Murder Mansion Page 7

  Last year, she made the mistake of pointing out to a visitor that as an Italian, Columbus would not have talked like a cartoon pirate. This year she’d keep her remarks to herself. Guests didn’t pay good money for history corrections by the innkeeper. The hardest job wouldn’t be laundry, bookkeeping, or cooking. It would be playing nice with others, never her strong point. No one would call her a bully, but she didn’t suffer fools gladly. She usually called them out in regards to their erroneous speech or actions. It never did much good. No one apologized for their ignorance and promised to do better. No, they just glared at her as if she were the one with the issue.

  Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply. Hard job, but she could do it. She should start now in little steps. That way it wouldn’t be as hard when the Painted Lady Inn opened for business. Yes, today she’d tried to be less abrupt, opinionated and confident of her rightness. On the way back from lunch, she could see a male patient, complete with an oxygen tank, smoking in the courtyard. Really. Her mouth dropped open. Talk about a recipe for disaster. Her rapid gait carried her out into the courtyard where she plucked the cigarette out of the startled patient’s mouth.

  “Were you trying to kill yourself?”

  The patient flushed, but it was hard to tell if it was due to embarrassment or anger. It didn’t matter. Stupid was stupid. “Are you unaware oxygen will make the flame higher? Singed nose hairs would be the least of your troubles.”

  Before the man could put together an answer, she pointed to a large green sign adhered to the door. “It says no smoking. Smoking is not allowed within eight feet of the hospital. The courtyard is part of the hospital.”

  The man nodded, his head slightly bowed. He grasped the handle of his oxygen tank and pulled it behind him as he mumbled. “My deceased wife sent you. I know she did. She promised to keep an eye on me from her place in eternity.”

  He thought his wife sent her. Well, she’d let him go on thinking that. Obviously, he was not going to be the person she tried out her gentler, kinder personality on. C’mon, the man was a fool. No way could she allow him to kill himself on her watch. Surely, there’d be another practice opportunity today.

  To Donna’s surprise, it arrived much sooner than she expected when she reentered the hospital entryway. Nora from personnel waved frantically. Donna glanced at her to see whose attention the petite redhead wanted. No one was there except for the water delivery man walking in the opposite direction in the deserted corridor. Her hand went up to her chest as she mouthed, “Me?”

  A quick bob asserted she was it. Donna slowed her pace, considering why Nora wanted to talk to her. The hospital would be foolish to fire her. As a single, childless, experienced nurse, she epitomized the perfect worker. In other words, too old for pregnancy leave, no family-related excuses for leaving early and always able to come in when needed. With her luck, someone in the administration may have actually read the newspaper and connected the murder mansion with her. Weird considering her name was never in the paper, but the photo did resemble her. What the fresh hell now?

  The grinning woman confused her. Only the truly evil would smile when firing someone. What did she really know about Nora besides she dressed in jewel tones and used emoticons in her memos? Not the type to engage in emotional abuse as far as she could tell. Get it over with. She straightened her spine and pushed back her shoulders. Yesterday, she had worked on attempting to revive an unknown dead man, whose very presence jeopardized her dreams. Could Nora throw anything worse at her?

  A blue envelope appeared in Nora’s hand by the time she reached her. Probably there all along and she was hiding it in her full skirt. She’d heard of a layoff notice, but never the blue envelope treatment.

  “I’m so glad I saw you.” Nora talked rapidly afraid someone would cut her off. Using her hands to gesture, the envelope fanned past Donna’s face several times. “Everything is happening so fast. It stresses me to get the job done.”

  She’s stressed. Disbelief hoisted Donna’s eyebrows. Seriously, did Nora actually expect some sympathy? Sorry, you have to can one of the best nurses in the building. It would be hard working up any empathy for the woman.

