Too Sweet to Die

by T. Doyle

“You bet.” My cheeks, still fatigued from smiling so much earlier, couldn’t muster a half-hearted grin. A headache of epic proportions was headed her way. “Good luck.”

  She sighed, her shoulders slumped and she headed back to her office.

  I checked in with my patients. Mrs. Almond was watching the World War II movie, The Best Years of Our Lives, and crying.

  “Mrs. Almond, are you okay?” I handed her a box of tissues.

  “Yes.” She wiped her face. “Those were hard times.”

  “You must have been very young.” I poured her a glass of water.

  She nodded. “I was in school when Pearl Harbor was attacked. I still remember it like yesterday. Just like you’ll always remember 9/11.” She grabbed another tissue and blew her nose. “My boyfriend joined the home guard. You could do that at sixteen, back then.”

  She reached out for my hand. “I’ve never told anyone this before and it weighs on my mind.”

  “Do you want to tell me or I could call your minister?” I held her cold hand, not liking the greyish cast to her skin.

  “Just you. Please.”

  “Of course.” I pulled up her covers and took both her hands in mine.

  “Jimmy was my high school sweetheart. The day before he left for training, he proposed to me.” A sad smile flickered and frowned. “I still have his ring.” She sighed. “We loved each other so much, and he was just on the home guard, I thought he’d be safe.” She closed her eyes. “Back in those days you had to ask the pharmacist for condoms, and we were both so young, we didn’t want our families to find out.”

  She got pregnant. At sixteen. In 1942. “I’m so sorry. What happened when your parents realized you were pregnant?”

  She nodded. “It was awful. My father was so mad. I told him Jimmy and I would get married, but he was so angry. He sent me to a home for unwed mothers in Louisville.” Tears continued to fall from her face.

  My eyes prickled, stinging, and I blinked, letting the tears fall. “What about Jimmy? Were you able to tell him?”

  “He was injured during a training exercise. I wrote him, but he was already in the hospital. He had an infection, and then pneumonia, and died before he ever knew. When I had our baby girl, the nuns took her from me. They wouldn’t even let me hold her…” She closed her eyes. Color had returned to her skin, her cheeks pink from crying.

  “That’s awful.”

  “I could never tell anyone. I’ve always wondered where she was. If she was happy. Did her parents love her and care for her and give her all the things I wanted to?” Her whispery voice creaked.

  I kissed her hands. “I’m sure her parents adored her. I’m so sorry that you never got to know her and be a part of her life.”

  She pulled her hands out of mine and grabbed another tissue. “I hated my father. Even my mother grieved the loss of her grandchild.” She looked at me. “I never told Jimmy’s parents, and I should have. They should’ve known. They should’ve been given the chance to keep a piece of their son.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Almond.” I bent over her bed, holding her hands and leaning against her head. My eyes stung and I blinked the tears away. Did my mother ever tell my biological father he had a child.

  The nurses’ assistant opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sad movie,” I croaked out.

  Mrs. Almond huffed, snuffled, grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  I nodded, grabbed the tissue and cleaned my own face. “Anytime.” I kissed her forehead and left, heading to the bathroom to fix my face.

  Mrs. Almond’s father and my mom were definitely not my favorite people.

  I returned to the nurses’ station.

  “Hey.” A male voice stage-whispered from the down the hall. I turned, and Ray stood, half-hidden, in an intersecting hallway. His eyes did a twitchy thing, and then he gave up and waved me over.

  I shook my head. “I’m working.”

  He sauntered toward me, looking in every door, like a fugitive. “Your hair looks less…”

  I waited. I’m sure my face indicated his next words may be his epitaph.

  His mouth closed. He blinked. Honestly, my computer started up faster than him thinking of a compliment.

  “Your hair looks nice.” He nodded as if assuring himself he’d said the right thing.

  “Thank you.” I took a breath, calmed myself, and focused on Ray. “I learned Parker is really into computer games and LARPing.” I shook my head. “Can you picture Parker wearing a gladiator’s outfit and Jackie behind him in a toga, holding a shield?”

  “No. That’s…” Ray shook his head like if he rattled his brain around enough, he’d find the right word. “What else did you learn?”

  “Tyler Rigby was Hilda’s lawyer. He told Parker he could sue the insulin pump company.” The phone rang and I held up my hand. I answered. “This is Charlie.” The phone readout said it was Evie Feeney.

  “Hello dear. Could you have Mr. Nelson give me a hand? I ordered a bookshelf from IKEA and it’s just arrived.”

