Seniors Sleuth

by Jennifer J. Chow

  Pete Russell’s room also emitted a hospital vibe, but it was a separate unit, unlike Anastasia’s. Two recliners surrounded the hospital bed, as though every resident received multiple visitors a day. Pete gestured to one of the mustard yellow seats. “Come on in, Winston. Make yourself at home.”

  The room’s open window let in a refreshing breeze. A pitcher of ice-cold water, not even sweating in the heat, along with an array of snacks lay beside Pete on his bedside table.

  “You’ve got a nice place here,” Winston said.

  “Yeah.” Pete grunted. “It only took five years to get off the wait list.”

  “I’d sign up in a heartbeat, too, if I qualified.”

  Pete pulled out his deck of cards from under the crisp, white bedsheet. “Are you here for a quick game because you owe me one?”

  Winston moved his recliner closer. “Sure, deal me in, but you’ll have to answer my questions at the same time.”

  “No problem. I can play War in my sleep.” Pete split the deck into two piles.

  Winston took his half. “I’m changing my mind about Rob being the one involved in Joe’s murder.”

  Pete whistled a tuneless snippet. “You don’t say.”

  “Carmen’s the main suspect now.” Winston placed a two of hearts on the bed, while Pete won with an eight of clubs.

  “The ditzy model? Are you sure she could pull off something like that?”

  “I know her new address. She lives at the Sweet Breeze house,” Winston said. “Housing is a great motive for murder.”

  “Well, she did act strange the day Joe died.”

  “You saw something odd?”

  “She didn’t look at Joe’s body.”

  “What was she doing instead?”

  “She was hunched over, looking at the floor.” Pete swept off all the cards on the bed, the clear winner, and stacked them. “I figured she just didn’t want to see a dead body. Young people don’t like to stare mortality in the face.”

  “Hmm, that is strange behavior.” What had Carmen really been looking for in Joe’s room? “One more thing, Pete. Did you notice if her clothes were wet?” He figured if Rob had sliced open the dialysis bags, Carmen might have gotten some of the remaining liquid on her.

  “No, I didn’t notice that.” He chuckled. “Not much chance, though, with what she was wearing—a spaghetti strap tank top and a mini skirt.”

  Pete packed all the cards back in the box. “You should go see Jazzman, though. He might have some photos from that day, and you can see for yourself. The man’s a real picture hog when he performs on special occasions.” Winston remembered the photos that had hung around Jazzman’s old room. “Besides, it was Anastasia’s birthday that day. She made a big fuss over it, even telling Kristy to bake a cake for her, so she probably made him take a picture of the party.”

  Concrete photographic evidence from Jazzman? “Thank you so much, Pete.” After the wall with Sana Technologies, things were starting to look up for Winston.

  CHAPTER 40

  Gentle Pastures Residence, a mere two streets from the old Sweet Breeze home, took its green reference to extremes. Olive green exterior paint, about the color of dried mucus, coated the little house. Inside, the walls were a clean mint green, constantly reminding Winston to check himself for bad breath and yearn for chewing gum. Even the abundant supply of carpet covering the floor displayed a dark forest green hue. Winston felt like he’d entered a jungle, except for the humans walking around the environment.

  Once he found Jazzman’s room, he relaxed. The walls were a normal white. Of course, Jazzman had already hung up such an array of photos they would have covered over any indecent green paint job.

  “Winston, nice of you to visit me.”

  “Any time, Jazzman.” Winston noted the feather bed and cozy armchairs. “You’ve found yourself in another beautiful home.”

  “It’s nice, except for the split pea soup colors. Besides, they don’t have a piano here, so it can’t compare with Sweet Breeze.”

  “Speaking of which, Pete suggested I come by here to see you.”

  “Really? How’s he doing?”

  “Pete’s in veterans’ housing now, and I think he’s feeling more understood there.”

  “Good for him. I only got in here because my family and some ex-fans put up some money for me. It costs a pretty penny for assisted living.”

