Dearly Departed

by Tristi Pinkston

  They entered the lobby and saw only Heather; no one else seemed to be out and about.

  “Mrs. Babbitt is in her room,” Heather volunteered.

  Arlette nodded her thanks, and she and Eden proceeded down the hall. A nurse was just coming out of Ida Mae’s room as they reached the door, and they all sidestepped to get out of each other’s way.

  “Excuse me,” the nurse said with a laugh. “We could keep dancing, but I’m afraid I’m not very light on my feet.”

  “Me neither.” Eden looked into the nurse’s face and a jolt of recognition shot through her. She took her grandmother’s elbow and steered her into Ida Mae’s room, where she shut and locked the door before throwing herself on the bed.

  “Good thing I wasn’t still in there,” Ida Mae said. “You could have smashed me.”

  “Sorry,” Eden responded. “But my brain is just whirling. I don’t even know—I’m totally confused.”

  “Slow down,” Arlette advised. “What’s going on?”

  “You remember how Kevin and I went out to Dr. Brent’s place and talked to all the neighbors, and the woman in the house across the street up and moved?”

  Ida Mae and Arlette both nodded.

  “I just saw her in the hallway. She’s your nurse.”

  “Andrea?” Ida Mae asked. “Why would Andrea leave her house so suddenly?”

  “She did it right after Kevin and I questioned her. She knows something about Dr. Brent’s death.”

  “It could all be a coincidence,” Arlette said, but Eden shook her head emphatically.

  “What are the odds that you live across the street from someone you work with, that person is killed, and you move out the very day someone comes around asking questions? It’s more than coincidence. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely not coincidence.”

  “Did Andrea recognize you?” Ida Mae asked.

  “She didn’t seem to. I think my blonde wig was enough of a disguise, at least for now, but I’d better not get too close to her,” Eden said. “We’ve got to figure out what she’s up to.”

  “I’m about to head down to breakfast,” Ida Mae said. “Let me talk to George and Hattie. I bet they’d be willing to help out with some surveillance.”

  “I need to talk to Kevin,” Eden said. “He’s never going to believe it.”

  “What does this all mean?” Arlette asked.

  “It means Miss Nurse knows a whole lot more than she’s letting on,” Eden said.

  “And it means maybe she’s not as nice as I thought she was,” Ida Mae added. “Darn HMOs.”

  “Ida Mae!” Arlette reprimanded. “Watch your language.”

  “I was watching it. That’s why I said ‘darn.’”

  “My mother told me the word ‘darn’ should only be used in reference to socks.” Arlette’s upturned chin made her look very self-righteous.

  “So that’s where you got your sock compulsion—from your mother!”

  “Girls, girls,” Eden interjected. “Let’s put all this petty arguing to the side and get back to business. Are you ready to be nice?”

  Arlette and Ida Mae both nodded, but they still looked grumpy. Eden hid a smile. Despite these ladies’ advanced years, they looked like two children caught fighting over a lollipop.

  “You’d better go talk to George and Hattie.” Eden held the door open for Ida Mae’s motorized wheelchair. “Grandma and I will find a way to make ourselves useful.”

  “I’ll head downtown with you, Eden,” Arlette said. “I need to do some shopping and your office isn’t too far from where I’m headed.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll check in with you later, Ida Mae.”

  Eden pulled off her wig as soon as they were out of sight of the care center. “That thing really gets hot,” she told her grandmother. “Glad I had it on, though. Andrea would have recognized me for sure.”

  “This adds another twist to the mystery,” Arlette commented.

  “Grandma . . .” Eden risked a sideways glance at Arlette as she pulled into traffic. “I don’t think Ida Mae is safe in that place.”

  “You can count on us,” George said, and Hattie nodded her agreement.

  “Thank you.” Ida Mae looked around for the approach of the general or Eloise. “I really appreciate it.”