  “You betcha. I’ll have him call you directly.” I wrote her room number and phone extension down.

  I messaged the head caretaker, Art Nelson, with the information and made note of the time. He’d either handle it himself or send someone else. He’d worked at Sunnyview since it opened in the 90’s, and I’m pretty sure he planned on dying here. He could’ve retired a few years ago, but thankfully decided to stay. He was the only one who knew how to keep the emergency generators running.

  “I did a search of Parker’s financials and I talked to Christine Scottman.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck. “You sure you can’t take a break?”

  “I’m positive. Did you come here just to talk about the financials?” I acknowledged the approaching pharmacy tech with a chin nod. I needed to finish checking on my patients’ evening meds. And where was the ward clerk who was supposed to be answering the calls?

  “I’m staying for dinner with Mom and I brought you Oscar’s mail. It was overflowing his mailbox. What’s your schedule tomorrow?” Ray pulled a stack of mail from his jacket pocket and handed it to me.

  “I work in the morning, from six to two.” I went through Oscar’s mail. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I held up an official-looking letter from Sally Mae.

  Ray gave me a pirate squint. “You could return to sender or you could sort through all the mail and drop it off at his parents’ house.” He stroked his beard. “Or you could go through it and see if there’s anything that should be handled immediately. You know, since you’re the landlord.”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure I should commit a felony today.”

  “Pfft. Why not? Your hair looks great for the mugshot.” His persuasive smile did nothing for me.

  A call light went on for Mr. Shapiro’s room. I stuffed the mail into a desk drawer.

  Ray watched the drawer close and he turned and walked down the hall. “I’ll be in Mom’s room if you decide to read through the mail,” he called over his shoulder.

  I grabbed the mobile handset for the desk phone and headed for Mr. Shapiro. His tapioca was too lumpy and he wanted Jell-O instead. I returned to the nurses’ station and handed the phone to Eric, our disappearing ward clerk.

  “Please have the cafeteria send Jell-O to Mr. Shapiro and don’t leave the desk without telling me first.”

  “’Kay.” Eric didn’t offer an excuse, but he did dial the cafeteria.

  The patients were ornery tonight because the cable television stopped working. I didn’t take a break until Marabel found me in Mrs. Northcomb’s room three hours later.

  “Have you taken a dinner break yet?” Marabel leaned against the doorjamb, looking tired.

  “Not yet.” I said good night to Mrs. Northcomb and joined Marabel in the hallway. “I guess the meeting with the police didn’t go well?”

  The tight-lipped head shake reminded me to be grateful that I never went into management. “I can’t
talk about it, but we are getting more security cameras installed.” She patted my arm. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  “Go ahead and take your dinner break.” Marabel walked with me to the nurses’ station.

  I grabbed my lunch bag and Oscar’s mail from the drawer. “See you in thirty.”

  Marabel nodded from behind the desk.

  I knocked on Jenny McGuffin’s door.

  “Come in.” Jenny’s voice sounded strong and alert.

  “Good evening.” I swung the door open.

  Jenny sat in her reclining chair watching Murder She Wrote. A new DVD player was hooked up to Jenny’s TV, and the complete DVD boxed set of Murder She Wrote sat on top of it, next to the complete Columbo, and Streets of San Francisco. Ray had pulled a chair from the kitchen table next to her. He gave me a chin nod. “She wanted to dine in.” He pointed to the empty tray at her table.

  “I hoped you’d still be here. I’ve got thirty minutes for dinner.” I put my lunch bag on the table and dragged the other kitchen chair next to Ray’s. I sat and sorted through the mail. “Why would Sally Mae mail Oscar if he’s still in school?”

  “We could find out if you opened it.” Ray looked at the envelope and put his hand behind his ear. “Did you hear that? It’s asking to be opened.”

  “I’m not opening it.” I put the envelope on my lap and sorted through the rest of the mail. No bills, but then everything was online now, making the letter from Sallie Mae even more curious.

  “What did you find out about Parker?” I asked Ray.

  Ray crossed his arms and slid his gaze to his mom. “Ma actually figured it out. You mentioned the LARPing and I told Ma.”

  Jenny looked like a hen settling into her nest. Instead of preening feathers, she fluffed the fleece blanket on her lap. “I overheard Mildred talking to Deanne Eddleston. Mildred was saying that Parker was one card short of a full deck, and Deanne told her she was blind in one eye and couldn’t see out the other.”

