Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel) Page 9

  “You’re not quitting I hope,” Robin asked with concern.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Okay,” Robin said, relieved. “I’ll have an espresso waiting.”

  Lee smiled in spite of her bad mood. “Thanks. Make mine a double.”

  “A double it is,” Robin said cheerfully. “I’ll see you…”

  Lee didn’t hear the end of Robin’s sentence, though. A noise made her look up to find Carey’s husband pushing his way past Marie into her office. Lee quickly flicked off the computer screen and signaled for Marie to leave.

  “Vern, what are you doing here?” she asked a bit nervously.

  Vern Mathews seemed to fill the room the way helium fills a balloon. His voice wasn’t much more than a snarl.

  “Stop talking to my wife.”

  Clad in a long-sleeved, black sweater, with thick, chapped hands resting at his side, Mathews could have been an angry dockworker. Lee half expected him to slam a heavy coil of rope on the desk in front of her.

  “What are you talking about?” she chuckled, trying to soften his mood.

  “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Stop talking to my wife about Diane’s death! It’s none of your business.”

  “Sit down, Vern. Please.” She gestured to a chair.

  Mathews hesitated and then plopped into the armchair facing the desk. This man represented everything Lee hated about men. She’d spent a lifetime watching her stepfather control every moment of her mother’s life, down to the flavor of her toothpaste. It took all of Lee’s control not to throw this clown out, but she consciously lowered her voice.

  “What are you so upset about, Vern? Carey’s sister is dead. We talked about Diane, that’s all.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it!” He sat forward in the chair, clenching his fists. “I know what you talked about. You think that bitch was murdered!”

  Lee nearly came out of her chair. “There are some unanswered questions,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “She killed herself and left a note saying so. What the hell more do you want?”

  “I want to know why,” Lee pressed. “And you should, too. She was your sister-in-law.”

  “Diane was a pain in the ass!”

  This time, Lee stood up. “I don’t appreciate that.”

  She remained very still, allowing the electricity between them to grow. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

  “What I meant was…” He glared at her, and then rose to his feet and leaned forward to rest his hands on the desk, his right hand resting directly on top of her letter opener. “You know what I meant. And you know what I mean about the suicide. It’s hard enough to deal with people talking behind our backs about a suicide, but a murder…I won’t have it.” He picked up the letter opener and pointed it directly at Lee. “Don’t put any ideas into Carey’s head. She’s my wife, and this is none of your business!”

  Lee held her ground. “Diane was my employee, and my friend. So, it is my business, whether you like it or not.”

  His small eyes narrowed until the pupils were barely visible. “It’s not your business,” he growled. “And I’m not playing games here. Back off!”

  Lee forced herself to maintain eye contact, although she couldn’t help but feel threatened by the sharp steel pointed at her face.

  “You fucking bitch,” he whispered, his mouth drawn into a frown. “You’re no better than Diane.”

  With a sudden flip of his wrist, he stabbed the letter opener into the desk and whirled around to march out of the office. The room was dense with the force of his anger, and Lee held her breath until the room pressure neutralized. Marie appeared at the doorway like a nervous bird.

  “I’m so sorry, Lee,” she said, her eyes wide, staring at the letter opener. “He just pushed right past me.”

  Lee swallowed several times before answering. “That’s okay.”

  “Should I call security?”

  “No, he’s gone,” she said, taking a deep breath. She pulled the letter opener from the desk and put it into her drawer. “I’ll be leaving shortly anyway.”

  Marie was only about twenty-eight and had probably never known malice in her life. Yet, right now, her face registered real fear. Gently, Lee convinced Marie to return to her desk and then sat back down to allow the adrenalin to slowly dissipate. Her right knee throbbed, and she dug her fingers into the muscles around her kneecap to relieve the tension. Once her breathing had returned to normal, she turned off the computer and went out to Marie’s desk.

  “By the way,” she began, taking a deep breath to control the level of her voice, “I’m going to take a few days off. I need some space.” It was a lie, but she hoped it sounded natural under the circumstances. Maybe Martha’s executive assistant wouldn’t spread the truth about her administrative leave too quickly.

  “We’ll hold down the fort,” Marie replied a little cautiously.

  Lee recognized her nervousness. “Don’t worry. He won’t be back,” Lee reassured her.

  Jenny, her Data Information Coordinator, poked her head around the partition at the back of the office. The look on her face made it clear she shared Marie’s anxiety.

  “Listen, thanks for taking care of stuff around here, you guys. I know it hasn’t been easy.” There was an awkward pause before she said to Marie, “By the way, did you check Diane’s emails?”

  “Yes. I went through them the next day. There was just the usual stuff. I took care of everything.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  Lee returned to her office to get her purse, just as Andrew appeared at the doorway again.

  “I’m sorry about what happened this morning with Martha,” he said, as if the whole thing had been his fault. “You okay?”

  “I’m okay.” She slipped the purse straps over her shoulder thinking she really wasn’t in the mood for Andrew right now. “I could use some time off anyway.” She moved toward the door, but Andrew just stood there, blocking her way.

