Kristin Ashe: Disorderly Attachments Part 28

I studied Flax. "You're telling me that if we go downstairs, into this bas.e.m.e.nt, we can go through a tunnel and end up in your Grandma Hazel's bas.e.m.e.nt. From there, we could walk up a flight of stairs and end up in her pantry?"

"Right next to the kitchen. Want to see?"

"Maybe. But if I go, you better wait here. Your Grandma Nell specifically said to keep you out of the bas.e.m.e.nt tonight."

"She thinks there's an evil room down there, because of some seance. But me and my dad don't believe her."

"Shh," I said, alarmed at the volume of his voice. "She told you about that?"

He leaned closer. "Only ten million times. Let's go. She'll never find out. Don't tell them," he said, indicating Fran and Ca.s.s. "I don't want them to see my dungeon."

"I don't know..."I said, wanting to honor my promise to Nell Schwartz but not thrilled at the prospect of a lone descent.

"You'll never find the door to the tunnel," he said petulantly. "I'm the only one who knows where it is."

"You could tell me."

"Let me go." He sulked. "This is so boring."

"All right," I acquiesced, "but you have to promise you won't tell either of your grandmas."

He sat upright and hugged himself. "I won't. I swear!"

"And we can't do it tonight."

"You're just scared of the dark," he said gloomily, lying back down with a scowl.

"We'll do it in a few days."

"When?"

"Wednesday morning," I said, choosing a day at random. "Early in the morning."

That seemed to satisfy him, and within minutes, he too had nodded off.

In the next five hours, I enjoyed a total of thirty minutes of sleep, thanks to Fran's snoring, Ca.s.s's periodic equipment checks and Flax's tossing and turning.

I couldn't blame my insomnia on those three, though.

Something else disturbed me all night, something that could never be measured with a Geiger counter.

Try naked images of Carolyn O'Keefe and Destiny Greaves.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, no more ghosts appeared at the Fielder mansion, and at first light, we packed up the equipment.

I drove Flax to his Grandma Nell's house and practically had to push him out of the car, only managing to detach by reiterating my promise that we'd visit his secret bas.e.m.e.nt hideout on Wednesday.

I spent the rest of Sunday in bed, alone, catching up from Sat.u.r.days sleep deprivation.

Destiny had kissed me in the morning and again late in the evening when she returned from the office, but that was the extent of the days contact.

Monday morning, I felt listless from the weekend's excitement, and Fran's buoyancy was like a bracing tonic... thrown in my face.

"Wearing myself out with all this s.e.x," she said when I shuffled through the door at eleven.

I dropped into my chair and ma.s.saged my temples. "Tess or Roberta?"

"Both."

"You haven't chosen?"

"No need. Pros and cons with both, but I can't keep up with that woman. Went walking with her this a.m. Took a full sprint to keep up with her power stride."

"Tess?"

"Bert. Had to catch my breath at the workout stations, those mini-torture stops on the perimeter of Wash Park. When Bert did her regimen of sit-ups and pull-ups, I lay flat on my back. Ever tried to grab air from the sky? Never mind, never again. Faked a groin pull halfway through and took a shortcut to the car. That injury ought to buy me a few weeks' rest.

"You'd deceive Roberta like that?"

"You bet! Not proud of it, but have my health to consider. No sense trying to talk her out of athletic pursuits. Walks everywhere, even to work. Can't stop walking, except when she's horseback riding."

"Roberta rides?"

"Every week. Used to be a professional jockey and trick-rider."

"I would have imagined her with more intellectual pursuits-books, art, crossword puzzles."

"No shortage of those either. Devours the Wall Street Journal every day. Wrote six books on business law. Coauthoring a seventh. Hardly time for s.e.x between deadlines. Gotta do it after yachting and before aerobics."

"Yachting? In a landlocked state?"

"Bert's Sunday tradition. Radio-controlled, at Lollipop Lake. Have to admit, it's a gas. Reading the wind, cornering the buoys, cruising the open water. Couldn't tear myself away."

"It sounds like you two are hitting it off. Are you getting serious?"

"Could be, but we have our differences. Take last night. Bert makes a run to Choices and grabs a spread. Grilled veggies, yams, turkey breast."

"Sounds good."

Fran c.o.c.ked her head. "You tasted the takeout from that health food store?"

I nodded. "It's pretty bland."

"My point exactly. Vegetables tasted like they'd been marinated in dirt. Yams were whipped, nothing in 'em, no half-stick of b.u.t.ter or cup of brown sugar. Turkey, dry and dull, no gravy, no cranberries, no life. h.e.l.l, Kris, why bother eating that c.r.a.p?"

"Did Roberta know you didn't like the meal?"

"She got the picture when I fed the gobbler to Uphill Shirley's cats and put the legumes and yams in the garbage disposal. Bert complained about thirty bucks down the drain. She's more concerned about money than my dietary distress."