  “It all happened at once. Everything. Kaput.” She waved her hands, indicating a bomb going off. Donna couldn’t take it any longer and plucked the blue envelope from Nora’s fingers. A rip revealed a card of some sort. Peculiar. She shook the stiff card out. The thick stock featured detailed white scrolls, flowers and doves. She had heard of people getting divorce cards, but this looked more like an invitation.

  Nora babbled in a breathy, babyish voice that should belong to some 1940s gangster’s girlfriend instead of a grandmother of nine. Everyone knew Nora’s nine grandchildren were her favorite conversational topic. It was also the main reason she avoided the woman. If she saw her first with no great desire to hear about how little Josiah started his own search engine for toddlers or that Eliza won a blue ribbon with her miniature horse team, she hid. The fact that the woman’s lips still moved meant the conversation wasn’t over. Pretend she’s a paying guest. The words took form but made no sense, rather like a badly dubbed movie.

  “Well, you know Dr. Emory’s fellowship is over at the end of the week.”

  Donna grunted her acknowledgment, which is all Nora needed to continue. Donna had nothing against the woman. She rather liked Dr. Emory since she treated the nurses like people as opposed to machines, possibly because she was a woman herself and no youngster, either. The younger residents’ expectations involved worship and genuflection. She had to admire a surgeon who had put herself through school and pursued her own dreams.

  “She’s going back to her home state, Connecticut.”

  Not too surprising. That’s what doctors did when their fellowships ended. A farewell party, the conversation made more sense now. The hospital usually ordered lunch in for the staff, put up a few balloons; people threw in a few bucks and bought a gift card. A formal invitation never happened before today. It could be the personnel staff appreciated Emory as much as she did or even more.

  Her thumb rubbed across the raised embossing. Fancy. Her shoulders relaxed as she half listened to Nora while planning her escape back to her station. Even though she’d left the cafeteria early, she didn’t have all day to stroll the halls. Melanie’s lunch break came after hers. The heavily pregnant nurse needed a break more than most. “Sorry to see her go.” She liked the way her words sounded. It was a good phrase. She could change it to bid her future guests goodbye, especially the difficult ones.

  “Me too,” Nora declared enthusiastically, which was weird since personnel did not interact with the general or visiting staff. Employees often joked about human resources running a backroom casino. It seemed the only viable explanation for what they did behind closed doors and why they were so difficult to contact.

  “I know you’ll be at the party.”

  “Sure, I’ll drop in.” Everyone would show for a chance at free food. She hoped they didn’t have pizza this time. The tension that had coalesced into a ball in her chest loosened, unwinding, leaving a sense of relief behind. She still had a job. It would be crazy to fire her. All the same, people lost jobs every day. Usually being a murder suspect would be enough. Never mind her remarks at The Good Egg, which could be misconstrued if anyone connected her with the hospital.

  “It’s this Wednesday, not much time for you to get to the mall and check out the gift registry.”

  “What?” She’d heard about there being a medical tool registry, but never a gift registry at the mall. Why would she get someone a gift she didn’t know that well and had to be making more money than she was? Emory didn’t strike her as a person who would make a gift grab from co-workers. Her thumb flipped open the invitation. Bridal Shower jumped out at her in bold flowing script. “I didn’t know the doctor was getting married.”

  “Neither did she.” Nora tittered, holding be-ringed fingers up to her mouth, her eyes sparkling with mirth at what she considered
a funny.

  Here comes a long-winded explanation. Think paying guest. Treat her like a paying guest.

  The chatty grandmother needed no encouragement from her to continue talking. “Happened just this weekend. Her fiancé flew in and proposed. I guess he was waiting for her to finish her fellowship before popping the question.” Nora clapped her hands together lightly while grinning. “I love weddings. Bridal showers, wedding dress shopping, picking the venue, planning the honeymoon. Anything about the big event.”

  The woman’s face beamed with delight. People liked weddings. Well, at least women did. The marriage didn’t carry the promise or pageantry that a wedding did with everyone spiffed up and polished and on their very best behavior. Hearts aflutter and flowers everywhere. The wedding cake. Something clicked in Donna’s head. She could host weddings at the inn. Brilliant. All she needed were details. “Wow, Nora, you pulled together a bridal shower at a moment’s notice.”