  “Martha shouldn’t have reacted the way she did,” he said obstinately. “You have a right to your opinion.”

  “I’m sure it sounded pretty dramatic.”

  “The police did rule it a suicide. I suppose they know what they’re doing.”

  “Maybe,” she said without conviction.

  “You need to be careful,” he pressed. “Martha doesn’t like anything that reflects negatively on the hospital. I wouldn’t want you to lose your job. You didn’t earn that Master’s degree for nothing,” he tried to smile. “Get some rest,” he said before leaving.

  Lee watched him leave feeling completely disengaged from her body. Too much was happening, too fast. On impulse, she reached into her purse and found the bird. For whatever reason, it felt warm to the touch and gave her an immense sense of calm right now. She wrapped her fingers around it and marched out of the office.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Vern Mathews’ behavior had unnerved Lee more than she wanted to admit. Add to that the re-emergence of the bird in her purse and the strange poem on her computer, and her body was beginning to feel the strain of living in a constant state of adrenalin rush. By the time she climbed into her car, she murmured a silent prayer that she would make it safely to meet Patrick for lunch.

  Papa Fromo’s was a favorite student hangout right next to campus. As she climbed the wooden steps and passed through the banging screen door, the tang of tomato sauce and hot cheese triggered her Pavlovian response, filling her mouth with saliva. The sensation helped to temporarily quiet the chaos in her head. She found Patrick in a rear booth nursing a large soft drink and correcting some papers.

  “Hey,” he beamed, putting down his pencil. “You look remarkably well.”

  She smiled indulgently, knowing the lack of sleep probably made her look like the Bride of Frankenstein without the up-do.

  “What are you correcting?” she said with a half smile.

  He slid the small stack of papers into a large envelope
. “Essays on Goethe. Get it?” he grinned.

  Lee grimaced and quickly ordered an iced tea from a passing waitress. When her fingers fumbled opening the menu, she called the waitress back and changed the order to ice water. Perhaps additional caffeine was a bad idea.

  “Say, I’d like to tag along to that birthday bash tonight,” Patrick said, toying with the straw in his drink. “Any objections? I’ll drive,” he offered.

  She looked at him with a blank stare. “What birthday bash?”

  “Mrs. Bates.”

  It took a second for her brain to engage. “Oh, I forgot. I don’t think I’m in the mood for a party.”

  “How about just an appearance? You can’t make too many friends in your business.”

  “I don’t know, Patrick,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I’m just so tired.”

  “How about an hour? You said she’s one of your hospital’s biggest donors.”

  “She is,” she sighed, rubbing her hands along her legs as if the friction would recharge her batteries.

  “Well, you know her husband is also head of the Economics Department at the U and a big supporter of the Theater Department. I could score some points.”

  “You need to score points with the Economics Department?” Lee asked, her brain functioning in slow motion.

  “No,” he shook his head. “He actually funded a chair in our department. He loves his Shakespeare,” Patrick rolled his eyes.

  Lee nodded. “Okay, but let’s make it short. Somehow I can’t stand the thought of being with that group of people for too long.”

  “Why don’t you meet me at the theater at seven?”

  “Speaking of Shakespeare,” she said, lighting up. “This is Shakespeare isn’t it?” She pulled the strange email from her purse and handed it to him.

  Patrick scanned it quickly. “It’s the witches’ scene from Macbeth. Well, actually, someone has combined two different sections of the play into one.”

  She frowned. “What’s the significance of the witches?”

  “There’s significance to everything about Shakespeare.”

  “I don’t need a lecture, professor, just the bare facts.”

  “I’ll give you the Cliff Notes version, then. Macbeth is a study of man’s potential for evil, and the witches embody the devil by foretelling the future.” He eyed her carefully for a moment. “Where’d you get it?”

  “It was in an email someone sent me. I think it’s from the same person who sent me that weird card you were looking at.”

  His green eyes widened. “Someone is trying to send you a message about Diane.”

  “Apparently, and I’m too thick to get it.”

  “The card I read seemed to be warning you off,” Patrick surmised. “While this one seems to be trying to tell you something,” he said, nodding at the paper.

  “Yes, but what?”

  “Hell if I know,” he shrugged. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “No. Diane left a message on my answering machine.”

  The shocked look on his face made her hasten to explain it. “I mean, she left a message before she died. I just didn’t pick it up until last night. She said she wouldn’t be in the office the next day because she was going to Portland with Bud…for something special,” she added. “It might just be the last thing Diane ever said.”

  Just then, the waitress arrived to take their orders. Patrick ordered pizza, and the waitress turned expectantly to Lee. She picked up the menu and waved her hand over it as if hoping something would appear by magic. Finally, she ordered a large salad. Once the waitress left, she turned her attention to Patrick.

  “You know what this means?” she asked.

  “I think I do,” he said thoughtfully. “You told me her boyfriend—Bud, right?—told the police he hadn’t spoken to her for a couple of days.”

  “He said he’d broken up with her.”

  “So, he was lying.”

  She nearly reached across the table for him. “Exactly. He lied!”

  Patrick watched her for a minute, before saying, “Are you going to tell the police?”

