When Thomas reappeared with my water I upended the glass and gulped it down. “You have a baggie I can slip this into? I’m thinking I’d better take it with me.”
“Of course, let me get one for you.”
He returned with a sandwich bag and I slipped the note inside and zip-sealed it shut. “What made you show up downstairs? I thought you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m not. Gertrude insisted I attend and she does have a tendency to get her way, but now I think I’ll call it a night.”
I started rocking. Where was the eject button? On the third rock forward I tried to haul myself off the sofa. Thomas, bless him, saw my dilemma and aided my ascent. After straightening my clothes, I eyeballed the former bank robber, giving him a wide smile. “Gertie’s not going to be a happy woman if you cut out on her.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Gertie’s never happy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dinner was served. My stomach gurgled and popped in response. At our table, Matilda, Hardy and Gertrude had tucked into their food, looking for all the world like a nice cozy trio of old friends. When Gertie saw me coming though, her eyes brightened and she looked ready to pounce on me. She probably wouldn’t wait until my rear touched-down either, which is why I bent to whisper to Hardy before her barrage of words left me no opening.
“I’m not just hot, I’m on fire.”
Hardy’s big eyes rolled my way. “I could have told you that.”
He’s such a cheeky thing. I patted his head and waited for him to haul his carcass out of his seat and pull out my chair. He didn’t get the message at all, just kept grinning at me.
“You gonna hold the chair for me or not?”
He reached out a hand and gripped the seat. “I’m holding it.”
Matilda came to my rescue.
“You pull out that chair for my daughter-in-law or she’ll be a widow quicker than you can say your good-byes.”
Go Momma! A woman after my own heart. . .and mouth.
Hardy’s smile melted, but he hopped to his feet real quick, all the time charming me with those puppy-dog eyes. Long lashes. Gold flecks mixed with cocoa brown. Made my knees go weak and glad I had a chair to fall in to.
“Where’s Thomas?” The attack from Gertrude began with that simple question.
“He wasn’t feeling well.”
Her lip pooched, her chins folded, triplicates of each other.
“He promised me. I hope you didn’t call the doctor. Did he tell you about him? Almost no one trusts him. Not since Sue Mie’s uncle died.”
For all her brashness, Gertrude could pout like an oversized image of Nellie Olson, straight out of Little House on the Prairie, though her black and gray hair scared away that image pretty fast. Other than her quick mouth, I knew little about Gertrude. Brashness oftentimes covered natural impatience or deeper insecurity. I skipped down that mental path for a second before Hardy got his tongue wagging.
“Gertrude and I were having a good talk over the old days. Seems we both know something about being poor.”
“I did my best.” Momma defended herself unnecessarily. Whenever Hardy alluded to his childhood and not having much, Matilda got quick on the defense. To this day it irked her that Hardy’s father left them with so little, though she never once outright complained about being the one to provide for her son. Hardy and I often suspected that Momma’s heart had been shattered so hard by her husband’s abandonment, it had left her sour on remarrying. She’d never even dated again. Of course, with a son as devoted as Hardy, she knew she would be taken care of at all costs.
“Were your parents together, Gertrude?” I asked as she forked in a chunk of the hand-carved ham the caterer was slicing up for residents. It got me to wondering how they knew what to serve and to whom, dietary restrictions and all that.
“Mom and Dad died within three months of each other. My mom went first. Had a heart attack. Daddy just fell asleep.” She slurped her water and dug in for another chunk. “Me. I never married. Had lots of men after me, but I could never settle on one of them. Decided it was better to stay single and footloose. Hardy tells me you have seven children. That’s about unheard of in our day and age. Guess you felt tied down most days.”
My thoughts tripped over the reminder of babies squawking, then teenagers with an attitude, then their moving out to get an education or start their own nest. Either those children had me in tears or in stitches. Grandbabies would be my reward.
“Tied down in a good way, Gertrude. Children are the blessing of the Lord, or haven’t you ever heard that?”
