Beauty and the Thief Read online

  “True,” Kelly admitted. She rubbed a hand over her leathery face. “I just wish there was something I could do to improve my skin.”

  I was pretty sure that ship had long since sailed.

  Kelly stood up, a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter in her hand. “I’m going to take a quick break. I hate being cooped up inside on such a nice day” She came out from behind the desk. “Be back in five.”

  I just shook my head. Her vices—sunshine and cigarettes—were probably the single greatest causes of her complexion woes, and I wondered how she could be so blind to that fact. Maybe she knew and just didn’t care. Or maybe she really was holding out hope that creams and lotions would fix the havoc that years of self-inflicted damage had wreaked.

  “Are you waiting for someone?”

  Aidan Yates, one of the health aides and someone I considered a pretty good friend after our work together to solve Arthur Griggs’s murder, strolled through the front door.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re starting your shift now?”

  He was dressed in light blue scrubs, and had a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Anne asked me to come in early this week or stay late, depending on my schedule. Something about a corporate visit?”

  “So she tapped you too, huh?”

  He grinned. “I think she’s tapped everyone here in order to get everything ready. Even the residents.”

  I chuckled. That sounded exactly like something Anne would do.

  “I haven’t seen you around,” I said.

  “I took a quick vacation before fall semester started,” he said. “And my class schedule is a little wonky this semester. I’ve had to move around my shifts a little here.” He smiled. “But it’s good to know you’ve noticed I was gone…”

  A new wave of heat rushed to my face.

  He laughed. “Just kidding.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “I should probably get going. I told Anne that I’d help Lola do some deep cleaning in the kitchen.”

  “Kitchen?”

  “Anne wants everything spotless. Refrigerators, ovens, you name it.”

  “Everything got a pretty good cleaning after the fire mishap,” I pointed out.

  Aidan just shrugged. “Just following orders.”

  He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that Anne was asking him to do things well outside of his job description. Aidan was a health aide. His job involved taking care of the residents, and I wondered if any of his normal duties would suffer because of the extra tasks Anne was asking him to do.

  “Why are you just standing around?”

  I flinched. I would recognize that voice anywhere.

  Anne marched up to us, a deep frown etched into her forehead. “We are ten days away from our visit. Does that sound like we have time to just stand around and chat?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or flirt?”

  I was pretty sure Aidan’s cheek color now matched my own. “I was just telling Sunny what was on the agenda for today,” he said. “She offered to come help in the kitchen if she has time. Right?” He turned to me for confirmation.

  I nodded weakly.

  Anne’s frown lessened, but only a little. “She’ll have time,” she said. She glanced down at a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard she was holding. It was blue, and it matched both her glasses and the cardigan she was wearing over her white blouse. “We’re cutting back on activities for the rest of this week.”

  “What?”

  She gave me a hard look. “The residents won’t care. They have plenty to do.” She motioned toward the people in the Gathering Room. “See? They entertain themselves. I really don’t even see why we have an activity director…”

  I froze.

  “…But the residents all like you.” Anne sighed. “And the activities.”

  It was clear to me that she couldn’t understand why. I knew that, to her, my salary was a waste of an expense. It only hurt the bottom line, and that was the only thing that mattered to her: filling apartments and turning a profit for the company. The happiness and wellbeing of the people who called Oasis Ridge home probably didn’t take up a second’s worth of her time.

  “What activities are you cutting?” I asked. “And when were you going to tell me?”

  “All of the cooking classes,” Anne said. “I don’t want to have to worry about keeping that room clean.”

  My pulse quickened. That news wasn’t going to go over well with Billie Applegate, or with Mary Ulrich.

  “Chair yoga for the rest of the week—”

  I interrupted. “Jackie volunteers her time. I’m not canceling her remaining classes.” Especially since she’d graciously added a couple more sessions to accommodate the number of residents now participating in the activity.

  “But they make a mess in that room,” Anne said. “Pulling all the chairs down.”

  “And we put them back every single time,” I reminded her. “The residents love the yoga class and they love Jackie. You’ll have a lot of disappointed people if those classes get pulled from the schedule this week.”

  She grunted. “Fine. But the pool party will need to be rescheduled.”

  “What?” I gaped at her. “We’ve been planning that for weeks. It was the residents’ idea. You can’t cancel that.”

  “It will make a mess,” Anne declared. “Food out on the pool deck, all those bodies in the water, getting it dirty with their sunscreen.” She shuddered. “I think I’m just going to close the whole area down for the rest of the week.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “It’s the residents’ activity,” I repeated. “They did all the planning. They asked for it, not me.” She opened her mouth to respond but I cut her off. “You’re going to have a lot of angry residents if you cancel it. And angry residents tend to be unhappy residents. And unhappy residents might start looking for other places to live.”

  This silenced her, at least for the moment.

  Rudy whizzed past us, wheeling his now empty dolly. “Be right back with the next load,” he said.

