Heaven Preserve Us (16 page)

"Is that why you wanted to talk to me?" she asked. "To find out
more about botulism?"

I swallowed. "I found an email on Philip's computer, and it
made me curious. You must have really hated the guy."

If I'd been expecting a big reaction, I didn't get it. Ann just
looked confused. "What?"

"The email you wrote him was very angry. You even threatened to inform the board of the Heaven Foundation about his
ineptitude."

She grimaced and waved her hand in the air as if dispersing a
foul odor. "That man had horrible delusions of adequacy, and fell
far short of even that. I know he's dead, but that doesn't change
what he was when he was alive, so I'm not going to sugar-coat it.
And I did more than threaten to report him to the board; I did it."

"What happened?" I asked.

"You read my email? You know about the senior-to-senior
project?"

"I pieced together an understanding of it, I believe."

She ignored me. "Seniors over at the high school were paired
with residents here who wanted to take part in the program. They
had to spend a requisite number of hours with `their resident,'
talking, reading to them, etc., but we also encouraged the high
school kids to get the seniors here to talk about their lives. I ended
up adding another incentive to the program, a kind of extra credit that would look good on college applications even if it wasn't a
graduation requirement.

"Several of the students participated. They brought tape recorders and took notes, interviewing some of the men and women
here about how things were a half century or more ago. Then they
wrote down the stories, or at least transcribed the tapes. It was terrific for the kids to hear some of the stories about World War I and
Korea, and to learn about how much things have changed in recent decades. These are kids who have never heard a record, have
always had cell phones and microwaves and computers. A few of
the residents ... well, I'm going on and on. You can tell how excited
I was about the project."

I smiled. Her palpable enthusiasm had chased away much of
my own weariness. "From what you say it doesn't sound like the
program fell through."

Her empty coffee cup clinked loudly against the saucer as she
put it down with just a tad too much force. "It did, though. Philip
completely dropped the ball, didn't call any of the people he
needed to, never followed up on any of his promises, never actually did anything except talk about how great it would be. There
were hoops to jump through with the school board to get it approved as an official program, paperwork to fill out, and then the
coordination and supervision of the kids themselves. I expected to
be involved peripherally with the latter, but I ended up having to
step in and take care of the whole shebang."

Her voice had begun to rise. I kept my mouth shut, willing to
let her own momentum carry her forward.

"If I'd wanted to do it on my own, I wouldn't have submitted
the idea to Philip. He'd sent a letter out-do you know this?"

I shook my head.

"When he first opened Heaven House he sent a letter out to
businesses, volunteer agencies, the library, medical institutions, all
over Cadyville, announcing that the foundation was looking for
ways to invest in the community and asking for program ideas.
There was a formal submission process, and then he supposedly
went through and chose. I don't know how many people or organizations responded, or how many possible programs were voted
on by the foundation's board of directors, but my senior-to-senior
project was finally given the go ahead."

"Did the Heaven Foundation provide you with any money?" I
asked.

Ann looked sour. "I asked for resources to coordinate and handle the application to the school board, all that stuff I ended up
doing myself. The foundation approved funds for someone to
help with all that, but no one involved with the program at either
Caladia Acres or Cadyville High saw any money-or any help."

I felt bad, getting her upset all over again. She had good reason
for the email she'd sent to Philip, and good reason to report him to
the foundation. They needed to know if he was that incompetent.

And what had happened to the money the foundation had
provided for the program?

I took one last bite of Danish, stuffed to the gills now. "What was
the foundation's response when you told them what happened?"

"They apologized. In writing. Which was nice, but didn't help
in any practical way."

I stared unseeing at the innocuous watercolor decorating the
wall next to our table. Why hadn't the board of directors done
something about Philip?

"I have to say," Ann interrupted my internal musings. "I still
don't understand why you're here. Are they trying to decide whether
or not to keep Heaven House open? I didn't realize you were involved with them to that degree"

"Er, no. Not really. Those beets I mentioned? There's some
question as to where they came from. Whether it could have been
intentional."

The incredulous look on her face made me regret stating it so
blatantly. Meghan was right about my lack of tact.

"You think I actually killed that man by giving him botulism?"
she asked.

"Of course not." Even I could hear how weak my voice was.

"Well, that's just stupid, Sophie Mae. I'm surprised at you."

"I'm sorry. Please don't be angry. I'm just trying to find out
why so many people were mad at Philip."

"Because he was a jerk. And you know what?" She stood up,
and I rose to my feet with alacrity. "If I had decided to kill him, I'd
have used a damn shotgun."

"MEGHAN CALLED ME," BARR said. He was wearing the rust-colored cotton pajamas I'd brought him. They'd been tucked into the
bottom drawer of his dresser, and my bet was they were a gift.
Barr was not a pajamas kind of guy. They looked good on him,
though.

