Death Vetoes The Chairman (Lizzie Crenshaw Mysteries Book 7) Page 5

  “That’s fine,” I said. “It’s not a big secret, but it’s just not something I want to talk about, not yet anyway.”

  “Lizzie, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of, nothing at all. It sounds to me that you did the right thing both times. I wish more young women would stand up for themselves. You might think about talking to a support group.”

  “But, I wasn’t…”

  “He did assault you, and I think we both know what could have happened if you hadn’t defended yourself, and if your friends hadn’t been there at the right time. Your story could make a difference to someone else who doesn’t know how to fight back like you. Just think about it.”

  After he left the room, I looked over at Jake. “What do you think?”

  “About what?” he said. He was texting furiously on his phone.

  I resisted the urge to yank the phone out of his hand. “About the support group.”

  “I think he’s right.”

  “Seriously?”

  He put down his phone. “Look, you’re one of the strongest women I know, but even the strongest women would have a hard time going through something like this. You’ve been manhandled by the same jerk twice in less than two weeks. Women go from thinking ‘This can’t happen to me,’ and then it does. ‘This won’t happen to me again’ is their next train of thought, and half of the time, it doesn’t. But then you have men like Ethan, who have an inflated self-sense of worth. Blame his father; he always bought his way out of any trouble his son got into. Since he was raised that way as a kid, he thinks that’s the way to handle things now. I’ll bet money he starts showering you with gifts and flowers, trying to buy your forgiveness.”

  “As if,” I snorted.

  “And I’m sure you’ll make that clear to him in one way or another. But he’s not going to stop, Lizzie. The only way he’s ever going to stop is if he’s dead, and that’s a fact.”

  I heard a gasp, and looked up to see the nurse. She was standing there with her mouth hanging open. She quickly closed it and took me down the hall to the x-ray room, put my arm on a table, and lit me up with enough radiation that I could be my own Christmas tree lights. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Adams came in a digital camera. “No break, but the bruising is deep. Nothing you haven’t dealt with before. Let’s get some pictures, and I’ll send them to Owen.” He took a few pictures, and took a business card out of his pocket. “This is the support group I told you about. There are other groups in the area if you don’t want to go to a local one. Some women are more comfortable going to a group where people don’t know them. There’s a website listed on the card.” He watched me stick the card in the back pocket of my jeans. “I’m not saying you’re a victim, Lizzie. But it sounds like you’ve been through a heck of a rough time this week. It’s going to catch up to you eventually.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind, Dr. A. Thanks.”

  He looked at me skeptically, like he knew I wasn’t going to follow up with the support group. “You know where to find me if you need anything,” he replied, handing me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and a mild pain medication.

  As we walked out, there was a new crowd in the waiting room, and Jake got more dirty looks. “Judgmental lot,” he muttered as he held the door open for me.

  “It’s a close community, Jake,” I said. “And I grew up here, remember?”

  “Yeah, and I’m the carpetbagger.”

  “Sort of,” I laughed. “Sorry. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t judge you so harshly.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Jake said.

  “I’d love some pie.”

  “Of course you would.” He looked at his watch. “It’s 3:30 now. Let’s stop by the office and pick up your laptop. I’ve got a couple of things to do. Why don’t you find out from T.J. what time he’s planning on stopping by your place?”

  “I can do that,” I said, pulling out my phone.

  “Besides,” he added, “I want to know where you got the money to buy the paper.” He slammed the car door shut.

  Twenty minutes later, we walked into the Eat it or Starve Café. As soon as we did, everyone stopped talking and looked at us. Maddie Reynolds, owner of the café, came out from the kitchen carrying a tray of food. “Lizzie, Jake, good to see you. Grab a booth. I’ll be right with you.”

  “Thanks, Maddie,” Jake replied, leading me to our favorite back booth.