  “I did.” Her chin bobbed. “Not that much trouble. I went with Easy Go Catering, who does a light, inexpensive, but elegant lunch. Then I’m going to pick up floral arrangements at the grocery. They do good work. I used them for my nephew’s wedding. Did all the flowers for half the price of a regular florist.

  The visible clock over Nora’s shoulder announced her lunch break’s completion with audible ticks. Talk about an antique, but it still worked and served its purpose. Mercy Hospital didn’t replace stuff because of age, which explained the orange vinyl furniture in the lounge, which arrived in the seventies and had stayed. “Sounds great, but my break is over. Got to go.”

  She tied her actions to her words by walking away. Nora called after her. “Don’t forget to check the registry.”

  If the intended shower was a surprise, then discretion might be helpful as opposed to yelling about it in the hospital corridors. Bypassing the elevator, her long legs propelled her up the stairs. The elevator took forever and was crowded with sick people. No surprise there. She could use the exercise, too.

  Melanie greeted her with a grateful smile as she rounded the corner, making her feel a twinge of guilt. She glanced at her watch. Three minutes late. “Take an extra five.” The woman murmured her appreciation before heading for the restroom at a fast walk, which increased the guilt Donna felt at making the young nurse wait.

  She glanced at the room board. No lights on. Unusual. Most of the time lunch served as a time of infinite requests. Those on liquid diets wanted solid food. Most were on bland foods and tried to broker deals with both aides and nurses for a bottle of hot sauce or even a touch more salt. If they wanted tasty food, then their best bet would be to get better or have relatives smuggle it in as they often did.

  Grabbing a notepad and pen, she flopped down in her rolling chair, making it scoot across the floor in reaction. Her foot worked as an anchor as she tugged the chair back under the counter. The scent of men’s cologne lingered near her keyboard. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air like a bloodhound picking up a scent. A sophisticated aroma, familiar, she inhaled again, trying to identify it. Ah yes, Dr. Weiss. Figures.

  The bearded doctor reminded her of a Biblical movie extra with his deep, resonant voice and grey-streaked hair. His lavish use of cologne started before the ink on the divorce paperwork from wife four dried. She’d made the mistake of asking the name of the cologne one day. It must have sounded as if she said, “I hear you’re free again. How about you and me try hooking up,” from the way he acted. He’d placed one arm on the counter ledge and leaned over her, boxing her in with his body as he murmured close to her ear using his gorgeous voice. “Seductive by Guess.”

  She would bet good money he’d practiced that line in the mirror a couple of times. A quick push of her foot sent her the other way as she stood. She smiled, thanked him for the info since she wanted to buy a gentleman friend a bottle. That started the rumor she had a beau. If she’d made an effort to squelch the rumor, then Weiss would know she had lied. Occasionally, the other nurses would ask about her boyfriend although she did her best to deflect those inquiries. Let them consider her reticent in her romantic dealings.

  That was before. Her pen flew across the paper as she listed what she needed to research as far as wedding chapel services for her business. The front parlor with all the windows would serve as a small chapel. She would have it set up as a chapel all the time. Bring in a podium, some white chairs, a flowered arch and voila! Wedding Time. She would have to stage the wedding scene. Surely, she could get Maria and Daniel as her bride and groom models. Most people who wanted a small wedding had one previously. No reason to expect the whole clan to show up for a follow-up wedding. Yes, a little chapel in a B and B would fit the bill. With that in mind, there’d need to be a bridal suite.

  Chloe, an aide, pushed the lunch tray cart to the service elevator where the dietary staff would pick it up. If she remembered correctly, the mother of two teenagers had a wedding planned in the future. “Chloe.” She motioned the heavyset woman nearer.