Gertrude blinked and became still. “My mother used to tell me that.” She stabbed at a carrot but didn’t bring it to her lips. “She always wanted a lot of children, but something happened and I was the only one. Guess I didn’t make it too easy for her because I kept whining about how much I wanted a brother. She would just give me that sad little smile.”
Count your blessings. Name them one by one. I had a whole list of babies for the naming part. Hardy’s hand found mine under the table. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze that let me know he felt the gratefulness of our blessings, too.
I decided it was time to start dishing the questions. “Did you know about Thomas’s bank robbing days?”
Gertrude swirled a carrot through mashed potatoes and popped it into her mouth. “Everyone knows by now. He made the mistake of telling Polly. Polly thought she was so sly, but she couldn’tkeep her mouth shut for two seconds.”
A uniformed caterer delivered a plate to me with all the trimmings. I tapped my empty water glass. “Please. I’m parched.” And I had another gig tonight with Sue. That should be a mighty interesting conversation. Sue would know a little more about Dr. Kwan, I was sure, being a nurse and all.
Hardy sat back in his chair, hands laced across his non-existent stomach. “Wish I had me a toothpick.”
“You could use the strap on my purse to floss with. It’s upstairs though.”
Hardy puffed out his lips. “Guessin’ it’s time to make that appointment with Dr. Cryer.”
Dr. Cryer is Maple Gap’s dentist, and the truth is it was way past time for Hardy to be seeing him. “I’ll make one tomorrow when I’m in town.”
Hardy’s eyes went wide. “No use rushing things.”
Gertrude laughtervibrated her entire body. “I’m not fond of the tooth-guys myself.”
In her favor, she did possess a nice set of pearly whites.
“I’ve had two cavities in my life. Got good teeth from my daddy.” A mound of mashed potatoes disappeared between her lips. “Didn’t eat a lot of candy either. Mom and Dad didn’t have the extra money so I grew up without it and really don’t miss it. I keep telling Thomas to lay off the sweets but he doesn’t listen. You ask me I think he misses his little dog. He had a little dog when he was younger. Got hit by a car one day.”
She kept prattling. Matilda started to doze. Otis Payne returned to the cafeteria minus Louise. He continued where he left off, going straight to the tables where relatives sat with their loved ones, or to the new faces that clutched pamphlets hailing Bridgeton Towers as a wonderful place to live.
Dr. Kwan entered the cafeteria, making me wonder if he’d been called to check up on Mitzi, though after what Thomas revealed I doubted he’d done the calling. I glanced over at Matilda, still snoozing along. Hardy caught my eye and nodded toward his mother.
“Been wanting to talk to that doctor some,” Hardy said.
“While you’re gabbing, I’ll take Momma upstairs and get my things together.” I tried to communicate to Hardy with my eyes. “Make sure you ask him about how he dispenses medications to the residents.”
He cocked his head at me. “Didn’t you tell me that CNA lady does that?”
“No. I told you she wasn’t allowed to do it. Only an RN, but I’m figuring the doc has to be in charge of things somehow. Just ask.”
Matilda twitched forward in her seat and her eyes blinked open.
“Don’t need a nursemaid, Hardy.”
“I’ve got a few things to do anyhow,” I said. “We can walk together.”
She gave me the hairy eyeball. You can see why, when she regained her mobility after the stroke things became tense. She grated over everything we did for her that she felt she could do for herself. Now I have no problem with someone wanting to do for themselves, but when that same person is fragile to begin with. . . It sure gets awful hard to get them to see the wisdom of having someone nearby at all times.
Matilda hopped up out of her chair like some spring chicken. Her statement was clear; ‘get off my back,’ or in her case, ‘get off my bunions.’ She had a doozey of one on her right foot. I told her about my bunion-removal surgery, but Matilda dug in and said she’d suffered with it this long, she’d go ahead and die with it. I’d like to think I’ll never be that stubborn, which is why it bugs me when Hardy tells me he married a woman who had as much gumption as his momma.