  I noticed Gladys Norwell, my nemesis, sitting with Charlene Sims, who runs the beauty parlor in the square. They eyed me as we walked by their table, and then Charlene leaned in close and whispered something to Gladys, who shook her head. I sighed. I was pretty sure I’d find out what they were talking about before too long.

  Maddie came over to their table as Jake set up his laptop. “So, I haven’t seen you two in a while,” she said. “Avoiding me or something?”

  Jake slid out of the booth, and gave Maddie a hug. “I would never avoid my favorite girl, you know that,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek before sitting down again.

  She smiled and blushed. “What’s your excuse, Lizzie?” she said, turning her attention to me. I saw her eyes rest briefly on my wrist, before sliding up my arm to the bruises on my upper arms. If it wasn’t so warm in the café, I wouldn’t have taken off my jacket, and then no one would have been able to see them. “You okay there?” I nodded. She gave me a look that said she knew better, but she wisely said nothing. “I take it you want your pie, and Jake? Apple for you?” She didn’t wait for us to answer; she just wrote it down on her pad as she walked off.

  I pulled out some files I picked up when we stopped to get the laptop. “We need to write a story about the change of ownership,” I told Jake.

  “I agree. We should also get Dale to write something, a final goodbye to the folks of Brookdale.”

  “Definitely,” I replied, trying to write it down. “It’s bloody impossible to when my wrist is so sore.” Jake reached over, took the pen and a piece of paper, and wrote down “Dale, farewell article”, and handed it back to me. “I don’t plan on shaking up the staff, although I might expand Bruce’s role. We also should look at a webmaster to handle the website.”

  “That’s a good idea. Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “No, not yet. I thought I would do some checking around, maybe contact a couple of other newspapers and see who they use or if they can recommend someone.”

  We stopped talking when Maddie brought out our pies. She also brought some glasses of sweet tea. “What’s the good word, young lady?” Jake asked her as she placed everything on the table.

  She looked around before sliding into the booth next to Jake. “There’s a couple of rumors going around. One has you and Jake getting into it, which is why you had to go to the doctor today. The other rumor is that you two made fools of yourselves at that big shindig in Dallas last weekend. Someone said you two got into a fight with Ethan Winthrop.”

  Jake and I glanced at each other. “And what do you think happened, Maddie?” I said.

  “I know what happened. I have a friend who was the caterer for that function. The wait staff was talking about while they were cleaning up after the party. Sounds like Mr. Winthrop got what was coming to him, if you ask me. Is that why your wrist looks so swollen and bruised?”

  “No,” I shook my head, “something different.”

  She jerked her head in Gladys’ direction. “Watch out for Gladys. She has been here all week, waiting to pounce on you. Apparently, one of Charlene’s clients was also there that night, and her story was less than kind. She said your attack on him was totally unprovoked.”

  “Maddie!” someone called out from the kitchen. “Order up!”

  She stood up. “Whatever happened, I’m sure you two did what you thought was right. From what my friend said, you did.” She looked over at Gladys. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s going through a rough time right now.”

  Maddie walked away and I glanced in Gladys’ direction. She narrowed
her eyes at me, tapped Charlene on the arm, and pointed at us. Since her husband Harold’s death by poisoning at the county fair three weeks ago, Gladys had alternated between mourning and being just flat out nasty to everyone around her. Despite the fact that we had helped keep her out of jail, she had actually been crueler to me than usual. It was one of the reasons I had been avoiding the café.

  “So, Charlene, have you heard any good gossip at your beauty parlor lately?” Gladys said rather loudly. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “You want to leave?” Jake said.

  “I’m not going to let her chase me out of here.”

  “Good girl.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Charlene replied, “I heard some really juicy gossip earlier this week.”

  “Do tell! I haven’t heard a good scandalous story in quite a while.”

  “Well,” Charlene said, taking a drink of her tea before starting her story, “you remember that big fundraiser they had at that fancy hotel in downtown Dallas about a week ago?”

