Chapter 11
Doreen was on her way home, with a new phone in her hand, realizing that she'd forgotten to text the number to Mack. She headed to the Chinese food place, so Mr. Woo wouldn't be angry. Still, knowing that this order would go cold before she ate again, she would have it for dinner, and that would be just fine. As she pulled up in front of the Chinese food place, her gaze once again went to the yarrow patch, as sadness overwhelmed her for a moment. Trying to ignore it and to escape unscathed, she raced inside, quickly paid for the food, then picking up her parcel, gave Mr. Woo a smile. She noticed he appeared to be unhappier than he had been earlier that day.
She asked him, "Have you had a lot of flak from the media?"
He shook his head, his gaze darting everywhere but at her. Frowning, she took the food and headed home, wondering what was going on. But, hey, he was probably having just as much trouble dealing with what had happened as she was. She put the bag on the table and texted Mack, adding him as a new contact. I got my new phone.
When her phone buzzed. She answered it.
"Good thing you got a new phone."
Silence then it hit her and she gasped. "Did you check my phone?"
He sighed. "Yeah, it's got a tracking device in it."
She frowned, a little shocked to hear it. "Oh my God," she muttered in a strangled voice. "I knew it was possible, but I guess I didn't really want to believe it."
"It's there," he murmured.
"Can you trace it?"
"Nope."
"Can I have my phone back?"
"Not at the moment. We're wondering how best to take advantage of the fact that we've found it, before he finds out."
"To set a trap?"
"Maybe. At the moment, I'll hang on to it. You've got your new phone, so we can communicate this way, but we don't want the word to get out, so keep it quiet."
"Right," she agreed, then brightened. "Surely that also helps prove that I'm not guilty."
"Nobody said you were guilty," Mack replied in a testy tone of voice.
"That woman thinks I killed my husband," she declared.
"Okay, that's probably true. Anyway, the tracker on the phone does help you, but it doesn't completely clear you from the suspects' list."
"Right, of course not," she muttered. "Anyway, I did pick up Chinese, and it's sitting here."
"I thought you would have lunch at Bernard's."
"I did, but, before I spoke to Bernard, I'd stopped by the Chinese place because I felt bad because I didn't pick up my previous order when I found the body," she explained. "So I went back to apologize and pay him, and we made a deal and split this order so we were both happy," she said, with a note of humor.
"That's fair."
"Yeah, except today, when I went to pick it up, after eating at Bernard's, Mr. Woo seemed a little off somehow."
"Off how?"
"I don't know. It's hard to say, just off, compared to how he'd been earlier. He didn't seem very comfortable with my being there."
"He may have gotten some interest that made his job a little more difficult, which isn't uncommon in these situations."
"I know, and I did ask him about it a little bit, but he really didn't want to talk to me. As a matter of fact, he seemed to want me to disappear."
At that, Mack laughed. "Not the first time you've had that reaction."
"I know," she grumbled, "but I wasn't expecting it from him."
"Maybe not, just stay the course and see what comes up."
"That's what I thought too," she admitted. "I will do a bit of searching online into Mathew's detective. Did you get in touch with him?"
"No, but someone did get in touch with Reggie, and contacted Mathew's lawyer, Roger. We're making progress. Slow, but progress just the same."
"Did Mathew fly in or drive? I never did talk to anybody over that rental."
"Bernard didn't give you a name?"
"No, he mentioned that a couple companies were in town, but he didn't know them personally. I guess he doesn't rent Jags."
Mack laughed. "And Bernard wouldn't be renting them in town because he lives here," he reminded her.
"That's true," she conceded. "I could make some phone calls."
"And Mathew did fly in," Mack shared. "We do know that. He was on the eight a.m. flight that morning."
"Wow, so he comes into town, meets with his PI, finds out where I'm expected to be, but doesn't have a time frame. So he's there for two hours waiting? Yet I saw no sign of a Jag there."
"No rental car? Nothing with a sticker advertising the rental company?"
"No cars at all were right around the Chinese food restaurant. Maybe Mathew got dropped off, in which case his driver would be the last person to have seen him alive and could potentially be our murderer."
"True, but we can't jump to conclusions."
"No, of course not," she muttered in a dry tone. "That would be a terrible thing to do. Tell that to Insley."
