Dearly Departed

by Tristi Pinkston

  They asked Debbie several more questions about nursing, emergency care, activities, and the like.

  “I think I’d enjoy living here,” Ida Mae said at last, after pretending to give it a lot of thought. She was glad to have planted certain seeds in Debbie’s head—she told Debbie of her fondness for visiting with people, thereby establishing herself as a talker. Hopefully she’d have the chance to chat with the other residents and see what she could find out, not only about Mrs. Partridge, but Dr. Brent, as well.

  “That’s splendid,” Debbie said. She checked the folder in front of her. “I got a call from your doctor yesterday. He was very insistent that you be placed as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, he said as much to me.”

  “Could you move in today? The rooms are fully furnished, and you’d just need to bring your clothing and whatever personal belongings you’d like.”

  “I have my suitcase in the car, and my sister will bring whatever else I need.”

  “Wonderful.” Debbie beamed. “We have the most charming room right here on the first floor. As you’re in a wheelchair, I think it would be the easiest arrangement. Of course, you could take the elevator to visit other residents, at their invitation.”

  “That would be very nice,” Ida Mae told her, wondering how she would manage to slip silently from floor to floor in hot pursuit of clues with her rear end permanently planted in a wheelchair, but she knew she’d find a way.

  Debbie sent the orderly out to the van for Ida Mae’s suitcase, then led the way to room 112. “This is it,” she said, swiping the key card and throwing the door open wide. It was a lovely room, done in plum. Ida Mae nodded in appreciation. She could see herself staying here for a little while. Not too long, mind you, but a little while.

  “I hope you like the furnishings,” Debbie said. “All the rooms on this floor are decorated the same way. But the second floor is done in sage, the third floor in blue—we enjoy color here at Shady Aspens.”

  Ida Mae had noticed as much.

  The orderly brought in Ida Mae’s suitcase and set it on the bed. “My name is Brandon,” he said with a smile. “Just let me know if you need anything moved. I’ll rearrange your furniture or anything else that needs to be done to make this feel like home.”

  “Thank you.” Ida Mae didn’t think she’d want to make any major changes, but the dresser was about four inches too far to the left to be square with the wall. She’d unpack and get settled, and then hunt Brandon down.

  “You go ahead and get comfy, and we’ll have dinner at five,” Debbie said. “The nurse on duty will be by to see you in a little while, and you just holler if you need anything. The phone is right there, and you press ‘O’ to get the front desk.” She was gone in a puff of Liz Claiborne.

  “Wow,” Eden said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m exhausted, and all I did was listen.”

  “I did notice you were a bit quiet,” Ida Mae commented.

  “I didn’t want to make myself conspicuous. She might recognize me from last week.”

  “Speaking of that, did you ever finish getting the information for the article?” Ida Mae asked. “She’d probably wonder if she never heard about it again.”

  “I e-mailed Debbie and told her I’d be in touch. It’s true—I totally plan to write that article. I think it’ll be great.”

  Arlette opened Ida Mae’s suitcase and put her things in the dresser, then stowed the case in the closet. She stacked the books neatly on the nightstand, and the whole process took about four and a half minutes.

  “Well, I’m bored,” Ida Mae said a moment later.

  Eden nodded. “I do think it’s too early to start sleuthing, though. You might wait until dinner, and meet the other residents then.”

  “Agreed.” Ida Mae hiked herself up out of the chair and onto her good foot, then flopped on the bed. “I think a nap is just the thing.”

  “We’ll check in later,” Arlette told her. “And don’t do anything dangerous.”

  “Who, me?” Ida Mae feigned innocence, but she was already devising ways to make it to the third floor undetected. She knew Arlette would visit her quite a bit and would help push the wheelchair, but there had to be a way for her to get done what needed doing without having to be so completely dependent on another person. Too bad her wrist was broken, or Ida Mae would just crawl. Of course, that might call a little more attention to herself than she really wanted.

