Too Sweet to Die

by T. Doyle

  We turned right in the corridor, and headed toward the long-term care nurses station.

  I remembered my list of things to do. “You know Nora Fitzgerald on the residential side?” Marabel nodded, so I continued. “She suggested that one of Johnny Marino’s kids could be resourcing medical marijuana.” I used air quotes around resourcing, because I wasn’t quite sure if Johnny’s kid was stealing from some residents or just bringing in new pot.

  “Oh, that’s bad.” Marabel frowned. “Which one of Johnny’s kids?”

  “I’m not sure which one of Johnny’s twins.” And I didn’t want to be the one to ask. This was one of those times I appreciated not being the boss.

  Marabel massaged her forehead. “Darn it. Can you go through the charts and see which of our patients have CBD oil or marijuana listed as a current prescription?” Her shoulders slumped. “I feel like a middle school principal.”

  I patted her shoulder. “At least we don’t have to worry about pregnancies.”

  She stopped and faced me. “No, but I need you to do me a favor.” Her serious expression made my stomach drop. “I understand you talked with Mrs. McGuffin last week?”

  “Yes. She joined the Trivial Pursuit game.” I stepped to the side of the hallway to avoid Mr. and Mrs. Blevins toddling with walkers toward the cafeteria.

  “At breakfast on Saturday, Mrs. McGuffin told Herb Potter there’s a chlamydia outbreak at Sunnyview, and Evie Feeney is patient zero.” Marabel’s lips tightened. “I called Mrs. McGuffin’s neurologist, but he assured me that her behavior is not a symptom of anything other than meanness. Could you talk to her? I’ve called her family, and her son Ray promised to talk to her today. He mentioned you have a special rapport with his mom.”

  I exhaled. “He did, did he?” He could have warned me. “I know Ray.”

  Marabel’s eyes widened. “Wait, how do you know Ray?”

  “Not. Like. That.” Sheesh! I sprained my eyeballs with the rolling. “He lives next to Oscar.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lips and then laughed. “Yeah, right. I forget sometimes that you didn’t grow up here.” She shook her head. “That would be so awkward.”

  “You and Ray had a thing?” It took a moment to erase the horror I was sure was mirrored on my face.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I was younger and stupider then.” She nodded her chin toward the nurses’ station.

  Violet waved her pen at me and then returned to taking a note while talking on the phone.

  “He was kind of a rite of passage for us back then.”

  “Ick.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well, now I totally agree with you, but back then a date with Ray was like getting the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. And he was easy on the eyes with his Bon Jovi hair and gladiator body.”

  I cringed. “Ew.”

  Marabel smirked at my reaction. “Come on, wasn’t there some guy at your high school that every girl wanted to go out with? And their social status improved dramatically after dating him?”

  “Todd Barker, and he was quite dreamy, but he dated my sister, so totally off limits.” I shrugged. “I preferred art geeks to jocks, anyway.”

  “Really?” She arched her brow and pursed her lips. “Funny.” She tapped her mouth with her finger. “I could have sworn one of those Sanders boys was a quarterback.”

  “I didn’t know Joe in high school, and he was too busy for sports when we met.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Marabel’s eyebrows danced.

  “You know, I had considered setting you up with Ray, but that’s probably not a good idea.”

  She looked horrified, wide eyes, mouth gaping. She shook her head slowly.

  “That’s a definite no, then,” I said.

  The second phone rang at the nurses’ station. Violet motioned with her hand that her caller wouldn’t stop talking. I jogged over to the desk and answered the other phone. “This is Charlie, how can I help you?” The readout on the phone read Rita Almonds, a long-term resident with dementia and diabetes and a fondness for crosswords and bad puns.

  “I can’t find my glasses. If you have a minute…” Her voice trailed off.

  “No problem. I’ll be right there.” I replaced the receiver.

  “Don’t forget about Mrs. McGuffin,” Marabel said.

  “Don’t forget about Johnny’s kid,” I reminded her.

  I returned to the nurses’ station and sat next to Violet, the sweetest and quietest nurse on the floor. I researched which patients had medical marijuana prescriptions. Violet typed at the computer, charting her patients’ vitals.

