Nickeled-And-Dimed to Death (16 page)

Today’s agenda looked fairly typical, starting with Mayor Geoffrey Eggers’s bimonthly blood pressure check and weigh-in. Eggers had exceptionally low blood pressure that hadn’t responded well to changes in diet, increased fluid intake, or decreased consumption of caffeine. Noah suspected that the mayor’s low weight and refusal to exercise contributed to his condition, but the man seemed incapable of putting on any pounds.

After signing out of the scheduling program, Noah put on his white lab coat and left his office. At the main desk, he greeted Madison, who smiled at him from her perch behind the check-in counter. She was in her early twenties and wore a pale-pink smock. Blond curls framed her heart-shaped face, and a tiny silver locket dangled from a chain around her neck.

Noah nodded to the full waiting room and asked, “What’s going on?” Generally there were three patients scheduled per hour—one each for Noah and the PA, and one being prepped by the nurse.

Madison grimaced. “Most of them came in about an hour ago. Apparently, there was too much chlorine in the high school pool, and the six a.m. senior water aerobics class had a bad reaction.”

“How’s Yale doing?” Noah asked, studying the dozen or so people waiting to be seen. Several were scratching their arms and legs; others were coughing, sneezing, and rubbing their eyes.

“He’s been with one woman for quite a while.” Madison’s baby-blue eyes were clouded with worry. “She was wheezing and she complained of chest tightness and shortness of breath.”

“I’ll go see if Yale needs any help with her.” Noah did a quick head count, then mentally scanned the schedule he’d just looked at. “In the meantime, please see how many of this morning’s patients are coming in for routine monitoring. Then try to contact them and postpone their appointments to another day.”

“Gotcha.” Madison reached for the phone. “Mom’s already got the mayor in exam one. Do you want me to ask if he can come back?”

“No.” Noah was tempted, but it would take less time to see him than to deal with Geoffrey’s petulance if he felt he wasn’t being given his mayoral due. “I’ll take care of him as soon as I check with Yale.”

The PA assured Noah that the woman’s allergic asthma reaction had responded well to the medication and inhaler she’d been given. He also informed Noah that he’d triaged the others and determined they were suffering from either contact dermatitis or allergic rhinitis—both of which were uncomfortable but not life threatening.

Promising to help deal with the remaining chlorine victims as soon as he’d finished with the mayor, Noah hurried to where Geoffrey was waiting.

He was seated on the examination table, but he got off when Noah walked into the room. “I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes, Doctor.” The mayor scowled. “And I don’t appreciate the implication that my time isn’t as valuable as yours.”

At well over six-foot-six and weighting in at a mere one hundred and seventy pounds, Geoffrey looked like a paper doll wearing an expensive suit.

“I apologize, Geoffrey.” Noah stepped around the tall, gangly man, typed his password into the computer, and peered at the screen. “As you may have noticed when you came in, there was an emergency.”

“That’s not my problem.” The mayor sat back down, slouching and ducking his head, then muttered, “No one looked as if they were dying.”

“I see you’ve gained a pound since I saw you last,” Noah noted, ignoring Geoffrey’s whining. He scanned the readings that his nurse had typed into the mayor’s chart. “But your BP is still only sixty-two over forty. Have you been doing the exercises I suggested?”

“When I have time.” Knitting his scraggly eyebrows together over his beaklike nose, the mayor shook his head and looked self-righteous. “A city like Shadow Bend doesn’t run itself, you know.”

“How are you feeling otherwise?” Noah asked. “Any dizziness, fainting, lightheadedness, nausea, or blurred vision?”

“No.”

“Lack of concentration, fatigue, depression, or rapid breathing?”

“Well . . .” Geoffrey smoothed the sides of his black pompadour. “I’m pretty damned depressed that our town has had its first murder since I took office. Elise Whitmore ruined my perfect record.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy about it, either,” Noah commented with a straight face. “That’s if she were still alive.”

“And Kincaid’s incompetence will end up costing the town a bundle if he doesn’t start looking at someone other than Boone St. Onge as a suspect.”

“Oh.” Noah rested a hip against the small counter that held the computer. “Why is that?”