  “I’m a little annoyed, though,” Eden said. “Kevin and I did all that work to find you some nice, vacant rooms on the upper floors, and they put you here. Guess we wasted our time.”

  Ida Mae patted Eden’s hand. “That’s the trick to detective work, dear. You only gather useful information, and you don’t waste your time on the rest.”

  “But how do I know in advance what’s useful and what’s not?” Eden asked.

  “Practice. You’ll get the hang of it.” Ida Mae had no doubt the girl had the makings of a good detective—she just needed to hone her skills.

  A few minutes after Eden and Arlette left, the nurse entered the room and introduced herself as Andrea. “What medications are you on?” she asked.

  Ida Mae motioned to the bottles on her dresser, and Andrea looked them over with a practiced eye, then made note of them on a chart on her clipboard.

  “Would you like to take a nap before dinner? I’d be more than happy to help you get settled.”

  Within minutes, Ida Mae was in bed, wearing her lightweight robe, with her foot elevated and a call button at hand.

  “I’ll be back at a quarter to five to help you get ready for dinner,” Andrea promised, and whisked out of the room nearly as fast as she’d come in.

  Ida Mae blinked. It was like getting tucked in by a whirlwind. I might just get used to this, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. She didn’t feel like she had to stay awake and entertain whomever had come in to sit with her. It was so nice.

  “Operative is in place,” Eden told Kevin via cell phone as she leaned up against her car door in the Burger King parking lot. “Rendezvous at Burger King in ten minutes.”

  Kevin burst out laughing. “Burger King? That doesn’t sound very spy-like. I thought you ladies were professionals.”

  “We are. We also happen to want a Whopper. We’re hungry.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in ten.”

  Eden opened her car door, then pulled off her wig and stuffed it into the glove compartment. “That thing is really hot and scratchy,” she complained as she fluffed up her own dark hair.

  “Maybe we could bleach your hair,” Arlette suggested, but Eden winced.

  “I’m willing to be a blonde for a few minutes a day, but it’s just not me,” she said. “You saw that orderly checking me out.”

  “I did, and I can’t say it was a bad thing,” her grandmother told her. “It’s good for a girl your age to have a lot of suitors.”

  “Suitors? Lined up in the parlor drinking tea?”

  “Why not?” Arlette reached out and smoothed a flyaway piece of Eden’s hair. “That way, you’ll know what you want and where to look for it.”

  Eden nearly opened her mouth to say she knew what she wanted, but she stopped herself. She thought she knew what she wanted, and that was Ren. But that was also before she’d met Kevin, and she’d never been so confused in her life. She had a natural friendship with Ren and knew it would turn into something else if given the opportunity, but with Kevin, the chemistry had been there right from the start. Chemistry wasn’t everything, but it was definitely something.

  Kevin pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later, and Eden introduced him to her grandmother.

  “So you are the amazing Arlette.” Kevin took her hand in a courtly gesture. “Eden talks about you and your friends nonstop. I feel like we’ve already met.”

  “She talks about you quite a bit as well,” Arlette replied.

  Eden felt her cheeks go warm. She didn’t talk about him that much . . . well, okay
, yes, she did.

  “I’ll buy you ladies some lunch.” Kevin held the door open as they filed in.

  Eden wasn’t sure if she was imagining things, but it almost seemed like he was being a little too gentlemanly. He was probably just trying to impress her grandmother. Nothing wrong with that, but for some reason, it annoyed Eden. She was comparing him to Ren, who was totally artless, and she knew she needed to stop it. Kevin deserved to be appreciated for who he was, not held up to the memory of someone who wasn’t even there.

  She bit into her Whopper a few minutes later, feeling the rush of onion hit her sinuses. She’d have bad breath for hours, but it was so worth it.

  Kevin took a swig of his drink. “So, Ida Mae is now living at Shady Aspens. What next?”

  “You keep an ear to the ground with your police buddies and see if they have any intention of looking into Dr. Brent’s death from a Shady Aspens perspective,” Eden said.