  Winston walked around and touched the frames on the wall, each already dusted and polished. “Pete tells me you had your picture taken at Sweet Breeze every time you played the piano for an event.”

  “I like to commemorate the special occasions,” he said.

  “Do you think you have one from the day Joe died?”

  “I do. In fact, I was looking through them the other day.” Jazzman lifted his bedspread, revealing that his mattress was raised on concrete blocks. “I stick my stuff underneath here.”

  “Let me give you a hand,” Winston said. The space underneath was filled with cardboard boxes. Two-thirds of them contained vinyl records, each labeled in a familiar neat script. “Did Kristy help you with packing?”

  “She sure did. She keeps me organized.” Jazzman peered at the remainder of boxes, all containing photos. He examined their written dates and pulled the lid off one. “I know there’s fancy digital stuff nowadays, but I like pictures I can hold onto. There aren’t too many of that day, I’m afraid.” He handed three pictures over.

  Winston flipped through them. One picture of Jazzman standing at the piano, dressed up with a golden brocade vest over a white button-down shirt with his top hat in hand. Another featured Anastasia blowing out the candles on a lopsided cake, a vanilla confectionary topped with fresh strawberries. The last one was taken of the party participants all together. Everyone smiled at the camera, except for Eve, who was gripping her granddaughter’s hand tightly, with Carmen half-turned toward her and partially gesturing at the lens.

  “The funny thing was my nurse recognized Carmen from this photo,” Jazzman said.

  “You don’t say.” Winston extracted the group photo and held it in his palm. “Any chance we could talk to her?”

  “She’s only a finger’s touch away, my friend.” With those words, Jazzman turned to a panel behind him and pressed a red button.

  A minute later, a gentle knock at the door sounded. When the nurse entered the room, she gasped. “What did you do, Mr. Jones? I hope you didn’t strain yourself.”

  Jazzman turned to Winston and whispered, “I can’t get Madge to use my nickname for the life of me.”

  The nurse’s beady eyes looked at Winston with suspicion. “And who might you be?”

  “Don’t worry.” Jazzman touched Madge’s shoulder. “This is a friend of mine, Winston Wong.”

  Winston extended his hand to Madge, and she shook it with a gentle grip. Everything seemed soft about her, besides those eyes. Her body showed a happy pudginess that traveled from her face down to her feet.

  “Jazzman,” Winston said, but stopped as Madge’s lips quivered at him in irritation. “Mr. Jones, I mean, mentioned that you recognized someone from his old home, Sweet Breeze. Can you point her out in this photo?”

  Madge swiveled a round fingertip at Carmen. “This woman. I’m sure of it. Along with her grandmother. Carmen and Eve.”

  “How did you know them?”

  “They came by to check out this home a few months ago. Carmen said she wanted a place downtown. Her grandmother had previously lived nearby and was already comfortable with the area.”

  “That must have been right before Carmen selected Sweet Breeze for Eve,” Jazzman said. “She was a pretty recent resident compared to the rest of us.”

  “How did she act at Gentle Pastures?” Winston asked Madge. “Anything strange you noticed about her?”

  “Carmen seemed skittish. She kept asking about our management and how long we’ve been in business for.” Madge pulled herself to a more upright posture. “We have decades of experience.”<
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  “What made her decide against Green Pastures?”

  “I’m not sure. Our staff is excellent, and we’re well-established in the community.”

  It sounded like Carmen had investigated the homes before she had committed to Sweet Breeze. Perhaps she had really been looking for one that had an old man tied down to no family, one who wouldn’t be readily missed, and Green Pastures didn’t offer that opportunity.

  Winston fingered the photo of Carmen in the group shot. “Can I take this photo, Jazzman?”

  “Be my guest, but take good care of it.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Winston got into his car, stuck his hand in the glove compartment, and fiddled with the contents inside. He pulled out a San Jose map and drew a circle with a five-mile radius extending beyond Green Pastures. He traveled across every main and side street in the area, locating a total of nine senior homes. After checking out each one, Winston confirmed that the striking duo of Eve and Carmen, dowdy grandma and dazzling granddaughter, had made their rounds to four of the sites. The home Winston saved for last ended up being Kristy’s current employer, Life Circles.

