Authors: Rachel L. Vaughan
“It’s just been a stressful month. My wife has been talking nonstop about the election. Sometimes I wonder if she should run for mayor. She’s an excellent strategist and knows how to get exactly what she wants. Scarlet has no idea that I’m here,” the mayor sighed, shaking his head.
“You haven’t told your wife about the dreams?” Dr. Lindegaard asked with a frown.
Mayor MacDougal gave a short, bitter laugh. “I told her the first night, but she scoffed at me. I mentioned the dream again, and she told me to focus on my campaign. You can imagine how…disappointed she would be if she found out I spoke with a therapist. Then there’s the whole theatre mess. Mr. Garland’s lab better be worth the distress it caused. I’ve been asked to station policemen around the construction site while the men are working so they aren’t attacked. Can you believe it? All of this is because of a theatre.”
Dr. Lindegaard rested his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingers together like steeples. “People can be rather dramatic during times of grief. I expect the hard feelings will fade away shortly, especially after the new theatre is built.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Is there anything else you would like to discuss? It sounds like you are having trust issues with your wife. Is your relationship something you want to talk about?”
The mayor shook his head. “No, best leave Scarlet out of the conversation. May I take your card? I’ll call if I need another appointment.”
Dr. Lindegaard handed him his business card and shook his hand firmly. “I’d be happy to see you anytime. I, of course, will keep everything confidential. Your wife will not hear any of this from me or Ms. Stanley.”
Lexie smiled and nodded. Confidentiality laws had been beaten into her mind the day she started working at Lindegaard Counseling and Therapy.
The rest of Lexie’s morning was spent transferring her notes on Mayor MacDougal’s session to the computer. Every so often, Lexie would glance up as one of her coworkers ventured into the room to use the copier or fax machine.
“You would think that after hundreds of years people would realize that arranged marriages are so ridiculous,” one therapist said after using the copier. “I told this man to consider his daughter’s feelings, but you’d have thought I asked him to commit murder! This isn’t the 1500s!”
Lexie could not recall a more stressful day at work. She had notes from three more sessions to transfer before she could take her lunch break. Psychiatrists were constantly writing up prescriptions, and therapists were handing out self-help books faster than Lexie could blink.
“I will go to the woods where I will find the unkindest beast kinder than mankind!” a man bellowed.
Lexie jumped up, ran to the door, and peered out to see who had shouted. A man, dressed in all white, was being escorted down the hall by a doctor from the nearby hospital and an employee from Lindegaard Counseling and Therapy. Lexie could see damp patches on his clothing from sweat. The employee, who looked like he was taking steroids, was holding the patient’s shoulders tightly while the doctor was guiding him like a child.
“I once had enough money to make a whore foreswear her trade!” he cried as he was led into the elevator.
“He lost all his money,” a therapist said as he stood by Lexie. “His name is Timothy Root. When he threatened to hide in the forest and eat roots I decided it was time to call the hospital. Can you imagine living off carrots and radishes? Hopefully, he won’t develop more serious suicidal tendencies. I’ll visit him in a few hours.”
The morning had been filled with so much negative activity that Lexie could not sit in the staff lounge with her coworkers. She went outside, locked herself in her car, and started her lunch. Lexie smiled slightly when she noticed several of her coworkers doing the same thing. They all looked foolish, but Lexie just couldn’t stay inside. The attitudes of the therapists, Flora’s sulking, and the weary weather wore her down.
“Is this day going to improve?” Lexie stared out of the window. The clump of birch trees near the building looked like arms, stretching upward with thin, bony fingers.
A figure lurking around Dr. Lindegaard’s office window caught her attention. She tossed her water bottle into the passenger seat and straightened up. Was someone listening in on a session? Dr. Lindegaard always had the most confidential cases. The longer she studied the figure, the more familiar it became. It wore a dark blue jacket with the hood pulled up. She frowned and quietly got out of her car. She was peering from behind a tree when the figure turned and bolted right into her. Lexie and the figure hit the ground hard. Lexie was gasping for air when she grabbed the figure’s arm and yanked back the hood.
“What the—”
Lexie scrambled to her feet and stared at Nickolas Lindegaard. His face was flushed and his eyes gleamed with adrenaline. He looked just as shocked to see Lexie as she was to see him. His eyes darted toward his stepfather’s window for a moment before returning to Lexie.
“Well, good afternoon, Lexie,” Nickolas said. “I suppose you’re on your lunch break. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Lexie raised her eyebrows. “Are you spying on your stepdad?”
“My uncle,” he answered sharply. “He’s my uncle.”
“And you are spying on him?”
“Who said anything about spying?”
“You’re sneaking around his window,” Lexie replied. “I believe that’s what you call spying.”
Nickolas straightened up. “If you must know, I have an appointment today.”
Lexie remembered the schedule. “Oh, yeah, I saw that. Well, most people go to the lobby to wait.”
“When does Dr. Lindegaard have lunch? I’d rather avoid him today. I found some interesting information about my dad’s death. I think he owes me an explanation, but not yet. I want guilt to gnaw at his heart first. I’ll catch the conscience of my uncle later,” Nickolas said with intense eyes. “Have you ever heard of cyanide?”
Lexie felt her heart tighten. “Nickolas, your dad died from respiratory failure.”
“That is what we are
supposed
to think. How was he exposed to cyanide? It isn’t exactly in abundance in Vernon Hills. He didn’t work where he could be exposed to such a chemical, and he died very suddenly.”