"Food's not that important."

"Who you kidding? How'd you like it if Destiny swapped sugarless wafers for your Chewy Sprees? You 'bout tore the office apart last week looking for the roll you left at home. Can't make it through the day without three helpings of sweets."

"All right," I said curtly. "What about you and Tess?"

"Now there, we're conjoined. Breakfast, Pete's burrito, extra green chili. Lunch, Fat Boy burger and large order of onion rings. Afternoon snack, Bonnie Brae b.u.t.ter brickle milkshake. Dinner, Imperial sesame chicken."

"Stop! I haven't eaten yet."

"Not too late for a stack of pancakes at V.I."

"I can't go to breakfast at Village Inn. I have to type a report for our meeting with Roberta. By the way, did you say anything to her about our night in the mansion?"

"Not a word. Leaving that to the lead investigator. Fill her in this afternoon."

"Thanks," I said, unsure whether Fran meant me or Ca.s.s.

Fran leaned back in her chair, put her feet on the desk and folded her hands behind her head. From my perspective, she looked perilously close to tipping over.

"Too many women, too little time," she mused. "Hard to choose. Tess, no finesse, but lots of gumption. Good flow of saliva, but no sense of timing."

"Fran, please!" I protested feebly. "I don't want to hear this."

She rubbed her chin and said thoughtfully, "Bert, leisurely and practiced. Nothing kinky, but d.a.m.n proficient at the moves she has. Decisions, decisions."

"These details," I said vehemently, "please don't tell me while Roberta Franklin's our client."

Fran shrugged. "Fair enough. Hurry and wrap it up so we can have ourselves a girl chat, would you?"

I yawned loudly. "You don't think this is dangerous-your attraction to two women at the same time?"

"What's the harm in drinking from two troughs? You, of all people, should appreciate my thirst. It's been eight months since Ruth gave me the heave-ho, and ten or twelve years since I partook of loveliness on a regular basis. Why begrudge me a little catching up?"

"Do Tess and Roberta know about each other?"

"Course they do. Full disclosure since day one. Just 'cause I'm randy doesn't mean I've lost my scruples."

"It doesn't bother either of them?"

"Tess more so than Bert. Can't blame her. Who wouldn't want a full serving of Fran Green instead of a half portion?"

Chapter 24.

Sometimes, the office wasn't big enough to accommodate Fran Green's ego, a feeling I was about to convey when my cell phone rang. I had to settle for rolling my eyes at Fran as I scrambled to find the phone and retrieve it from my back pocket.

"Kristin Ashe?"

"Yes," I said tentatively, not recognizing the voice.

"This is Amy Mercer. Patty Ossorio asked me to call."

Amy Mercer. The French teacher who'd had an affair with Geri Cressman. The affair that had angered Carolyn O'Keefe enough to hire a pilot to fly an incendiary banner over a high school graduation ceremony.

"Right," I said anxiously. "Could you hold a minute?"

I put the phone on mute and stepped outside the office, much to Fran's puzzlement. I knew she'd hara.s.s me when I returned, but I'd deal with that later. For now, I needed privacy, and I didn't dare postpone this conversation.

I ducked into Sixth Avenue Flowers. Beth, behind the counter arranging a vase of roses, acknowledged my presence with a knowing smile. Ever since Fran had made the office her second home, I'd turned the flower shop into mine.

On Sat.u.r.day, as we parted, Patty Ossorio had told me she'd contact Amy Mercer, a friend of a friend, to see if she'd be willing to share her impressions of Carolyn O'Keefe. I'd been expecting the call, but not so soon, and not from someone who sounded so young. I sat on a bench near the front of the store and said in a quiet voice, "I appreciate you calling."

"Patty said it might help with your situation in Denver."

"It might. How well do you know Carolyn O'Keefe?"

"We met once."

"But you were good friends with Geri Cressman?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"You worked at the same school?"

"Yes. Rangeview High School."

"Could you tell me about Carolyn's relationship with Geri? How did it start?"

"When Geri was in her first year as princ.i.p.al, Dr. O'Keefe began to request one-on-one meetings with her. She maintained that she wanted to fast-track her. She dangled the idea of curriculum development, and Geri fell for it. That was her dream, and Dr. O'Keefe manipulated her with it."

"When did Geri begin to suspect something more was going on, that Carolyn was attracted to her?"

"At an out-of-town conference they attended, toward the end of the school year. Geri thought all of the other princ.i.p.als from the district had been invited. When she arrived in Flagstaff, she found out it was just she and Dr. O'Keefe."

I took a deep breath. "That must have been awkward."

"Made more so when Dr. O'Keefe tried to kiss her."

A creepy feeling clung to my skin. "The kiss surprised Geri?"

"Completely."