by K C Hart
“Oh, no ma’am,” Katy said, grinning at her patient. “I remember ole Marshall Dillon and Festus.” She tilted her head to the side. “I think I remember seeing the lady you’re talking about. She had the bright red hair like you said, and she always requested we sing “One Day at a Time.””
“That was her. She asked every singing group that came in the place to sing that song.”
Katy asked Mrs. Simmons all of the usual home health questions and typed the answers into her computer. When she was done, she returned to their more interesting subject. “Did you see Mr. Clay at the nursing home quite a bit visiting his mother and aunt?”
“Oh no, I don’t think I ever remember him coming in the common room the whole time I was there. Now, that don’t mean he didn’t come. He could have visited when I was having therapy, but I don’t think he visited the women.”
“How sad.” Katy pushed a stray strand of brown hair back from her eyes. “Everybody needs to have visitors. I can’t imagine being in a home and my children not coming to visit. Did it seem to bother them?”
“I don’t know about his mother. Probably not because I don’t think she was in her right mind. His aunt had a boy of her own and he was there several times a week.”
“So, Mr. Clay has a cousin here in town?” Katy asked.
“I’m sure he does...or did. That man visited all of the time. He had to live somewhere either in town or just outside of town.”
“I wonder who he is,” Katy said more to herself than to Mrs. Simmons.
“I can’t help you there, honey. He would come get his momma and roll her to a table in the corner and visit. Seemed kind of like a private person.”
Katy hugged her patient before standing to leave. “I sure am going to hate it when our visits are over next week.”
“Just because you ain’t my home health nurse doesn’t mean you can’t come see me, girl. I know you know how to get out here after hours. I saw you in a truck at my neighbors the other night playing the good Samaritan.”
Katy chuckled as she stepped toward the steps to leave. “You don’t miss much, do you?”
“I miss a whole lot more than I used to, baby. A whole lot more.” She paused and looked toward the highway that ran in front of the trailer park. “Now you take care of yourself, Katy. There is a killer out there somewhere who don’t want to be found. And I don’t think you need to be a dabbling in that.”
Katy followed the old woman’s gaze to the highway and then across the way to the field that was now cut clear of all the pine trees that had been there only a year ago. “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Simmons. I’ve already had a lecture from my husband, and my girls called this morning and told me to remember to mind my own business.”
Mrs. Simmons smiled and watched as Katy put her computer in her car and turned to say one more good-bye. “But we both know that minding your own business just ain’t your strong suit, don’t we baby?”
Katy slid into the seat behind the wheel and slipped her phone out of her scrub pocket to check her messages. Check in time flashed boldly across her screen.
Katy smiled faintly. Last night before bed John made her promise to text him every two hours throughout the day. He was being overprotective, but she didn’t want to put up too much of a fuss since, ultimately, she was getting her own way. She looked at her watch, five minutes after eleven. She was five minutes late for check in. This was going to get old in a hurry.
I will see you at supper. She sighed as she typed the words, not sure that John’s logic was all that logical.
This was the sentence they decided she would text back when everything was okay. John, being all cloak and dagger, said that if she was in trouble just text that she was fine. This way, she could let him know she was in trouble without letting an attacker know what was going on. He had obviously been watching too many NCIS shows. A thumbs up sign appeared on her screen.
She dropped the phone on the seat and headed to the post office. Her next patient was expecting her around eleven forty-five. That would give her enough time to swing by the post office before they closed for lunch.
The post office was a little brick building not much bigger than most people’s walk-in closet. The building had a solid glass front door, gray tile floors and white walls. The counter was directly in front of the entrance. Katy could see Barbara Nelson perched behind the counter filing her nails. The woman was old enough to retire, but Katy imagined she enjoyed all of the information that walked through the post office door too much to leave. They would probably have to force her into retirement when she was ninety.
“Good morning, Mrs. Barbara. I need a stamp for my grandson’s card.” She held up the yellow envelope as proof of her mission. “Do you have any cartoon stamps or race car stamps?”
Barbara leaned forward to look at the envelope then smirked as she opened up a drawer. “How about these dog stamps? They’re kind of cute.”
“That would be great.” Katy took out a dollar and placed it on the counter.
Barbara made the correct change and dropped it and the stamp into Katy’s waiting palm. Katy placed the stamp on the envelope and handed it back to Barbara’s hand. How was she going to get Barbara to talk?
Barbara took the sunny yellow envelope and tossed it in a plastic bin behind her. She turned back to Katy and allowed the smirk to return to her face. “Is there anything else I can help you with, honey?” She raised one of her perfectly arched, drawn-on eyebrows. “You need anything else?”
Katy looked at Barbara’s face and decided to just cut to the chase. Barbara knew she was in here fishing for information. She wasn’t fooled at all. “Actually, yes there is. I heard you say Saturday that Rob Clay was having an affair with a hairdresser.”
Barbara practically glowed with a self-important gaze as she stared at Katy. “I might have mentioned that.”
