She ignored me. To Tam, she said, "What are you doing here? I told you I'd fill in for you this week."
"I thought it was safe to come in. No cameras now that Nina's gone and killed someone else."
"Hey! I didn't kill her!"
Folding meaty arms, Brickhouse glared at me. "Ach! What's this all about? Who died?"
I was surprised she hadn't heard the news from Mr. Ca brera. His gossip skills must be getting rusty in his old age. Tam filled her in. Nic's cries kicked up. Tam unhooked her, jiggled, wiggled.
Brickhouse shook her head at me.
"I didn't kill her!" I'd have stomped my foot, but I was too sore to move it with such force.
"You're as jinxed as my Donatelli."
"It's true," Tam said, jostling poor Nic.
Unfortunately, I was coming to believe the same thing.
Brickhouse made kissy noises at Nic and said, "I'd wondered where the Bobbsey twins had gotten off to."
"Who?" Tam asked.
"Roxie and Nels?" I guessed.
Brickhouse nodded.
Bobbsey twins. I liked it. It fit. Nic wailed.
Tam handed her to me. "Here, you try! Maybe it's me. Maybe she hates me."
Nic's cries escalated until her little face turned bright red.
"Nope, she hates Nina, though." Brickhouse perched on the edge of Tam's desk, beaming like the wicked witch she was.
"Is that normal?" I asked.
"She's a baby. Babies cry," Brickhouse said.
I gave her the Ceceri Evil Eye. "I meant the redness. She looks like a maraschino cherry!"
Brickhouse clucked. "She doesn't like you."
I gave her more of the evil eye and raised my voice to be heard over Nic's screaming. "Is she always this loud?"
The door opened and Harvey Goosey walked in, took one look at us and walked out again.
Tam nodded. "Day and night."
"What's going on?" Marty asked, walking in, Shay on his heels.
"Nic's upset. Won't stop crying," I explained, shouting.
"Might be colic," he said, dancing up and down, trying to distract the baby.
"Do you want her?" I asked him, holding Nic out.
He shook his head.
Shay stepped forward, took the squalling baby. She started singing softly in Spanish. It was so soothing I almost fell asleep, but Nic wasn't swayed. She passed her back.
I hadn't known Shay spoke Spanish. That could come in handy. Jean-Claude Reaux walked into the office, slipped off his sunglasses and took in the situation. He wore darkwashed skintight jeans, and a loose striped button-down, the buttons undone to show his six pack abs. Ever since he began moonlighting as an exotic dancer, Jean-Claude had been dressing like Fabio.
He bypassed the scene and went straight for the coffee machine, poured a mug and took a sip.
"Hot diggity! Fresh ground!" He sipped happily. "Why the change?" he asked, as though there weren't a screaming baby two feet from him and five people trying to make her happy.
We ignored him. "Thanks for trying," I said to Marty, who had broken a sweat dancing around, jumping up and down.
I bounced, I cooed, I even sang until everyone in the room begged me not to.
I'd have given her back to Tam, but she looked exhausted. I looked at Brickhouse and nixed that idea immediately. Poor little Nic was defenseless against Brickhouse's evil ways.
"Too bad Deanna's not here," Tam said.
Obviously no one had told her.
Brickhouse made a slashing motion on her neck. I saw Marty and Shay shaking their heads.
"What?" Tam said. "Is there something going on I don't know about?"
Nic wailed.
I shouted above the ruckus, "I'll tell you later."
I held out Nic. Her upper body had gone all tense, but her
tiny legs kicked like she was a professional soccer player. Coby came out of the conference room.
"You want to try?" I offered.
"No way." He headed straight for the fridge. "I don't do babies."
Jean-Claude set his mug down. "I'll give her a go."
He came over, took her, and held her at arm's length. Nic immediately stopped screaming. She looked at him long and hard.
"See? I've got a way with women," Jean-Claude said just as Nic's bottom lip jutted out. She opened her mouth and wailed.
Jean-Claude cooed and cuddled, to no avail.
"What a way you have with women," Coby teased.
"At least I tried."
The front door slammed open, the chimes jangling in agitation. Kit filled the doorway. "What are you doing to that child?"
He marched over, took her from Jean-Claude. "You," he said to Nic. "Shush."
Nic shushed. She stared at him, all big blue eyes.
"Give me that thing," he said to Tam, motioning to her Baby Bjorn.
Tam hooked it onto Kit, and he looked utterly ridiculous, but no one dared to laugh. He plopped Nic into the Bjorn. Adoringly, she gazed up at him.
Brickhouse said, "Now there's a man who has a way with women."
It was true. No arguing there. Poor Jean-Claude looked defl ated.
Tam yawned.
