Polly Dent Loses Grip (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery)

by S. Dionne Moore

  “He hurt you, babe?” I let my eyes slide over Hardy’s features. He didn’t fail me.

  His back to Chester, he rolled his eyes all around, looking crazier than a coot, but I got the message. Eyes. Rolling around. I was to look around the room.

  “He got my back up pretty good, but I coulda took him down real quick. Took me off guard, that’s all.”

  Up. Down.

  Notions whirled in my head. Up. Down. Stairs? The meaning hit me hard. The elevator!

  “You two need to leave this room immediately. I’m locking up.”

  Hardy took off toward the door as timid as a sheep. I wanted to howl my aggravation. I wasn’t going to set foot out of this room until I was good and ready. And where did Sue Mie get off too? Why’d she haul me up here then turn around and leave? Or did Chester’s presence make the decision for her? Things were spinning mighty fast, and I didn’t like being the one having to hustle to catch up.

  Chester glared back at me, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dug in.

  “You come back here with Mr. Payne and let us have ourselves a talk. I’m wondering why you feel the need to be harassing us about a vacuum cleaner.”

  Chester went white as milk, then as red as a cherry tomato. Hardy peeked over Chester’s shoulder and gave me a wink.

  “I’m not allowed to leave this room unattended,” this from Chester in a barely controlled voice.

  “That’s right funny. Because I’m not allowed to leave here either, so you’d best be fetching him in a hot second.”

  Chester’s nostrils flared.

  I huffed and stared down my nose at him.

  As soon as he twirled on his heel, almost knocking Hardy off his feet, I trawled the room for whatever clue Hardy might be hinting at.

  “Tish, over there.” I followed his pointing finger at the elevator and waited for him to return to the door and give me the all-clear signal.

  It didn’t take long to pinpoint what had him so stirred. Right in front of the elevator doors sat a treadmill, quintuplet to the other three downstairs.

  Hardy leaned away from the door. “I’m thinking someone could have swapped treadmills. What if the maintenance records aren’t so up-to-date and Otis Payne, or someone, knows that.” Hardy leaned his head back into the hallway.

  As fast as my feet could carry me, I hunted for an electrical outlet, found one, and gave the treadmill a tremendous shove in that direction. I needed to hear what the motor sounded like and look to see if there was some kind of identification number in case I ever got to glance at those maintenance records. Another heave and it was close enough to reach the outlet.

  The motor purred without problem, the belt turning without catching. I finally found some sort of number on the underside of the post that held the electronic read out. T61.

  “Get some of that white powder stuff and we’ll have it looked at. Maybe it’s not baby powder,” Hardy said. “Remember the ‘snow in the hand sealed her doom?’ Maybe it’s the powder stuff.”

  Had to think quick. I zoned in on kitchen supplies and found a stack of styrofoam cups. I tore into the package and tapped the handles of the machine so the powder would flake off into the cup. It didn’t work. I stuffed the cup back in a corner and decided to use the hem of my shirt, rubbing it back and forth across the handles until enough of the white powder hand transferred to the material to satisfy me. Good thing it was a loose top. I folded the material in on itself to keep my sample safe until I could get the top off and in a sealed bag.

  “On their way,” Hardy said as he ducked inside and rushed to my side. Together we wrangled the treadmill back into its original position. He almost ran the thing over my foot. When I reached down to coil the cord around the post, I noticed a notch in the belt that made me stand upright real fast.

  Polly’s treadmill belt had a notch taken out of it! I’d noticed it the day Otis had let me nose around the gym.

  Hardy tugged on my arm, eyes wild. When Chester appeared in the doorway, Otis on his heels, Hardy and I were back in our original positions, awaiting Otis and friends.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After changing my shirt and putting it into a plastic bag, I strolled from out the bedroom to see Hardy sitting dejectedly on the sofa. “Thought Otis was gonna blow for sure. Good thing you had the phone on you. Never been so glad to have one of my babies call and say she’d been fired and was coming home.”