She was not going to make this easy. Oh well. Humility was good for the soul. “Would you mind telling me which hairdresser it is? That is, if you know her name.”
“Oh, I know her name alright. I know her name and the name of two other women ole Rob was having a fling with. You interested in those names, too?”
Good grief. This woman was just plain ole obnoxious. “Uhh, yes ma’am. I guess I am.”
“And just why do you want to know these names?” Barbara leaned forward on the counter propping her elbows up with her chin in her hand. “You see, Katy. I heard that you went to lunch with that cute little deputy yesterday.”
“Why yes, I did. He’s my nephew, you know.” Katy wondered what Barbara was fishing around for. “We have Sunday dinner with him quite often.”
“I know that too, girl. You would just be surprised about what I know.” Barbara paused and stuck a long pink fingernail up to her hot pink wrinkled lips. “I tell you what. I’ll tell you who all Rob was fooling around with if you tell me what everybody is singing in the Battle of the Bands.”
“But I don’t know what everybody is singing, Barbara. You were at that meeting. Nobody mentioned anything about that. We all got distracted by what happened.”
Barbara stood up and threw her shoulders back, sticking her finger in Katy’s face. “Look, I just want you and that other bunch of amateurs to know something. The Babes have won this competition every year that we have entered it. We are planning on winning it this year, too.”
Katy’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, and she promptly snapped it back shut. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the older woman. Was she trying to intimidate her into dropping out of the competition? “Look Barbara, I don’t have a clue how The Moonlighters even made it into the top four. It’s some kind of fluke, but you must know that we’re no threat to The Babes. We’ve never even been in a talent competition before.”
Barbara listened to Katy’s assurance of The Babes’ superiority and seemed to be mollified. “Your little group does okay. I mean, for what it is and all.” She smiled again now that she was assured that Katy kn
ew who owned the title of queen bee in the hometown band category. “Let’s see, you asked me something before we got distracted. What was it?” Barbara strummed her long nails across the linoleum counter tapping out a staccato beat as she pretended to struggle with remembrance. “Oh yeah, Rob and his dalliances.”
Katy nodded and held her breath, hoping the woman wouldn’t decide to keep the information to herself.
“He had been seeing Johnnie May Smithers off and on now for about six months. I don’t think that was a routine thing. He just, well, how can I put this? He just dipped into that cookie jar when all the other lids were sealed shut.” The woman grinned as Katy’s eyes widened. She was really enjoying letting this cat out of its bag.
“His latest exploit was with that new hairdresser. She has a shop over by the mini storage on the other side of town. It’s really just a little hole in the wall. I don’t think she’s doing too well with her business. I’ve heard through the grapevine that the place is just really tacky.”
“Do you know the woman’s name?” Katy asked.
“Of course, I know her name. Pam Newman. She just moved here about six weeks ago. She’s only been in here a few times, paying some late notices.”
Katy had not really believed Barbara Saturday when she claimed that people told her everything when they came to get their mail. She believed her now.
“Thank you, Mrs. Barbara,” Katy said, glancing at her watch. “I appreciate you giving me a little bit of your time.”
Barbara reached across the counter and grabbed Katy’s wrist. “Wait a minute. Don’t you want to know who the third woman is?”
Katy looked at her wrist in surprise. Now that Barbara was running her mouth, she was having a difficult time finding the off switch. “Oh, yes, ma’am, I do. I just forgot that you said there were three.”
Barbara released Katy’s wrist and stood up straight again. “You would never guess this one. I almost didn’t believe it the first time I heard it, but, well, secrets just have a way of getting out.” She paused holding on to her place in the spotlight for as long as she could. After a second or two she leaned in again and whispered. “I’m not going to tell you. You will just have to wonder about that one.”
Katy’s eyes narrowed as she starred across the counter in disbelief. The woman really did make her feel like she was a dirty rat under the sharp claws of a mangy stray cat. She pulled her hand away and tried to smile, but it wouldn’t happen. “That’s okay, Mrs. Barbara. You have told me enough already.”
Barbara clapped her hands together and giggled as she watched Katy’s expression. “This one is so prim and proper. She’s been meeting Rob Clay every Friday night for over a year while her husband was at the domino house. I heard it all started up after Rob’s mother died.” She arched one eyebrow at Katy, daring her to ask for the woman’s name.
Katy looked across the counter and suddenly felt like she was being a part of something dirty. The Lord couldn’t be pleased with her right now. Barbara got entirely too much pleasure in sharing other people’s secrets. What would she say about her to the next person that came through those post office doors?
“Thank you, Mrs. Barbara. I mean for the stamp, and for the, uhh, information. I really have to run.” She turned and started toward the only door leading in or out of the little building.
“Katy, just one more thing,” Barbara said to Katy’s fleeing back.
Katy stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You might want to think about skipping a few of those desserts every now and then. Those brownies with the ice cream are starting to make your little nursing pants get rather snug across the hips.”
