Murder Takes a Dare: The First Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 1) (22 page)

“Linda is a stiff-necked harpy. She gives me hell every time she’s over budget, as if her budget variances are my fault, not to mention bringing up…never mind,” Alex interrupted himself. “Regardless, she never struck me as a liar. But, we know Linda deliberately lied to you to get Mrs. Flaxton into the Home Away from Home.”

Marisa was amazed. “Why would she lie?”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know. But since there are obviously dangerous connections between the nursing home and the trauma hospital, I think it’s significant.  Marisa, we will have to question Linda.”

“Do you have a death wish? You know Linda Borders can be very prickly and defensive when her case management decisions are questioned. I’ve noticed it in our management meetings. Remember last week when you asked her why we’re making less money? She flew off the handle, and ranted and raved about dwindling reimbursements and tight-fisted insurance companies.”

Alex snapped his fingers. “It’s not only Mrs. Flaxton, Marisa. What about Mr. Napier? Why would a man with excellent physical and mental functioning be a patient at the nursing home?”

“That’s right! When Mr. Napier was a patient at the hospital, I just assumed he’d be discharged back home.”

“Was Linda involved?”

“Of course! As the director, she holds the accountability for the transfers of all our patients, and the coordination of their next destination, whether it’s a hospital, nursing home, assisted living, or private residence.”

“Marisa.” Alex’s voice was strangled with suppressed excitement. “It can’t be a coincidence! What if Linda had her own reasons for ensuring Mrs. Flaxton was admitted to the Home Away from Home? We know Jonah dealt in information. What if he found out Linda was playing hanky-panky with the discharges of the hospital’s patients and was blackmailing her?”

“And Linda, dressed up in the gown and mask, easily passed Brandon. He didn’t notice her, let alone question her, and then she shot Jonah in my office.” Marisa pressed her hand to her mouth.

“But where does Zoe fit into that equation? I just can’t see the aggressive Linda, with her short hair threaded with gray and her sturdy body, in an illicit relationship with the Goth Girl stripper.”

“What if Linda wasn’t the client and she didn’t meet Zoe in the cemetery? Rather, what if she followed Zoe there, to kill her?”

“Why would she want to kill Zoe?” Alex asked.

“What if Jonah and Zoe were partners? Jonah bought and sold information. Zoe must have had the lowdown on plenty of people, through the club and her Goth Girl activities.”

“In that case, Linda killed Jonah to keep him quiet. And when Kerry Webber saw her at the hospital, realized she killed Jonah, and tried to blackmail her, Linda killed him and his low-life friend, Bobby Ray.” He shook his head in disbelief. “From a logical standpoint, it makes sense and it hangs together. But it’s difficult to believe we’ve been working with a murderer. You’ve been there for years, Marisa, and I’ve been there for a year. For God’s sake, she looks like an ill-tempered nun. I can see her whacking knuckles with a ruler, but shooting people…”

They were silent, bouncing on the seat as Fred took turns and hit potholes. Alex turned to her. “I recognized Mrs. Flaxton. Not at first, but after we left the nursing home. Mrs. Flaxton was our third grade teacher. I remember seeing you going in and out of her house when we were kids. You and she have stayed close for a lot of years.” There was a slight question in his voice.

As they did more often than she cared to admit, Marisa’s thoughts stretched back to those dark, friendless, utterly alone days. “I don’t know if you remember where I grew up, Alex.”

He nodded.

“Pretty pathetic, huh? On a corner of his father’s farm, my father had put together a building from scrap lumber. On the inside of the house, cardboard was haphazardly nailed up over the boards to form uneven walls. I remember in the winter, the snow drifted in between the cracks. The only heat was from the old woodstove. If you huddled too close to the roaring fire, you sweated from the intense heat; while if you sat just a few feet away, you were frozen to the core!”

