Retirement Plan (34 page)

“We are done,” Lois said. “Besides, you can’t shoot.”

“I’ll poison him or club him to death,” Sophie said. “Anyway, didn’t you just say we might have to do more in Florida?”

Lois sighed. “I’m too old for this. We both are.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sophie turned the page without further comment.

Lois considered the latest job. The time constraints had made it more difficult. Surprisingly, that was all she felt about it. This whole thing had started because they were trying to make ends meet. The shootings had bothered her in the beginning, but by now she’d disconnected from them. She’d crossed a line and she wasn’t sure when. A bit like old age—it just snuck up on her.

Lois noticed that the woman and the little girl were gone and the guy with the cat was being called back. They were next. She turned her attention to Daisy, who seemed to be sleeping. Her eyelids were fluttering a bit, so maybe she was dreaming. What kind of things did dogs dream about? Could they imagine better lives than their own, or did they just dream of things that had happened, of dinnertime or chasing a cat? Finally she said, “I want to take Daisy with us.”

“Randy would be an asshole about it.”

“We’ll be gone.”

“What about Ruby?”

Lois shrugged. “What could he do? He might be glad to be rid of the animal.”

*

Morgan sat on a child-sized chair, putting a Snow White puzzle together with Lori, but her mind wasn’t on it. The rifle that had belonged to the old women bothered her. They probably didn’t have it anymore, but she wanted to check. She didn’t have enough to get a warrant. She needed a way to find out what was in the house without tipping her hand.

Ruby had a record—no violent crimes, but nevertheless… If the old women had taught Matthew to shoot the rifle, they might have taught his mother as well. Or as ludicrous as it seemed, they might all three be involved. If so, talking to Ruby could break the case. They had to get her downtown for another interview on some pretense.

As quickly as all of that went through her mind, the absurdity of it hit her. These were two nice old ladies. This wasn’t like
Arsenic and Old Lace.
These women weren’t crazy. Plus, those old ladies didn’t murder people with M-16s. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull up the image of Lois and Sophie hunting down men and killing them.

A voice startled her. She looked toward the door and saw that Redick had stuck his head in. He said, “Can you come on out here for a minute?”

Morgan stood and told the child, “I’ll be right back.”

The kid looked worried, but she nodded.

Redick led her into the dark, narrow room on the opposite side of the two-way mirror where two women were observing. A woman about Morgan’s height , a little slimmer, maybe, stood close to the smoky glass. She had long dark hair pulled straight back from her forehead, and tears streamed down her face. The other, older woman stood behind her.

Redick tilted his head toward the dark-haired woman and said, “This is Lori’s mother.”

The older woman turned toward Morgan and extended her hand. “I’m Agent Fuller. FBI.”

“Morgan Holiday.”

Redick said, “Detective Fuller here says you should take Lauren’s mother back in with you.”

“Just like that?”

“There’ll never be a better time,” Fuller said. “Give Mrs. Webber a minute to dry her eyes.”

But the woman didn’t dry them. Staring through the dark glass, watching the little girl focus on the puzzle, she started talking. “Her brother wasn’t supposed to let go of her hand. I left them in the toy section just for a minute. When I found him, she was gone. He told me that she pulled away from him and went to find me. Just like that, the doll section swallowed her up. Now here she is, two years later, my Lauren, but not the baby I left for a minute that day.”

Morgan didn’t have children. Her mother used to say that the people who knew the most about raising children were the ones who didn’t have them, so she tried not to judge the woman. Maybe leaving a kid in a toy department seemed like a good idea that day, but it had turned out to be an epic mistake.

The Webber woman directed her question to Fuller. “Do you think she’ll be angry with me?”

“Not today. That will come later.”

Ms. Webber blew her nose into a tissue and said, “I’m ready, then.”

As Morgan and Mrs. Webber stepped into the children’s interview room, Lori looked up and frowned.

Mrs. Webber crossed the room and gathered the child into her arms. Lori reflexively pushed her away, then impassively surrendered.

Morgan started toward them, but Fuller touched her arm. Morgan turned and she whispered, “Let’s give them some space.”