  When Hardy didn’t respond, I knew what he was thinking as sure as I knew what brand underwear he preferred.

  “She’ll be fine, you know,” I tried to soothe him.

  “Not worried about Momma right now.”

  I frowned. “You think I didn’t know that? You’re stewin’ on Lela’s problems and I don’t think it’s worth your energy.”

  He sank his head into his hands. “You think it’s time to go home?”

  What brought this on? “Do you?”

  “Hate it that our little girl got fired. Maybe we should be there when she comes home.” He turned his head in profile, jaw working hard.

  “She’s big enough to be on her own, Hardy Barnhart. Coming home doesn’t mean her folks need to be droppin’ everything that’s important to them, and your momma needs us right now.”

  Hardy gave a single nod of his head, but his clenched hands told a different story.

  I sank down beside him and pulled him into the circle of my arms. “What’s the real problem, Hardy Barnhart?”

  Beneath my hand his shoulders slumped. “I’m worried about you.”

  “What you talking about?”

  “You’ve been having those spells, though you’ve seemed pretty good today. Lookin’ at Momma and how weak she’s become. . .guess I’m feeling my age and hopin’ I won’t have to be spending my days without you.”

  “I ain’t going anywhere anytime soon, so don’t be plannin’ no funeral.”

  His voice came to me muffled; face against my chest as it was. “Do you think we should take Momma home with us?”

  “It was her decision to come here, and I think as long as she wants to be independent, we need to let her be independent.”

  “Tisha?”

  That tone of voice lit up flares in my mind.

  “I made an appointment with the doctor here in town tomorrow. I want to know what’s going on with you.”

  I opened my mouth, a billion protests and excuses rolling in my head. My eyes and mouth closed at the same time. If things were reversed, yes, I’d do the same thing. Force the issue. Make sure my man was okay and prepared to live a good long life.

  I hugged him closer. “Not happy about it, but I guess doctor appointments don’t generally make us happy. People poking and prodding around—they’d better have a real good reason to be doing it. I figured the strange things I’d been feeling lately warranted a good prodding session. Though I dreaded it.

  “Thanks for rescuing me from Chester. That man’s crazy.”

  I patted Hardy’s shoulder. “Tell me what you think of all this. What does that treadmill mean? And Sue Mie is the reason I got to you before Chester’d reduced you to a puddle, but she disappeared real quick.”

  “Why’d she take you up there then leave?”

  I settled down on that question like a hen on a nest. Here I’d gone and prayed for a good solid clue and things got even murkier, though the treadmill problem seemed a great clue. Thank you, Lord Jesus. “Got any ideas on who we can ask to have that white powder on my shirt looked at? The local police here’ll think we’re stirring trouble.”

  “When did Lela say she’d be in?”

  “Day after tomorrow,” I answered.

  “Then why don’t we go home for the night and give it over to Chief Conrad? He’ll help us out.”

  Sure enough. Chief Conrad and I had tackled the mysterious death of Marion Peters together, I knew Hardy’s suggestion was a good one. But being that I wasn’t so sure how long the process would take, and needing the information as soon as possibl
e, I made another decision.

  “How about I go home tonight after this shindig, do some cooking for Lela, then go to our doctor in Maple Gap tomorrow. That’ll land me back here tomorrow afternoon.”

  He sat up. “You going without me?”

  “No choice. You need to stay here with momma and keep your ears open.”

  He nodded. “I’ll call the doc and make your appointment for you.”

  I waited as he put his ear to the cell phone. Since when did he have our doctor’s number memorized? Come to think of it, Hardy did have a mind for numbers. Not math, necessarily, but a mind for phone numbers and street numbers and such. When he hung up, I was ready.

  “Got you in tomorrow morning at 10:30.”

  Oh yippee. I had better things to talk about than an old doctor appointment. “How’d you find that treadmill?”

  “I walked into that storage room and wandered around a good bit. Chester’d just come in and caught me. He wasn’t too happy. You’d think I’d broke into a bank vault or something.”