  He saw Kristy as he entered her work place. “What are you doing here?” she asked. She touched the side of his cheek, and he wanted to rest in the comfort of the touch, but he willed himself to move her hand away. “Unfortunately, I’m here on business. It looks like Carmen was checking all the homes within a certain radius before she settled Eve at Sweet Breeze. Could you find out if she visited here as well?”

  Kristy pulled out a heavy three-ring binder from a shelf. “No, there’s no Eve on the assisted living side.” She ran through the pages, licking her finger before flipping each one. He kept watching the flick of her tongue, like a charmed snake, before he realized she’d stopped turning the sheets.

  “Did you find something?” he asked.

  “There’s an Eve Murray who previously lived on the independent side.”

  “You mean in one of those gleaming townhouse castles?”

  “Yes…but the form says she lived at Life Circles only three months before deciding to move in with her granddaughter, Carmen.”

  “The first names are the same. I’ll check it out. Even if it’s only a coincidence, at least, I’ll get to work side by side with you.”

  “Tough luck, buddy. I’ve got to make some rounds. I’ll hand you over to Carol on the independent side. She’s the activities director over there. I’m sure she’ll tell you about Eve Murray in a flash.”

  Kristy walked him over to another coworker’s office. He got to hold her hand for two minutes straight before being passed off. Carol, the activities director, towered over him. She was at least six foot two and her body seemed all lean muscle. “How can I help you, Winston?”

  “Have you seen a woman like this at Life Circles?” He pulled out the photo he took from Jazzman’s room.

  “Of course, I have. That’s our very own Eve Murray—right here.” She smashed her thumb down on Eve Solstice’s printed image. She then pointed to Carmen. “And that’s her granddaughter. She visited the home quite often.”

  “Can you tell me more about Eve Murray?”

  “Eve? I remember she was quite the avid baker. Whenever she came to a social event, Eve always brought a treat to share.”

  “How was she so independent? Didn’t she have issues with dementia?”

  “I’m not sure. The woman was very quiet, and her granddaughter always hovered over her,” Carol said. “I remember that the two of them participated regularly in our book club. We gathered every month with a core of four people, including myself. We had a lively discussion of White Oleander right before Eve left. If you want, you can read about it in Julie’s minutes.”

  “Who’s Julie?”

  “Our book club secretary. She jots down the minutes for the meeting and types them up later. We give them to prospective members to see if they want to join.”

  “I’d love to take a look at them.”

  Carol slid out a bulging file folder, extracted a paper and handed it to him. Its flowing, feminine script read:

  “Book Club Discussion, White Oleander. Attendees: Carol, Eve, Carmen (Eve’s granddaughter), Yolanda, and Julie (me).

  1. Passed out blueberry scones (another Eve treat) to the group. Delicious with the Earl Grey tea (thank you, Julie).

  2. Yolanda started the discussion talking about the Santa Anas. Only two of us have experienced those strong, warm winds.

  3. Julie talked about the unfortunate way Ingrid treated Astrid in the book. Murmurs of agreement all around, all of us having been mothers.

  4. Yolanda thought that white oleander seemed such a pretty name for a dangerous flower.

  5. Carmen wondered how Ingrid thought she could have gotten away with Barry’s murder.

  6. Carol informed us that there’s a plant related to the white oleander called the suicide tree. People use it in India for suicides.

  7. Julie asked not to discuss the creepy topic.

  8. Yolanda moved on to discuss the foster care system. Lots of headshaking and sighs from everyone.

  9. Carol decided to bring up happier subjects and talked about poetry and art, mentioning some mother-daughter creative duos.”

  So it seemed like Carmen Solstice had learned about poison from her grandmother’s book club and the unwitting activities director. How had she moved from head knowledge to physical possession? And how did that all tie back to Rob? Winston needed to go back to the jail again.