The last thing Morgan heard before she left the room was Lori’s muffled voice. Her face against her mother’s shoulder, the little girl said, “Mommy?”

Back at the station, as they took the elevator up to the Homicide offices, Morgan said to Redick, “I think we should interview Ruby Burnett again.”

*

Daisy lay quietly on the table while a rosy-cheeked girl of about thirty held a lubricated thermometer in her rectum. Lois stood at the dog’s head and scratched her ears while the vet worked. The girl, Dr. O’Brian, seemed gentle and compassionate, and under better conditions, Lois might have liked her. But today the vet was the one who could call the game—who could tell them to put the dog down.

“Looks like she’s got an infection,” the girl said. “Antibiotics should take care of that. I’d like to do some blood work. It will tell us more.”

Lois nodded. “Whatever she needs.”

Dr. O’Brian pulled a drawer open and extracted a needle and syringe. Lois, who couldn’t look, turned her head. Across the room, Sophie was sitting in one of two chairs. She had a magazine, with a cat on the cover, open, but she was watching the doctor work on Daisy.

“You can put her on the floor now,” the doctor said. “I’ll check this and be right back.”

Lois noticed the clock. It was five till one. The clinic had closed for the holiday at noon, but for a change it didn’t matter if they had to pay overtime. Lois lifted Daisy off the table and sat down next to Sophie. She picked up a magazine that she couldn’t look at. Daisy curled up on the floor, and they waited.

Ten minutes that seemed like ten hours later, Dr. O’Brian tapped on the door and came in. Without formality she said, “You have to decide right now whether Daisy can live inside.”

Sophie started to answer but Lois cut in. “Of course she can. We probably should have done that long ago.”

Dr. O’Brian said, “Good. She has a respiratory infection that the antibiotics should clear up. But the arthritis isn’t curable. We can make her more comfortable—a lot more comfortable—but keeping her outside in this cold weather would be cruel. If that’s what you have to do, well—”

Almost in unison, Lois and Sophie said, “She will live inside from now on.”

The doctor went over the medications with them. As they were leaving they noticed that the lights were out and the receptionist was gone. Dr. O’Brian unlocked the door and let them out. “If she gets worse call me, or take her to the emergency clinic.”

“Do we pay you for today?” Sophie asked.

The vet shook her head. “You can pay next time you’re in.”

They both thanked her and led Daisy to the waiting truck. Once inside, with the dog on her lap, Sophie said, “How are we going to keep her in? She isn’t our dog.”

“Well, she might as well be.”

“But we’re leaving next week.”

Lois said, “We’re keeping her in our house, and if Randy wants to say anything about that, I’ll be happy to remind him of his neglect.”

Sophie stroked the dog’s head. “Well, Miss Daisy, how do you think you’ll like living in Florida?”

*

“You’ve got yourself in quite a pickle,” Sandy said with a wry smile.

They were behind the register, at a desk that held an old calculator, a coffee cup with about five pens, and a spindle on which several invoices were impaled. A folding chair had been brought from the back room for Morgan. Sandy, who sat in the desk chair, crossed his legs and rocked a little.

“Do you know Chelsea well enough to tell me if there’s any way I can redeem myself?”

The lines on Sandy’s forehead deepened. “I’ve known her since she was an infant. She’s my niece, one of my sister’s daughters. I love all three of those girls, but the one that turned out lesbian is my favorite. So you could say I know her fairly well, but I’m not sure I can advise you. What happened, anyway?”

“What do you mean? Don’t you know?”

“I know you ended up in the back room with Vic. I know they poured you into a cab after the bar closed.”

Morgan shifted in the chair uncomfortably. “I actually went to the bar to see if I could find Chelsea. I had too much to drink. I didn’t want to go home, which has been a thing with me since my mother’s funeral. Her death has totally wiped me out.”

“She died recently?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tears welled in Morgan’s eyes and she worked furiously to contain them. “Thank you.”

Sandy passed her a tissue. “I’d say you have good reason for a little erratic behavior.”

Morgan dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “I can understand how it looked to Chelsea.”

“You know, a lot of single women around here would give you a tumble. You’re attractive. You have a steady job. As near as I can tell, you don’t do drugs or hear voices. So, why does it have to be Chelsea?”