  “You mean the one where it was $5,000 per plate for people to get in?”

  I looked at Jake. “It cost you $10,000 for us to go to that thing?”

  “It was for a good cause,” Jake shrugged.

  “That’s the one,” Charlene said. “It was hosted by Ethan Winthrop. Miriam and Wesley Calhoun were two of the attendees. I know this because I did her hair that afternoon. Anyway, she came into see me on Thursday, and she had a very juicy story to tell. It seems that a certain young lady managed to talk her way into the fundraiser, and made a fool of herself. Several people said she was throwing herself at that handsome Mr. Winthrop, even though she had gone there with someone else.”

  “The nerve! This younger generation just has absolutely no manners whatsoever,” Gladys replied, looking directly at me.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Charlene agreed. “Anyway, at some point, they ended up on one of the patios that were around the ballroom, and she…well, I just can’t bring myself to mention all the scandalous details of what she tried to do to him. When Mr. Winthrop came back inside trying to get away from her, she accused him of attacking her. Her date punched the poor gentleman, knocking him to the ground.”

  “Considering how influential and rich Mr. Winthrop is, she was probably trying to get an exclusive interview with him, or trying to talk him into making a donation to her failing business. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “Me either,” Charlene replied, shaking her head sadly. “It’s just a shame that today’s young people weren’t raised to have better manners.”

  “Well, this is what happens when certain people act so shamelessly in public. Carrying on with two men at the same time? I mean, really, what do you expect from someone like that? She’s nothing but a shameless hussy, and a disgrace to her poor mother.”

  Gasps were heard all over the café, and everyone turned in our direction. I had crumbled up the piece of paper under my hand as the two of them had talked, and I’m pretty sure my face was red. “Let it go, Lizzie,” Jake warned me. “Don’t say anything that is going to jeopardize your chances of getting a TRO or bringing charges against Ethan.”

  “I’m not just going to sit here and let them say that about us.”

  “No, you’re not,” he agreed. “We’re going to get our pies to go, gather our things, and go to your house. We are going to walk out of here with our heads held high because we know the truth, and if they knew, they’d be ashamed of themselves for talking that way.”

  Maddie must have realized we wanted to leave, because she brought two small Styrofoam containers for the pies, and large cups with fresh sweet tea. Jake paid the check, we packed up our things and headed for the door.

  “There she goes,” Gladys said. “She can’t come up with a decent lie to cover up what she did, so she’s running away.”

  I stopped at Gladys’ table. “You know, most of the town wanted to send you to the electric chair when Harold died. They just knew you had killed him. But I stood by you; I defended you. It was you that asked me to help you find out who killed him, and I did. Not for one minute did I believe you did it, because I knew how much you loved him. I helped you, despite the fact that you are a royal pain in the butt to me every single chance you get.”

  “Well, I…”

  I bent over until I was face to face with her. “Know this, Gladys. There is more to this story than any of you gossip mongers know. And when the truth comes out, and it will come out, you are going to stand in the middle of this café, and you are going to apologize to the two of us. But you are going to apologize twice to me, because the second time will be for accusing me of sexually harassing a man to get an exclusive interview. I would never, ever, stoop to that level for any story.”

  “I know what people saw, Lizzie,” Charlene replied, “and they saw you and Jake go after Mr. Winthrop.”

  “Lizzie, let’s go,” Jake said, taking my left hand and trying to pull me away.

  I jerked my hand away and dropped my bag on the floor. “Really, Charlene? Did they also mention that my dress had been ripped? Oh wait, let me guess, I ripped it myself to make it look like your precious Mr. Winthrop attacked me, right?” I took off my jacket and pushed up the sleeves of my polo shirt. “Does this look like I attacked myself, Charlene? Gladys? Does it?” I showed her my wrist. “How about this? Let me guess; it’s makeup, right?” I grabbed Gladys’ hand and put it on my sore wrist. “Go ahead, Gladys, wipe off the makeup. Try it.”