  Ray approached the nurses’ station. He stopped. His eyes flicked to Violet and back to me, like I was sitting next to a ticking bomb.

  I signed off the computer. “Vi, I’m going to talk with Mrs. McGuffin now.”

  She spotted Ray, her eyes narrowed and she harrumphed.

  “You okay, Vi?”

  Violet’s stink eye hit Ray so hard he stepped back. “He’s a pig.” She faced me. “He slept with Jana, my niece.” Her upper lip curled back, in that protective mama-bear snarl.

  “Is Jana okay?” I slammed Ray with my testicle-skewering glare.

  He hung his head and approached the desk. “Hello, Violet.”

  “Jerk,” she whispered. She stood. “If we weren’t at work, I would…” She shook her fist, and I could picture a thought bubble above her head filled with expletives. Her face turned pink. “You’re not right in the head.” She grabbed her stethoscope and marched down the hall.

  “I’m sorry,” Ray said to her back. He held up a hand. “I don’t need any comments from you. Your face says enough.”

  “Fine.” I nodded to Eric, the ward clerk, who watched us with fascination. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t leave the desk, please.”

  “Sure.”

  I wasn’t sure if Eric was easy-going or incredibly lazy. I’d guess the twenty-something Tobey-Maguire look-a-like was lazy, but the CNA’s seemed to like him.

  Ray’s mom lived at the far end of long-term care wing, past another nurses’ station. Ray stopped outside the door. “You ready?” He held his hand to the door ready to knock.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Do your scary-mom-thing.” He cocked his hand back.

  “Wait.” I grabbed his arm. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Just follow my lead.” Ray knocked on the door, and a nurse’s assistant poked her head out.

  She frowned. “She’s not in a good mood right now. I’d get out while you still can.”

  He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I had that thought every day I lived at home.” He opened the door farther and called out, “Ma, I’m home.”

  “That’s not funny, Raylin. Why am I still here?” Mrs. McGuffin sat on a pleather recliner in front of the window.

  Ray stepped into the room.

  The nurse’s assistant flashed a quick smile at me and scooted out.

  I closed Mrs. McGuffin’s door behind me. She lived in Sunnyview’s assisted-living studio apartment, a large bedroom with a private bath, but no kitchen. Residents were encouraged to bring their own furniture. But for someone downsizing from a three-bedroom home to a three-hundred-fifty square foot room, the place felt claustrophobic. Her small kitchen table was overwhelmed with paperbacks, crossword puzzle books, and a plate with the remains of her lunch.

  Mrs. McGuffin’s recliner faced the window. A noisy cardinal spilled seeds from the attached bird feeder.

  “Ma, how are you today?” Ray asked.

  She turned and scowled. “You need a haircut. Hello, Charlie.” Mrs. McGuffin turned back to the cardinal.

  Ray kissed his mother’s cheek. “It’s good to see you too, Mom. So, what’s new with you?” He motioned for me to sit on the end of the bed.

  “Nothing.” Mrs. McGuffin swiveled her chair to face us. “There’s nothing to do here. The food is awful. Those aides won’t bring me anything I ask for.”

  Ray pulled a kit
chen chair closer to her and sat. “What’s going on at the Pass ’n Gas?”

  I realized Mrs. McGuffin wasn’t just a birdwatcher. Her room faced the road and the gas station across the street.

  “Nothing. The first of the month was a regular who’s who of Social Security fraud flying in and out of there.”

  “How’s that?” Ray asked.

  She grunted. “You know as well as I do we have at least six dead residents of Forest Forks that still vote and receive social security. The Thompsons, Annie Reynolds, and I know I saw Dan Adkin’s kid go in there.”

  Ray shook his head. “Ma, why would anyone send their illegal social security check to the Pass ’n Gas? Why not just send it to their home?”

  She blinked at him like he was unworthy to breathe air. “If you paid attention, Raylin, you’d know that those people moved into this pit of death before they died. They sold their homes. It’d be easy to send in a change of address form and forge their signature. I think the mailman is in on it, too.”

