Murder Takes a Dare: The First Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 1) (26 page)

When she saw Alex dismounting his motorcycle in the falling darkness of the trauma hospital parking lot, Marisa briefly considered the murder of Alex. The only thing that stopped her was the sharpness she’d seen earlier in Lieutenant Camden’s eyes. She was fairly positive the detective knew what Tara had done. If she murdered Alex, the cagey lawman would probably figure it out. Setting her jaw, Marisa gritted, “Alex! What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

“How did I follow you when I got here first? What are you doing here on a Sunday night, anyway?”

“I’m going to catch up on some work.” Marisa keyed in her code.

“Me, too.” At her office door, Alex kept walking. “See you later.”

Marisa huffed after him. “I know what you’re doing here!”

Alex lengthened his stride. “Oh, yeah?”

Marisa broke into a trot and passed him. “You’re going to question Linda!”

Alex began to run. “You bet your ass I’m going to question her! Go back to your office and work!”

“Go to hell!” Ignoring the man dogging her heels, Marisa flew through the hallways.

Running flat out in the deserted hallway, Alex passed her.

“Wait, Alex!” The idea of two adults streaking through the hallway of a trauma hospital caused Marisa to giggle.

Alex turned his head and grinned. “Beat ya!” He slid into an open doorway.

“Alex! What are you doing here?”

Marisa leaned against the doorway, catching her breath.

“For God’s sake, you scared me! For a second, I thought the murderer had come back!” Linda’s voice rose in triumph. “Did you change your mind about our date? I promise, you’ll have a great time! We can take my mom to the Golden Corral. All you can eat buffet!” Linda caught sight of Marisa, and her face fell. “Marisa! What are you doing here?”

“Why the boxes? Going somewhere, Linda, or just housecleaning?”

She looked warily at Marisa and Alex. “What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“We need to ask you some questions.” Marisa knew Linda, although a social worker by background, was tough and aggressive. Over the years in management meetings, Marisa had seen Linda practically nose to nose with their administrator, arguing her points. “What’s with the box?”

Linda pushed loose tendrils of her dark hair, shot with gray, back into the painfully tight bun. “I have had enough of this place. Cuts in staffing. Failure to buy needed supplies. I’m leaving.” She pulled nervously at her white uniform top, straining over her generous bosom.

Marisa knew Linda well enough to realize a wishy-washy approach would never work with her. Linda would see a low key approach as weakness. With a small prayer, Marisa leaped in with both feet.

“We just talked to the lieutenant in charge of the investigation.” Sincerity rang in Marisa’s voice. It was the truth, they’d had a conversation with Camden.

Linda’s eyes widened a fraction and her bosom rose with her sharp inhale.

“Linda, they know everything. They know you’ve been sending patients to the Home Away from Home, and they know you’re getting kickbacks.”

She closed eyes her eyes briefly, and then opened to focus on Marisa’s face. “Why are you telling me this?”

Marisa kept her tone even, since she had noticed when people tell lies, their voices tended to get higher. “I have to find out who murdered Jonah Graham.” Marisa left out the fact Payton was in custody for the murder. “The police have other leads to follow at the moment, but sooner or later they will focus on you. Answer our questions, and we won’t tell the police you’ve cleared out. Start with your arrangement with the Home Away From Home nursing home.”

Linda’s face was expressionless for a full minute as she thought about it. “Since you seem to know anyway, you’re right, I did have an arrangement with the Home Away from Home. They gave me a list of specifications, I sent patients who met their profile, and they rewarded me with direct deposits into a bank account I specifically set up for the purpose, under an assumed name.”

Marisa was so surprised her gambit had worked, she was speechless. Alex surreptitiously poked her in the ribs. “Ahhhhh…I mean, what was the profile?”

Linda’s phone on her desk rang, but she ignored the trilling. “They wanted patients who were very elderly, extremely infirm, verifiably wealthy, and quite alone in the world. No close relatives or anyone involved in their care.”

Marisa’s mind was racing. “But what about Clay Napier? What about Althea? Clay is far from infirm. Althea has me, and she’s also not wealthy. Neither of them fit the profile.”

Linda laughed unpleasantly. “So, you don’t know everything, do you? Those two didn’t have anything to do with the set up. Clay Napier approached me while he was an inpatient here at the hospital. He paid me to get him and Althea Flaxton admitted to the nursing home. He didn’t tell me why and I didn’t ask.”

