The Tea Series Page 20

  I must be too, because by the time I was out of the parking lot, I was singing with the radio. When was the last time I did that?

  Life is good and getting better.

  I love that.

  NINE

  MY LIFE SEEMS to be going in a good news, bad news pattern.

  Good news — I won’t have to call Roland tonight.

  Bad news — I won’t have to call him because when I drove up to my apartment he was already there, along with a bunch of the guys who work for him and some cops.

  My alarm went off.

  Seems that one of the features I was unaware of had been triggered. They installed a teeny tiny little camera in the rail system outside my door.

  I can’t remember what it is called, but there is a rail about three feet high that is installed so that when a blind person is navigating around the complex, their cane will hit the rail system, and they won’t knock their head on the stairs.

  They sent out a notice not all that long ago because people had been parking their bikes inside the rail and locking them to the bars. The management didn’t like the appearance of all the bikes locked to rails, so we were told you can’t put anything on there.

  Evidently, pinhole cameras are exempt, or Roland didn’t ask permission.

  Anyway, somebody tried to get into my apartment, and not only did they trigger the alarm that went to both Roland and the cops, but they got the person’s picture on camera.

  Yay, Roland.

  There was a cop parked right in front of my apartment. Roland and company had a laptop opened up on the hood of the police car, and they were talking until the technical people at Roland’s office emailed them a file that contained all the video they’d discussed.

  Teagan whispered in my ear that she would bet good money that Roland was stalling so that his guys could get a step up on the cops.

  I didn’t say a word because I wasn’t sure how much Roland had told the cops, and I didn’t want to say anything that would get Roland in trouble.

  Can you get in trouble for not reporting a crime?

  I know you can get in trouble for reporting one that never happened, but I doubt you can get in trouble for not reporting one that did happen.

  The cops asked me some questions.

  Basically I told them that Roland was taking care of everything security related.

  The cop thought it was a little weird and said so.

  I told him that I work for a fabulously wealthy woman who worries about me because I am young and single and indispensable.

  The cop laughed and let it go.

  Teagan and I set an O’Flynn record. Well, at least for us kids. Mom and Daddy might have gone more than ten minutes without talking, but Teagan and I rarely made it for a full minute.

  Okay, truthfully we probably didn’t speak for more like three or four minutes, but it felt like forty-five so that should count as a record. Right?

  Finally, Roland’s laptop dinged, kind of like an old-school egg timer, and he said it was the email with the picture.

  He looked at it. Didn’t seem to register.

  The cop looked at it. The picture didn’t seem to register with him either.

  The cop asked me to look at it.

  “See, I told you, Roland. I told you it was probably just kids.”

  The cop asked. “Do you recognize them, ma’am?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I took a closer look. I thought about all the kids I’ve seen in the complex. The kid in the picture didn’t look like any of them.

  “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “There’s another kid in the background. See him? Out by the pond. You recognize him?”

  “Nope. He just looks like your basic kid. I don’t recognize either one, but I’ve gotta say, I feel a little better now. They look pretty harmless.”

  “Ma’am, kids that are willing to break into your house in the middle of the day, they aren’t harmless.”

  The cop looked at Roland. “Can you get me a copy of that image?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m not sure we are going to be able to do anything with it, but I’ll get it in front of my guys.”

  “Thanks.”

  They shook hands like old buddies.

  There was just something about Roland that struck me wrong.

  I’m not positive what is going on, but I’m pretty sure that something is happening. Something that I missed.

  He grabbed his laptop and handed it off to one of his guys. His guys all communicated by some secret head nod, or they each have super spy watches or something, because they all seemed to fade away at the same time.

  Roland didn’t leave. Once the cops drove off, he asked quietly, “Cara, can we talk in your apartment?”

  “Sure.”

  I walked in and immediately went to the kitchen.

  Seemed to me I would need a cup of tea, so I put the kettle on.

  Roland stood in my kitchen, leaning against the dishwasher, with his arms folded across his chest.

  “You did a good job with the cops out there. Thanks.”

  “I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. When it has anything at all to do with Adeline or her business, I have learned if I don’t have anything constructive to add, to just keep my mouth shut.”

  “That’s a good rule. So you knew they are ours?”

  “What?”

  “The kids.”

  “I’m lost. How are they ours?”

  “Sorry, I thought you caught it. I don’t know who the hell the one at the door was, but unless he is a complete doppelganger, the kid by the pond is Adeline’s grandson.”

  “Oh crap. Adeline has a grandson?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Any ideas why he’d be breaking into your house?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “We will find out. And, Cara?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Not a word of this to Adeline. I’m more concerned about her safety than ever.”

  Happy Tea

  ONE

  ROLAND HAD JUST walked out the door. I’m sure he hadn’t even made it past the camera his crew had placed in the railing outside my apartment. That camera, or actually the images that it captured, had just sent my world into a bit of a spin. Again. I seem to do a lot of spinning lately.