  “I will. Lieutenant Dalton told me that right now, they’re investigating a lead from last year. One of Dr. Brent’s patients died and the husband made a death threat. He’s been in and out of the psych ward a few times and they’re checking him out pretty extensively.” Kevin picked up his burger. “What else do you want me to do?”

  “We’ll let you know as it happens,” Eden said. “Grandma’s going to spend a lot of time at Shady Aspens, so she’s coming to stay with me for a while instead of making the drive back to Omni every day.”

  Kevin raised his cup to Arlette in salute. “That’s quite a sacrifice.”

  “I wanted a change,” Arlette said. “Tansy’s going to water my plants and I’m bringing my cat, so it’s really not a big deal.”

  Eden cringed at the mention of the cat but didn’t say anything.

  “What’s Ida Mae’s plan?” Kevin asked.

  “She’s going to make friends with some of the residents and aides, and see what she can weasel out of them,” Eden said. “We’re working on a limited schedule here. Once her casts come off, she’ll have to leave Shady Aspens, so we’re looking at six weeks, two months, around in there.”

  “That seems like a long time,” Kevin remarked.

  “It is a long time, but it’s also a deadline,” Eden said. “If it does happen to take her a while to find anything out, we could be sunk.”

  “But we’ll think positively.” Arlette slapped the table. “We’re not sunk until we say we are.”

  “And we’ll never say it.” Eden downed her last fry and gathered her garbage. “I’ve got to go now. I’m starting a new job today.”

  “You’re quitting the paper?” Kevin asked, coming to his feet in alarm.

  “No, I’m not quitting. But I’m not making enough to pay rent, so I’ve picked up a side job.”

  “Like I keep saying, you can always come live with me,” Arlette said.

  “I know, Grandma, but the price of gas is crazy and the commute would eat up any money I saved. Plus, I want to be on my own for a while. If I change my mind, though, I’ll come.”

  Eden pulled the spare key to her apartment off her keychain and handed it to her grandmother. “You remember where I live, right?”

  “Of course.” Arlette tucked the key into her pocket. “Senility hasn’t set in quite yet.”

  Eden ignored her grandmother’s moment of pique; it wouldn’t last long. “Okay. I’ll be home around eight.”

  Arlette drove off first, leaving Kevin and Eden alone together in the parking lot.

  “I’ll see you later,” Kevin said, reaching out and touching Eden’s fingers.

  “Yeah,” she muttered intelligently. She turned and unlocked her door, but he leaned against it as she pulled the handle.

  “So what’s this new job?”

  “I’m delivering Chinese for the Golden Lotus.”

  He laughed but must have caught the look on her face. “You’re serious?”

  “There’s nothing dishonorable about delivering food. In fact, I can say that I owe my life to conscientious food-delivery persons.” Eden tried to scoot him aside, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “If I ordered some egg rolls, would you deliver them?”

  “It depends on who else is working. Listen, Kevin, I’ve really got to leave.”

  He sighed and moved over, holding the door as she climbed in. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  “I’m sure you will. It just happens to work out that way more often than not.”

  9

  Ida Mae sat at a round table with four other Shady Aspens residents, all in wheelchairs just like hers. The table was a little shorter than most, which allowed them to roll right up and eat their dinner without having to move to a regular seat. She appreciated the convenience, as well as the atmosphere in the room, and the décor, which was sort of upscale-hotel meets institution-chic.

  To Ida Mae’s left sat George Gilmore, a charming older gentleman who had very little of his own hair remaining, but who didn’t seem to have a problem wearing someone else’s. Ida Mae found it hard to keep her eyes off the obvious toupee as it took a roundabout journey from George’s forehead to just over his left ear. Runaway hair notwithstanding, he was a delightful man and told her he’d once been a trapeze artist at the circus.

  Across the table was Eloise Banks, a rather crotchety woman with puffy, gray hair and a pair of glasses that teetered on the tip of her nose. She was observant and seemed to have an opinion about everyone and everything.

