Chapter 14 #2
“Sounds like someone has stress issues the size of a rhino.”
“That was Bernice Daltrey. Do you know her? ”
“In passing. She’s Louise’s new roommate. Is it something to do with her stomach issues?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. She suffers from chronic gastrointestinal issues, which we’ve managed to get under control, but they’re worse this week.”
“Stress over the murders?”
“You would think, but no. Apparently her credit score took a nosedive and that stress is causing the inflammation.”
I sat alert. “Come again. Did you say her credit score?”
He offered a mildly amused smile. “I know. It’s silly to worry about credit scores now that they’ve moved to Evermore, right? Old habits die hard, I suppose.”
Two weeks ago I would’ve agreed with him. Now I wasn’t so sure. “Would you mind if we continued our conversation another time? I’d like to speak to Bernice.”
Dr. Adam took the change in stride. “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I can prepare a special tonic for you to deliver that will help her.”
“She could order a few of Meemaw’s edibles. I have it on a good authority she has a surplus.”
Dr. Adam moved to stand. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“I can help with the tonic. Idle hands, you know.” I followed him to his workstation and watched him pull jars from the shelves.
I opened the jar labeled Thistle and tossed in a pinch before the mixture had time to settle.
He gave me a sidelong glance. “How did you know to add that?”
“I picked it up somewhere along the way. Probably my father. ”
“Most people would’ve assumed mugwort alone would do the trick.”
“Most people would be wrong. It’s the interaction between the mugwort and the thistle that’s important.”
His mouth stretched into a grin. “You have an impressive knowledge of the healing arts.”
It had been a necessity in my line of work. When I was sick or injured, I had the choice to either tend to my ailments or die. Guess which one I chose?
To Adam I said, “I was taught from a young age.” Which was true.
“If you ever want to leave security, I could use an extra pair of hands in the clinic. You’d be surprised how many ailments the Neighbors can suffer from. Just because they live longer than most doesn’t make them impervious to UTIs.”
No thanks. The last thing I wanted was to ask Meemaw to fill a cup with urine. “I’m needed where I am at the moment, but I’ll bear it in mind.”
He looked at me. “I’m serious, Maya. You don’t flinch at broken bones or faint at the sight of blood.”
“Neither do most people on the island.” Shifters and other nonhumans were made of sterner stock. Hell, you couldn’t be a shifter without breaking and resetting your own bones every month.
“Well, my offer stands. How about I drive you to Bernice’s in my golf cart? Save you a long walk.”
“Probably not wise. One Neighbor spots us and our wedding announcement will be in the paper by tomorrow morning.”
“They are an amazing source of gossip. I thought for sure the murders would be solved through the sheer power of the Evermore grapevine. ”
“If only. My life would be in much better shape.” I offered a genuine smile. “Thank you for the company and the conversation. I needed it more than I realized.”
He flashed a smile that would’ve dropped half the panties on the island. “If you change your mind about my offer, you know where to find me.”
Too bad mine wouldn’t be among them.
It was easy to understand why Bernice Daltrey had stomach issues.
The werekat was a walking, talking bundle of nerves.
When one eye stopped twitching, the other one picked up the slack.
Her back was so rigid, it looked like she was being held at gunpoint.
I practically thrust Dr. Adam’s tonic at her, hoping she’d guzzle it immediately.
“Everyone’s telling me I’m ridiculous for caring. That it’s not like I’ll be applying for a loan or anything, but I was the victim of identity theft once, and my mental health took a toll. It was a terrible mess to clean up.” Bernice used her thumb to knead her forehead. “I’m having PTSD.”
“You’re not ridiculous for caring. That’s why I’m here—to help sort this out. Now, walk me through the past couple weeks. Did anything happen outside your normal routine?”
“I won thirty dollars at bingo.”
“That’s a decent start. What else?”
She gnawed her lower lip, thinking. “I played pickleball with Chauncey’s team. Didn’t care for it, so I don’t think I’ll go back.”
“Proud of you for breaking out of your comfort zone.”
Bernice smiled. “I don’t think anyone will mind. I was terrible. ”
“Understandable when it’s the first time you ever played.”
She snapped her fingers. “Right. And I finally hired someone to swap out the hideous light fixture above the island in the kitchen. I don’t know who decided that black and brass was a good combination for a blue kitchen. Louise said she didn’t mind. Hopefully she meant it.”
My gaze drifted to the light fixture, now a series of three sophisticated globes. “Dean did a nice job.”
“Oh, it wasn’t Dean. It was that new fella, Hank Jones. Real friendly. He and I chatted about all sorts of topics. Did you know an octopus has three hearts? Isn’t that wild? As old as I am, there’s still so much to learn.”
Hank Jones was definitely picking up Dean’s slack. “I’m glad you were able to get a light fixture you like. Can you think of anything else?”
“Not really. Louise said they’re hosting that hyaku monogatari tonight. Do you go to that?”
“It’s not really my thing.”
“Me neither. I opt out of anything that treats thrills as entertainment.”
“Guess you’re not a fan of roller coasters, then.”
“You’d be lucky to get me on the carousel.”
She rambled on, but my mind had latched onto Hank Jones and refused to let go. I opened my purse and found his business card that Gwen had given me.
“I need to run, Bernice, but I’ll let you know what I find out about your credit score.”
“Thank you.” She twisted off the lid and chugged the tonic as I left.
I was only halfway down the stairs when I called Hank’s number on the card.
“Hank Jones speaking. ”
“Hello, Mr. Jones. My name is Maya August. I understand you’re faster than Dean when it comes to getting work done.”
“Yes, ma’am. I certainly am. What do you need help with?”