“St. Onge is a member of one of the founding families of Shadow Bend. After the scandal Kern Sinclair caused, we can’t afford another pillar of the community suspected of a crime.”

“Of course not.” Noah pretended to agree with the mayor in order to keep him talking.

“Not to mention, St. Onge is a lawyer, so he’ll sue our asses off if he’s not found guilty.” Geoffrey shook his head. “And I heard the prosecutor didn’t feel there was enough evidence to even charge him.”

“Anything else?” Noah’s posture remained relaxed and his tone casual.

“I know for a fact there are several other people with much better motives than St. Onge to kill that woman.” Geoffrey pursed his thick, rubbery lips, then blew them out. “Her husband, for instance. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the spouse is the killer.”

“That’s interesting.” Noah’s tone was encouraging. “But you said several other people. Who else do you think had it in for Elise?”

“Whitmore’s mistress.” Geoffrey glanced around the tiny room as if he expected the paparazzi to be hiding behind a chair, then lowered his voice. “Did you hear who he was banging?”

“No,” Noah lied.

“Me, either.” Geoffrey’s expression was remorseful. “But whoever it was probably thought if she killed the old ball and chain, Whitmore would marry her.” He
tsk
ed. “They all want that piece of paper so they can lead you around with a ring through your nose.”

“Really?” Noah glanced at his watch. As much as he wanted to help St. Onge, he had to wrap this up and start dispensing antihistamines and corticosteroids to the chlorine sufferers in his waiting room. “Are there any other people who wanted to see Elise dead?”

“Let me think.” The mayor screwed up his face and tapped his jutting chin with a bony finger. “Well, there’s Lindsey Ingram. She’s the woman from the advertising agency Elise worked at. She and Elise were both up for the same promotion, so Lindsey had a good reason to want her competition out of the picture.”

“How do you know that?” Noah was astounded by the amount of gossip the mayor had at his fingertips. It must have taken an enormous amount of time to gather all the bits of information. Maybe he considered jumping to conclusions his way of exercising.

“They both pitched a promotional campaign for the town to me.” Geoffrey got up and moved toward the door. “And that meeting was a real catfight.”

“What on earth does the town need PR for?” Noah asked.

“To increase tourism.” The mayor looked as if he expected to be praised for his wonderful idea. “There’s a lot of money in the travel industry.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not at all.” Geoffrey’s stance oozed contempt, and he looked down his nose at Noah. “Although I understand that not everyone is as forward-thinking as I am. Which is why when I was approached to become mayor, I agreed to sacrifice my career and take the position. I knew that I could lead Shadow Bend to greatness.”

Noah let go the matter of spending town money to attract sightseers, and Geoffrey’s so-called sacrifice, and zeroed in on the key issue. “Even if Elise and Lindsey were competing for the same job, that doesn’t mean Lindsey was willing to kill over it.”

“Wrong!” Geoffrey jabbed a finger in Noah’s face. “Lindsey said to me, and I quote, ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to get that promotion. I’ll lie, steal, and sell my firstborn if that’s what I need to do.’” The mayor smirked. “Now, tell me. Doesn’t that sound like someone who is willing to commit murder to get what she wants?”

CHAPTER 15

A
ccording to the note Gran had left on my bed the previous night, she’d won big playing the penny slots on her casino bus trip—eighty-eight dollars and fifty-three cents, to be precise. Plus she’d scored a free buffet and a frozen ham, which explained why I could hear her whistling as she cooked breakfast.

I was relieved that she was in a good mood. Yesterday, before she left on her outing, she’d held me hostage on the phone for half an hour while she lectured me about Noah’s shortcomings and Jake’s virtues. She didn’t normally interfere with my life, but on this matter she’d pretty much decided that Noah had single-handedly started the Iraq war and Jake should receive the Medal of Freedom.

Therefore, my first problem of the day was to sidetrack her before she asked me if Noah had been with me at Boone’s last night. I’d mentioned my plans to see him, but not why or who else would be there. I also didn’t want her to question me about the Jake situation. She wouldn’t be happy with either of my answers, and I had too much on my mind to come up with lies that she’d accept.