He sighed. "Remember how we want this case founded on evidence and then become a locked-in case and not something that'll get thrown out on a technicality."
"I agree with you," she said. "It's just always so slow."
"It seems slow, until the avalanche happens. When we get the one vital piece of missing information—as you know yourself—everything blows up and moves very quickly," he explained. "Meanwhile we need to keep you safe. Somebody has targeted you, either trying to set you up or setting you up so your ex could find you."
"And Mathew had already been warned to stay away from me and the house. Plus Richard probably would have seen him, and that would have made things ugly too."
"Exactly. So, Mathew wanted a more public place, though Mr. Woo's is a strange choice."
"But there is a bench outside, and I have been known to sit there and just enjoy watching the world go by. So maybe Mathew thought that we would sit there and talk."
"Would you have talked to him?"
"Maybe," she replied. "You guys wouldn't have been happy about it, but I probably would have heard him out. I don't know what he wanted to talk about, but I do understand now that, whatever his trouble was, it must have been more serious than I realized. The divorce was causing more stress than I would have expected."
"Not your problem," Mack noted.
"Maybe not, but it doesn't feel very good to know that I'm sitting here, wondering about it, and he's dead. Probably all because of money, some deal gone wrong. One of the instructions I gave to Nick was to ensure that I wouldn't get too much money."
"And yet do you really think it was too much?"
"I don't know because I have no idea how much it was." There was silence at the other end. "I get that it's something that really doesn't make sense to people, but it wasn't real money to me."
"What was it, monopoly money?" he asked, with a note of humor.
"It wasn't real because it wasn't in my hand. You've got to remember what my marriage was like. I never had money or a checkbook or a personal bank account. If I needed something, I told somebody, and they got it for me. I rarely went shopping for myself because Mathew had a particular sense of style, and nothing else was good enough. So Mathew went shopping, usually without me. Then he would have a seamstress come to the house and tailor items, per Mathew's directions, not mine. The only time I didn't get what I asked for was usually about food. Anything that Mathew thought could make me fat, then I couldn't have it, like pasta and potatoes and bread.
"So, as long as the divorce was still being negotiated, there wasn't anything in my hand that I could count on. Therefore, I didn't want to know because I didn't want to get my hopes up. Now maybe his death is not my fault," she shared. "Yet somehow it doesn't feel that I'm completely blameless either." She heard Mack's heavy sigh through the phone.
"We'll table this discussion for now. Anyway, we know how he got here."
"True. So, if he flew in, he must have had a rental or a ride of some sort, so if you could check the cameras at or around the airport, we could—"
"I know that, Doreen," he declared, his tone measured.
She chuckled. "Fine, I wasn't trying to insult you or to get into your business. I get it. I really do."
"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, with a note of humor. "Now, will you go home and stay home?"
"I'm home now," she confirmed. "The Chinese food is on the kitchen table. It's all good."
"Oh, will you be sharing?"
"I don't really know how much Mr. Woo gave me," she said, with a chuckle. "I'm walking into the kitchen now to take a look." She opened up the bag. "Wow, a lot.… Three boxes are here, so, yes, I'm sharing."
"Good to know, but I'll be a few hours yet."
"That's fine," she murmured. "Since I ate lunch with Bernard, I'll just make a pot of tea and relax for a bit."
"That sounds like a good idea. Chances are, Nan will be on you. As soon as you mention teatime, all I do is think of her."
"Maybe I should just walk down there and see that she's okay too. I'm sure everybody will be on her case, one way or another."
"Maybe. That would probably make you feel better too."
"She was up here earlier, delivering stuff, so I don't really want her to get bugged too much by all the hateful gossip," she murmured.
"You look after you," Mack reminded her. "That's the bottom line." And, with that, he said goodbye, promising to come by for Chinese, as soon as he was done with work.
She put on the teakettle and then stepped outside, looking around. She was full for the moment because Bernard had put on quite a spread. She really appreciated it, and yet, outside of the fact that he could do something like that whenever he wanted to, she didn't miss that life at all. And that was the part she knew neither Mack nor Bernard understood. She just didn't have any good memories of that.
As she sat here, she wondered what else she could possibly do, when her phone rang again. Sighing, she picked it up but didn't recognize the number. With a shrug, she answered it.
"Hey," Nick said.
"Oh, hi," she murmured. "Did you get this number from Mack?"