  “With all three of us, it should be a piece of cake,” Hattie said. “I’ll take the first shift after breakfast. I think Andrea is helping with the summer tutoring program this morning. I’ll hang out in the common area.”

  They mapped out their plan of attack and finished making assignments just as the general rolled up to the breakfast table.

  “Am I late?” he barked.

  “No, we’re early,” Hattie told him.

  “Good. Don’t want to miss breakfast.” That was the full extent of his conversational contribution to the meal, and Ida Mae was glad. She was still sorting through bits and pieces of information in her brain and didn’t want the added distraction. Eloise, on the other hand, seemed a bit chipper and talked as she ate, but thankfully Hattie met the social obligation and visited with her.

  Ida Mae knew Andrea was somehow involved in Dr. Brent’s murder. She had no other reason to move right after getting a visit from Eden and Kevin. Ida Mae hated the thought that her sweet nurse could be a murderer, or an accomplice. Whatever she did, she’d have to be very careful not to give Andrea any indication she was being watched.

  After breakfast, Hattie took up her position in the common area, and George went with Ida Mae to sit under the trees on the grounds. She wanted to hash out some ideas with him and didn’t like the idea of being overheard.

  As Alex parked George’s chair and applied the brakes, he commented, “Those are sure some nice wheels you’ve got, Mrs. Babbitt.”

  “Aren’t they, though? I’m glad to feel at least a little independent. Thanks for getting the chair out of the storage room for me.”

  “My pleasure. Well, you give a wave when you’re ready to come back in. I’ll be looking out the window from time to time.” Alex whistled as he went back into the building.

  “He’s a good man,” George said. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  “That’s how I felt about Andrea, but now I’m not so sure.”

  George reached out and patted Ida Mae’s hand. “No need to be so glum. Maybe we’ll discover this was all a coincidence or misunderstanding.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ida Mae said. “There’s just too much evidence that says otherwise.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Ida Mae contemplating the fact that George’s fingers still rested on hers even though he had stopped patting several seconds before. Should she be offended? Flattered? She thought about it. She felt . . . comfortable. How very unexpected.

  Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of high heels moving rapidly down the path. At first, she thought it was Debbie, but when she turned, she saw a striking brunette about forty-five years old wearing a classy business suit, followed by a large, slightly balding man.

  “Maria!” George exclaimed. “How good to see you. Ida Mae, this is my daughter, Maria, and her husband, Gus.”

  Maria extended a hand, seemingly more out of duty than friendliness, and Ida Mae took it. She was immediately fascinated by Maria’s beautiful eyes.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ida Mae said. “You’re just lovely.”

  Maria smiled faintly. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.” She turned to George, apparently feeling her social obligation had been fulfilled. “Father, I brought a wallpaper sample.” She reached into her purse and pulled it out, then handed it to George.

  “I thought you were just recarpeting.” He sounded exasperated yet a little indulgent.

  “I was, but after we pulled out the furniture, I saw that the wallpaper was horribly faded. Or should we just paint? What do you think?”

  “I like this,” he said, studying the paper. “But how much longer do you think this will tak
e?”

  “If you want something done right, you have to be patient, Father. You wouldn’t want to come home and find everything in a shambles, would you?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  Maria slid the sample back into her purse. “All right, then, I’ll place the order for this paper. Do you need anything?”

  “No, I’m doing well.”

  Maria nodded, then bent to kiss his cheek. She smiled at Ida Mae, then turned on her heel and strode off. Gus followed behind, a large, obedient shadow.

  “She takes good care of me.” George watched his daughter’s retreating back. “Now, tell me your latest thoughts on our mystery.”

  Ida Mae was a little surprised at the abrupt change of subject, but she was more than happy to share what she’d been thinking.

  George listened intently, and when she finished, he said, “So, we now have more information about Dr. Brent’s death than we do about Beverly’s. But we don’t have anything conclusive, at that.”

  “I sure wish we did,” Ida Mae said. “I keep envisioning an alarm clock ticking away in the background, ready to go off any second.”