Because of that, I kept up a steady stream of chatter as I entered the kitchen and poured myself a cup of intelligence from the coffee machine. Unfortunately, I eventually had to take a breather in order to gulp down a much-needed hit of caffeine, and Gran pounced.

“I should make you get your own breakfast,” she threatened as she placed three sausage links on my dish. “I told you that going to that dance with Noah Underwood on Saturday was a bad idea.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off. “And when were you going to tell me you had lunch with him on Sunday?”

“Never,” I muttered too low for her to hear. “Does never work for you?”

“What?” She peered at me suspiciously, and when I didn’t respond said, “I hope you’re happy.” She turned and grabbed a pan from the stove; then as she spooned scrambled eggs on to my plate she grumbled, “It’s all over town that you’re dating Noah Underwood again.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” I knew my being seen with Noah would cause some gossip, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t get out quite so widely or quite so soon.

“It was the talk of the senior bus trip. I told everyone that going to the uh . . .”

“Fund-raiser,” I supplied.

“Right, you going to the fund-raiser with him was strictly business.” Gran grudgingly plopped a slice of toast next to my eggs. “But when they brought up your lunch with him the next day, what could I say?”

“Did they mention it wasn’t just Noah and me? Poppy was there, too, and she and I sat together.”

Gran ignored my excuse. “What will Jake think when Tony tells him that the minute he leaves town, you’re seeing someone else?”

I had to bite my tongue to stop from reminding Gran that Jake had stood me up and hadn’t contacted me since his message on Saturday. And that he was probably spending a lot more time with his ex-wife than I was with Noah. Only the fact that I hadn’t told Birdie that Jake worked with Meg, and that I didn’t want to discuss his continuing lack of communication, kept me from mounting a defense.

Gran took my silence as a victory, and she ordered, “You need to make it clear that you aren’t involved with Noah before it’s too late.”

I thought about what had happened in Boone’s driveway last night and was afraid that train might have already left the station. What had I been thinking to let Noah kiss me that way?

Birdie sat down to her own breakfast and continued. “You need to tell everyone who comes into the store today how you can’t wait for Jake to get back to town and that he calls you twice a day.”

“So you want me to lie?”
Shoot!
That had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Note to self: Drink a lot more coffee before having early-morning conversations about my love life with Gran.

She paused, narrowed her eyes, and swallowed the bite of sausage she’d just taken, then said, “To which part of that statement are you referring?”

Uh-oh.
When Gran started using agonizingly proper grammar, I was in trouble. “Uh, well, Jake doesn’t call me twice a day.”

“Okay . . .” She drew out the word. “You can leave that bit out.”

Phew!
I really needed to change the subject before she tried to pin me down any more, so I asked, “Who was the bank president when Dad worked there?” I didn’t exactly like this topic any better, but I wanted to know if Max Robinson had been in charge when my father was accused of embezzlement. If I had some idea whether he would hold my dad’s actions against me, I could be better prepared when I spoke to him.

“Our esteemed mayor.” Gran raised a feathery white brow. “Why?”

I explained about Elise trying to get her husband fired, then added, “So Boone wants me to talk to the current president, Mr. Robinson, and see how she was attempting to accomplish that feat.” I left out the part about Noah coming with me.

“Max was the branch manager back then.” Gran nibbled on her toast. “He really lucked out when your father was wrongfully arrested.”

“Why is that?”

“Since Kern was vice president, he would have been next in line for president when Geoffrey Eggers decided to resign and run for mayor.” She took a sip of her coffee. “As it turned out, when the bank’s owner demanded the board hire someone local, Max was the only one left for the top position.” She put down her cup. “Considering that Max’s father was a drunk and never held a job for more than a month or two, Max has done all right for himself.”

“I’m glad someone profited from our family’s misfortunes.” Suddenly, I lost my appetite. I stood, took my half-full plate to the counter, and scraped the remaining food into the compost bin under the sink. “The town sure hasn’t benefited from Eggers as mayor, and the Sinclair name took a nosedive with Dad’s conviction.”

Leaving my grandmother nodding her agreement, I went to finish dressing and headed for work. On Tuesdays, both the Scrapbooking Scalawags and the Quilting Queens met at the store, and I needed to pick up goodies from the bakery for their breaks.