"Yeah, though it would have been nice if you'd thought to share it with me."
"I haven't even been home five minutes," she muttered. "There's been no time to think of anything."
"Good point. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I've been talking to lawyers all day."
"Yeah, I can't see how you would even want to get into that business," she shared, with a heavy sigh.
"It's not for everybody, that's for sure," he stated cheerfully. "Anyway, it appears the murder investigation is moving forward."
"It's moving, I just don't know how well," she muttered. "You may know more than I do though."
"I doubt it." He chuckled. "I'm sure you're on Mack's case constantly."
"I just got off the phone with him, and I had found out bits and pieces earlier, though I don't know that any of it has much value."
"Maybe not, but you should trust that, at some moment in the future, all those little pieces will align, resulting in a big break in the case."
"Did Roger say anything about Mathew's will?"
"Yes, and you are mentioned in the will, but it's still not terribly clear where we're going. There's been no reading of the will as yet. They're waiting for the investigation report."
"We know that Mathew was murdered," she stated in exasperation. "I don't know how long they can wait for something like that."
"I think Roger's hoping that you'll get cleared, which would make his job a lot easier."
"Maybe, but I really want to hear that Mathew thought of Reggie."
"Reggie?" Nick asked.
"Mathew called Reggie his man of affairs. His man-about-town guy, the one who handled the house and the staff, overseeing the groceries, messages, laundries, all that stuff. Reggie has worked for Mathew for a very long time and apparently stood up for me, after Mathew raised a hand against me."
"It's nice to know that you had some champions," Nick noted. "Too bad it wasn't enough."
"Guys like that, it's never enough, but that doesn't change the fact that we're still here, and Mathew's not."
"Good point," he agreed. "So, what's this about your phone?" She filled him in on the details. "That's very interesting," he murmured.
"And it should go a long way toward proving I didn't have anything to do with this."
"That would be the hope," Nick concurred, "but leave it to them—remember that."
"I am, though I'm out of sorts."
"I'm over at my mom's, if you want to come and do some work in her gardens. Believe me that there's plenty to do," he shared. "I feel guilty and should be out there doing it myself, I suppose."
"If you do that," she replied, with a note of humor, "then I don't get paid."
He burst out laughing. "You still feel like you need to get paid, don't you?"
"How else will I put food on the table? It's easy for you guys, but I haven't got any of these paydays everyone keeps talking about. Outside of the reward money, which is what I'm currently living on, I don't have anything else."
"Right. Then my mother would love to see you, so why don't you come over and do what you normally do? It'll make her happy."
"As long as it doesn't make you feel that I'm there trying to get money," she added, now worried she'd spoken out of turn.
He sighed. "That would be the last thing on my mind. Come and sit in the garden with Mom, weed, do whatever. Mom's fussing over something," he muttered, clearly in misery. "Nettles or some such thing that I know nothing about."
"Has she got stinging nettles in there?" Doreen asked in horror. "She better not touch those. You either."
"Why not?" he asked.
"They can give you a nasty stinging burn. I'll bring gloves and take care of them," she stated. "Tell your mother to leave them be."
He laughed. "Yeah, she's almost as stubborn as you are."
"Almost?" she cried out. "I must be slipping." And, with a big smile on her face, she ended the call.
"Okay, guys, we're going to Millicent's," she called out. "If nothing else, the exercise will be good for me." And, with that, she clipped the animals onto leashes and announced, "Let's go."
Although everybody was already a little bit tired, the walk would do them all good. It took her a little bit longer to get to Millicent's. By the time she arrived, Millicent sat on the deck, almost bouncing in excitement.
Doreen couldn't help but smile. "You seem to be a happy camper."
"Nick's here," Millicent cried out, obviously not realizing that Doreen already knew.
"Aha," Doreen said, as Nick stepped out onto the deck. "Finally the prodigal son returns home."
He glared at her. "Don't you start too," he muttered.
She snickered. "Why not? Your mom wants you home."
"Sure, but that doesn't mean the job allows for that."
"No, surely not, especially when you keep taking on clients who don't pay."
At that, he looked at her and then burst out laughing. "There is that," he agreed, his grin wide. "Somebody needs to finally deal with all this, and then I can take on paying jobs."