  Teagan hissed, “Adeline has a grandkid, and you didn’t even know about it. Now you find out that the grandkid has broken into your apartment and completely trashed it.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Think about it, Cara. The only way you know is because Adeline’s security guy says so.”

  “It would be kind of hard to fake that picture, Teagan.”

  “I’m not saying the picture is faked, although I don’t think it would be all that difficult — especially if Roland has some mega-genius computer guy on his payroll. But putting all that aside for the moment, that isn’t what I meant anyway. How do we know Adeline even has a grandson, never mind that her grandson is the kid in the picture?”

  “We don’t, technically, but what am I supposed to do?” I tried to change the subject because Teagan was making good points and at that moment I didn’t have anything to counter them with and I really wanted a few minutes to think about all this.

  We are talking about my ability to support myself here. Because if it really is Adeline’s grandson who broke in and trashed my apartment, things could get really weird. I would be more loyal to family than an employee, no matter how wonderful that employee is.

  I am. I am the employee in this scenario. I’m also talking to myself. That isn’t good.

  You know what I mean.

  “I wonder how the kid explained the cut to his parents. I mean, you can walk into an emergency room and tell them you were working in the kitchen and cut your hand, but your own parents would know that something was up.”

  “Cara, if you have par
ents who pay attention to stuff like that, you don’t have kids who are breaking into grandma’s personal assistant’s house to search and destroy.”

  “Good point. But you know as well as I do that there are lots of really good parents who have really messed up kids. Maybe the parents believed the kitchen story.”

  “Why did there have to be a story?”

  “Because Roland said that based on the amount of blood all over my desk whoever used the knife to try to unlock it was going to need stitches, and the bandage on that kid in the picture’s hand was wrapped by a professional. He didn’t do it himself, so he must have told someone that he cut himself somehow. If you came home needing stitches, wouldn’t Mom ask what happened to your hand? The doctor would know if you lied. They can tell all kinds of stuff by the injury. So all I’m saying is that he must have come up with a pretty good story for cutting his hand.”

  So much for changing the subject.

  “Either that or the parents know about it. Didn’t you tell me that Adeline and her kids don’t really get along?”

  “I told you that?”

  “Not in so many words. It was more an impression I got.”

  “I was gonna say. I try really hard not to say anything about Adeline, and I sure don’t say anything about her relationships with her kids. I don’t say what kind of food she eats or what stuff she has in her house. I don’t talk about Adeline.”

  “Yeah, you’re a little over the top about that.”

  “She’s a really private person. She’s worse than Seamus. And I like my job, thank-you-very-much.”

  “Whatever. What are you going to do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you think you should tell Adeline?”

  “You heard Roland. He said not to.”

  “I know, but Roland doesn’t sign your paycheck, does he?”

  “No, but a paycheck is not as important as Adeline’s health, and not only was she sick not all that long ago — really sick, like almost-died sick — but Roland seems to think she could be in some kind of danger from her own grandson. Did you see his face when he was looking at the picture? There’s more to the story that we don’t know, and I’m thinking that story is not a pretty one. I think that Adeline is scared of her own grandson. How screwed up is that?”

  “Or maybe Roland is in charge of security, and he screwed up, and now he’s covering his rear.”

  “How is Roland telling me not to tell Adeline that her grandson broke into my apartment going to cover Roland’s rear?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Teagan, you’re always throwing these really weird theories all over the place, and then they get stuck in my brain, and I can’t figure out which one I should give the most weight. It’s like you’ve been drinking conspiracy Kool-Aid. I’m not sure how to sort through all the stuff that you come up with and the stuff that Roland isn’t talking about and the stuff that I’ve seen or not seen at Adeline’s house. Adeline is important to me. On several levels. I want to get this right.”

  “Do what Mom says.”

  “Great. Which thing that Mom says?”

  “She says always put yourself in the spot of the other person’s vantage point. Like if you can’t figure out if something is acceptable — if your daughter was going through the same thing, what would you tell her? If you were Adeline and had a grandkid break into your favorite employee’s apartment, would you want to know?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s in your best interest. I want to eat forty pounds of chocolate every day. That doesn’t mean that I should or that it would be good for me. Just because Adeline might want to know, doesn’t mean that she should know. What if she decides to confront the kid? What if he turns violent?”

  “You can’t play the ‘what if’ game, Cara.”

  “Why not? You were!”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that what you were doing when you asked what I would want done? Or what would happen if Adeline found out I didn’t tell her? It’s always about ‘what if,’ and I don’t have the answer to any of the questions for this ‘what if.’”

  “Wow. Stood right up for yourself there. Sounds like you’ve been going to counseling for years, not twice.”

  “Three times.”

  “Whatever.”

