“Tim!” a rail-thin woman in a nurse’s uniform screams. The woman, standing at the nursing home entrance, clutching a robe, runs to the man and helps him put it on, while speaking to the cops.

  “Poor guy,” Shelbie says.

  “That’s not the first time he’s bared it all, but I don’t think he’s ever made it outside. He usually rides up and down the hallways naked in Mrs. Wilson’s wheelchair,” I say.

  I motion for Shelbie to go inside with me. After our lunch meeting with Richard and Theo, Julia and I separated. Julia told me she’d mentioned to my grandmother that she would ask me to stop by. I had plans to spend the rest of the afternoon with Shelbie, so we decided to see my grandmother together.

  Entering, we’re greeted by what sounds like a gospel choir accompanied by a piano and tambourines. “They’re having church,” Shelbie says.

  “On Sundays the local pastor comes by,” I say, bobbing my head to the music. I look at the lobby wall, and I smile when I see the photo Julia and I took with my grandmother last Christmas. She’s a cutie pie in the Santa’s hat.

  “Hello, Blythe.”

  “Hi, Vivian. I thought you only worked nights.” I smile at her while she walks down the corridor, carrying a clipboard and a pill bottle. She goes to the nurses’ station, and Shelbie and I join her.

  “My vacation threw my entire schedule off. I worked yesterday too. Did you see Tim out there?”

  “And then some.” Shelbie laughs.

  “I’m tired of chasing that man,” she says, flashing us a gummy smile. “Your grandmother is in rehab right now. She’s going to be mad she missed church service. That was the last song. She’ll be done in about ten minutes. Why don’t you ladies go hang out in the rec room? We got a brand-new flat-screen TV the other day.”

  “Okay,” we say, leaving her there looking for her glasses. “They’re on your head,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.

  “I’m getting old, Blythe.”

  “Like I told my grandfather the other day, eighty is the new sixty.”

  “Please don’t tell me I look eighty.”

  “You don’t look a day over forty,” Shelbie says.

  “Bless you,” Vivian says.

  I press open the door and let the church group, with instruments in tow, pass. We enter, and sadness sweeps over me when I observe about a dozen people sitting listlessly in wheelchairs, some mumbling to themselves, others staring mindlessly at the new TV. Shelbie nudges me, then sits near a window. I sit next to her.

  “Do you think we’re going to end up in one of these places when we’re old?” she asks.

  “I hope not.” I think about my grandmother and what a travesty it is that she’s here and not at our house. I pray my father’s case is solved and that Theo enforces the original trust, so we can take my grandmother out of here. Julia wants to move her into our apartment, but it’s too small. “By then, we’ll probably be married with kids. And our husbands and children will take care of us.”

  “Speaking of husbands, are you going to see that John guy again?”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about him. I don’t even know him.” I lean back in my chair, looking at the ceiling.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “The trust.”

  “That’s crazy how it’s set up.”

  “Crazy or not, thank god there’s a loophole.” I focus on the TV. “There’s Richard and Theo at the country club being hounded by reporters. We saw them being attacked on our way into lunch today.”

  Richard, with several microphones being pointed at his face, combs his hand through his thick, dark hair. He nods impatiently while the reporters hurl questions at him.

  Will the IPO be impacted negatively because of Keith’s disappearance?

  Will you be able to raise the amount of money in the offering that you estimated?

  Sources say your institutional investors are cooling because of the controversy. Is that true?

  Richard starts to respond, then says, No comment. He and Theo leave the reporters, who try to enter the club, but security blocks them.

  “When is your interview with Janice Tolliver?”

  I stop watching TV and turn toward Shelbie. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “I wish I could go on with you,” she says, stars in her eyes.

  “I wish you could, too, but for some reason she only wants me. I requested that Julia be there, but Janice said no.”

  “That’s because she wants to do the interviews separately. She’ll get more mileage that way.”