“Have you discussed your…suspicions with Braedon?” Lexie asked. She had seen little of Braedon, but Lexie had the impression that he was Nickolas’s closest confidant.
“Good, just Braedon,” Nickolas said with a smile. “I envy him at times. If I needed help from a man who is not passion’s slave I would choose him. I wish I could let my suspicions about Uncle Phillip die, but I cannot.”
“Flora told me you’re still upset about your dad,” she started, “but I don’t know where you got this idea. Who would want to poison your dad?”
Nickolas crossed his arms. “Who would marry his dead brother’s wife within three weeks of the funeral? People were still sending sympathy casseroles the day before the wedding.”
“They’d been having an affair for years. I agree that they should have waited, but it’s not surprising that they got married. Do you really think your mother would marry a man if he murdered her husband?”
Lexie flinched inwardly at her callous remarks. Flora would be furious if Nickolas told her how Lexie had just treated him.
“I don’t know if she loved my dad,” he replied.
“If she didn’t love him then she would have divorced him,” said Lexie.
Nickolas laughed. “Divorce him and ruin her reputation? I think not. She cares about what people think, just like all women. Proper appearance is a frailty of women. Deceit is in their nature.”
Those comments stung, and it took all of Lexie’s strength not to slap him.
“So, would Flora put her reputation before her relationship with you?”
Nickolas’s eyes softened slightly. There was a tenderness in him that Lexie rarely saw. “I hope not, but she is vulnerable to the same risks as all women, and the frailties of the fairer sex can bring about the destruction of men. Men often fall because of their love for wayward women. Think back to great stories and myths. King Arthur lost Lancelot, his greatest knight, because of Guinevere’s shifting affection. Helen was the face that launched a thousand ships and brought about the destructive Trojan War when she fled with her lover. Isolde tore a family apart when she and Tristan fell in love. Affection is an emotion that can mask deceit, and women typically have more affectionate natures.”
“What is going on in that head of yours?” Lexie whispered.
“It’s not in my head!” Nickolas answered with a steely edge in his voice, stuffing a hand into his pocket. “Braedon saw it too. We saw him on Crossroads Avenue last night!”
“What are you talking about? What did you see?” Lexie’s eyes darted to Nickolas’s hand as he pulled it from his pocket. “Is…that a…knife?”
Nickolas glanced at the shiny pocketknife in his right hand. The frown on his face alternated between determination and uncertainty. He quickly closed it and put it back in his pocket. “It was a gift from my dad. I always carry it. Well, I have a session today since I missed my last one. Have a lovely day. I might stop by your apartment later.”
Is he planning to murder his uncle? That man has a loose screw in his head.
Lexie nodded and watched him saunter to the entrance. Why did her best friend have such an unpredictable boyfriend?
Lexie was still puzzling over Nickolas’s comment about him and Braedon seeing something when she entered the lobby.
Popular magazines were carefully arranged on a main table. Usually, Lexie took little interest in them. However, two clients were reading an article about a disagreement between the father and son co-owners of Garland Corporation.
Lexie lingered in the lobby long enough to learn that Guillaume Garland was angry with Cesare for causing the riot in Vernon Hills. Guillaume was a huge theatre patron, and he was furious that his son went behind his back and tore down the Stratford Theatre while he was out of the country. Though Cesare was a co-owner of Garland Corporation, Guillaume truly ran the company. Guillaume, though not a particularly compassionate man, had the respect of his employees. The article finished with an egotistical Cesare stating, “God is my judge, and I do not answer to Guillaume Garland.”
She chuckled as she made her way to her desk. Did Cesare think fighting with his father would earn him the respect of his employees? With the backing of the Garland Corporation employees and board, Guillaume could have Cesare stripped of his title. As she sat down, Lexie hoped Mr. Garland would see the true ineptitude of his son.
Lexie typed until her fingers were numb, and she wanted to cry with relief when Dr. Lindegaard announced that the taxing day had been a success. Everyone was quiet as they waited in line for the elevator. Some were leaning against the wall with their eyes closed, others were massaging their foreheads. Usually, work ended at 5:00, but when Lexie stepped outside it was 6:30. She dearly hoped the rest of the week would not be a repeat of today.
Lexie was in a daze on her drive home. She almost forgot to buy dinner and had to turn around because she left the subs on counter.
Vernon Hills had never looked so inviting than when she pulled into the parking lot. Flora wouldn’t be home, so Lexie planned to have a nice, long shower with no interruptions. Maybe she could even wait until tomorrow to grill Flora about Nickolas. That man had some serious issues.
The overwhelming scent of flowers caused Lexie to gag when she entered the apartment. She coughed and sputtered as she struggled to close the door. More than twenty vases of flowers were sitting around the living room and kitchen. Their scents mingled together to create a sickly sweet perfume. Lexie tossed the sandwiches on the kitchen table and hurried to open a window.
Did Flora buy all these?
Digging through her purse, she found her phone. She didn’t care that Flora was at work. She wanted to know what had possessed her to buy an entire flower shop. The phone rang and rang. Lexie rolled her eyes when she was instructed to leave a voicemail.
“Hey, Flora, I know you like flowers and all, but I think you over did it this time. The apartment smells like a funeral home!” Lexie said. “I bought your sub, and I’m leaving it the fridge. I can’t stand the smell, so I’m going to eat in the café. I hope you had a good day. See you later.”
The flowers had given Lexie such a bad headache that the smell of coffee made it worse. She took her sub and ate in the courtyard of a Greek and Mediterranean restaurant. She chewed slowly, taking as much time as possible. What was she supposed to do with the flowers? She thought for a moment.