  “That’s an awful lot of deliveries for today,” Anne commented. “It’s not even the holiday season.”

  “He took a delivery up to June’s.”

  Anne scowled. “More supplies for that business of hers?”

  I nodded.

  “You know, I don’t know if what she’s doing is legal,” she said.

  “Legal?”

  “She’s selling health items.”

  It was my turn to frown. “She makes creams and lotions. I don’t think those are ‘health items.’”

  Anne clutched her clipboard to her chest. “They’re all regulated by the FDA, aren’t they? The stuff sold in stores?”

  I looked to Aidan. I honestly had no idea.

  He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to provide an answer. He was a plant biology major, and he had told me on more than one occasion that his dream job was to work in the pharmaceutical industry and develop plant-based drugs. If any of the three of us had more than a passing knowledge of how the FDA operated, it was him.

  “I don’t really know,” he mumbled. His face turned a darker shade of red.

  Anne huffed out a breath. “Well, I don’t like it,” she announced. “No one should be running a business here at Oasis Ridge except me.”

  “I don’t know that it’s really a business,” I tried. This was a stretch; I even considered what June was doing as a business. “More like a hobby…”

  She glared at me. “You can call it whatever you want. I still don’t like it.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  She looked down at her clipboard and then back at the two of us. “What are you waiting for?” she barked.

  I flinched.

  “The kitchen isn’t going to clean itself, you know.”

  Aidan and I stole a quick look at each other.

  I knew exactly what he was thinking. Neither of us were particularly thrilled to go deep clea
n stoves and refrigerators.

  But it was far better than continuing to stand there with Anne.

  “We’re on it.”

  THREE

  I was late getting to work Wednesday morning. A flat tire will do that.

  I’d called Anne to let her know, and that with the repair guy on the way I hoped to only be fifteen minutes late.

  But still, even though she’d seemed fine when I called, a growing sense of dread consumed me as I pulled into my parking space at Oasis Ridge and headed toward the entrance. Knowing Anne, she’d probably think I punctured my tire on purpose to avoid coming to work.

  It wasn’t that far-fetched of an idea.

  The day before had been a test of my patience—and a test of my commitment to wanting to stay employed there, especially after spending a half hour scrubbing the shelves of one of the kitchen refrigerators with Lola, the cantankerous cook, grumbling next to me. Aidan had been directed to the laundry facilities, where Anne had him refolding the towels and sheets we kept on hand for the guest unit that was available for residents who had company wanting to stay overnight.

  The last thing I wanted to do was to spend another day cleaning. After stepping outside and seeing the flat front tire, I had actually considered calling in sick. I had enough PTO days to take the rest of the week off if I wanted to, but I didn’t think that would go over too well with Anne.

  Especially since she’d made it abundantly clear that I already wasn’t her favorite person.

  I shoved my keys into my purse as the front doors slid open. A blast of mildly cool air greeted me along with the scent of lemon furniture polish comingled with floral air freshener.

  Kelly was on the phone behind her desk, and she waved hello as I walked by. I could hear Anne in the dining room, her voice elevated, and I wondered who she was ordering around.

  At least it wasn’t me.

  I hurried to my office, hoping to avoid her. With cooking classes canceled for the remainder of the week, I didn’t have as many events to focus on, but I wanted to use my free time to finish up the grant proposal I was writing. Maybe I could poke around online and see if I could dig up any more opportunities for free money.

  I rounded the corner and automatically slowed my pace.

  June Windham was standing in the hallway, a stricken expression on her face. Denise Fletcher, one of the dining room workers and the person I considered my closest friend at work, was standing next to her, patting her shoulder.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked as I approached them.

  Denise looked toward me, her dark eyes wide with alarm.

  I took that as a no. “What’s wrong?”

  Tears filled June’s eyes, and she drew in a shaky breath. “Someone broke into my apartment.”

  “Broke in?” I’d expected to hear news about a squabble, or perhaps some overheard gossip that had caused hurt feelings. The female residents often devolved into middle school versions of themselves, especially with their gripes and catty comments.

  She nodded tearfully.

  I wasn’t sure what protocol was, other than letting Anne know and calling the police. But I wanted a bit more information before I did either of those things. “Did they take anything?”

  June sniffled and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I know that some of my essential oils are missing, but I'm not sure if anything else is gone.” She swallowed. “It's all ruined.”

  Denise nodded. “I saw it,” she said. “I was upstairs gathering up Simon’s breakfast tray. He didn’t feel good enough to come down so I brought him some oatmeal and prunes. He loves those prunes.” She clucked her tongue. “Anyway, I was carrying the tray back and I passed Miss June in the hallway. Didn’t think nothing of it until I heard her scream a few seconds later.”

  I was instantly alert. “Someone broke into your apartment and damaged your property? And stole from you?” I had visions of ripped up furniture, a smashed in television, ransacked cupboards.

  “Yes.” June sniffed again. “All of my supplies were destroyed.”

  “Supplies?”

  “For my products.”