  “You’re right.” I turn toward the door as my grandmother, wearing the dress covered in butterflies I bought her for her seventieth birthday, shuffles into the room, looking around as if she’s lost. I walk to her, and she recoils. “Grandma Sophie,” I say, hugging her.

  “What’s your name? I love your pretty hair.”

  “Grandma, it’s me, your granddaughter, Blythe.”

  “Blythe who?”

  “Julia’s daughter. Grandma, it’s me. I’m Blythe.”

  She squints and then nods. Her face cracks with a strained smile of recognition. “Blythe, I’m so glad you could come. I miss you, sweetie. Have you been reading Nancy Drew?”

  Glad she’s remembering, I give her a huge hug. “I don’t have a lot of time these days, Grandma. I have to prepare for law school.”

  “That’s right,” she says, jerking away from me. She looks around the room, her face draped in panic.

  I take her hand and squeeze it, reassuring. It’s freezing. “It’s okay, Grandma Sophie.” I point toward the window. “Shelbie’s here.”

  “Is she a new nurse?”

  “You know Shelbie. She’s my best friend. Let’s go talk to her.” I usher her to a chair near ours.

  Shelbie rises and hugs her. “Hello, Mrs. Wesley. How are you?”

  “I had my exercise with the nurse. I’m good. And I love all people. Your hair is so pretty. Can I touch it?”

  Shelbie gives me a look and then says, “Sure.”

  My grandmother runs her hands through Shelbie’s locks. “It’s so soft.”

  “Have a seat, Grandma.” I sit too.

  Out of nowhere she says, “Blythe, your mother was here. She told me about the divorce. I’m so worried about her. She’s going to have to go on welfare.”

  “No she won’t, Grandma. She already has an acting job.”

  “She’s going to be acting with the triplets again? That was a good show,” she says, clapping like a baby seal.

  “She’s going to play a detective this time.”

  My grandmother gets up from the chair and goes to the window. She stands there, stiff.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Shelbie asks.

  “She’s having a little episode. Stay right here.”

  I inch my way to her, thinking about how to talk to her without agitating her. “What’s wrong, Grandma?”

  “I don’t like for her to play a detective. I don’t like them. They came here and were asking me and Vivian a lot of questions.”

  My stomach drops. “When were the detectives here?”

  “This morning. They asked so many questions. A big man and a lady like Aunt Bee. They wanted to know if your mother was here, if she stayed overnight one day. I don’t know which day. I know she told me to say she did. I told those detectives she told me to say she did. Vivian was in Santa Barbara. I’m so confused right now. I don’t know if I said the right thing.” She clings to me, whimpering. I hold her in my arms, trying to soothe her. What a mess.

  “It’s okay, Grandma. Don’t cry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re cold. Why don’t I take you to your room, so you can warm up?”

  “Okay. That would be good,” she says, motioning for Shelbie to come with us.

  The three of us walk out of the rec room arm in arm. We bump into Tim, now fully clothed. “Hello, Sophie. You look mighty pretty on this beautiful Sunday in your butterfly dress. Would you like to be my date for bingo this week?”

  My grandmother shoos him away, and we keep walking. “He’s a dirty old man. I can’t stand him,” she hisses.

  We reach Sophie’s room, and we help her sit on the bed. I look around at the pictures on the wall and at the huge teddy bear Julia won her on the Santa Monica pier. “Do you feel warmer now?” I ask.

  “Yes. What time is church?”

  “I’m sorry, Grandma—they already left.”

  “Shit, I hate that I missed it.”

  Raucous laughter bounces off the walls. My grandmother looks at Shelbie and me like we have five heads apiece. I help her slide under the covers, and we prepare to leave.

  “We have to go, Grandma.”

  “Are you going to come back?”

  “Yes. Real soon. You be good.”

  “Of course.” She peers at me. “You look just like your father. I hope they find him.”