  She glared at me, but did as I told her to. Her eyes widened when she realized the bruises were real. “I…I…”

  I dropped her hand on the table and put my jacket back on. “Next time, try getting all the facts before you start spreading rumors about someone, ladies. I’m the one who was assaulted here, and I’m the one who defended myself, not once, but twice. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.”

  “Really, Elizabeth, there’s no need to be so crude,” Gladys said huffily.

  Maddie was walking by at that moment with a full pitcher of tea. Grabbing it with my left hand, I poured the whole thing, ice and all, on her head, and thumped the empty pitcher on the table. “Shut up, Gladys, and for once, stay out of my business.” I picked up my bag and walked out the door ahead of Jake.

  He waited until we got into the car before saying anything. “Feel better now?”

  “No, I wish I had poured two pitchers of tea on her head.”

  Chapter 8

  Mother’s mini-Cooper was sitting in the driveway when Jake pulled in. “How did that get here?” I said, knowing I had left it at the office.

  Jake shrugged. “I guess T.J. had someone drive it over. Does he have a spare key?”

  “Not that I know of,” I replied. I dug my keys out of my bag, and noticed the car key was missing from the key ring. “Guess that answers that, doesn’t it?”

  We got out and went inside. Mittens jumped up and down, acting like I hadn’t been home in three days, when it had only been since breakfast. I dropped my stuff near the door, and let her and Babe out into the backyard. “You want something to drink?” I called out.

  “Just water, thanks.”

  I grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge, and went back in the living room. Jake was setting up the laptop. “What are you working on?” I asked, handing him a bottle.

  “Can’t tell you.”

  “Are you doing something illegal?”

  “Can’t tell you that, either.”

  “Deniability?”

  “Ding ding,” he said.

  “Thanks for saving me from going to jail,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Anytime.”

  I plopped down in the recliner and turned on the TV. It had been an extremely long day, and I was physically and emotionally exhausted. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the house came from a documentary about WWII, and the keyboard on the laptop.

  “Where did you get the money?” Jake said out of the blue.

&nbs
p; “Huh?”

  “Where did you get the money to buy the newspaper? Did you take out a loan?”

  “No, I didn’t take out a loan.”

  “Rob a bank?”

  I cringed at that, considering what had happened yesterday. He wasn’t going to stop until he got his answer, so I got up and pulled Debra’s will out of my bag. “This doesn’t go any further than this house, is that clear?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied, holding out his hand.

  “I mean it, Jake. I don’t want anyone else to know about this. One word, and I will buy out your shares of the paper and kick you out the door.”

  “Okay, okay! I get it,” he said, snatching the papers out of my hand. He read over them, and looked at me. “Gives new meaning to the term ‘blood money’, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, very funny, Jake, very funny.”

  “Buying the newspaper didn’t even make a dent in what she left you.” He leaned back on the couch. “You’re rich, Lizzie, almost as rich as my family is. What are you going to do with all that money? You can certainly afford a new car now. I’ll be glad to go car shopping with you. SUV? A sports car? Luxury sedan?”

  “Something simple.”

  “Oh, come on, you can’t buy something simple when you can afford the best! You should get a luxury SUV, customize it with everything you’ve ever wanted in a car. GPS, satellite radio, heated leather seats…you know, there’s a new 2016 SUV coming out that has all-wheel drive, navigation system, cooled driver seat, driver lumbar, a ten-speaker sound system…” he kept rattling off all the features he could think of.

  “Jake.”

  “On the other hand, you’re the owner of a business now, so maybe you should go with a luxury sedan.”

  “Jake…”

  “But you should also buy a truck, so you can drive Babe and Mittens…”

  “JAKE!”

  “Huh? What?”

  “Stop.”

  “Stop what? Why?”

  “I am not going to buy a luxury sedan, a luxury SUV or a sports car.”