific ordeal. Luckily, he was safely tucked away in his room and didn't actually have to witness whatever it was that took place. At least, I hoped he didn't have to witness it. I figured, I better ask him, just in case.

“Were you sleeping before I came up here to say hello to you?” I asked.

His eyes shot to the ground immediately. I feared he did see what happened.

“Nope,” he answered tentatively. “I was in there, but don't tell Lucilla because she'll get mad at me.” He pointed to a set of double doors inside his bedroom.

“Your closet?”
Oh, it was worse than I thought.
I opened the doors slowly. I don't know what I was expecting to find, but I was pretty sure that it wouldn't have been a cache of snack cakes, candy bars, and chewing gum. “Wow, you have your own personal store in here, don't you? Where did you get all of this from?”

Cash's face reddened. He was really an adorable little guy. “Well, if you don't tell my Granddad, I might be able to tell you, but just not right now.”

Okay.

I thought back to his treatment plan with his diagnosis' and I didn't recall seeing any specific restrictions, but if he kept eating this way, he might find himself with a diagnosis that would require him to stay clear of all those hidden goodies.

A change of subject was in order for both me and my young charge. “Well, how are things going for you in school?”

He sighed. Perhaps not the best choice of topic. I tried another.

“Oh, I have a dog. Do you like dogs?” I asked, desperate for something to keep both he and I distracted. I could hear a bevy of voices coming from downstairs. The police, no doubt.

Cash's eyes lit up. “I love dogs. What kind do you have?” He sat down on his bed and motioned for me to sit down with him and tell him all about my dog.

“Well, his name is Barney. He's a Pug. He hasn't lived with me too long, so we're still in the getting to know each other phase of our relationship, but he's really funny and really sweet and I love him.” I felt so bad for Barney because ever since he'd been given to me by the staff at a nursing home I'd worked at for a brief time not too long ago, I hadn't had much time to devote to him. As it stands right now, he was still staying with my friends Ruby and Hank.

Between them and Diana, they'd taken care of him while I was away on assignment. Since I'd arrived home, things had happened so quickly that they all thought that I should take a few days to settle in before he came back home or my daughter hopped on a plane to pay me a visit.

She no longer lived at home and made her life all the way across the country in New York City, but came home quite often to spend some time with me and her father from time to time.

“I used to have a dog. I think.” Cash crinkled up his nose as he thought back to a time when he had a dog.

“What happened to your dog?” I asked.

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “I guess they got rid of him too.”

I didn't understand. I hoped he wasn't saying that his parents had gotten rid of the dog like they had him. The thought of that made me sad. I can't imagine ever walking away from my child.

“Are you talking about your parents?” I asked.

A soft tapping on the door interrupted our conversation. Lucilla opened the door and poked her head in.

“Can I see you for a moment, Mrs. Mares?” She asked.

“Sure. I'll be back in a few minutes, Cash. Can you please wait right here for me and I'll come back and tell you all about Barney when I get back?” I asked.

He shrugged and grabbed some small toys nearby, waving us off. I turned to Lucilla and she nodded for me to follow her.

After she closed the door behind me, she whispered, “The police are here. They'll want to speak to you and Cash. Go on downstairs.”

“They want to speak to me? I didn't see anything.” Being questioned by police never went well for me. I didn't want to take a chance of saying something that would make me lose this job. I hadn't done anything wrong, but sometimes my lips moved faster than I ever wanted them to.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, several people were milling about downstairs. There were police officers, detectives, and several people I hadn't seen before, but by their uniforms, I assumed they were part of Nathaniel's staff members.

One female detective saw me and introduced herself. “Hello, I'm Detective Zoey Ortiz. I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes.” She led me to the dining room and closed the pocket doors behind her. “Tell me your name.”

I told her my name and explained that I had just been there for an interview. I wasn't supposed to start working yet.

“Yes, I know. Can you tell me exactly what happened today after you arrived?” She didn't take notes as I spoke, but listened intently. I found that to be interesting because on both occasions where I'd been interviewed by police, both officers wrote down what I'd said into a notebook.

“Are you going to memorize this?” I was just curious. I wasn't meaning to be rude.

She smiled politely and explained that she had a good memory and had already written down what Lucilla and Nathaniel had told her. “If I need to remember something in particular, I'll write it down, but this should just be a quick chat. So, the interview didn't go as expected, did it?”

Boy, she wasn't kidding!

“The interview was interesting. I killed it.” Why was I joking at a time like this? “I mean, I got the job, but truth be told, I think I had the job before I walked in the door. This was just a formality.” I explained.

She didn't react to my bad word choice. Hopefully, that wouldn't be used against me in a court of law.

“Okay, did you see Mrs. Carter when she arrived or was she already here when you arrived?” She asked me.

“I don't know who Mrs. Carter is.” I hadn't met anyone other than the security guard briefly before I stepped foot in the house. “I heard the doorbell ring when Lucilla went to look for the doctor's orders. I didn't meet anyone else here. I really wasn't here long enough to have seen anyone, but I remember when I walked past the study, there wasn't anyone in there. I'm sorry. Am I talking too much? I tend to talk a lot when I get nervous.”

Detective Ortiz' eyebrows furrowed for a moment as she asked, “Are you nervous right now?”

There I went again! I always managed to say the wrong thing.

“No, well, maybe. I guess the whole thought of what happened here is disconcerting. I'm not sure I really should work here. I'm supposed to be on vacation, but my car is begging to die. Oops, sorry. I can't stop saying stuff like that. You know how when an authority figure tells you not to do something and then the only thing you can focus on is doing or saying that very thing?” If it wasn't so painful, I'd bite down really hard on my tongue to keep myself from saying something else incriminating.

The detective's eyes seemed to gloss over, so my long diatribe wasn't amusing to her either. “I think we're done here for now. If I think of any other questions for you, I'll reach out to you. Do you mind leaving your number with me?”

This was very real.

When I opened the pocket doors, Nathaniel stood on the other side of them with a cell phone in his hand. I hated to think about who he was calling. I could only imagine that it must have been the victim's next of kin. I didn't know the protocol, but I hoped that someone would have called the family before they heard about it on the news.

He nodded at me as I walked out. I heard him say, “Yes, there has been a murder. The police are here now. If you don't hurry, they will be gone.”