Katy pushed the door open and stepped back into the sunshine. She could hear Barbara cackle with laughter as she got into her car. What was that verse about fleeing from the devil? She felt like she was living it right now. She whipped her car out of the post office parking lot and drove down the street, pulling over in The Pig’s parking lot. She needed to write down what Barbara had said, but she was not going to do it anywhere near where Barbara could possibly see her. She didn’t care how long it took or how she had to do it, but she would never ask that woman for another piece of information as long as she lived.
She jotted down what she had learned in her notebook. John had set some boundaries. She needed to set some boundaries of her own. The post office gossip mill was off limits. She would not put herself through that again or give Barbara Nelson the satisfaction of watching her beg and grovel to get little snippets of other peoples’ lives. “Lord, forgive me,” she sighed.
She pulled onto the street and started toward her next patient. She needed to see a little old man who lived a few blocks away and was having trouble taking his medications correctly. She had been teaching him about each of his meds and meeting his son on Mondays to show him how to set up the pill box. Hopefully she would be able to discharge him after this week. She thought about what she needed to do next.
The nursing home was just a few blocks away from where her patient lived. Maybe she would stop by there and talk to Laura Jean, the activities director. She could probably tell Katy the name of Rob Clay’s cousin. That cousin would probably be able to give her a little more insight into the dead man’s life.
She wanted to go to the music store but decided to wait a day or two. The place might be closed up now that the owner had died. That would be a shame. The store provided all of the school’s band instruments and sure was handy for getting music supplies. She supposed if nobody reopened it, she would have to start ordering her guitar strings and picks and other stuff on line or drive into a neighboring town.
She finished up with her next patient by twelve forty-five. The poor old man was on thirteen different medications, but his son was getting proficient in setting up the pill box and tracking when his father was supposed to take everything. They had made a poster of how everything was to be taken and added a diagram of which pills went in the pill planner.
She pulled into the nursing home parking lot and took her phone out of her pocket. If she didn’t go ahead and text John within the next few minutes, he would be sending out the National Guard to track her down. She punched in the ridiculous sentence and then headed to the nursing home entrance. The doors required a numeric code to get in so the dementia patients couldn’t wander out. She pushed the buzzer since she didn’t know the code and was let in by the woman behind the desk in the foyer.
The foyer was a spacious room with lots of windows and sunlight. The walls were a soft white, and the furniture was a powdery, soothing blue with a few navy-blue throw pillows placed here and there for contrast. The floors looked like wood, but Katy was sure they were some kind of tile. The wheelchairs and rolling walkers would wreak havoc on real wooden floors. She signed in at the desk and walked into the large dining and activities area that was off to the right. Lunch was finishing up. Aides were busy escorting the residents back to their rooms for bathroom breaks or naps. A giant calendar on the wall near the front said that bingo started today at one. One thing she had learned over the years during her nursing home visitations: under no circumstances was anyone allowed to interrupt bingo or beauty shop visits. She mingled through the busy traffic of wheelchairs, walkers and canes and made her way to the activity director’s office, which was connected to the dining hall.
“Hello, Mrs. Laura Jean,” Katy called to the plump red-headed woman sitting behind a desk piled up to her chin with papers, board games, puzzles and other job-related items.
“Hello yourself, girl.” Laura Jean jumped up and came around her desk “Congratulations on getting in the Battle of the Bands. We are so proud of our Moonlighters.” She hugged Katy’s neck and motioned for her sit on the small couch across from her desk.
“Thank you,” Katy beamed. “I still can’t figure out how we managed it. I know we didn’t make that many fans at the Peanut Patch Festival last year, and we haven’t played any other big gigs.”
/> “I’ve been just dying to call you about that.” Laura Jean smiled a knowing smile, flashing a set of perfectly straight teeth. “But with that guy dying and all, I figured I would just wait until you and the girls came by for your next singing.”
“Why?” Katy asked, grinning back at Laura Jean with her own enthusiasm. “Do you know something about how we made the cut? I’ve tried to figure it out, and I’m thinking that maybe the radio station made some kind of mistake.”
“Naw, girl, it ain’t no mistake.” Laura Jean’s smile grew into a chuckle and her large shoulders shook along with her rotund mid-section. “We did it.”
“What do you mean, you did it? What did you do?” Katy asked, raising her hand in the air.
“We, as in the residents here at Shady Acres. We thought that getting The Moonlighters in the Battle of the Bands would be a good way to say thank you for giving up your time every month to come and entertain us.”
Katy’s eyebrows drew together as she listened to Laura Jean. “But I don’t understand. What did y’all do? There aren’t enough residents here to get us voted into the top four.”
“No, you’re right. But last month at the council meeting, the residents asked me to call the radio station and find out when the voting would start. We had about three and a half weeks to rustle up votes, and that is what we did.” She laughed as she talked. She clearly loved her job and the elderly people that she helped care for. “Almost all of these old folks have cell phones nowadays. So, they just got on their phones and started making calls. They called family members, friends, church folks, just about anybody you can think of, and asked them to call in and vote when the time came.” She chuckled again. “Then they called those same folks back about once a week and made sure they voted every day. Girl, this was a happening place Saturday when they announced the winners.”