  “Can I see?” I asked tentatively.

  A few minutes later, we were standing in the doorway to her apartment, surveying the scene.

  And it was a disaster.

  Shattered glass bottles and smashed plastic containers littered the living room. A wire-shelving unit lay on its side in her living room, the boxes previously housed on its shelves now stomped and flattened, their contents oozing into the plush beige carpet.

  My hand flew to my mouth. It was worse than I could have imagined. “Who did this?”

  June shook her head. Fresh tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know. I was at breakfast and when I came back, this is what I found.”

  I turned my attention to Denise. “Did you tell Anne?”

  Denise arched an eyebrow. She leaned close to me and said in a low voice, “You crazy? I’m not telling her about this. She’s already running around like a chicken with her head cut off.”

  “This is a crime,” I said. I still couldn’t get over the mess in June’s apartment. “It needs to be reported.”

  “Be my guest,” Denise said. “I was just providing moral support.” As if to emphasize this, she wrapped a reassuring arm around June’s shoulders.

  My eyes swept the room one more time. “What do the other rooms look like? Your bedroom? The bathroom?”

  “They’re all fine,” June said. Her voice trembled.

  I scanned the room, noting that the television was still sitting on her small entertainment center. She had a curio cabinet full of small statues that, locked behind glass, looked like they might be worth some money.

  “And you think the only thing missing is the essential oils?”

  She thought hard for a moment. “I didn’t do an inventory of all of my belongings, but I don't think anything else is missing. It's just hard to tell right now..”

  “I’m sorry this happened,” I said. It felt like a horribly inadequate thing to say. “We’ll find out who is responsible, I promise.”

  And then, almost as an afterthought, I added, “You probably shouldn’t touch anything right away. Not until I talk to Anne and we get the police in here.”

  “Good idea,” Denise said. “Why don’t I take you back down to the dining room and get you a cup of tea? You like Earl Gray, right?”

  “But it’s not breakfast anymore,” June responded.

  Denise shook her head. “Honey, I can get you tea anytime you want. You hear?”

  I left the two of them and hurried back down to the kitchen. Lola was parked in front of the stand mixture, pouring ingredients into the bowl that looked and smelled like they would eventually be spice cake.

  “Where’s Anne?” I said loudly, making sure she could hear me over the whir of the mixer’s motor.

  Lola didn’t even look up. “Probably in her office.”

  I pivoted out of the kitchen, almost running into Denise and June, who were heading into the dining room for that promised cup of tea.

  I knocked once on Anne’s half-open door before pushing it open.

  “You are more than fifteen minutes late.” She looked down her nose at me with narrowed eyes.

  “I’ve been here for a while,” I said, a little breathlessly. “I ran into June Windham.”

  She shifted her attention back to the papers spread out in front of her.

  “Someone broke into her apartment.”

  No reaction.

  “Anne, did you hear me?” I said, my voice a little louder. “Someone broke into June Windham’s apartment, stole some of her things, and destroyed a bunch of her belongings.”

  She glanced up at me. “Destroyed?”

  I nodded. “It’s a mess. Broken containers, smashed boxes. I told her not to touch anything until the police get here.”

  This got Anne’s attention. “The police? Why on earth would we call the police?”

  “Because
her apartment was broken into…” I didn’t think I needed to state the obvious.

  Anne shook her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “We can’t have the police showing up here. Not now.”

  I frowned. “Anne, a resident’s home was broken into. And vandalized. It looks like they stole from her. Why wouldn’t we call?”

  “Because we have a corporate visit,” she hissed. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “We can’t be calling in the police right now and having them poke around. Good lord, have you forgotten what happened a few months ago with the whole Griggs fiasco?”

  “Of course I haven’t forgotten.” I tried to keep my breathing steady and calm, because I was close to blowing a gasket. “I solved the case, remember?”

  “There wouldn’t have been a case if you hadn’t insisted on sticking your nose somewhere it didn’t belong,” she retorted.

  “Oh, so you’d rather Earl was still here and potentially plotting the murders of other residents?”

  This at least gave her pause. She swallowed a couple of times, and I could see the hesitation in her eyes.

  “Of course not,” she clipped. “But this is different.”

  “How do you know? Were you already aware of the break-in?”

  “It’s different because no one is dead,” she said flatly.

  “So we just stay quiet about it? Don’t report it? Send in a cleaning crew and tell June we’re sorry, we hope it doesn’t happen again?”

  My words and my tone were surprising, even to me. But I was rattled, and I was angry for June. Her home and her safety had been violated, and Anne’s only concern was how it would look when the people from corporate came to visit.

  Anne cast her eyes down at her desk, and I hoped it was because the torrent of words I’d just unleashed had somehow managed to get her.

  “We’ll do an internal investigation,” Anne said quietly.

  “A what?”

  “Internal.” She was looking at me now, her expression hard. “If we don’t find who was responsible, then I’ll call the authorities.” There was a note of finality to her voice.