Knock, knock... by Dale Mayer

everyone is coping."
     
    He smiled. "I think we're doing fine. Robert was a good man…but he was intense. That must have affected his health. I can't tell you how many times we warned him to relax a little and ease up on the stress in his life."
     
    Shay nodded sympathetically. "Funny, we're all told to do that, but hearing it and then acting upon the advice, well––"
     
    "Exactly." He added, "Robert was also extremely overweight. He had a heart condition already, so although his death is a great loss, it's not a great surprise."
     
    Anyone overweight would be prone to such health conditions. And Robert had been obese. "Have funeral arrangements been made? I'd like to attend."
     
    He busied himself with a stack of notes on his desk. "I spoke with his wife this morning. I believe his funeral is scheduled for next Wednesday." He quickly wrote down the name and number of Robert's wife and handed her the note. "Here is her name and number should you want to call her. I can also send you the detailed information when I get it myself." He brought up his calendar and jotted down another note.
     
    An obvious list maker. Shay watched him keep himself organized. His actions appeared normal, assured. No nervousness or strain evident.
     
    She opened her inner vision and checked out his aura. Agitated. Nervous at her surprise visit. Disturbed at the unexpected workload now on his shoulders and a little angry at Robert for dying and even a bit angry at himself for feeling that way.
     
    All normal. And this reassured her.
     
    Finished, he looked over at her, "Do you want to see the progress on the renovations?"
     
    She smiled. "That was going to be my next request."
     
    The next hour was spent going over the plans, highlighting the progress and difficulties with upgrading the old school. By the time she took her leave, the kids were close to exiting their classrooms for the day. She picked up the pace. The place would be overrun with kids soon.
     
    The dismissal bell rang as she reached her car.
     
    While Shay drove home her mind was on the school. Everything had looked great, on the surface and beneath – not that she'd expected anything different. She didn't want to find something wrong. But so often, where money was involved, people's motivations became a little muddy.
     
    However, so far, she'd found nothing suspicious. The headmaster's death appeared to be unrelated to the project – for that she was grateful.
     
    She needed to check in with Stefan.
     
    An hour later, she got him on the phone. "Now two people, both spearheading two charities that my foundation is heavily involved in, have died. Apparently of heart attacks. Both dropped dead, one at home and one at work. No signs of a struggle. No damage at the office. Nothing missing. No foul play suspected."
     
    "But...?" he prodded.
     
    She shrugged and shifted her cell phone to the other ear. "I don't know. I just can't quite feel comfortable about these deaths. Yet I have no reason for this uneasiness." She sighed and stared out at the water outside her window. It was a strikingly beautiful summer day with blue sky and a warm breeze off the ocean. "There is a lot of money involved, but the money has been parceled out for big renovations, salaries, upgrades. It's not like anyone is going to be able to steal the money and walk away without someone knowing. And if money isn't the motivator, what could be?"
     
    "You're presuming foul play in both cases?" he asked.
     
    "Maybe and maybe not. I'd feel better if I could rule it out."
     
    "And how would you do that?" Stefan said. "You're not the police and don't have access to the their personal financial records or know the status of their health or marital situations."
     
    She frowned. "No, but I can ask Ronin to rule those out, I suppose."
     
    "If it's bothering you to that extent, I think you should. Ronin understands. Not everything, but he's been a big help to me over the years. Remember to listen to your