Marisa felt the world shift around her. Why would Clay pay this woman a fee to get himself and Althea sent to the Home Away from Home?

Alex spoke for the first time. “Who at the nursing home paid you, Linda?”

“I don’t know,” Linda answered. “I received emails from a hotmail account, and I replied to them through my personal email. The deposits were made to my account electronically. I have no idea who it was.”

Out in the hall, Marisa snapped her cell phone shut. “No answer in Althea’s room!” She grabbed Alex and hauled him along the deserted hallway. “We’ve got to get Althea out of there!”

Alex dug in his heels. “We don’t know for sure what’s going on. I do know we’re going into a potentially dangerous situation. I insist we call the lieutenant.”

Marisa grunted as she tugged at Alex’s stubbornly rigid body. “We can’t call the police, Alex. What if the police show up and force Napier’s hand! So not the police, then. But how about—” Marisa snapped open her phone.

“I am so going to regret this.” Rolling his eyes, Alex followed Marisa from the hospital as she desperately punched buttons on her phone.

“I hope I am not preparing to make a colossal fool of myself.”

“What did you say, Thea?” Clay dug energetically in his closet. Through the open blinds at the window, the moonlight turned his hair a luminous, pearly white.

Althea leaned down to stare into the dark depths of the closet. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we turned on the light?”

He straightened up, and turned to face her. In the moonlight, the harsh angles of his face looked dangerously attractive. “Too many of the staff members have a bad habit of entering our rooms without knocking. With the light off, if someone comes in, I’ll have time to hide everything before they can turn the light on.” He sat down on the chair next to her. “I have the duct tape, the rope, and the sheet.”

“Are you sure we still need to do this? The murderer is in jail. It’s all over.”

“I’m sorry, Thea. The arrest of the Chief Executive Officer Payton Reed does not explain the sightings of the ghost. We must go forward.”

Althea nodded in semi-darkness. “Let’s go over the plan again.”

Holding the items close to his stomach, Clay settled into the chair next to Althea. “I’ll tie one end of the rope to the bottom of my bed, and ensure the wheels are securely locked. Then, I’ll go into the room across the hall, which thankfully is empty, and wrap the other end of the rope around the underside of the bed. Then, when the ghost passes through the hall, I’ll pull the rope taunt, and trip our mysterious visitor. While it is sprawled on the floor, you’ll quickly help me wrap it up in the sheet, thereby rendering it helpless. Lastly, you’ll triumphantly remove the mask, revealing its identity, and at the same time slap the piece of duct tape on its mouth to keep it quiet.”

Althea laugh was nervous. “You’re awfully confident.”

In the pale light, Clay gazed into the dark pools of her eyes, more black than green. His eyes dropped to the shadowy outline of Althea’s lips. Without thinking through the ramifications, he leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers.

* * * * *

Althea stiffened, then relaxed. She felt Clay’s hand, warm and gentle, through the thin material of her sleeve. When he deepened the kiss, she didn’t pull away.

After what seemed like seconds, or an eternity, Clay pulled away.

“I’d better get into position.” His voice was gravelly with regret.

Time was moving so slowly Althea decided it must have completely stopped. She was aware of the hard thumps of her heart against her chest, and the arms of her chair were damp with the sweat from the palms of her hands.

From the hall, a nearly imperceptible rustling noise caught Althea’s attention. Locking her elbows and rising from her chair, she strained to see through the open door as she put her eye to the opening. A figure in white silently entered her field of vision.

She heard the muted twang of the rope. Clay had sprung their elaborate trap!

Althea heard a startled cry, then a dull thud.

“Althea!” Clay’s urgent cry galvanized her into action.

The strip of duct tape in her hand, Althea ran to his side.

Clay was on his knees, silently rolling a prone figure into a white sheet.

“Got it!” Even in the dim light, Althea could see the triumph lighting his face.

She bent to pull at the veil covering the face.

“Pull it off!” Clay ordered urgently, using the rope to secure the sheet-wrapped body.

With trembling fingers, Althea ripped the veil away.

Clay snapped on his flashlight.

The two stared into the revealed face.

“Esther!” Althea lowered the duct tape. “What on earth are you doing?”

Esther laughed from her prone position. “I was fairly sure you hadn’t given up your idea of capturing the ghost. Anyway, I’m here to join your vigil.” She looked from one to the other. “Let me up before someone comes.”