  CHAPTER 42

  Before Winston picked up the phone, he saw Rob pressing his face up against the glass, like a puppy waiting for its master.

  “Got any good news?” Rob fiddled with the collar of his jail uniform. “My trial’s only two days away.”

  “I’ve got some leads to Carmen, but I’m stuck at a dead end. Maybe you can help me. I need a solid link to tie her to the poison.” How had she gotten her hands on the chemical? All the way from India?

  Winston recalled Rob’s package. “What about that parcel you got from India? Suicide tree grows in abundance there.”

  Rob shook his head. “All I ordered was a knock-off DS and some bootlegged games.” Interesting. Pete had mentioned seeing Rob carry around a portable game device with foreign writing on it.

  “Nothing else?”

  “That and the stupid bracelet I gave to Anastasia. They shipped it to me by mistake.”

  “There must’ve been suicide tree in that India shipment somehow. Tell me how you got the knock-off DS.”

  Rob rubbed his face with his hand. Winston saw dirt clinging to his long half-moon fingernails. “I got the package through Zuras. He knew someone from India and ordered it for me.”

  “How did Zuras know what to get you?”

  “I looked at the goods online.”

  “Do you remember the URL?”

  “Sure, it’s www.uniqueindiangoods.com.”

  Winston scratched at an itch on his neck. It was uncomfortable looking at Rob’s probably lice-infested jail shirt.

  “Does that help you?” Rob asked. “Can you get me out of here now?”

  “I’m not sure about that, but I’m working on it.”

  Winston left the jail, going east on Hedding and south on Fourth. Seven minutes took him straight to the public library. The King branch of the San Jose library system offered an angular modern exterior with fancy hotel lobby floors and smooth pillars inside. He slid into the seat at an empty computer and typed in his library ID number and password. He accessed the website Rob had told him about and found the ripped-off games and device. Anastasia’s bangle was listed on page three of the jewelry listings. When he clicked on the image, he saw other suggested merchandise.

  He blinked twice at a familiar image. Flicker. It was like those glitches in the video games, making certain objects transparent and therefore hard to see. He’d missed the significance of the bracelet all along.

  That was Carmen’s bracelet in the photo; he remembere
d its distinctive greenish-blue color during the fashion show. The bangle meant that she knew about the Indian website somehow. Maybe she’d seduced the company owner into getting a certain toxin for her. Everything in his investigation linked back to her. He was sure the bracelet held more significance and decided to see Anastasia again.

  CHAPTER 43

  Winston couldn’t find Anastasia in Room 101. Instead, he wandered around peeking through the open doors at Silicon Valley Skilled Nursing Facility for a sight of her fashion-shrouded figure. He found her in a large room, which reminded him of his old elementary school’s cafeteria, down to its slippery floors and musty odor. Anastasia sat on a neon green plastic chair, squinting at a bingo card in her hand. Ten other residents lolled around, half of them staring at their numbers and the other half fixated on the man on stage. The slick-haired gentleman rotated a bronze metal cage and pulled out the numbered balls with glacial movements.

  “Can I join you, Anastasia?” Winston asked.

  “Sure.” She breathed out a sigh of relief and handed him the card. “I can’t see without my reading glasses, and I’m not letting any of these handsome men look at me in those clunkers.”

  Winston glanced around. Only two older men sat nearby, one drooling and the other hacking into a stained handkerchief. Not the best of prospects, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “What did you want?” Anastasia asked.

  “I need to update you on the case.” Winston caught her up to speed, including Carmen’s mysterious link to the Indian-style bracelet.

  “Well, I never!” She pulled forth her own bangle and tossed it over to Winston. He caught it but had to juggle the chips on the card to balance it all.

  Winston decided to set down the board on Anastasia’s lap before he pored over the bracelet. “What’s that marking?”

  “I never noticed anything before.” Anastasia looked around the room with a quick and shrewd glance. Then she pulled out an extremely thick pair of rhinestone-rimmed glasses and put them on. “You’re right. There’s a line here.” She pointed to a crease on it, almost camouflaged by the fancy swirls decorating the piece.