"Why don't you take a nap in my office?" I said. "Looks like Kit's got Nic covered."
"What about the mini? He can't take her with him."
"We'll figure it out."
The chimes jangled as Nels and Roxie pushed open the
door. Tam took one look at them, snatched Nic out of the Bjorn and beelined for the door. To me, she said, "I'll see you later on." To Kit, she said, "Call me. I need a babysitter in a desperate way."
"What? Wait. Later on?" But she was gone. "Do you know what later on might be about," I asked Brickhouse.
She just smiled and sat in Tam's throne chair, looking like the Queen Mother.
"Do you know?" I asked Nels and Roxie.
They shook their heads and followed me as I limped back into my office. No sooner had I sat down than Roxie signaled Nels to start filming.
"Tell us your reaction, Nina."
"To Genevieve?"
"Cut," Roxie ordered Nels. To me, she said, "We're not supposed to mention Genevieve at all. Pretend it never happened."
"But that's creepy."
"Willie insists."
Willie didn't seem like a man in mourning, if you'd have asked me. Well, maybe of his deal falling through.
"Then my reaction to what?" I asked.
Nels started filming again as Roxie said, "About Bobby."
I took another sip of coffee. It was now lukewarm and had lost its appeal. "What about him?"
"You haven't heard?"
I felt like I'd already had this conversation that morning.
"Heard what?"
Roxie's eyes gleamed behind her glasses. "He's going back to Florida tomorrow."
Thirteen
Pippi swung open the door to Lowther House, all big smiles and open arms.
Worried, I took in her outfit. "Were you planning on helping?"
She looked down at her denim overalls, garden clogs, loose-fitting long sleeve tee, and laughed. "Heavens, no. I thought I'd spend the afternoon in the greenhouse. I've been inspired to try my hand at bromeliad hybrids. I'd love to add some of my own to your design. Are you limping?"
"Just a little sore this morning. Takes a while to work out the kinks." At this rate it would take a month. Maybe two.
And that wasn't the only pain I was in. My heart hurt. Physically ached. I couldn't believe Bobby hadn't told me about leaving. And would he leave without saying goodbye? Had I meant nothing at all? I tried not to think about it, to push it away, but it was there lurking in a dark corner of my mind.
Outside, my crew hustled and bustled, unloading. Nels and Roxie filmed everything, including Pippi asking me about Genevieve. "I bet it was simply horrible. Do you know if she was murdered or if the death was accidental?"
I really didn't want to talk about Genevieve. "I'm not
sure
," I lied. "The medical examiner is supposed to release a preliminary report later today."
She nodded. "Just dreadful. Thad Cochran must be very upset."
I hadn't thought too much about Thad. I'd been focused on Willie's reaction to his wife's death. However, Thad had been involved with Genevieve. Had it been purely a sexual tryst or were there emotions involved? Pippi couldn't have known about the affair, though. Curious for her take, I asked, "Why?"
"The sale of the show, of course! Thad wouldn't do well without someone to play off of. It would be like having Sonny without Cher. Not so good."
We stepped to the side to allow Kit to pass by with the base of the planter box.
"Genevieve can be replaced," I ventured. "After all, she replaced Jessica Ayers."
This brought my speculation full circle. My original thought at who sent the death threats had been Jessica. For revenge. But according to Josh, she was in Mexico until late last night.
Not your business, my inner voice reminded.
I hated when it was right.
Nels had long since put down his camera. No use filming what couldn't be aired. Coby and Jeff each carried a side panel for the planter box. It had been crafted by Stanley Mack, my subcontractor for carpentry work. Made of solid oak, the raised panels were exact replicas of those in Lowther House's main entry.
Pippi smiled. "I cannot wait to see the finished product."
"Everyone is gone for the day, correct?"
"Off on their day trip. They won't be back until five. Except for Minnie, but she'll be in her quarters all day. I have a therapist coming in to look after her." Pippi clapped her hands together. "Come with me."
I followed her to the doors of the east wing, where the
residential suites and entrance to the greenhouse were located.
With a touch of her finger, a hidden panel opened. Behind it there was a neatly labeled intercom system. I scanned through the names until my gaze landed on the button with GREENHOUSE marked next to it.
"If you need me, just buzz the greenhouse." She punched a series of numbers into the keypad on the wooden door and a lock was released. "I should be in there all day— there's much to do."
"I'd love to have a look at what you're growing."
Her face paled, then brightened with a smile. "Perhaps when you're done. Ciao," she said, pulling the door open. I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of her neck as her bun bobbed. The door closed behind her with a resounding click.
"She creeps me out," Roxie said.
"Sweet Pippi?"
"Do you think she's locked Minnie in her room?" Nels asked. "Is that why you shouldn't worry that she'll interrupt us?"