  Bank vault. “That reminds me of something else. Rumor is Thomas Philcher robbed a bank with another guy when he was young. Made off with a lot of money.”

  “Who’d you hear that from?”

  “Darren. Think you could find out if it’s true or not?”

  “What you want me to do, come right out and ask him if he’s a robber?”

  I glared. “No. But you can talk about it. Look it up on the internet in the library and see what you can find out. Ask Darren. Someone must know something.”

  “You find an identification number on that treadmill?”

  “I did. T61. And I’m thinking hard that it’s the treadmill Polly Dent was on when she fell, not the one in the gym now. The day Otis let me have a look in the gym, I saw there was a chunk taken out of the belt of the one Polly had fallen on. The other day when I looked things over, the belt seemed perfect, but that one in storage had a chunk taken out.”

  “Why would someone go to all the trouble to swap the things?”

  I shrugged. “I’m thinking the maintenance records might tell the story.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Shocked my hair straight when I came out of Matilda’s apartment and met up with Thomas Philcher, in the process of unlocking the door to his. His smile beamed warmth, and I wondered at the possibility of all that oozing charm being nothing more than a scam. He had to know the rumors going around about him being a bank robber.

  Dressed to kill, as always, I could see where the rumor of him having money might have footing. On the other hand, it wasn’t a crime to love good clothes. Or hats. Or shoes. Though it did cost a pretty penny. Ask me how I know.

  “Whoo-wee, you must rob a lot of banks to buy such nice clothes.” Problem with that great line was timing. My timing was way off, because I delivered it just as Thomas looked down to unlock his door. Drat. How could I analyze his expression if I couldn’t see his face? “Maybe you could give my husband Hardy some pointers.”

  Thomas lifted his head as he twisted the doorknob and opened the door. I x-rayed his face for hints of subterfuge or dishonesty, but only that beatific, peaceful smile remained. “Though I would love to speak with you, Mrs. Barnhart, I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. Please, if you see Gertrude, will you send her my regrets? I tried to find her, but I just didn’t have the strength to continue my search.”

  “Do I need to call a nurse or something?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I get these spells on occasion. I do hope you enjoy the evening festivities.” He bowed his head in my direction and the door closed.

  Nothing frustrates me more than laying a trap that totally backfires, leaving me no further along than when I began. I’d have to leave the whole Thomas Philcher affair to Hardy’s expertise. He’d know what to do. I hoped.

  For the second time, I headed toward the cafeteria, determined to dig deeper. I tugged out the cell phone from my pocket and noted the time. Since it wasn’t quite quitting time, I might be able to catch Sue Mie and find out why she left me on the second floor. Speaking of nurses, another nurse, one I hadn’t seen before, trolleyed her cart down the hallway. Must be snack time again. Sure ate a lot around here.

  “Do you know where I can find Sue Mie?” I called up the hallway.

  The little brunette girl didn’t stop moving the entire time she answered me. “Sue left the building earlier. I think she was sick or something. I haven’t seen her.”

  That explained why Sue had looked like she did. “Are you new here, honey?”

  “I’ve worked here for two years.”

  “Sue Mie’s a sweet little thing. What’s it take to be a CNA?”

  “You have to go to school.” She trundled her cart closer and knocked on the door. “It’s not as long as for an LPN or RN. Eventually I want to go on and get my RN.”

  When the door creaked open she exuded friendliness and efficient competency, checking off the name of the person before pushing her cart even closer. I could finally read her name tag. Kimberly. There was no answer at this door, so I decided to ask one more question.

  “Is a CNA allowed to dispense medications?”

  Kimberly shook her head. “Only an RN can do that, but a CNA can do it if she’s taken a Med Tech class.”

  An interesting fact that I tucked away. One never knew when a piece of information might come in handy.I gave Kimberly a wave as she prepared to distribute her next snack.