“You should have known if you wore white, we’d mistake you for the ghost. I think you wore that long white dress for a reason,” Althea whispered furiously.

Esther turned her head in the dark room, the moonlight reflecting eerily on her eyes. “I decided to give you a practice run.” She cocked her head. “Did you think I wore a white dress so I could cop a cheap feel from your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my—”

“Shhhhhh. Here comes our next contestant for Miss Ghost of the Year. Quick, hide!”

When Althea and Esther joined Clay in the hallway, he had his second quarry of the night tightly rolled up. Esther jerked back the hood.

Althea cried in dismay, “Nurse Crimpton! What is she doing here?”

The white roll bucked against their hands. “I am the Angel of Death! Only God can stop me!” Her dark eyes rolled frantically from face to face. “Not a freaking bunch of old people!”

“Thea! Get the tape on her mouth before someone hears her.” Clay’s eyes narrowed. “Angel of Death! Whatever she is up to, it’s obvious she doesn’t wish to be recognized. She’s—”

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?” Mrs. Hill, her face dark with fury and her hands raised in agitation, was staring down at them. At her shoulder, a figure peered at them.

Clay rose from the floor, and reached for the light switch.

Mrs. Hill reached into her jacket pocket. “Mr. Napier. I expected trouble out of you. But Mrs. Flaxton?”

In shame, Althea looked away. Her gaze fell on the older woman behind Mrs. Hill. Her eyes widened when she realized the woman was wearing a bright yellow, low cut dress and a flaming red wig. She glanced at Clay to see if he’d noticed the woman.

Mrs. Hill looked down and sucked in an outraged breath. “Angelique Crimpton! What in the hell are you doing here?” She glanced over her shoulder, and pulled her hand from her pocket. “Mama, cover them, please.”

Flipping the long strands of hair off her face, the woman moved forward and smoothly removed the gun from the administrator’s extended hand. “Certainly, dear.” The old woman’s voice was high and squeaky. “Please hurry, though, since that lawyer will be here any minute.” She trained the gun on Mrs. Flaxton, her hand steady and her gaze cold.

* * * * *

Clay inched closer to Althea.

The gun swung toward him. “Don’t move, Mr. Nosy Pants.”

Mr. Nosy Pants? And why is her voice so screechy?
Clay’s brows rose. “I am just going to help Mrs. Flaxton up.” He spoke as slowly and soothingly as if the woman holding the gun was on the verge of exploding. He reached down and pulled Althea to her feet. His eyes on the gun, he slid his body between the gun and Althea.

Sighing in exasperation, Mrs. Hill squatted next to the nurse’s prone body. She picked at the edge of the tape, loosened it, and ripped it off.

“Owwww!” the nurse howled.

“Stop that caterwauling! What happened?”

“Somehow, those old people trapped me and tied me up!” Shaking her head dazedly, the nurse wriggled in her cocoon. “I can’t move!”

“Be still while I get you out of here!” commanded Mrs. Hill. Her hands shaking in anger, Mrs. Hill pulled at the rope, then the sheet. “You and these old fools will ruin everything with your shenanigans!”

The nursing home administrator dragged the nurse to her feet, and ordered her to wait in her office.

She gripped Clay’s arm and pressed her face viciously close to his. “If you say anything, just one word, then she—” the administrator jerked her head toward Althea “—will pay for it. I rule this nursing home. I have absolute power and authority. If you don’t want anything to happen to her, you’ll go along with everything I say.”

“My dear child, shall I keep them covered while you take care of them?”

“Yes, please, Mama. I’ll get Mr. Napier tied to his bed first, since he’s a greater threat than the dried up old schoolteacher.”

“He doesn’t look that threatening.”

“Given the babblings of his illustrious career as a covert government agent, we’d best err on the side of caution.”

Althea looked around. Where was Esther? She must have faded away during the commotion in the dark hallway.

Clay’s face paled. “I never said I was an agent!”

Mrs. Hill’s thin brows rose. “Mr. Jones has made those claims to everyone who will listen. Of course, he’s completely senile. Enough! Let’s get to your room so I can get you tied to your bed!”

Clay’s mind worked furiously as he reviewed his options.