“Lots of kids grow up without material advantages. As long as there’s love…”

“Love! We grew up with cold and hunger, so close they were like well-known shadows. And the fear. When my father was drinking, which seemed as if it was all of the time, he flew into terrible rages. My brothers and I tried to be invisible so he wouldn’t notice us. But even if we could avoid him, my mother couldn’t or wouldn’t. My mother and father fought all of the time. Screaming, yelling, words I didn’t understand, yet I knew they were vile…I thought they’d kill each other. I huddled under my worn, dirty blankets, petrified with fear, praying they didn’t murder one another.”

Alex put his hand on Marisa’s arm. “I am guessing Mrs. Flaxton was a positive influence in your life.”

““School was a completely different world from home. When I started school, it was both a good thing and a bad thing. One of the best things was the hot lunch. I didn’t know until I started school people actually ate three meals a day. The other children complained about the lunches. I adored school lunches! At home, we had only vegetables from the garden, fresh in summer and canned in winter. At school, there was bread and meat and even desserts! And remember Miss Clara, the lunch lady? She was one of my favorite people!”

Alex smiled in remembrance. “She always thought I was too skinny and she put extra helpings on my plate to fatten me up.”

Marisa nodded. “And the other good thing about school was the structured environment, no screaming, no yelling, no throwing things. We had spelling, math, reading, lunch, recess, science…no deviation. I knew what to expect every day. It was the oasis of order in a chaotic life. But the bad thing about school…”

Marisa was quiet, her body on the hard seat, bouncing next to Alex, while her mind was thirty years away. “The bad thing was the kids. The tormenting, the teasing, the constant harassment…The other children saw our ragged clothes, filthy hair, and stick-thin figures. With some unerring instinct, they honed in on us as natural, vulnerable targets. My memories of those early school years consist mainly of belittling jeers and humiliating taunts directed toward me and my brothers day after day. I think the worst part of the ordeal was all of the teachers’ and the principal’s failure to take any action to stop it. I began to think with an unwavering and bone-deep certainty I deserved the constant abuse. I saw my entire life stretching ahead of me, full of torment. Until…Althea came to work there. She tried to take up for me.”

Alex was grim. “Marisa, remember my father was a substitute teacher at the school. I remember him telling my mother about Mrs. Flaxton confronting the other teachers and the principal. My dad said Mrs. Flaxton asked point-blank why they blatantly allowed the other children to treat you so horribly.”

Marisa’s laugh was devoid of humor. “It took a lot of years, but I learned the answer to that question. My father and grandfather, and the majority of my other relatives, were ‘no-account drunks.’ The kids at school only parroted what their parents said about the entire no-good family. I learned the hard way about caste systems, since our rural area definitely had a strong one in place.”

“Marisa, I’m sorry I didn’t stop the bullying.”

“You were even smaller than I was. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

He took a deep breath and met her eyes. “I feel a sense of guilt because I stayed quiet and under the radar. I’ve seen your brother Mosely, remember. He was the easiest target of all. He had braces on his legs and walked with crutches. Now, he obviously has issues with alcoholism and a problem keeping a job.” Was there a hint of vulnerability in his eyes?

A flush worked its way up Marisa’s neck and face. A roaring filled her ears, and then ebbed away. “Do you remember Alisa Atkins? Alisa was so pretty with her long, naturally curly red hair and translucent skin. With her beautiful dresses, she looked like a porcelain doll. It’s hard to believe she was the meanest and most persistent bully in school.”

Alex shivered. “She was a horrible girl. I should have stopped her.”

The sudden ferocity startled Marisa. “What could you do, Alex?  You were a victim, too. Back then, you were small and fragile. Alisa was tall for a girl, and athletic. Remember the time you tried to intervene when she called Mosely ‘Brace Boy,’ because of the braces and crutches? You told her he couldn’t help it if he was born club-footed, and for her to leave him alone. She punched you so hard you fell and broke your arm.”

Alex lowered his gaze. “I shouldn’t have given up after the broken bone.”

Marisa touched his arm.

Tentatively, Alex put his hand over hers. “I wish I could apologize to the girl you were, Marisa.”