  “Is Eden in danger?” George asked. “If Andrea recognizes her, what will happen?”

  “I have no idea. I think we need to encourage her to stay away from Shady Aspens until this is all wrapped up. It’s too dangerous for her.”

  “What about you?” George asked.

  Ida Mae shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to arouse Andrea’s suspicions, but . . . George!”

  Her sudden exclamation made him jump. “What?”

  “I need to find a better hiding place for my journal. I’ve been writing everything down as it happens, just trying to keep things organized, but I haven’t found a good place to keep it.”

  “You’d better take care of that right away,” George advised. He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost time for my shift watching Andrea. We’d best go back in.”

  He waited until he saw Alex’s face appear at the window, then waved at him. Alex waved back and joined them within a few minutes.

  “It’s getting a little warm out here,” he commented as he pushed George’s chair up the walk. “Probably a good thing you didn’t stay out any longer.”

  “It was nice while it lasted,” Ida Mae said. “Nothing like sunshine to perk up the spirit.”

  George took up his post in the hallway, and Ida Mae went back to her room. She looked around, trying once again to come up with a place to put her journal. It should be somewhere close by—somewhere she could reach it when she needed to—but it shouldn’t be obvious, or easily findable to a casual looker. Or to housekeeping.

  Suddenly the piece to the puzzle clicked into place, and she nearly felt light-headed as she realized the possibilities.

  Ida Mae maneuvered her chair back around and headed out the door, going in search of George.

  “Where’s Hattie?” she asked as she approached him.

  “She went to the craft room. Something about macramé,” he said.

  She lowered her voice. “Where’s Andrea?”

  “Helping Mrs. Talbot with a sponge bath.” He motioned at a door across the hall.

  “When she comes out, keep her busy for a little while, okay?” Ida Mae threw her chair into top speed and went to find Hattie.

  “Wow,” Kevin said.

  “Yeah, I know.” Eden threw away her candy bar wrapper and turned back to face him. “So now we’ve got to figure out what this means.”

  “Well, I agree with your grandmother,” he said. “Andrea was in on the murder.”

  “But why?”

  “That one, I can’t answer. But you said the other residents are going to help Ida Mae follow her around, see what they can find out?”

  “Yes, and hopefully it won’t take very long.”

  Kevin turned off his computer monitor and stood up just as Eden’s cell phone rang. She glanced around for Mr. Cooper, then answered.

  “Send your grandmother over right away,” Ida Mae said. “And give her the key you used to get into Beverly’s room.” Then she hung up.

  “Ida Mae?” When Eden didn’t get a reply, she disconnected and dialed Arlette. No answer.

  “I’ve got to find Grandma,” Eden said. “Can you run interference with Mr. Cooper?”

  “Of course,” Kevin said. “There are some advantages to this whole illegitimate son thing. I’ll play the guilt card if necessary.”

  “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the elevator, trying her grandmother’s phone again. No answer. She looked at her watch—she’d bet anything her grandmother was at the Yarn Barn. Despite all the yarn Arlette already had, she couldn’t help but wander into a craft store whenever she saw one. With the Yarn Barn just a block away from the newspaper office, it was practically a sure bet. Instead of bothering with her car, Eden ran, and she nearly toppled Arlette over as she caught up to her in the knitting-needle aisle.

  “Why aren’t you answering your cell?” Eden asked breathlessly, bending over and bracing her hands on her knees.

  Arlette pulled out her phone. “Oh, my battery’s dead.”

  “Ida Mae needs you to get over there right away.”

  Arlette looked down at the basket in her hands. “I guess I could leave this here. The checkout line is rather long.”

  “I’ll get it for you. And take this.” She thrust the key card into Arlette’s hand.

  Arlette gave Eden some cash for the purchase and left her standing in what was possibly the longest checkout line in the universe, holding a basket full of not-needed yarn. But at least Arlette was on her way to the rescue.

