Polly Dent Loses Grip (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (14 page)

“I get the message already.”

“Then why you actin’ like I’m speaking some foreign language?”

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff. You’re the nosey one.”

Got to hand it to the boy, he’s quick. As soon as he saw my hand coming toward him to flick his ear, he backpedaled like the Tour de France in reverse.

“You shut your trap and get on with your nosing around.” I raked him with my eyes. “And pull your pants down some, it ain’t decent.”

He placed his hands on his belt and gave a little shove southward on his waistband, chest bloated out like day old road kill. “Probably crack the case myself.”

The elevator doors slid open and he hightailed it inside. Good thing, too, ‘cause I was fixin’ to run my knuckles over that head of his. Worse than any of our seven babies, but the chuckle that slipped out of my mouth just couldn’t be contained. He sure is a cute little thing.

Collecting myself, I prepared my attack on the cafeteria to see how party preparations were progressing. I pointed my nose in the direction of the cafeteria, lunch over now, when I saw Sue Mie coming at me from the direction of Otis Payne’s offices, head bent low. She’d have run smack into me if I hadn’t helloed her.

“Mrs. Barnhead.”

No. I wasn’t about to correct her yet again. When I saw her puffy eyes, my momma’s heart started thumpin’ hard. “What’s got you crying?”

“Problem with work.”

“You get in trouble or something?”

She squeezed her eyes closed for a second. “I always in trouble. But I know snack I gave your mother was labeled sugar-free. More than one.”

“Are there others on
M
omma’s floor who are diabetic and had a bad reaction.”

She nodded. “Six.”

“You think they were mislabeled?”

“Yes. Same as previous night.”

I let this sink down deep in my head. “You mean the night Polly got a sugar snack there were others who had bad reactions?”

“It has happened two times now.” She gaze
d
deep into my eyes for a minute. Her eyes twitched up the hallway, then down toward the elevators. This wasn’t a gal looking for a quiet place, but one on the prowl for a particular pair of ears. She made a sweeping motion with her hand
,
and I followed her past Otis Payne’s office, past the gym and down that short hallway to the service elevator.

“I show you something.” She withdrew a key, plugged it into the keyhole
,
and we took us a ride up to that second floor storage area.

“There something there you must see.”

My excitement grew. This was it! I just knew the big clue I’d been waiting for was within arm
’
s reach. But when the doors slid open like the curtains splitting before a stage production
,
the starring role had been filled by none other than Hardy Barnhart. And he was getting his tail whipped.

Chapter Eighteen

Chester, of vacuum rental fame, was shaking his finger in my Hardy’s rather pallid face. Leave it to Hardy to get himself in a scrape.

“You better make good and sure you’ve got your will written before you put a hand on my man.” I steamrolled toward the dueling pair, picking up speed as I went and wearing my war mask, the one that made my children scatter like cockroaches in the light.

Chester held up his hands. “It’s cool! It’s cool!”

I took hold of Hardy’s arm and yanked him close to my side. “What do you think you’re doing shaking your finger in his face like that? Didn’t your momma teach you any manners?”

He jabbed his thumb at Hardy. “I was telling him you were supposed to have that vacuum back yesterday.”

“Well I didn’t. It’s back now though, so you’ll be a very happy man if you’ll be remembering that.”

It occurred to me that Sue Mie had been quiet. When I speared a look in the direction of the elevator, I realized she wasn’t there. She must have slipped away while I was busy with Chester. But why had she brought me up here?

Chester scratched his chin and stared at me. Hardy gave me a jab in the ribs. A covert jab. Something was ticking in his brain, but Chester didn’t look too inclined to let us have a private conversation.

“He hurt you, babe?” I let my eyes slide over Hardy’s features. He didn’t fail me.

His back to Chester, he rolled his eyes all around, looking crazier than a coot, but I got the message. Eyes. Rolling around. I was to look around the room.

“He got my back up pretty good, but I coulda took him down real quick. Took me off guard, that’s all.”

Up. Down.

Notions whirled in my head. Up. Down. Stairs? The meaning hit me hard. The elevator!

“You two need to leave this room immediately. I’m locking up.”

Hardy took off toward the door as timid as a sheep. I wanted to howl my aggravation. I wasn’t
going to
set foot out of this room until I was good and ready. And where did Sue Mie get off too? Why’d she haul me up here then turn around and leave? Or did Chester’s presence make the decision for her? Things were spinning mighty fast
,
and I didn’t like being the one having to hustle to catch up.

Chester glared back at me, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dug in.

“You come back here with Mr. Payne and let us have ourselves a talk. I’m wondering why you feel the need to be harassing us about a vacuum cleaner.”

Chester went white as milk, then as red as a cherry tomato. Hardy peeked over Chester’s shoulder and gave me a wink.

“I’m not allowed to leave this room unattended,” this from Chester in a barely controlled voice.

“That’s right funny. Because I’m not allowed to leave here either, so you’d best be fetching him in a hot second.”

Chester’s nostrils flared.

I huffed and stared down my nose at him.

As soon as he twirled on his heel, almost knocking Hardy off his feet, I trawled the room for whatever clue Hardy might be hinting at.

“Tish, over there
.
” I followed his pointing finger at the elevator and waited for him to return to the door and give me the all-clear signal.