When I left, Hardy had corralled Dr. Kwan in a corner of the cafeteria. The good doctor’s complexion seemed somewhat pale, but it might have been my imagination.
Matilda slipped into her bedroom first thing, leaving me to do my packing in silence. I fetched the overnight case from the bathroom and emptied out the things Hardy always left inside, fearful of forgetting them should he take them out, and packed the few items I’d need for the night. Every bit of evidence or motive charged around in my brain like a bull waiting for the flash of red.
With the stash of my toothbrush being the last item, I zipped the bag closed. I gave myself the once over in the mirror, noting the gray hairs encroaching faster and faster. It was okay. I could live with looking older, it was the feeling older I didn’t like, but one had to do the first in order to qualify for grandbabies, and grandchildren were worth the price.
I ducked my head into Matilda’s room satisfied to hear her soft snuffling, and closed the door behind me. She would sleep through the night.
A surge of excitement lifted my spirits. Home. I was finally going home, even if only for a night, it still signaled the beginning of the end of Matilda’s stroke and the months of rehab. It would be nice to be cooking in my kitchen again. I also wanted to check on little Sara Buchanan.
Before we’d left, Sara’s mother Suzanne had confided her fears that her daughter’s lethargy might signal the return of the leukemia. I’d make up a good spinach salad for her first thing on my return.
Mentally I flipped through the list of things I had packed and all I had to do when I got back to Maple Gap. The shirt! I went back to my bedroom and grabbed the baggie holding the shirt with the powder taken off the handles of the treadmill.I stuffed it into the side pocket of my bag and waited.
I figured I’d need fifteen minutes to get to The Nuthouse.
Hardy didn’t appear in time for me to say good-bye, so I decided to call him, but the phone kept right on ringing and I ended up leaving a message. “You got this thing now, why don’t you keep it turned on?” So what if I’m the pot calling the kettle black. As a matter of fact, my cell needed a good charging before it started that annoying beeping. I plucked up the charger and stuffed it in my bag, then thought better of it and pulled it back out. At least in Maple Gap I’d have a good old-fashioned phone. If Hardy needed me, he could call me at the house.
I set my cell phone to charging then beat it out the door before anything else distracted me and caused me to be late for my appointment at the coffeehouse. I needed a good mocha.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I arrived late anyhow. Turns out The Nuthouse happened to be about a five foot wide hole-in-the-wall store crammed between a huge bookstore and a drugstore, and I walked right by it the first time. The clerk in the drugstore told me to go back the way I came and follow my nose. Funny thing, that, because I did smell the coffee before I got to the store but thought it was from the little coffee bar in the bookstore.
When I opened the door of the coffeeshop my watch read 9:05. Sue Mie waited at a small booth for two. Mm-mm. I can tell you that small booth was going to get stretched to its limits as soon as I settled my wide bulk down on the blue vinyl seat. Sue Mie waved a hand as if I hadn’t seen her the first time and motioned toward my mocha. What can I say? The thought of that smooth, chocolatey beverage called to me like the sirens of the Iliad, or was that the Odyssey? Whatever. Literature wasn’t my strong subject, give me science any day. And math.
Sue Mie and I eyed each other for a full thirty seconds. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was thinking about booths being made by little people. I could just imagine these petite people running around with their tape measure, sizingeach other up as they put garish vinyl over flimsy pressboard. Sue Mie was a little person.
“I hope that table has some give in it.”
Sue’s brow creased in question.
“Because if it doesn’t move now, it will when I’m done with it.” To emphasize my point, I pushed my body into the tight little space, knuckles white on the edge of the table. “Better rescue those drinks,” I warned. Sue picked up her drink and mine as I gave a great heave in her direction. The table scraped and creaked about five inches before I had enough room to finish maneuvering my body. When I got settled, I noticed Sue Mie’s red face and that every person in the place had turned our direction.
I leveled a glare at everyone staring. “You best stop gawking and get back to your talking.” I raised my mocha in salute to my little audience.
