“But murder…”
“Of course we were all upset by the thought that there was a killer among us, but Mike more so than normal-if there is a normal in an abnormal situation…” She stopped speaking and frowned.
“You were going to tell me about the day before he vanished,” Susan reminded her.
“Sorry. It’s so easy to get lost-there is little logic to my train of thought these days, I find. I was telling you about Mike stealing things.”
“He did? Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sure. I actually saw him. He was cleaning up after one of our hideous art therapy sessions. The teacher who comes in to help us explore our artistic capabilities-that’s what she calls it; I’d say make messes-had removed her watch while she demonstrated painting on silk. Mike was cleaning up the room after the class had ended. He just slipped it into his jeans pocket. I was walking by and happened to see him.”
“Did you say anything to him?”
“I certainly did! I told him to put it right back and he said that he hadn’t been going to keep it. Of course, he was lying, but I knew a lecture about the virtues of honesty wouldn’t change him. I’m over ninety years old and I’ve never known anyone to change their life because someone lectured them about it.”
“And did he give it back?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t take other things and get away with it.”
“No, of course not. But you were telling me about the day before he left,” Susan said.
“He was upset-well, I told you that didn’t I?-and he came into my room late in the afternoon and said that he was being accused of things that weren’t true and he wasn’t going to put up with it. He was angry and I thought for a moment that he was talking about me. I explained that I hadn’t told anyone about what I’d seen and he laughed. He said that if I’d seen what he’d seen, I’d be dead from the shock.”
“Did you ask him what he was talking about?”
“Yes, of course. And he answered with one word. Murder.”
“And?”
“That’s all-murder. And then he turned and left my room and I never saw him again. The next morning the police were around asking about him. They never found him, though. Two or three days later his cousin quit her job and left P.I.C.C. as well.”
“His cousin?”
“Oh, yes, she worked here too. She’s a nurse. Her name isn’t Armstrong though. It’s Tapley. Shannon Tapley.”
SIXTEEN
SUSAN’S CELL PHONE RANG AS SHE CROSSED THE SOUND. Scrounging around in her large Coach bag, she managed to find the phone and answer before the caller hung up. It turned out to be Kathleen, who knew Susan’s penchant for misplacing her phone in the massive purses she preferred.
“Kathleen, you’ll never believe what I found out!” Susan said.
“I could say the same thing.” Kathleen’s answer was as clear as a bell.
Susan frowned. Just her luck-her new phone’s reception was best in the middle of the water. “Mike Armstrong is Shannon Tapley’s cousin.”
“Who is Mike Armstrong?”
“A young man who worked at the nursing home and my guess is that right now he’s a major suspect in the murders at P.I.C.C.”
“And he hasn’t been arrested?”
“Apparently no one knows where he is.”
“Not even his cousin?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to ask her about him?”
“I guess… Why are you calling?”
“Because I have some information I thought you might be interested in.”
“What?”
“Nadine and Donald were having marital problems-before his mother put him in charge of her company’s branch office and he bought the house next door to you.”
“You’re kidding! Where did you hear that?”
“At the office of Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates right here in Hancock.”
“Who told you? Who? Kath? Kathleen, I’m losing you… Damn.” Susan flipped her phone shut and reached out for the key in the ignition. As the ferry bumped gently into the dock, she started her car, and drove onto the mainland.
The days were getting longer, but it was dusk when Susan entered her house to the sound of babies screaming, dogs barking, and the phone ringing. Clue forgot all her obedience training and leapt all over Susan. “Down, Clue,” she ordered, smiling and roughing up the fur around her dog’s neck. “Let me get the phone.” She decided to deal with the simplest problem first.
“Susan? Hon?”
“Hi, Jed,” she said and waited for him to tell her that he was on his way to the train.
“I just spoke with Stephen. His new boss has asked him out for a drink. We both agreed that he should accept so I’m going to catch up on some work here at the office and meet him at Grand Central when he’s finished. That way we can drive home together.”
Susan realized that there was only one car waiting at the station. “That’s fine. I’ll… I’ll keep dinner warm for the two of you,” she promised-not that she had any idea what anyone in the house would get for dinner that evening.
“That would be great. Thanks, hon.”
Susan hung up and looked down at Clue. “You haven’t had a decent walk all week, have you, sweetie?”
Clue did her canine best to look neglected.
“I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can find a quiet moment to think,” Susan told her dog, reaching for the leash that usually hung over the end of the banister. Today it had been replaced by a pink knit baby blanket and one aqua crocheted bootie with a hole in the toe. A quick search revealed the leash lying on the floor nearby underneath an antique walnut console. Susan clipped it to Clue’s collar and escaped from the house before anyone could ask her to do anything.
“It’s not that I don’t love my grandchildren to death,” she explained to the dog as they trotted down the walk. “It’s just that I need to decide whether or not to tell Shannon what I learned today before I see her.”
Clue, in good golden retriever fashion, looked up with understanding eyes and Susan felt better although she knew the expression was genetic rather than emotional. She was feeling in her pocket for a plastic bag in case she needed to pick up after Clue, when Donald Baines appeared by her side.
“Susan! I was hoping to run into you!”
As he was wearing a sweat suit and running shoes, Susan thought perhaps he meant this literally. Donald was barely keeping up a slow jog, but sweating profusely. His outfit was brand new. What sort of man started an exercise program less than forty-eight hours after his wife was murdered, Susan wondered. “What can I do for you?” she asked automatically.
“The memorial service.” Donald breathing was labored.
“What about the memorial service?” She hoped he wasn’t going to ask her to bake for the reception afterward. As a good neighbor, she wouldn’t refuse, but between the twins and the murders… well, she was much busier than usual.
“We haven’t been in town for all that long…”
Susan began mentally reviewing her list of easy recipes fit for a funeral reception. She had just settled on tortellini salad when she realized that Donald was asking her for a more significant contribution.
“But I hardly knew her,” Susan protested.
“Nadine always said she could tell you anything.”
Nadine, in fact, had told Susan a lot, but that didn’t mean Susan had actually listened. Nor, for that matter, had Nadine said much, if anything, that might be useful in preparing a eulogy. “Perhaps your mother might speak…,” Susan said, grasping for an answer.
“I already suggested that to Mother, but she was afraid that the people who attended Nadine’s memorial service might think we were trying to get publicity for our company-which would be completely inappropriate.”
So Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates and Donald Baines Executive Homes was the same company! Susan tried to think of another option. “What about the neighbors where you lived before this? Perhaps one of them?”