I paused in tidying his bedside table. "That's nice. She wanted
to visit you, but she's had a hard time finding the time." I'd told
her not to worry, as he'd had a regular stream of co-workers and
friends stopping by to see him.

"So she said. But she also told me about your stalker. Allen."

"Oh, now why did she go and do that?" I sank into the chair
set against the wall.

"Because she's worried about you. And because she knew you
wouldn't want to bother me with it right now."

"Well, maybe she's right. But is that the craziest thing, to worry
about you? Besides, this guy is probably harmless. I'll wait him
out, and he'll get bored."

Barr gazed at the ceiling as if begging someone up there to give
him patience. Then he looked back at me. "I need to tell you something. And when I'm done, you have to go tell Detective Lane
about Allen."

I snorted.

"I mean it," he said. "She's pretty good, from what I can tell,
and she's handling most of my caseload while I'm out of commission. Including finding the man who's been attacking women in
Cadyville over the past few weeks."

"The `Cadyville Creep'?" I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my
voice. Why journalists gave cute nicknames to criminals was beyond me.

"He raped one woman, and beat another so badly she ended
up in the hospital."

I blinked.

"And while that's bad enough, it's not the worst part. Sophie
Mae, his attacks aren't random. All of his victims report getting
odd phone calls for a few days before the attack. The next edition
of the Eye will include that information, and it was in the Seattle
papers today, in hopes of convincing anyone who has been getting
strange phone calls to be on high alert."

Meghan had been reading that story over her morning coffee,
but she hadn't said a word to me. Instead, she'd called Barr. She
couldn't talk to me? She had to call my boyfriend instead?

"High alert," I repeated.

"Yes. Like you need to be on right now." His voice was stronger
when he was talking about work, but a distinct note of frustration
had crept into it as well.

"I'll be careful. Very, very careful. I promise."

"And you'll tell Lane about your phone calls?"

"I'll stop by the station on my way home."

He relaxed back against the pillow. "One more thing. They're letting me out of this place at noon tomorrow. If you can pick me up,
we can stop by my place to pick up a few things before going home."

My puzzlement must have shown on my face because his eyebrows lifted, and he said, "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

He licked his lips. "Meghan acted like you two had talked
about it."

"About what?"

"My coming to stay at your place for a few days. She said it
would make her feel better to have me there, and frankly, with all
the strange things going on, I'd feel better, too."

"Well, of course you should stay with us. It's the perfect solution. You're not a hundred percent yet, so we can take care of you
while you scare off any bad guys."

He allowed a small smile to cross his face, but still looked concerned. "This is all news to you?"

I sighed. "Meghan and I are a little off-kilter lately. I told her
someone threatened Philip, and she's not very happy about it.
Plus, that guy, Allen, keeps calling the house and hanging up. And
she's pretty distracted with her new boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? The one she was with at the preserves exchange?"

I was surprised he'd noticed. "Yeah. Kelly something. O'Connell."

"But you guys are okay, right?"

"Me and Meghan? Oh, sure. We're good."

At least I hoped so.

Detective Lane paced the tiny conference room at the Cadyville
police station while I told her about the phone calls I'd been getting from Allen. She wore black jeans and a white button-down
shirt. Her auburn hair cascaded across the shoulders of a black
leather jacket which looked old and worn but was no doubt brand
new from Nordstrom and had cost a gazillion bucks. The jacket
matched her black leather boots. She looked like she should be on
a runway, not chasing nefarious characters.

When I'd finished, she paused and leaned her back against the
wall. "What kinds of things has he described doing to you?"

"What? Nothing. He seems to want to talk, is all."

"About death."

I nodded.

"When he calls, does he give you a run-down of what you've
done all day, so you know he's been following you, watching you?"

"God, no. He's really quite polite."

She frowned at that. Handing me a sheet of paper, she said,
"Fill this out. I'll be back in a minute."

Kind of curt, I thought as I bent to my task. Soon, Detective
Lane returned and took the form back, running her gaze quickly
over it. She gave the distinct impression I'd provided the wrong
answers.

Her tone was speculative, her forehead furrowed. "So you're
Sophie Mae Reynolds."

"Yes"

Her eyes looked into a distance that wasn't there, like she was
trying to remember something. "What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm a soap maker."

She removed a small black notebook from her jacket pocket,
flipped through it. Stopped and scanned the page.

She looked up at me. "Ah"

"Ah?"

"Sergeant Zahn gave me a heads up about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Seems you like to stick your nose into situations. Why are you
really here?"

Stick my nose ... ? I felt myself flush.

"I'm here because Barr Ambrose insisted that I tell you about
this nut job that's been calling and leaving me notes."

"Ah. Detective Ambrose. I see. He's your boyfriend, right?"

I nodded reluctantly. She made it sound like we were in the
eighth grade.

"Well, better safe than sorry. Thanks for coming in."

"Can I ask you something?"

She smirked. "Go ahead."