It didn’t take long to pinpoint what had him so stirred. Right in front of the elevator doors sat a treadmill, quintuplet to the other three downstairs.

Hardy leaned away from the door. “I’m thinking someone could have swapped treadmills. What if the maintenance records aren’t so up-to-date and Otis Payne, or someone, knows that.” Hardy leaned his head back into the hallway.

As fast as my feet could carry me, I hunted for an electrical outlet, found one, and gave the treadmill a tremendous shove in that direction. I needed to hear what the motor sounded like and look to see if there was some kind of identification number in case I ever got to glance at those maintenance records. Another heave and it was close enough to reach the outlet.

The motor purred without problem, the belt turning without catching. I finally found some sort of number on the underside of the post that held the electronic read out. T61.

“Get some of that white powder stuff and we’ll have it looked at. Maybe it’s not baby powder,” Hardy said. “Remember the ‘snow in the hand sealed her doom?’ Maybe it’s the powder stuff.”

Had to think quick. I zoned in on kitchen supplies and found a stack of styrofoam cups. I tore into the package and tapped the handles of the machine so the powder would flake off into the cup. It didn’t work. I stuffed the cup back in a corner and decided to use the hem of my shirt, rubbing it back and forth across the handles until enough of the white powder hand transferred to the material to satisfy me. Good thing it was a loose top. I folded the material in on itself to keep my sample safe until I could get the top off and in a sealed bag.

“On their way
,
” Hardy said as he ducked inside and rushed to my side. Together we wrangled the treadmill back into its original position. He almost ran the thing over my foot. When I reached down to coil the cord around the post, I noticed a notch in the belt that made me stand upright real fast.

Polly’s treadmill belt had a notch taken out of it! I’d noticed it the day Otis had let me nose around the gym.

Hardy tugged on my arm, eyes wild. When Chester appeared in the doorway, Otis on his heels, Hardy and I were back in our original positions, awaiting Otis and friends.

Chapter Nineteen

After changing my shirt and putting it into a plastic bag, I strolled from out
the
bedroom to see Hardy sitting dejectedly on the sofa. “Thought Otis was gonna blow for sure. Good thing you had the phone on you. Never been so glad to have one of my babies call and say she’d been fired and was coming home.”

When Hardy didn’t respond, I knew what he was thinking as sure as I knew what brand underwear he preferred.

“She’ll be fine, you know,” I tried to soothe him.

“Not worried about
M
omma right now.”

I frowned. “You think I didn’t know that? You’re stewin’ on Lela’s problems and I don’t think it’s worth your energy.”

He sank his head into his hands. “You think it’s time to go home?”

What brought this on? “Do you?”

“Hate it that our little girl got fired. Maybe we should be there when she comes home.” He turned his head in profile, jaw working hard.

“She’s big enough to be on her own, Hardy Barnhart. Coming home doesn’t mean her folks need to be droppin’ everything that’s important to them, and your momma needs us right now.”

Hardy gave a single nod of his head, but his clenched hands told a different story.

I sank down beside him and pulled him into the circle of my arms. “What’s the real problem, Hardy Barnhart?”

Beneath my hand his shoulders slumped. “I’m worried about you.”

“What you talking about?”

“You’ve been having those spells, though you’ve seemed pretty good today. Lookin’ at
M
omma and how weak she’s become. . .guess I’m feeling my age and hopin’ I won’t have to be spending my days without you.”

“I ain’t going anywhere anytime soon, so don’t be plannin’ no funeral.”

His voice came to me muffled; face against my chest as it was. “Do you think we should take
M
omma home with us?”

“It was her decision to come here, and I think as long as she wants to be independent, we need to let her be independent.”

“Tisha?”

That tone of voice lit up flares in my mind.

“I made an appointment with the doctor here in town tomorrow. I want to know what’s going on with you.”

I opened my mouth, a billion protests and excuses rolling in my head. My eyes and mouth closed at the same time. If things were reversed, yes, I’d do the same thing. Force the issue. Make sure my man was okay and prepared to live a good long life.

I hugged him closer. “Not happy about it, but I guess doctor appointments don’t generally make us happy. People poking and prodding around
—
they’d better have a real good reason to be doing it. I figured the strange things I’d been feeling lately warranted a good prodding session. Though I dreaded it.

“Thanks for rescuing me from Chester. That man’s crazy.”

I patted Hardy’s shoulder. “Tell me what you think of all this. What does that treadmill mean? And Sue Mie is the reason I got to you before Chester’d reduced you to a puddle, but she disappeared real quick.”

“Why’d she take you up there then leave?”

I settled down on that question like a hen on a nest. Here I’d gone and prayed for a good solid clue and things got even murkier, though the treadmill problem seemed a great clue. Thank you, Lord Jesus. “Got any ideas on who we can ask to have that white powder on my shirt looked at? The local police here’ll think we’re stirring trouble.”

“When did Lela say she’d be in?”

“Day after tomorrow,” I answered.

“Then why don’t we go home for the night and give it over to Chief Conrad? He’ll help us out.”

Sure enough. Chief Conrad and I had tackled the mysterious death of Marion Peters together, I knew Hardy’s suggestion was a good one. But being that I wasn’t so sure how long the process would take, and needing the information as soon as possible, I made another decision.