I could almost hear his ego inflating through the phone.
“I can’t describe it properly. I’ll need to show you a picture. Where are you now? I’ll run over and show you.”
“You could send it as a text.” He paused. “Oh, never mind. Half you people don’t know how to text, do you? I’m finishing a job in Palmetto. Number 57. I’ll meet you by the gazebo in ten minutes.”
“Sounds good.” It would take me ten minutes to get over there, which lit a fire under my ass to call Dominic and check on the state of my golf cart.
“Where’ve you been, Maya?” Dominic asked good-naturedly. “Your golf cart’s been sitting here waiting for you.”
I closed my eyes and struggled to maintain my composure. “A phone call would’ve been nice.”
“I called your office yesterday and left a voicemail.”
Okay, that was on me. “I’ll pick it up in half an hour.”
“Ooh, I don’t know. I’m closing early today. I’ve got a championship pickleball game I can’t miss.”
“Fine, then I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning when you open.” I couldn’t risk Hank slipping through my fingertips if I stopped to collect my golf cart now. Dominic was too chatty.
“See you then.”
I dropped my phone in my purse and picked up the pace. I had a feeling Hank Jones was the answer to at least one burning question, and possibly more.
My legs ached from exertion by the time I arrived at the gazebo. A man sat on a bench inside. He appeared to be eating a bologna sandwich.
“Are you Hank?” I asked, stepping inside the gazebo.
“Yeah. You Maya?” He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed with his mouth open.
“I am. It seems you’ve been running an unauthorized side hustle, Hank.”
“I’m picking up Dean’s slack. Nothing wrong with having an entrepreneurial spirit.”
“There is when it involves a criminal enterprise.”
He stopped chewing and set the remainder of his sandwich on the paper in which it had been wrapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do, Hank. I think you’ve been abusing your role as a handyman to commit identity theft.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I have evidence to the contrary. Would you like to hear it?” I reeled off a couple names. “Recent victims of identity theft. Also Neighbors whose homes you entered. Are you even a real handyman?”
All the color slowly drained from his face. “That part is true.”
“But you’ve been stealing identities for your buyers to use on the mainland.” I couldn’t believe the audacity, not to mention the stupidity.
His posture became defensive. “What’s the harm? These people aren’t active in society anymore.”
“There’s a reason for that, genius. These are people who’ve lived well beyond their years. Many of them left society under a cloud of suspicion. To say you chose the wrong names for identity theft is an understatement.”
“You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion. It’s not like it’s a serious crime. ”
“Identity theft is a serious crime, and murder is even worse.”
He opened his mouth to respond, then clicked it shut.
“I’m sure fate-threads are worth far more than identities. What’s the going rate these days?” A couple fate-threads sold on the black market and Hank would be set for life.
He gaped at me with a piece of sandwich dangling from his mouth. “What’s a fate-thread?”
“Nice try. I know you killed Belinda and Judd.”
“Judd? The head of security?”
“There was only one Judd.” Truly.
“You’ve got your wires crossed, ma’am. I admit I’ve been stealing identities, but I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Bullshit. You stole Belinda’s thread. Judd uncovered your scheme, and you killed him to keep the grift going.”
“Not a chance. I would never. I liked Judd. He and I shot pool sometimes.”
I folded my arms and adopted my most challenging glare. “Prove it.”
“Prove we played pool together?”
“Prove you didn’t kill them.”
He frowned. “I think that’s your job.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The regular rules don’t apply on Evermore. I can lock you up right now and leave you to rot until we confirm your involvement.”
“Well, you can’t confirm something that didn’t happen.”
“Then I’ll guess you’ll rot.”
He swallowed hard. “Hang on. I heard that Belinda chick was killed last Saturday night.”
“And? ”
He lit up. “Then it couldn’t have been me. I was on the mainland, selling IDs.”
“You should have the decency to look mildly embarrassed while you’re telling me this. Who was your buyer?”
“I can’t share that.”
“It’s the only way I can confirm your story.”
“You have to promise not to have him arrested. Those guys don’t mess around. If they think I ratted them out, I’m as dead as the others.”
His fear seemed sincere. I leaned over and inhaled his scent. Body odor and bologna. Nothing at all in the woodland category.
Experience told me Hank Jones was telling the truth.
“I promise not to have your buyer arrested if you also remove the names you sold him from the roster. Trust me—no good will come from them. If your buyer gets blowback, he won’t be happy with you either.”
He offered a crisp nod. “Consider it done.” He gave me the name and number of his buyer.
“Now I want you to call him from your phone.”
“Now?” He looked aghast.
“No, later when I’m asleep. Yes, now. How else do you expect me to confirm your story?”
Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.
“Put him on speaker,” I said.
Groaning, he tapped the screen again. I listened as he walked through the relevant parts of our conversation, which the buyer confirmed.
Afterward he thrust the phone back in his pocket. “Satisfied?”
“Not really. It means I still have no idea who killed Judd or Belinda.” Or why.
“Well, like I said, it wasn’t me. I’m innocent.”
“You’re far from innocent. Now you’re going to leave this island without speaking to another soul and never return.”
“What? I have a list a mile long of jobs to do. Who’s going to install Joan’s paddle fan?”
“Someone else will have to handle it.”
Hank winced. “We’re talking about Joan. You know how she gets when someone disappoints her. I’d rather rot.”
“I’ll run interference for you, I promise.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said. “Joan terrifies me.”
“Finish your sandwich and go.” I left the gazebo, feeling defeated. I’d been sure I’d found a link between the identity theft and the murders. Now I was right back to square one. I could practically hear Judd’s huff of disappointment from beyond the grave.