Evil Never Dies

“She was convinced they killed Marty.”

“They being who exactly? An orderly? A doctor?”

“The whole kit and caboodle,” Betty said. “All of them. This is a family-run operation. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all under suspicion.”

“Maybe we should alert authorities, fill out a report.”

She shook her head. “It won’t do any good. Helsie called the police, and look what happened to her. She died before they found time to come see her.”

“You would think that might have raised a few red flags.”

“You would think. But Birgitta convinced the police that Helsie had dementia and was upset because someone was stealing her Oreo cookies.”

“How about you? How’s your memory?”

“My brain is working like a newly oiled machine. Movie trivia is my specialty. Ask me anything.”

Kitally thought Betty was kidding until the woman elbowed her and said, “Go on—ask me something.”

“OK. Let’s see. Who played Dorothy in the original Wizard of Oz?”

“Judy Garland. Too easy. Ask me another.”

“What’s the name of the movie starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara?”

“Ha! Trick question. They made . . . let me see . . . five films together. Rio Grande, The Quiet Man, The Wings of Eagles, McLintock!, and Big Jake.”

Kitally laughed. “The only one I knew was The Quiet Man.”

“Well, that was the best one.” Betty narrowed her eyes. “How would you know anything about The Quiet Man?”

“Late-night movies,” Kitally said. “Sometimes I have a difficult time getting to sleep.”

“Huh,” Betty said. “Well, enough playing around. Dixie will be making the rounds soon. We need to figure out how we’re going to sneak into the main office and take a look around.”

“What? We can’t do that.”

“Of course we can. I thought you were a detective.”

Kitally shook her head. “No, I said nothing of the sort.”

“You’re here to ask questions about Helsie’s death, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you do work for a private investigator, isn’t that right?”

“True, but—”

“But nothing. You’re a detective, and it looks like you’ve got yourself a sidekick. This is going to be fun.”

“Wait a minute,” Kitally said. “Let’s pretend for a moment that we do somehow get into the main office. What exactly would we be looking for?”

“Anything and everything. Haven’t you done your homework? Why do you think all the detectives on television bother sorting through people’s garbage?”

“Good question.”

“Those people are never looking for anything specific. They’re looking for clues, and they don’t know they’re clues until they see them. And we’re not going to see any if we’re sitting in here eating chocolates, are we?”

“Good point,” Kitally said. “So what’s the plan?”

“This place is as good as dead after ten p.m. on most Friday nights. I need you to come back on Friday between ten and ten thirty.”

Before Kitally could answer her one way or another, Betty added, “Just tap on the window, and I’ll let you in.”

Kitally walked over to the window and looked out at the parking lot. It wasn’t a bad idea. There were thick shrubs that would help to keep her hidden. It might just work.

It only took a few minutes for Hayley to find a way into yet another run-down, three-bedroom house owned by Wayne Be

Tommy was the camera expert, so he stood on the counter, feet firmly planted, while Hayley sat on the Formica counter and handed him tools whenever he asked for them. This was their third and last house for the night. They had installed motion-activated spy cameras inside closets, clocks, and now he was placing one inside a smoke detector. All the equipment had been purchased through the Internet. Serial numbers were removed, and they both wore gloves so there would be no fingerprints or evidence that would trace back to them.

“Could you hand me the clippers?” Tommy asked, his hand reaching downward in front of her face.

Hayley reached into the open bag, pulled out the wire cutters, and handed them to him.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” When she failed to hear any snipping or moving around, she looked up and saw Tommy looking at her in a fu

“I was wondering if you would go on a date with me.”

She laughed.

“Why is that fu

“ ‘A date,’ ” she repeated. “It sounds so . . . I don’t know . . . 1950-ish. It’s like saying ‘Let’s go steady.’ ”

“Typical,” he said, returning his attention to installing the camera.

“Typical in what way?”

“You are the biggest pain in the ass,” he said without looking at her this time. “I’ve spent the past two hours getting myself all worked up to ask you out on a simple night out with me, and once again you’re going to make me out to be a little boy who has no idea how to deal with a girl.”

“Well, you sure as hell don’t know how to deal with this girl.”

He finished what he was doing and said, “You’re wrong about that. I know exactly how to handle you, Hayley. I know what makes you tick. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

She snorted.

“I know that at this very moment, you want nothing more than for me to lean over and kiss you. Not a simple little peck on the lips, either, but a real toe-curler.”

“Toe-curler?”

“Yeah, an actual, honest-to-God kiss that’ll curl your toes.”

She didn’t want him to know that his little speech had gotten to her, but damn it all, she was without words.

“Hand me that cover, will you?”

She did.

“And those two little screws,” he said, without a please or thanks.

She scooped them up, pretended not to notice the way his fingers brushed over her palm as he took them from her.

Once he finished, he jumped down off the counter, put the tools in the bag, and then hopped up so that he was sitting beside her. “So, is that a yes or a no?”

She gave him one of her are-you-fucking-kidding-me stares. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like things just the way they are between the two of us.”

“You do not. You like me more than you’re willing to let on. Everyone knows it, so just say yes. Go on a date with me, Hayley.”

“Where would we go?”

“How about a concert in San Francisco? A lot of new bands play at the fairgrounds over there. It’s cool. I think you’d enjoy it.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Guess what?” she said in hopes of getting his mind off her, them, the possibility of a date.

“What?”

“I think I’m ready to give up cigarettes.”

His eyes lit up as if he’d just seen an elephant enter the room. “I can honestly say I never expected to hear you ever say that.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve always said you only had one vice and you were never going to give it up. What made you change your mind?”

“Actually, I experienced my first bout of morning cough, and I didn’t like it. I think it’s time to give my lungs a break.”

Tommy pulled his black knit ski cap over his head and then picked hers up and did the same for her, pulling the cap snugly over her ears. He looked into her eyes for a long moment and then released his hold on her.

Before he could step away, Hayley reached out and gently clasped her hands on to both sides of his face and pulled his lips to hers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lizzy followed Jessica into the building off Orange Grove. After they signed in, they were ushered through a long corridor by a petite woman wearing slacks, a white blouse, and a beige blazer. The click of her sturdy heels echoed through the hallway as they went.