  “Huh.” Ray stroked his beard like he was considering the possibility.

  I was too, but got stuck on logistics. And somehow, I couldn’t see Mr. Carlton, the mailman and Sunday School teacher at First Presbyterian, participating in Social Security fraud.

  Ray tapped his fingers on his thighs. “What else do you have to keep you occupied? Planting a poisonous garden? Sending chain letters? Knitting?”

  She grimaced. “Knitting. Eh.”

  “Plotting murder?” I asked.

  Mrs. McGuffin’s bored gaze slid from Ray, to me, and then back out the window. “So, you’ve heard the rumors.”

  “Yeah. Any truth to them?” Ray asked.

  “It’s not like I’d ever follow through.” She smoothed the blanket across her legs. “And it’s not like I have anything better to do. Your father is spending all his time with her. It looks bad, Ray. You should talk to him.”

  “You divorced him. He’s allowed to date.” Ray’s voice was soft, and patient.

  “She’s still married.” Mrs. McGuffin’s lips thinned.

  “Evie’s husband died two years ago.” I reached over and patted Mrs. McGuffin’s thigh.

  “So, she’s a black widow.” She followed her I-told-you-so look with a bony pointing finger. “You need to check her out.”

  “Ma, what’s your plan?” Ray leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

  She blinked and offered a small smile. “Raylin, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mrs. McGuffin’s chestnut colored eyes were faking forgetfulness.

  “Now if I was going to off someone in a nursing home…” Ray stroked his beard.

  She leaned forward, crossing her ankles.

  “It would be easy to fake an accident.” Ray stroked his beard again. I wondered if this was a nervous habit.

  “You’re wrong, Ray. They’ve got the nurses’ stations set up to see everyone in the hallways, they’ve got actual eyeballs on us every time we leave our room.”

  “Are you planning to murder Evie inside her room?” I asked.

  Ray waved me off. “No, no, we’re just speculating here. Right, Ma?”

  She nodded. “It doesn’t need to look like an accident. We’re all just waiting to die here.”

  My skin chilled. Were there nursing homes for sociopaths with Alzheimer’s?

  “Suffocation would be a bad idea, there’s always evidence.” Ray’s calm tone seemed to cajole her.

  Her eyes sharpened, intelligent and coy. “Come now, Ray. You’re better than that. Burking.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “Burking. It’s a real thing. Google it.” She fluffed the blanket on her legs, and it fell past her feet.

  Ray pulled out his phone and poked the little screen with his big finger. “It’s a real thing.” He handed me his phone.

  The article defined Burking: Suffocation while sitting on the person’s chest leaving no ligature marks behind named after a serial killer named Burke.

  I wondered if Mrs. McGuffin would be able to maneuver faster than Evie.

  “Clever, Ma. Where did you learn this at?”

  Mrs. McGuffin shrugged. “We get three good channels. One of them is Investigation Discovery. It’s either that, Home Shopping Network, or Mother Angelica.”

  “I see your point. I’ll see if we can’t add Hulu or Netflix to your TV.” Ray’s patience impressed me. I doubt I’d be as understanding if my mother decided to plot murder because she was bored.

  “I’d never hurt her. Or your father.” Mrs. McGuffin patted her heart and seemed to make herself smaller. “It’s the only fun I have.” She pouted, and reminded me of Angela Lansbury, if Angela Lansbury could appear put upon for not being allowed to plot a murder.

  Ray cleared his throat.

  “Maybe stick with crosswords, or branch out to Sudoku. No more spreading rumors, and it’s actually illegal to make threats,” I said.

  “What are they going to do to me? I’m already locked up.” She sounded exasperated.

  “Mrs. McGuffin, if you continue to spread rumors about patients having sexually-transmitted diseases…” I hit her with my yeah-I-know-you-did-it glare and she shrunk further into her chair. “Or plot murders, we’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “Ma, when they kick you out of here, you’ll be placed into the state facility with folks that really are sick and not quite right in the head.”

  She huffed. “Carl would never let it get that far.”

  “Dad won’t have a choice. Please, Mom? The drive alone is like three bucks in gas,” Ray said lightly.