Mrs. Hill responded to the desperation in his face with a chilling smile. “If you cooperate now, I’ll simply escort you back to your rooms. You’ll be a little stiff in the morning from the restraints, but no harm done. If you balk...” Mrs. Hill assessed the quiet strength in the stance of the short body. She nodded at her mother. “I assure you, my mother won’t hesitate to shoot, starting with Mrs. Flaxton.”

A middle-aged man, dressed in a neat, dark suit and grasping a briefcase, rounded the corner. “Mrs. Hill! I run a busy law office during the day. I am doing you a tremendous favor by coming out here at night to write a will. I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.”

With an ingratiating smile, Mrs. Hill turned to meet him with her free hand outstretched and her other hand surreptitiously waving at her mother. “Why are you wandering around, Mr. Pinter? Please, go back to my office. I was just fetching Mrs. Craft for you. I’ll be right there.”

Althea exclaimed, “That is most certainly not Mrs. Craft!”

“Shut up, Mrs. Flaxton.” Mrs. Hill ran to the end of the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

As Mrs. Hill’s mother kept the gun on them, Clay leaned against Althea, as if he was light headed, and whispered to her urgently. “We’re in a tight spot. She can’t let us live because we know too much. I swear to you I’ll get us out of this. Do you trust me?”

Althea’s trembling hands touched his. “Yes.”

“No talking!”

* * * * *

“Cyberlove just isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.” Rose Williams inhaled the smoke from her cigarette, and then slowly released it through her nose. Under the security lights illuminating the nursing home’s patio, her dyed burgundy hair appeared purple, and the lines of discontent in her forehead and around her mouth were muted.

Seated at the patio table across from her friend, Anita Crebs lit a cigarette. “What do you mean?”

“I was bored and unhappy. My husband Maynard seemed to spend all of his time in front of the television. He never wanted to talk to me. I got tired of it, and I started spending time on the Internet.” Rose stubbed out her cigarette, and immediately lit another.

“What did Maynard do then?” Shifting her bulk, Anita fidgeted in the hard iron chair, wishing the nursing home would spring for some vinyl cushions. She’d suggested it months ago. Mrs. Hill was such a skinflint. You’d think the money would be coming out of her pocket, the way she carried on so.

“He didn’t even notice. I spent more and more time on the Internet. Anita, it became the most important thing in my life. When my children came home from school, they were just a nuisance and interruption in my Internet time. I just lost interest in them. When they started spending more and more time with their friends, I wasn’t worried. I was relieved.” Rose rubbed her cheek with a trembling hand.

“What’s wrong with that?” Anita, childless by choice, thought it sounded like a good deal.

“Then, I met Roland on the Internet. We met in a chat room. He wrote the most romantic things to me. Poetic and beautiful, they seemed to touch my soul. Our online relationship escalated to flirting, and then to sharing our sexual fantasies. I was convinced he was the perfect man for me. I thought I was in love with him.” Her harsh voice trembled.

“He sounds wonderful!” Anita breathed.

“He was. At least as long as our relationship remained in cyberspace. Then, we decided we couldn’t live without one another. We also decided, in our great romance, there was no room for children. He left his wife and four children, and moved here from Ohio. I left Maynard, and gave him full custody of the children.”

“And now...”

“And now,” Rose continued, viscously stabbing her cigarette into the ashtray, “Roland spends all of his waking hours at the computer, on the Internet. He doesn’t even have a job. He says he can’t find one, yet he never leaves the house to even attempt to find work. And worst of all...”

“Yes?” prompted Anita, her metal chair squeaking as she leaned forward.

“I’m positive he’s ‘chatting’ with women on the Internet! When I come into the room, he immediately clicks out of what he’s doing! I’m sure he’s carrying on with God knows how many females!”

“Oh, no!” Anita was dismayed.

“Maynard was far from perfect, but I never had to worry about him cheating on me! And I miss my kids! Oh, Anita, I’ve made such a mess of my life. I wish I had never logged on to the Internet!” She buried her face into her ringless hands.

Anita leaned back in her chair. “Rose, why don’t you send Roland on his way? He sounds like a lazy, no-good bum. Then, throw yourself onto your knees and beg Maynard for forgiveness. He’ll take you back and then...”

Slowly, Rose looked up at her friend, her face white in the dim light. “While Maynard was at the grocery store with the children, he ran into his high school sweetheart.” Her breath caught on a sob. “They’re dating!”