“You just did, Alex. The ten-year-old Marisa is always with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“That young girl not only survived the abuse and deprivation, but she also stayed with me.” Marisa touched the side of her head. “After our childhood, she believes people will hurt us if we give them the chance. She thinks we should never offer them the opportunity. Rather, we should take what we want without ever giving anything of ourselves. She loved our hedonistic lifestyle of drinking and spending time in the strip club, because it kept us numb and insulated from life.”

Marisa shook her head. “Ironically, she’s the one who got me on the path to getting sober. I had spent a weekend drinking. I woke up on Sunday evening, and realized I had holes in my memory.” She shrugged. “I’d had blackouts before, when I couldn’t remember sections of events, but not big chunks of missing time. At the same time, Althea called me for help. She had fallen and broken her hip. I was still so drunk from the previous days of drinking, I couldn’t get to her. The ten-year-old Marisa adores Althea. She is the only person in the world whom she fully trusts and loves. After I told Althea I would call an ambulance, I found I couldn’t move without throwing up. At that point, I realized the ten-year-old Marisa was curled up in a fetal position, and she refused to even open her eyes. The thought of going through life without her, combined with my failure to be there when Althea needed me, scared me so much that I checked myself into rehab.”

Alex’s eyes were wide and his mouth was open.

Marisa held up a hand. “I have never told anyone about her. Not Tara. Not Diana. Not even my therapist, Macon. I was afraid he would get me involuntarily committed.”

“Would you have been committed, or the younger version of you?”

Marisa opened her mouth to blast Alex. His mouth was gently quirked, and there were tiny crinkles at the edges of his eyes. She surprised herself by laughing at his teasing. “I’ve done some reading on my own. I believe she was the key to my coping with the extreme abuse at home and the bullying at school. Not multiple personality disorder. Just a small part of the young me who hangs around to help me.”

“How does it feel to share your head with her?”

“She feels real. In a sense, she’s like an old sepia photograph, with the flash capturing her at ten years old. The difference is she doesn’t represent a single moment in time, but rather the first ten years of my life. In fact, I call her Tyme.”

“Time?”

“With a y. Tyme. Ten year old me.”

Alex’s face twisted in thought. “Does it feel good or bad, sharing your brain with Tyme?”

“Sometimes I think of a huge sheet of glass flying through the air, splintering on the ground into millions of bright, sharp shards. When I don’t agree with Tyme, she feels like a shining, insistent point, driving relentlessly into my brain.”

“And when the two of you are in accord? How does it feel then?”

“Remember that terrible tornado that destroyed the town near where we grew up thirty years ago? After it was over, the sun took over the world. Above the monstrous devastation, the prisms of a rainbow filled the blue sky. When we’re in agreement, Tyme is caught in the sunshine, and her smile is a gentle strand of the rainbow.”

Alex put his hand over hers. “I’m glad she’s there to help you.”

Uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze, Marisa pulled her hand away. “If Tyme ever came face to face with Alisa again, she’d probably kill her.” Marisa’s attempt to laugh was a choked gurgle.

“I’d probably help Tyme kill Alisa!” Alex’s mouth tightened. “Thank you for telling me about her. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“You might drive me crazy, Alex, but you’ll never betray me.” As she said the words, Marisa was surprised at her own bone-deep conviction of the truth of the words. 

“Such pain and suffering, Marisa. I am so sorry. Not just you, but also your brothers. When I saw Mosely at your house, I looked beyond the man and saw the little boy with the braces on his skinny legs.”

“Poor Mosely. I believe the constant tormenting at school and our father’s treatment of him contributed to the man you saw in my kitchen. Our dad was so cruel to Mosely. Whenever anything went wrong, like the truck breaking down, my father blamed Mosely. My brother was the scapegoat for anything that did not go my father’s way, which was pretty much everything. And now, my mother enables his drinking. I believe she thinks she’s making up for not getting us away from our father.” Marisa turned her head to stare out of the window. “I know what you’re thinking, Alex.”

He snorted. “I doubt that, Marisa.”