"Yeah," she agreed, "I've got the same problem. I don't get paid for any of the cold-case stuff I do either."
He nodded. "Another aspect to your life that most of us don't consider, do we?"
She shrugged. "If I have enough food for me and my animals, and all the bills are paid,… I don't really care. So maybe I can still do these cold cases, once that money train comes in. But, if it doesn't, I'm still looking for that proverbial job."
"One job you can get at," he muttered, "is the nettles."
At that, Millicent perked up and looked over at Doreen. "Oh my, Doreen, you've got to see this. There's a whole clump of stinging nettles over here."
"A whole clump?" Doreen asked, her gaze wide. "They seriously decided to come to your house when I wasn't looking?"
At that, Millicent bounded to her feet, with an energy Doreen hadn't seen in her for some time. "Oh my." Obviously Millicent was thrilled to have Nick around. As they headed down the steps, Doreen muttered to Nick, "See how much more energy she has when you're here?" When he glared at her, she just grinned.
Then Millicent stopped, made a big presentation. "Look!"
Nick bent down to take a look, frowning. Doreen studied it from where she stood, trying hard to hide a grin. "Yeah, that's a stinging nettle, all right," she declared. Donning her gloves, she bent down with a shovel and carefully dug it up. She held it out to show Nick.
He just nodded, as if to say, What on earth, and why do we care?
She smiled and explained, "This sucker would reproduce everywhere, and, if you touch them, they'll burn you and make you very uncomfortable for a while."
"Get rid of it. Get rid of it," Millicent cried out.
"I am, don't worry. I am." And she walked over to the compost bin and carefully dropped it inside. Then she turned to Millicent and asked, "Was that the only clump?"
"Yes, but wasn't that enough?" she cried out in horror. "You know how fast those things grow."
Doreen laughed. "Absolutely I do, but good news. You're safe now."
After a visit with Millicent and doing a bunch of her yardwork, Doreen gathered her animals and said goodbye.
"Wait," Nick said, as he raced behind her.
She stopped and asked, "What's up?"
"I just wanted to ensure you're okay."
She sighed. "I feel weird, disassociated from everything," she murmured. "Am I fine? Yes. Will I be okay? Absolutely. It's just a weird space to be in right now."
"I can understand that," he replied. "Are you and Mack okay?"
She nodded. "As far as I know, we are, other than fighting over that Insley woman. She rubs me the wrong way, and Mack sticking up for her also rubs me the wrong way." She narrowed her gaze at Nick. "Unless you know something I don't."
He shook his head. "No, I sure don't," he muttered, "but I wish I did. I wish I knew something."
"Yeah, you and me both," she muttered. "It's frustrating that they get to hold back on information that would really go a long way in helping me."
"But would it though?" he asked, his gaze twinkling. "You seem to do pretty well on your own."
"Yeah, out of necessity," she grumbled. "It would be nice if a little more sharing was going on."
"You know they can't."
"I know. I know," she muttered, with a wave of her hand. "I get that, but I don't have to like it."
At that, he burst out laughing. "No, I'm sure you don't," he agreed, with a snicker.
She smiled at him. "You're a nice man, Nick."
He rolled his eyes. "That is definitely not what a guy wants to hear."
She burst out laughing. "Maybe not, but it's true. At the end of the day, it's what every girl really wants," she explained. "They just don't always know it. Everybody may go through that stage where she wants that dashing bad boy on the surface, but the reality is, when the nights are cold and long and painful," she shared, looking anywhere but at him, "they want somebody with staying power. Somebody who'll be there through good times and bad," she stated, a small smile crossing her face, "and you're definitely one of those."
He nodded. "That I am, but, since you don't have any sisters, don't try to sell me on myself anymore," he muttered.
"You and Mack both have bad records with relationships," she noted, staring at him. "What's up with that?"
"It's not that we have bad records," he clarified, "but we both had relationships right out of the gate when we were really young. Neither of them were particularly successful, and that made us both gun-shy. So since then, there have been some relationships but not the best in the world," he admitted, with a cocky grin. "We're just waiting for the right one."
"Great, though I'm not sure waiting is a good answer."
"Maybe not, but it worked for Mack." And he gave her a big hug and quickly left.
She groaned and called back to him, "Dirty trick."
He burst out laughing and added, "Whatever works."
And, with that, she gathered up the animals and headed home.