“I don’t know. But it does.”

“Okay,” Sandy said. “With a reason like that, I’ll have to help you.”

Morgan smiled and blew her nose again.

“I’m having a little birthday party on January third. Usually by then, everybody’s partied out from the holidays. So I have a dinner party, with cake, of course. Chelsea makes the cake, and she’ll be there, helping me. Why don’t you come?”

“Really?”

“Now you have to show her that you have some substance. Don’t act desperate. Be patient. She’s looking for a woman with some maturity, who’s in it for the long haul.”

“That’s exactly what I want.”

“Her son is important to her. They’re a package deal. The kid is what sunk her last relationship—that and infidelity.” Sandy hesitated, then added, “If you normally get drunk and screw women you don’t know in public, I’d just as soon you courted someone else.”

“I’m nothing like that.”

“In spite of evidence to the contrary?”

“Trust me.”

“Okay. I’ll give you a second chance. I can’t speak for Chelsea.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

 “I hate people hard, but I don’t hate them long,” Myrtle said, explaining that the Playboy Bunny had left her ex, and the ex had called Myrtle wanting to come home. “If she’d phoned me several months ago, I’d have jumped at the chance to have the cheating, lying bitch back.”

That year pinochle night fell during the week after Christmas, so they combined it with the going-away party for Lois and Sophie, whom most of them wouldn’t see again unless they visited Florida or Sophie and Lois decided to come back for a few weeks during the summer. Myrtle and Jolene (Ruby’s cake-loving sponsor) had made a cake together, on top of which was written, Bon Voyage, Lois and Sophie.

Jolene stood behind Myrtle, towering over her. She had her arms wrapped around Myrtle’s chest and rested her chin on the top of Myrtle’s head. Myrtle, and thus Jolene, was swaying a bit, although there was no music. Myrtle said, “We have news.”

They were an unlikely looking couple. Lois noticed that everyone, including Sophie, had accepted the inclusion of Jolene good-naturedly. Lois would miss her pinochle friends—between them they’d supported each other through the years, through all the problems, all that life could send their way. They’d grown old together. A few women in the kitchen were involved in a spirited conversation. Lois shushed them. “Quiet, please.”

Dramatically, Myrtle curled her fingers to look at her painted nails.

“A ring!” Sophie ran forward to embrace Myrtle.

Myrtle kind of pushed her away. “There’s more.”

“Aw. Don’t tease them. Tell them,” Jo said, giving the hefty Myrtle a squeeze.

“We’re getting married,” Myrtle shouted, then began hopping in circles. Jolene was forced to let go, and Myrtle stumbled toward the food table and ended up with her hand and the new ring buried in the cake.

“Whoa, girl,” Lois said, as she steadied Myrtle.

Total silence. Then from somewhere in the back of the room came one woman’s applause. Others joined in.

Connie, the youngest member of the group, rushed forward. “You mean a commitment ceremony?”

“No,” Myrtle said. “We’re driving to Iowa sometime in March.” She started sucking butter-cream icing off her fingers. Then she offered her thumb to Connie.

“No, thanks.”

Lois sort of smacked Jolene on the back and the gesture turned into a short shoulder rub.

Jo reached for Lois’s hand and shook it. She said, “Also, your daughter has agreed to be our best woman.”

“You’ve talked to her?”

“We have.”

“But she can’t leave the state.”

“Her parole will be over mid-February.”

For a moment Lois felt sad because she’d be in Florida by then. But gradually a sense of pride welled up. Ruby was going to be successful after all.

*

On the following Monday morning, Morgan woke with the beginning of a cold. She walked around the house getting ready for work as if she was on autopilot. Driving through town, she noticed that the street lamps were still decorated with red bows and the store windows looked festive. She didn’t really consider whether she felt well enough to work until she pulled into the parking ramp, parked her car, got out, and felt the bitter cold wrap around her. She rushed toward the building and, once inside, took a moment to recover before she got in the elevator.

When she pushed her way through the door to the homicide office, Redick motioned to her and said, “Ruby Burnett got here an hour early.”

Morgan shrugged. “Just let me get my coat off. I’m ready.”

“There’s more.”