Roxie's eyes widened. "Do we even know Minnie's alive?"
"Stop it, you two!"
Roxie cleaned her glasses with the hem of her shirt. "Something weird is going on."
They shuddered in unison, and Nels hummed the theme song for The Twilight Zone.
I shook my head. But as I hobbled out to help unload supplies, I couldn't help but agree. Something weird was going on.
But it wasn't any of my business to figure out what.
I must have a busybody gene or chromosome scientists had yet to discover. It wasn't something I could change or shut off on a whim.
From the second floor atrium I had a bird's-eye view of Lowther House's four wings. I noticed that only the residential suites had entrance to the courtyard, with small patios that opened into it. There were benches, a circular brick pathway, a nice bit of lawn, and expansive flower beds. In the center of the courtyard sat the greenhouse.
Nels caught me staring out the window. Again. "You know, I've got the combination to the door on tape . . . "
I faced him. "That would be wrong."
"We could be saving Minnie's life."
Through the opaque glass of the greenhouse, I could see Pippi's shadow moving back and forth amidst vegetation, but little else.
"Minnie's fine. See for yourself." At the far end of the courtyard, Minnie sat in her wheelchair, a blanket on her lap, a mug in her hands. She was accompanied by the redhead I'd seen the day before. The therapist Pippi had called in?
"How do we know she's alive? You can't make out features from here."
"He has a point," Roxie said, coming up behind us. She squinted. "That could be a decoy, a dummy, a mannequin. Or a dead Minnie used as a prop for our benefit."
Roxie had quite an imagination. "Holding a mug?" I asked.
She looked offended. "Didn't you ever see Weekend at Bernie's?"
"Minnie's fine." I jabbed Nels in his chest. "You keep that door combo to yourself."
Kit sauntered over. "I need to start the waterfall now that the base is together and filled. I figured in your present condition you don't want to be hauling fieldstone and river rock, but do you want to lay out the design?"
"Oh my God, are you pregnant?" Roxie cried.
Nels hefted his camera, zoomed in on my stomach.
I put my hand over the lens. "That would be no." To Kit, I said, "You have a good eye. Just follow the design board as much as possible."
He nodded. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and I noticed he'd started wearing a belt. He'd definitely lost weight.
"What are you all staring at?" He looked out the window. "Exciting," he said dryly.
"We're trying to decide if Minnie's dead or alive," Roxie said.
One of his eyebrows jumped. "Minnie?"
"She's alive. She's right over there." I pointed. "See! Her mug moved."
Nels and Roxie deflated like day old latex balloons. "I was so sure," Nels said.
"You okay?" I asked Kit. He'd gone ashen—more than usual these days. "Kit?"
"What? Yeah. Fine."
"My foot," I said. Every muscle in his body—and there were a lot of them—had tensed. His hands were clenched into fists. I turned to look out the window, to see what I might have missed, and when I turned back, Kit was back at work. He'd climbed into the planter box and was fussing with the pump for the water feature.
What was with that?
"What's with him?" Roxie asked.
I smiled. I was going to miss Roxie when filming was over. Which reminded me . . .
"No clue. I need a minute, you guys."
I pretended to head for the restroom, detoured into the hallway, pulled out my cell phone and dialed Bobby's number. It was the sixth time I'd called. And like the five times before this one, he didn't answer.
So much for not thinking of him.
I gingerly pushed away from the wall, went back in to check on the makeover. Jean-Claude and Marty helped set rocks in place for the waterfall.
Roxie stood to one side, ogling Jean-Claude. And he knew it too—kept looking up, winking at her.
Jeff handed stone up to Kit, and Harvey and Coby were in and out, using a dolly to bring in more rocks. Once the stones were set, we could add the rest of the soil and the plants.
"I'm going to start bringing in the plants," I informed my camera crew. Roxie waved me on. Nels had slumped into a leather wingback, napping.
At the top of the stairs I took a deep breath. Trying not to moan, I made it down in one piece, my muscles aching. It took half an hour to load a cart with plants, everything from bird of paradise to liriope and the standard indoor palms. I'd come back for the weeping fig.
As I wrestled the cart up the ramp to the house, my phone rang.
Bobby?
I let go of the cart and gasped as it rolled down the ramp. I dove after the handle but was too slow and in too much pain to make it in time.
I braced myself for the impact of the cart against one of the TBS trucks, but once it hit the gravel drive, it slowed to a peaceful stop.
I, on the other hand, couldn't get up.
Madonna still sang. I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID.
Stretched out on my stomach, I said, "This is Nina Quinn."
"Nina, this is Louisa Thatcher, the production assistant at Hit
ched or Ditched. We need you to come in to the studio immediately for an emergency meeting."