  “God, Teagan, I wish Mom was home.”

  “Me too. Seven weeks seems to take forever.”

  “It would go by pretty darn quick if someone told you that in seven weeks you could never eat chocolate again.”

  “Cara, do you need a piece of chocolate?”

  “More than life itself.”

  We’re back to the good-news, bad-news thing. The good news is that they didn’t get into my apartment this time and we now think we know who “they” are. The bad news is that who we think they are isn’t good and they tried to get into my apartment again.

  I’d made a pot of tea, and we were sitting at the kitchen table trying to figure out what was going on.

  “So, why would Adeline’s grandson break into your apartment and trash it?”

  “Gee, never thought to ask myself that question, Teagan. Don’t you think if I’d come up with a brilliant answer I would have shared it by now?”

  “Sometimes it helps to say things out loud.”

  “I know. Sorry. It’s just that all of a sudden I feel like it got a whole lot more complicated. If some random person broke into my apartment, that’s bad. Having the grandkid of your boss break in, that’s a whole lot worse.”

  “I think I know the answer to this, but I’ll ask the question anyway. Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why is it worse that you now know who it was? Just call the cops, hand over a copy of the disc, get his scrawny butt thrown in juvenile detention, and be done with it. What more do you want than having it all caught on disc?”

  “Roland said I couldn’t do that. I don’t have any proof that he was the one who broke in the first time, and they didn’t get in the door the second time, so technically all they did was set off the alarm. They could say they were delivering pizza flyers and stuffed it in the door and set the thing off, and I have no way to prove otherwise.”

  “Other than the lack of pizza flyers, but I understand what you’re saying. Well, isn’t that convenient. I’m sorry, Cara, but that kid looks more than a little creepy.”

  “Oh, it’s even creepier than that. The more I think about it, the creepier it gets. I didn’t even know Adeline has a grandkid. I’ve spent a lot of time with her. I’ve gone through her entire house. Think about it, Teagan. If you were to go to Mom and Daddy’s house and pack up everything they own — or at least supervise packing up everything they own like I did at Adeline’s house — do you think you would leave without knowing they are grandparents?”

  “No. The evidence is everywhere. From the family pictures to the ornaments for the Christmas tree to names and birthdates on the family calendar and the little kid dishes in the cupboard. You can’t escape that they are grandparents and proud of it.”

  “I didn’t see any of that. And I mean any.”

  “I know O’Flynns are over the top about family, but still you’d think if you were a grandparent, there would be some evidence of it.”

  “I’m thinking about all the grandparent houses I’ve ever been in. There was always at least a hint.”

  “Exactly. Adeline has nothing. Teagan, I’m talking nothing!”

  “So, what does that tell us?”

  “I now know she has grandkids. Roland said grandkids. Plural. I know the older kids are mean to her. Swear you can keep your mouth shut.”

  “I swear.”

  “No, Teagan, I mean really swear. I shouldn’t be saying anything. I don’t want to lose my job, and — more important — this stuff is really hard on Adeline, and she doesn’t want the world to know.”

  “I
swear I’ll keep my mouth shut, Cara. Last week you were all mad at me because I didn’t tell you about Sinead or anything else; this week you are acting like I can’t keep a secret. Make up your mind.”

  “Sorry, I forgot I’m mad at you for all that. Okay, remember when Adeline and the girls came racing back here because Barry kicked the crap out of me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, there was more to it than that. You know what’s crazy? Adeline had her security company watching me to make sure Barry couldn’t get to me. They were in Mom and Daddy’s neighborhood, and no one even knew.”

  “Okay, I take back every mean thing I’ve said about them being total incompetents. I can’t imagine anyone being on that block and no one put out the alarm.”

  “Well, they were there.”

  “Wait a minute. How do you know they were there? They didn’t catch Barry. A neighbor caught Barry. Thought he was a child molester walking around the street. If they’re so good, why didn’t they see Barry and pick him up?”

  “They were aware that he was there. They would have intervened if he’d come to Mom and Daddy’s.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a great story, but I have my doubts. Nobody makes it past Mrs. Laddner.”

  “Teagan, they showed me pictures.”

  “What?”

  “Roland and his group have all kinds of pictures and research and everything you could imagine that will become available to the courts should Barry decide he wants to make my life more difficult.”

  “Well, I guess that makes sense. Nobody could figure out why he would just plead guilty and take his chances on getting the maximum. How often does anybody take responsibility for what they’ve done and just take their punishment? Especially when that punishment means years and years in prison. I hope I’m never in that situation, but I can promise you one thing for absolutely sure. I would fight with everything I had for as long as I could because I would not do one extra day in prison.”

  “When you put it that way, it doesn’t make sense.”

  “What? Cara, don’t even try to tell me that you would voluntarily spend one extra second locked up in a prison, because that’s a straight out lie.”