  Hattie, the woman Eden had told her about, was on Eloise’s other side. Bright-eyed like a sparrow, she had a sweet disposition, and while Ida Mae couldn’t picture her dangling from the ceiling in a Tom Cruise-like effort to avoid laser beams, she sensed Hattie would become a good friend and espionage ally.

  The most interesting person at the table sat just to Ida Mae’s right. He was a former general in the United States Army, and completely formidable. He did everything with military precision, from the way he cut his meatloaf to the way he handled his napkin. The staff seemed to treat him with a little extra respect, saying, “Yes, sir, General Dunlap,” rather than just “yes.” Ida Mae wondered if he’d demanded this special treatment or if it just came naturally with his veteran status.

  She waited for a lull in the conversation, then asked, “Do you all live here full-time?”

  “I do,” Hattie answered. “I’ve been here about four months.”

  “I’m just staying until my knee’s better,” George said. “Then I’m moving back home. Well, I should say, if the new carpet is installed by then. My daughter has taken it upon herself to do a little redecorating in my absence.”

  “I’m hoping to move to New Hampshire to be near my son,” the general replied. “But I’ll be here until then.”

  “What about you, Eloise?” Ida Mae asked, noticing that the last woman at the table had gone completely quiet.

  “I’ve been here for a while,” Eloise replied vaguely. “I don’t know how long I’ll be staying.”

  Ida Mae hoped Eloise would elaborate, but nothing else was said.

  After the dinner plates were cleared and the dessert tray arrived, Ida Mae spoke again. “I have . . . well, I had a friend who used to live here. Perhaps you met her? Beverly Partridge?”

  “I knew Beverly well,” Hattie said. “She was a dear old thing.”

  “I never met her,” the general replied, swallowing the huge bite of cheesecake he’d just taken. “I knew her by sight, however.”

  “So sad, the way she died,” George murmured.

  “I think most of us knew her.” Eloise pushed her pudding to the side. “I didn’t realize she was a friend of yours.”

  Ida Mae nodded. “I haven’t been in close contact with her for a little while, but I heard she’d lived here, and I was so sad to hear of her passing.” She cast her eyes over at George, wondering what he meant by “the way she died.” Did he mean suddenly? Or was there something about the actual way Beverly died that was questionable?

  “It was bound to happ
en sooner or later,” the general said, wiping his mouth. “Not one of us is getting any younger.”

  “That’s a rather callous attitude to take, with her friend sitting right here,” George protested.

  “Didn’t mean anything by it.” The general nodded his head once at Ida Mae, a brisk head bob that looked more designed to flick away a fly than convey an apology. Ida Mae returned his nod with a softer version of her own, and he wheeled himself away.

  “You mustn’t mind him,” Hattie said. “He’s a little . . . unfriendly sometimes, but it’s not personal.”

  “He’s got internal demons,” George explained. “He’d much rather be out fighting the war than fighting his paralysis.”

  “That’s too bad,” Ida Mae murmured.

  “I hope he didn’t make you feel worse about your friend,” George said.

  Ida Mae smiled. “Don’t worry about it, George. You’re too kind.” His lingering look of compassion sparked an idea, and she dabbed the corner of her eye with a napkin. “Although, it would help me to know her last days were happy. Were they?”

  “I think she was very happy here,” Hattie said. “She and I had lunch together two days before she passed, and she seemed content.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Ida Mae said. She tilted her head toward George, who took the hint.

  “I last spoke with her about a week before she passed,” he said. “We were out in the garden. It wasn’t a long talk, but she was busy enjoying the flowers and I didn’t detect anything amiss.”

  Ida Mae liked the way George spoke, a little bit on the old-fashioned side. Of course, George himself was more than a little on the old-fashioned side—he was downright antique.

  She wondered how she would pass the question on to Eloise without seeming too pushy, but Hattie did it for her. “How about you, Eloise? Do you think Beverly was happy here?”

  “Sure, I suppose. As happy as anyone can be in a ritzy jail.” Eloise raised her hand and an aide came over. “Please take me to my room.”