  Lee slumped back in the seat. “I don’t know. I had a long talk with Alan last night. He was able to reason away every argument I threw at him.” She squeezed a lemon into her water and stirred it. “And Sergeant Davis, the guy in charge of the case, didn’t have time for me the night we found her. It was like he’d made up his mind it was a suicide and that was it. I think it would take more than this message to get the police involved.”

  Patrick studied his hands for a moment and then said cautiously, “I didn’t push you into this, did I? By speculating about her death yesterday?”

  “No. I’d already been thinking about it. I was just having a hard time admitting it. Then Carey stopped by after the funeral and told me that she doesn’t believe Diane killed herself, either.” She sighed. “The trouble is that Bud could wiggle his way out of this. He could convince the police that Diane was making up the trip to Portland.”

  “There would probably be some kind of phone records. How long were you at Diane’s that night?” Patrick’s eyes had settled into a deep sea green, and there wasn’t a hint of a smile anywhere.

  “About thirty minutes. I left around seven-thirty. The message was left on my machine sometime after that.”

  “According to the police theory,” Patrick was thinking out loud, “Bud broke up with her some time later that evening, apparently right after he’d already invited her to go to Portland. That sent her into a downward spiral, and she became so despondent she decided to kill herself.”

  “Not only that,” Lee added, “their theory depends on Diane having gone out to buy a larger syringe than the ones she already had on hand, all the time ignoring the cat she adored and forgetting she’d left me a message to the contrary.”

  “Maybe the police will listen now.”

  “The police just want things wrapped up,” she said, shaking her head. “Look Patrick, I bought into the suicide theory in the beginning, just like everyone else. But I know Diane didn’t kill herself. She would quit her job and move out of the state before she killed herself. It just wasn’t her style.”

  “So, what will you do?”

  Lee exhaled and took a drink of ice water. “I don’t know,” she said, swallowing. “I just know she didn’t kill herself. I don’t know much more than that.”

  “Well, I tell my students that every story has a beginning, middle, and an end. Directors are taught to look at the whole picture,” he said, using his hands to illustrate a circle. “We begin by looking at what makes characters do what they do.”

  She looked at him with a wry smile. “Okay, but which characters do I need to look at?”

  “In a play, every character does more than just play a part. They each have a reason for being on stage. It might only be to deliver a cup of coffee, but that simple action could establish location. Maybe they deliver a message. That action might provide information necessary to the plot.”

  “Patrick, you’re talking about the theater. This is real life.”

  “What’s the difference? The theater is only slightly more contrived.”

  She sipped her water. “So, I should look at all the players. That would include Bud, Diane and who else?”

  “Anyone she had influence over, or who had influence over her.”

  “That would include her mom, her sister, her brother-in-law…and me.” She paused, her muscles beginning to tie themselves into little knots.

  “Everybody plays a part,” he said quietly. “You need to know which forces are greater than others. Cause and effect. This wasn’t random. If she was killed, there had to be a reason. One force became greater than another.”

  They sat looking at each other while Lee thought about what he’d said. Unconsciously, she’d begun to rub her knee, a sure sign her stress level was rising.

  “Then, you need to identify the inciting moment,” Patrick finished.

&n
bsp; “What’s that?” she asked, watching him suspiciously.

  “It’s when the play’s action really begins, when circumstances provide the purpose for the rest of the action that takes place. In some plays, murder may be the inciting moment. But you’re going to have to go back further than that here. What forces came together to create the need for murder? Remember, every character has a reason for being on stage. Get to know your characters and I bet you’ll find the information you need.”

  “You believe me, don’t you?” She squeezed the words out knowing her face betrayed her doubt.

  “I don’t think I could have written a play with more theatrical possibilities.” He leaned forward again and placed his hand over the two of hers. “You’re as stubborn as they come, Lee. If you believe this, then do something about it. Don’t let this one go.”

  His comment caught her off guard and she pulled back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you’re probably the most stubborn woman I know. Remember Girl Scouts? When you went to that camp and jogged a six-mile hike just to prove an older girl wrong when she said you were too small to keep up. Mom said you were sent to the infirmary until your feet recovered. Yet, when Brad disappeared, you didn’t lift a finger to find out what happened. You climbed into a shell. If you believe something is wrong here, convince the police to take a second look. That’s what you do for a living isn’t it? Talk people into doing things they don’t want to do?”

  “I raise money,” she said, bristling.

  “Well use a little of that magic on the police.”

  She pulled her hands away and shrank into the high-backed seat, feeling a flush spread across her face. The waitress arrived with their food and placed the dishes on the table. Patrick declined her offer for more drinks and picked up the pizza, watching his sister. The very air between them had gone dead.

  “Lee, don’t get weird on me. I’m on your side.”

  “Brad disappeared over ten years ago,” she spat. “Why do you keep bringing it up?”

  He sighed and put the pizza down. “Because it colors everything you do. It’s why you never date. It’s why you take a new job every three or four years. It’s why you hang onto Amy so tight. And it’s why you won’t have a dog. There’s some deep, dark secret about all of that you insist on keeping to yourself.”