  “Fine.” She folded her hands on her lap. “What are you doing in your retirement?”

  He stretched out in the small chair. “I helped Charlie pack up Oscar’s stuff.”

  “What was his place like?” His mother perked up.

  “Fastidiously neat,” I said.

  She seemed to consider this. “He was a gay, and maybe after living with his mother he needed things neat. Poor boy.”

  I ignored her homophobia and hoped it was due to her dementia.

  “You can’t think of anyone that would want to kill Oscar or Mrs. Collins, can you?” Ray sat up straight and jiggled his knee.

  “No. They just weren’t the kind of people to make anyone angry.” Mrs. McGuffin rolled her eyes. “Of course, it’s probably family. Nobody drives you as crazy as family.”

  “You don’t say.” Ray’s lips twitched.

  She smiled, and for a brief moment, Jenny McGuffin was there, fully present, and then she was gone. The smile stayed locked in place for seconds too long, frozen, waiting for a prompt. Ray must have recognized the look.

  “I’m gonna go now, Ma. Don’t threaten anyone, okay?”

  She fussed with the lap blanket. “As if I’d ever do that.” Her lips twisted into a lemon-sucking face that matched her tart tone. “While you’re gone, get a haircut and shave. You look like a Yeti.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’ll consider it. Love you, Ma.”

  “Love you, too.” She patted his shoulder. “Charlie, see if you can’t get him to cut his hair.”

  “I’ll try, Mrs. McGuffin.”

  We stepped outside and Ray scrubbed the back of his neck. “We tried. And she remembered to eat lunch today.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Probably not. That’s why we send in the nurse’s assistants.”

  “Oh.” A frown settled on his face. He took a step back and checked me out from head to toe.

  “What the heck are you doing?” I crossed my arms.

  “You wearing that to the casinos?” His eyes fell to my white sneakers poking out from under my navy blue scrub pants.

  “No. I’m going home to change.”

  He glanced past my shoulder, eyes narrowing, focused on the CNA. “You know,” he sounded careless, “in most movies, nurses wear something different.”

  I smacked his shoulder. “Stop watching porn.” I walked toward my station.

  He follo
wed, chuckling. “Sorry. Well, not really. I’ll pick you up at three thirty.”

  “Right.”

  Violet sat at the nurses’ station with Marabel. Four eyes of pure fury focused on Ray.

  Ray stopped. “See you later.” He turned and headed back toward his mother’s room, and I assumed an exit.

  “Chicken,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ray pulled into my driveway exactly at three thirty. I grabbed my purse and waved to our next door neighbor, Stephanie Wilson. She stuffed the open-house signs in the back of her trunk and eyed Ray’s car.

  Yep. I was pretty sure that by tomorrow morning everyone would know I’d gotten into Ray’s car unaccompanied by a chaperone.

  Ray rolled down his window. “Hey, Steph, how’s it going?” His flirtatious tone surprised me.

  Stephanie had to be sixty, but she giggled like a sixteen-year old. “I’m great, Ray. It’s good to see you.” She sidled over to him, dark brown dyed hair frozen on her head, but it matched the painted-on eyebrows.

  Fascinated, I edged over to the passenger side of the car. It was like watching a vulture circle fresh meat. I got in Ray’s car.

  “You still living all the way out at the lake, Ray?” She leaned against his window, and her size-C’s looked like flotation devices.

  Rumors about her plastic surgery in Lexington may have been true.

  Ray didn’t flinch, although I think Joe would have. “Yep. It’s how I met Charlie and Joe.”

  She looked through the window, ducking down.

  I could see she wore a lacy bra. Dang. She looked great. Maybe I needed to do an overhaul for Joe?

  Ray turned, ignoring the Victoria Secret ear muffs. “Steph was my baby sitter.” He grinned. “Good times, right Steph?”

  “The best.” She stood and pulled a card out of her pocket. “You should call me, Ray. Move closer to town. You know there’s some executive condos downtown, right where the action is.”

  He took the card. “Thanks, Steph. I’m enjoying the lake views, but I’ll think about it.”