  “I do too.”

  ~~~

  I park next to Sherry’s Buick in my driveway. I do a double take when I see her cracked taillight. When did that happen? I get out of the car and look over my shoulder at the handful of reporters lurking around the gate. They never give up. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those reporters broke Sherry’s taillight while running after her car, trying to get a sound bite. I go inside the house, looking for Julia. I want to fill her in on my visit with Grandma Sophie, particularly the conversation we had about the detectives.

  “Is that you, Blythe?”

  “It’s me.”

  “We’re in the living room.”

  “What’s the latest?” I ask, sitting at the piano, thinking about the lessons I took during elementary school and all the hours of practice. I hated playing. Now I wish I’d stuck with it. I find music soothing.

  “We’re reviewing my contract,” Julia says, rifling through a stack of papers.

  “How are you doing, Blythe? Julia told me about you being attacked,” Sherry says.

  I shiver. “Don’t remind me. That dude was crazy. I hope they lock him up for life.”

  “You and Julia really need security.”

  “I’m not going to be a prisoner again in my own home,” Julia says, looking up from the papers.

  “I saw Grandma Sophie today.”

  A smile lights up Julia’s face. “I’m so glad you made it over there. I didn’t think you would feel up to going after our lunch meeting with Theo and Richard. I’m not surprised your father wrote us out of the trust. He was so focused on doing that, he forgot to sign the damn divorce papers.” She shakes her head.

  “That’s probably a good thing,” Sherry says, rising and stretching. She goes to the window and looks out. “Just think, all of this will be yours.”

  “Not necessarily,” Julia says. “It’s all up to Theo, and you know how he loves to lord it over people. That’s too much power for one little man. And I really don’t want anything Keith has. I want to make it again on my own.”

  “I’m not that noble. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve every last penny. There are so many people I want to help,” I say.

  “That’s sweet of you. You have your grandfather’s heart. How’s my mother?”

  “She was having an episode.”

  “Oh no. On a scale from one to ten, how bad?”

  “About a six. She didn’t know who I was at first. Then she told me the detectives had questioned her and Vivian this morning. That seemed to upset her.”

  Julia drops the papers and stands next to the piano. “What kind of questions?”

  “They asked her if you stayed overnight with her on Tuesday. She didn’t actually tell me this. On the way out, I talked to Vivian about it. That’s what they wanted to know. Vivian mentioned to the police that you told her you had spent the night, and unfortunately, Grandma Sophie said you told her to tell the detectives you had spent the night Tuesday.”

  Julia turns to Sherry and says, “Just brilliant. Great. There goes my alibi, down the toilet.”

  “That’s not necessarily true. There’s probably someone else there who saw you,” Sherry says.

  “There was a temp, but I don’t think she saw me,” Julia says, flopping down onto the sofa.

  “Julia, I think you’re worrying for no reason. You didn’t kill my father. The police are going to find the killer.”

  She stares forward, and a sly grin spreads across her face as though she’s had some epiphany. “You’re right, Blythe. The truth is going to come out.”

  “So you guys are meeting with Stephen tomorrow?” Sherry asks.

  “Yes,” Julia says.

  “And you’re going to tell him about the shirt?”

  “That’s the plan,” I say.

  “And it’s still missing, that and the knife?” Sherry asks.

  “Right,” I say.

  She comes from the window and sits next to Julia. “What do you think he’ll say? With the shirt being found here, that’s going to be tricky.”

  “Well, right now there is no shirt. So it’s a nonissue. We’re going to tell him Martha found it and that it’s missing. And I’m going to tell him about the woman at the strip mall.” I frown, surprised Julia’s still stuck on the woman at the strip mall. She must notice my displeasure because she says, “Blythe, please don’t be upset, but I really think there’s something there.”

  “Did Anozie call back? Did he put you in contact with her?”

  “She showed up after you left. She claimed she wasn’t the woman Anozie called, but I believe she is.”

  “Oh my god, did she confess? Did you tape it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “She didn’t want to upset you,” Sherry says.