  21

  Arlette, Hattie, and Ida Mae looked right and left as the elevator doors opened. The hallway was deserted, and they entered the third floor with caution.

  “Hattie, you’re the lookout,” Ida Mae said. “George is running interference with Andrea, but if you see anyone coming, anyone at all, have a violent coughing fit or something.”

  “I can do that,” Hattie said as Arlette parked her chair in the hall, facing the elevator.

  Arlette pulled the key card out of her pocket, then hesitated. “Are you sure no one’s moved into this room? It’s been several days since Beverly’s things were taken out.”

  “I asked around downstairs while I was waiting for you to come,” Ida Mae assured her. “The room is still empty.”

  Arlette slid the card into the lock, then held the door open for Ida Mae, who wheeled herself in. She glanced around, then went straight to the bed.

  “Box springs,” she said to Arlette. “She hid whatever it was in the box springs.”

  Arlette’s eyes grew wide. She knelt down and lifted up the comforter, feeling around between the mattress and the springs. She moved all the way around the bed, then sat back on her heels. “I can’t find anything.”

  “Try going up from underneath,” Ida Mae suggested, wishing she was able to get down on the floor.

  Arlette hunched down and felt underneath the bed, a look of concentration on her face. When she came back around to Ida Mae’s side, she finally said, “I found something.” She pulled out a small, spiral-bound notebook and handed it to Ida Mae. “You do the honors.”

  Ida Mae tucked the notebook into her pocket. “I think we’d better leave first.”

  Arlette tidied the bedspread so it didn’t look disturbed, and they left the room as quietly as they’d entered. Hattie said no one had come up, either by the elevator or the stairs.

  “Let’s go to my room,” Ida Mae said. “This thing is burning a hole in my pocket.” She breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator deposited them on the first floor and her room was in sight; she didn’t have the slightest idea how she would have explained her presence in Beverly’s old room.

  Arlette pushed Hattie’s chair to rest across from Ida Mae’s, then locked the door. Ida Mae pulled the notebook out of her pocket, read the first page silently, then flip
ped through the remainder of the pages, sure there had to be more. There wasn’t.

  “What do you make of this?” she asked Arlette.

  Arlette took the book and squinted at it. “The handwriting is really spidery, and it’s not organized in straight lines,” she said. “But let’s see what I can make out. ‘Dr. Brent knows’ . . . um . . . ‘G.’” She squinted again. “That’s all on that line, just a ‘G.’ Then below it, it says, ‘Benedict Arnold . . .’ and ‘gape. I saw it through my window, and he saw my face.’” Arlette walked over to the lamp on the nightstand and held the book directly beneath the glow of the bulb. “The ink gets really faded here. It says, ‘He knows it’s me.’”

  Ida Mae sat back, stumped. “So, Beverly saw something through the window of her room, and whoever was doing it saw her watching him?”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Arlette said.

  “What about the ‘G’?” Hattie asked. “Is that a person?”

  “It could be.” Arlette took another look at the note. “Dr. Brent was a woman, so these references to a ‘he’ clearly don’t mean Dr. Brent. Someone else is involved.”

  “Beverly called Peggy and told her about the box springs the night before she died,” Ida Mae said. “So she hid this note and was gone by the next day. She was clearly scared of whatever it was she saw—and with good reason—but what was it?”

  “I think we need to check in with Eden,” Arlette said. “Maybe Peggy remembered something else.”

  “I agree.” Ida Mae tapped her lips with her finger. “I know we’re on to something, but I still don’t have a clear picture of what.”

  The ladies made their way back to the dining area just before lunchtime. “I’ll go call Eden,” Arlette said.

  “That’s a good idea,” Ida Mae replied. “In the meantime, we’ll check in with George and keep following Andrea.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Arlette bustled away, a woman on a mission.

  Ida Mae wished she could walk that briskly. Who knew how long she’d be laid up with these stupid casts.