  The woman cast her a suspicious glance but continued toward the desk. “Yes?” Her tone implied that she knew she wouldn’t like whatever new job Donna had for her.

  “You’re getting married,” Donna said, her eyes rolling upward as she wracked her memory for a date, “in a couple of months?”

  The usually genial woman narrowed her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve had my vacation request in for over eight weeks and it’s approved.”

  Donna’s nose wrinkled a little at the woman’s attitude. Weren’t brides supposed to float on a euphoric, pink-tinged cloud of love? “What type of room would you like for your honeymoon?”

  The woman blinked. The annoyed look slid from her face as she answered. “One on the beach. I want my room facing the ocean. Why do you want to know? You’re not paying for it.”

  Of course not. Asking personal questions merited other inquiries. How did Taber manage it? She sucked in her lips, wondering if she could solicit the information she wanted without talking about the inn. “I imagine you and your fiancé,” she substituted the term since she wasn’t sure of the man’s name, “looked at hotels, trying to decide. What made you pick a particular place besides being on the beach?”

  Chloe looked thoughtful as she held up a closed hand. “Location.” She raised her index finger. “All inclusive.” The middle finger went up. All-inclusive had merit. People want to know exactly what they were going to pay. A wedding package could work along with a basic one and a deluxe one. Chloe’s ring finger went up. “A Jacuzzi big enough for two. None of those whirlpool baths where only one of you fits. Has to be for two. If you know what I mean.” She winked broadly.

  “I do,” she agreed. She scribbled down the items.

  1) Chapel

  2) Seating

  3) Justice of the Peace

  4) Flowers

  5) Music

  6) Cake & Food

  7) Bridal Suite

  8) Hot tub for two.

  A shadow fell over her paper as Chloe leaned over the counter.

  “Love is in the air I see. Are you planning a wedding with your enigmatic gentleman friend?”

  “Of course not!” She almost added what a preposterous thought it was, but didn’t. Chloe’s impending marriage indicated anyone could fall in love and marry. Dr. Weiss was a good twelve years older than she was and the man appeared to be on the hunt for wife number five. Why should the thought of her falling in love and marrying be so unthinkable?

  The joy, lacking in Chloe’s countenance, made a re-appearance, lighting up her face as if a candle glowed under her skin. “Deny it all you want, but I think you got something going on.”

  The woman had no clue how close she came to a bull’s-eye. However, it wasn’t romance.

  Chapter Six

  The mall skylights cast weak rectangles of light from the fading winter sun. A tinny version of a pop holiday tune played in the background. The frantic pace of the music had Donna striding faster than she
normally would have. Get in, pick the first thing on the registry under fifty dollars and get out. Odd that Emory and her fiancé had already registered. They must have set up a gift registry before a champagne toast or a frolic between the sheets. It didn’t sound right.

  Most people breezed through life never giving it much thought. Too many considered bad things happened to them for no reason at all without realizing they were consequences, not random accidents. Her promotion to first shift came when the constant moaning of a couple of night shift nurses had her almost resorting to duct tape to prevent another edition of being left by love-and-leave-him types. Their refusal to listen to her sound advice not to date the bad boys went unheeded. The actions of people continually mystified her. More than once, she caught herself trying to unravel the reason for a co-worker’s idiosyncrasy. Figuring out the why of things made her great at solving mysteries.

  One of her co-workers had a keychain attached to her purse with no keys. Finally, she had to ask. It turned out the woman rode the bus but displaying the keychain her youngest made her in summer camp kept harmony in the family since her house key resided on a keychain her oldest made the previous year. Whatever summer camp the kids attended needed variety in their crafts.

  Her index and middle fingers rested on her lips as she considered the registry dilemma. She had heard Emory never married. Could be she knew the proposal was coming along and already registered. All that was missing was the date. It could also be the result of a failed engagement; her taste hadn’t changed, only the name of a bridegroom had. Still, her nose wrinkled; it would be odd to use the same stuff picked out with another man.