  “She told you about the meeting?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Sherry says.

  “Blythe, I didn’t get a confession. But I believe she killed your father. And I want to talk to Stephen about it during our meeting.”

  I want to ask her the sixty-four-million-dollar question, but I’m scared. Heart racing, I stand and walk over to her. “Julia, was the woman you met at the strip mall my mother?”

  Chapter 30

  Julia

  Blythe looms over me. Now I think I should tell her I met her mother. I hate when I vacillate like this. I stand and look her in the eye. “Yes, Blythe, she’s your mother.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “She showed me an old license. It said Mary Pritchard. The expiration date was 2003, and the address was here on Retford. She also looks just like the picture. Well, not exactly like it—she’s changed her appearance a bit. When she escaped from your father, she went back to Germany. She said she dyed her hair, started wearing contact lenses, and had laser freckle removal. But when you look past all of that, she looks like the woman in the photo, just older.”

  “Did she admit she killed my father?”

  “No.”

  “So why is she still an issue?”

  “Because I don’t believe her, Blythe. I think she did it.”

  Blythe returns to the piano and lifts the lid. She begins playing Beethoven’s “Für Elise.”

  I join Sherry on the sofa, and we sit in silence, listening to Blythe pouring her frustration into the piano keys. After about ten minutes she ends abruptly and slams the lid closed.

  “I’m good now,” she says. “Did she ask about me?”

  “Of course she asked about you. Blythe, Keith tried to drown her. That’s why she left. She tried to escape with you, but he caught her and threatened to kill you both if she even thought about leaving with you. She says she came back to the U.S. Friday morning, after she heard about Keith going missing and the blood found inside his car.”

  “If she got here Friday, she couldn’t have killed my father,” Blythe says.

  “I think she’s lying,” I say.

  I wait for Blythe to respond, but she just shrugs. “So what’s next? How are you going to prove that she killed my father?”

  “I’m not. I’m going to tell Stephen about it, and we’re going to let the police handle it.”

  “How do you feel about that?” Sherry asks Blythe.

  “I don’t know. She’s like a stranger to me, but it’s sad. It’s tragic if she’s guilty. Does she want to meet me?”

  “Yes, but not now—once everything is over. She claims she didn’t do it, and she wants to stay out of the fray.”

  “What time is our meeting with Stephen tomorrow?”

  “Nine o’clock at his office. He wants to meet before the search. Blythe, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m going to check the Facebook page and the website comments. I’ll talk to you later,” she says, leaving.

  Sherry and I exchange wary looks. “I’m worried about Blythe,” I say, walking to the window.

  “She’ll be okay,” Sherry says.

  She joins me, and we gape at the media camped out in front of the gate. “They’re like vultures. Did Blythe tell you she’s going to be on 2 Catch a Killer?”

  “That Tolliver chick is a piece of work.”

  “She kind of did us a favor. Dolores has been campaigning to get on the show, but Janice wants to have Blythe on and then me at a later date. I got an email from her today. I need to tell Blythe.”

  “I hope it works out for you,” Sherry says.

  “At least we’ll be able to get our side of the story out there.”

  Sherry returns to the sofa and picks up the contract. “So are you satisfied with this?”

  “Yes.” I’m still thinking about Blythe. “I’ve already signed the copies you made for me.”

  “I’ll have my lawyer look at it, and then I’ll arrange a follow-up meeting with the guys.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I walk her to the door, and she turns around and hugs me. The scent of her perfume makes me sneeze. “Bless you,” she says, ending our embrace. “Julia, no matter what happens when this is all over, I want you to know I love you. I really do—unconditionally.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. I have this eerie feeling, like I did the day I found Larry in our bed with that hussy—like something is about to go down.”

  “I hope you’re wrong.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Go around back. I don’t want you to get attacked.”

 

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