People ducked their heads and returned to their conversations. I took a nice sip of the mocha and had to admit it was the smoothest, most mellow I’d ever tasted. Probably better than the mix I made up at home.
Setting my cup on the table, I glanced over the iced something or other in the clear cup Sue Mie clutched. Probably Chai. Stuff made me burp, though my girls drank the watery brew. They even wanted me to make a Chai punch at Christmas. Not happening. We had a nice, tangy, fruit punch instead.
Sue seemed reluctant to start the conversation, I had no such hang-up. “Best mocha I’ve tasted in a long time.” I slurped to emphasize my words. “But this meeting needs to explain why you left me in that second floor room by myself.”
Her face morphed from an expression of shy sweetness to one of hard professional. The same expression you see on someone concentrating hard. “I am not a CNA, LaTisha.”
“What you mean you’re not a CNA? I’m leaving my momma at an institute that doesn’t even make sure the people they hire are qualified?”
She put her hand up, palm out. “Please, let me finish.”
In a nano-second I realized something else. Her speech had changed. She’d lost the broken English accent. Now that I gave it some thought, even when she’d called her speech had been different. Between the swell of confidence in her demeanor and her change in speech pattern, I thought she might tell me she was an Ivy Leaguer and a lawyer.
“I’m a private investigator.”
Who-whee! I ran with it. “Let me guess, you were hired by your family to look into the allegations that Dr. Kwan somehow messed up your uncle’s medications, which caused his fall.”
She chuckled. “Close. I was not hired by my family, but the person who did hire me wanted me to investigate Dr. Kwan.”
“Are the rumors true about him mixing medications?”
She shrugged. “From what I’ve discovered, no. It is much more serious than that. That’s all I can say right now.”
I took another long pull on my mocha. “Why this meeting then?”
Sue’s eyes lit. “Because I know a kindred spirit. I’ve heard of how you helped with the investigation in Maple Gap and how you caught the murderer. Someone like that is someone I want on my side.”
I nodded. Satisfied. I scooted my mug out of the way and leaned as far forward as I could. “Mitzi Mullins is sick. Rumor is the doctor isn’t trusted. You’r
e saying there’s no reason for him not to be trusted? If you want me on your side, I want to know the scoop, and you’re the one to provide me with it.”
She pressed her lips together.
I leaned back real slow and let my sweetest smile grow on my lips before trumpeting my next words. “You’re a CNA at Bridgeton Towers.” My peripheral vision caught the patrons’ heads turning our direction. “Funny you don’t look like one. You look more like a—”
Sue Mie’s hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist, eyes flashing a controlled panic.
I lowered my voice. “I’m wanting that scoop, girlfriend, and you’d better give it to me or I’ll blow your cover from here to California.”
In the silence that followed my outburst, tension burgeoned between Sue and me. This little girl didn’t like my ways, and I actually felt a twinge of guilt for backing her into a corner.
Before my very eyes, the hard edge of her face melted. Sue clasped her hands together on the table and stared at her plain, unpolished nails. “I’ve got to be honest with you, Mrs. Barnhart. I’m just building my investigation portfolio.”
“How many cases have you handled?”
Sue’s posture deflated. “One.”
Um-hm. “Let me guess, this one, right?”
Her dark gaze reminded me of spilled oil. “I’m a single mother. My husband is in the service.” Her lip trembled and she lowered her eyes. “Was in the service. He got shot and killed nearly two years ago.”
Interesting story, but I wondered if there was more to it. Her lithe body and youth didn’t lend itself to my vision of the stodgy old detective with years of worldly wisdom to back up his naturally inquisitive nature, let alone a married woman with a child. “Why a PI? And what’s the deal with being a CNA?”
“Before I married I was going for my RN, but Phil wanted to get married before he left. Since he’s been gone, I’ve taken courses to get a degree in forensic science while my aunt watches my boys.”
Polly Dent Loses Grip (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) Page 12