Evie punched his ribs. He didn’t flinch.
“Granny was after more than petty thieves. You know that. I can’t let them get away with murder. I can’t let them keep robbing the helpless. It’s just not in me. You and the others can move on, if you like—”
He turned on his side and pinned her to the mattress. “You talk toghosts.You have no skill at tracking thieves and no means of defending yourself against killers. Figure if you keep investigating, we’re all right there with you. If you don’t want us to investigate, then you can’t either.”
“Well, that’s one way of being sure you’ll never get rich and leave us.” Evie kissed his hard jaw.
One thing led to another, and the discussion was abandoned for better activities.
But in the morning, Reuben served up a plate of clues to feed their curiosity.
“Room 552 belonged to a Mary North, who died unexpectedly last spring. Relatives raised a stink about missing jewelry, but they had no proof that she hadn’t sold it or given it away. Marlene Gump, however, claimed the nurse, Savanna Johnson, was selling it on eBay. The account was gone by the time the police investigated. The police report was pretty sloppy and inconclusive. With no photos to go on, they didn’t even subpoena eBay. Except for the diamond, at most, the jewelry might have been worth a few hundred, not enough to look hard for the thief.”
“But the memories of those pieces would mean more to her children than money.” Evie let Reuben fix his own breakfast. He usually ate healthy but inhaled enough food to require a full-time cook. That wasn’t her. “Do you have the name of Mary North’s granddaughter?”
“Emailed it to you last night. She’s in Kentucky. What will you do—send her an anonymous package? You’ve removed the only evidence the police might have had.” Working at keeping his athletic physique, he slathered his toast with avocado paste and sprinkled on bean sprouts she grew on the windowsill.
“If the police didn’t search that office earlier, they won’t now. Anyone could have planted that box. What did you find out about the nurse?”
“She’s as old as some of the residents. History of drunk driving. Out on leave after knee surgery. Her eBay sales almost cover her liquor bill. That’s if she’s really Savanna Johnson. I’ve found no evidence to the contrary. Driver’s license, employee ID, and high school reunion photos on Facebook all add up.”
“She might not be part of the ID theft ring. Management may just be guilty of hiring cheap help. I imagine a good nurse is expensive. One with a DUI record, probably not. It’s pretty obvious they aren’t concerned with keeping decent medical help on staff.” Hearing voices coming down the stairs, Evie mixed up the whole grain pancakes Loretta preferred.
“Is fifty too many people?” the kid was asking, holding up her iPad to Jax as they entered the kitchen together.
Looking lawyerly and relaxed in his open-collared shirt, with his jacket dangling over one broad shoulder, Jax studied the list. “Impressive. I think your bank account can handle it. The question is, can Evie?” He looked up and winked at her.
She felt that wink all the way to her toes. The man was sin on wheels. She feared that a man with all that happening for him would abandon them one day when he found a better paying, more interesting position. He had ignored her worry last night. She didn’t know what to make of that.
“Any of the neighbors on the guest list?” Stifling her quivering hormones, Evie poured batter on the griddle.
“All of them,” Loretta said eagerly. “I didn’t think it would be polite to make them listen and not let them dance too.”
“Sunbeam.” Reuben patted her approvingly on the head. “Larraine said she’d take you to her stylist if you still want your hair cut.”
This was how life should be, Evie thought—neighbors thinking of neighbors, notstealingfrom them. What kind of unhealthy influence caused people to turn nasty?
“Maybe we ought to hold a wake for Granny, invite all the residents of Azalea Apartments, and serve only power drinks in her honor.” She flipped the pancakes and added Jax’s eggs and bacon to the griddle.
“Only if that’s what the coroner’s reports says she ingested. Miss Marple may need Gatorade and gelatin salads if she wants to catch a killer.” Jax prepared his coffee.
“Soda crackers, ginger ale, and purple something or another,” Reuben said, adding fruit and yogurt to the blender. “Coroner called for more tests. She lost a lot of stomach contents before she died.”
Evie wrinkled her nose in disgust imagining how. “That’s enough cheery news. Let’s talk party!”
* * *
After her morning dog walk,Evie returned her mother’s golden retriever to the shop, then picked up Psy the Siamese and draped him over her shoulder. “Gossip hour. What will you be discussing today?” Her mother built business by holding court at the Oldies Café before lunch.
Mavis didn’t like turning on the a/c, so the loud strains ofI am Womandrifted in the open front door from the café.
“Your Aunt Ellen has gone crackers.” Mavis took off the apron she wore while mixing her herbal concoctions and tucked her graying hair back in its pins. “She’s convinced a handsome gentleman will be delivering a Cadillac she won in a contest she never entered. We need to pry her out of the house more.”
“You need to convince her to see an eye doc before the scammers empty her bank account. Once she has the cataracts fixed, she can drive and get out again.” Evie picked up the feather duster.
“Maybe we ought to find her a handsome man first,” Mavis said dryly, taking the dog’s leash and heading out. “Larraine called and said she’s taking Loretta to the stylist this afternoon. You should go with them.”
Evie knew that was a ding at her own unruly mop. After her mother left, Evie pulled on a carrot strand and studied herself in a scrying glass. Maybe her new job required a more sophisticated look? That might take dyeing her hair to something less clown-like.