  The idea that Polly’s fall may have been the result of her medication had occurred to me before, but there was no way I’d ever be able to prove it without having access to records. Medication labels always warned against side-effects, most including dizziness. So what if Polly’s side-effects kicked in as the treadmill was going? On the other hand, I couldn’t shake the thought that such a side-effect, even resulting in a fall, would cause death. Even if Polly had been fragile—and she didn’t give that appearance at all—a broken hip, a broken arm, a concussion, yes, but death?

  Downstairs, caterers in white coats moved all around, shuffling trays and pushing carts. So Hilda Broumhild had the night off. I stepped into the dining room and inhaled. Things were shaping up, and Otis Payne pointed and directed like the commander-in-chief he was.

  His co-chief sidled up beside him; I’d recognize those shapely knees anywhere, not to mention the blond hair and dark roots.

  Otis seemed more irritated by her presence than grateful. Of course, if someone was sucking up to me like a leech, I’d be howling. To his credit, Otis didn’t shake her off, though I thought he might have been tempted. Deciding it best not to agitate him any more—a first for me and I was proud of it—I veered toward the kitchen and ducked inside after one of the caterers.

  The doors swung shut behind me as my eyes followed the paths of the various white-uniformed people milling about. Crazy, is the word that comes to mind. That’s when my chest vibrated. That really got my attention, I can tell you that. It took me a second to realize my cell phone, in my breast pocket, was singing a tune and buzzing like a baby’s lips. I punched the button and stuck the thing to my ear as I retraced my steps.

  “You going to have to speak up,” I admonished on my way through the dining room.

  A reedy thin voice came to me, but I couldn’t quite make out the words.

  “Hold on there a second.” I burst into the hallway, glad to have left the craziness behind. “What’s that you’re saying?”

  “Mrs. Barnhart. It’s Sue Mie, the CNA.”

  “Girl, what you mean leaving me up there all by myself?”

  She knew exactly what I was flapping about. “Please, Mrs. Barnhart. I need to talk. Can you meet me tonight? There’s a coffee shop down from Bridgeton Towers. If you go out the building and take a left, just look for it. It’s called The Nuthouse.”

  Could have commented on that. Chose not to. “I’ll be there. What time?”

  “Nine?”

  “Order me a mocha with lots of chocolate.”
<
br />   “Thank you.”

  My return trip to Maple Gap just hit a major delay.

  Hardy strutted around in his dark blue trousers and red tie like a banty rooster preparing for dawn. When Matilda appeared in her Sunday best red dress, Hardy bounced up to her telling her how pretty she was and how she looked so good in red. It’s a color I never touch. Makes me feel like a tomato. But red accents I can do, which is why my purple dress had crimson trim. Always did like the two colors together, and that’s before the society of red hat lovers started up. Been thinking about starting a chapter in Maple Gap.

  After Hardy sweetalked his mother for a bit, he started in on me. “And you’re looking mighty cute yourself, Mrs. Barnhart.”

  “Well,” Matlida piped up. “When you two are done cooing at each other, we need to get moving. I’m hungry.”

  Hardy offered his arm to his momma. “You needs to remember to watch what you’re eating. LaTisha and I don’t need a repeat of the day your sugar spiked.”

  Matilda took Hardy’s arm, her eyes sparkled up at her only child. “You’re a good boy, Hardy, watchin’ after me like you do.”

  Hardy flashed his tooth that showed every bit of his pride at her words.

  Matilda dragged him along as she hustled toward the door. “If we don’t stop dripping all this sweetness, my blood sugar’s gonna go up for sure.”

  I followed the two down to the cafeteria hauling Matilda’s cane since I knew she’d be wanting it later. She enjoys Hardy squiring her around, but she’s also one to trot off on her own when she has a mind.

  The dining room appeared to be about half full when we entered. Otis Payne mingling, greeting residents he probably never talked to any other time. I noticed right off that Mrs. Payne sat off to the side and looked ill-at-ease as she sipped from her water glass. Reminded me of our son, Bryton. Never much for people, you could always find him hunkered down behind a computer that never required him to open his mouth. His wife Fredlynn made up for his quiet side. Bryton never attended a company party without Fredlynn to help keep conversation going.