  It took a moment for me to translate her insults. Basically, Mildred thought Parker was a fool, but Deanne thought Mildred was the fool.

  Jenny continued, “Mildred was set to fuss, but Deanne told her that Parker’s famous on the internet for all those games he plays. He’s some kind of genius, knows all the tricks for those games.” Jenny slapped her thigh. “Get this, people pay to watch Parker on YouTube.”

  “Well, that’s unexpected.” I looked to Ray for confirmation.

  Ray waggled his eyebrows. “Ma’s amazing. I checked it out and Parker’s got a YouTube channel with over a million subscribers, he’s got sponsors, and he’s a headliner at some of those ComicCon things he goes to.”

  “Really?” My voice squeaked out. “He’s so–”

  “He’s always been a little different,” Ray explained. “Smart, but different. I get why he figured nobody here would appreciate his other skills.”

  “Sure. You don’t expect the guy filling your prescriptions to be making his real money on playing a computer game.” I flipped through more of Oscar’s mail, separating out the junk mail.

  “I don’t get it,” Jenny said.

  Ray patted her knee. “And that’s okay, Ma. It is what it is.”

  “What did Christine Scottman have to say?” I continued to sort through the mail.

  “Oscar was quiet, he was a good player and learning fast. He wanted to go to Vegas, but that would require a better ranking and money. She thought he was playing to raise money for tournaments because he didn’t have any sponsors.” Ray sighed. “I think she’s a dead end.”

  I flashed Ray a cream envelope with Stevens College’s return address. “This one’s from his school.”

  Ray snagged both letters and held them up to the light.

  “That’s not going to work,” Jenny said. “Here, let me help.” Her boney hand grabbed them and tore them open.

  “That’s not your mail, Mom,” Ray said with no conviction.

  “My room. My mail.” Jenny pulled the papers out from the Sallie Mae envelope. She patted on top of her head and continued patting down her face to her chest until she found the necklace attached to her reading glasses around her neck.

  Ray scooted closer and read over his mom’s shoulder. “Oscar owes twelve grand in student loans.”

  My brain tingled. “That was the first number in the note we found. It said 12K SL in parenthesis. SL is student loans.”

  Ray’s gaze swiveled to me. “Did you bring the note with you?”

  “No.” I pointed to the school envelope. “Jenny, what does that one say?”

  She squinted through the smudged lenses of her glasses. “It says he withdrew from his classes too late and still owes money.” Jenny handed the paper to Ray.

  Ray scratched his beard, the hairs going all out of place. “Obviously, Oscar needed money.”

  I clenched my hands to stop myself from fixing Ray’s crazy beard hairs. “Okay. And he quit school. Why hadn’t he told me he quit school? And did he need money first and then quit school?” I couldn’t think of a reasonable scenario where Oscar would want to quit school. He’d seemed so determined to get an education and get out of Forest Forks.

  Ray stroked his beard, fixing all the stray hairs. “What if Oscar learned something while working for Tyler that could make him a lot of money?”

  “What are you talking about?” I threw the ads and junk mail into Jenny’s garbage.

  “Blackmail.” Jenny’s voice chirped. She slid her glasses on top of her head. “Funny, I thought you were smart.”

  “Ma.” Ray breathed her name out and sounded exactly like I did talking to the kids when they were driving me nuts.

  “Oscar wouldn’t blackmail anyone.” My tone sounded indignant. And I didn’t like the way my heart kept tripping.

  Ray’s eyebrows were somewhere in the stratosphere. He put up his hands. “Okay, momma bear.”

  “Just because he was a gay doesn’t mean he wouldn’t blackmail someone.” That piece of sage wisdom came from Jenny.

  Ignoring Jenny, I faced Ray. “He needed money for his school loans and money for the buy-in for the professional poker games.” I stood, picked up my lunch bag and faced both of them. “And maybe Oscar discovered Tyler was blackmailing someone and Tyler killed him.”

  “Sure. Let’s go with that for now.” Ray’s skeptical scowl made me angry. “And do you have any idea who Tyler would blackmail? And do you still think Hilda’s death is involved?”

  More questions with no answers. “Nope. Let’s get a list of Tyler’s clients and start there.”

  “Sure.” His shoulders rolled back and he stood with a pirate-like swagger. “You think if I ask nicely he’ll give it to me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll have to use your policey skills.”

  “Policey isn’t a word.” Ray dipped his chin. “How do you feel about a little breaking and entering.”

  “Not good.”

  His lips flattened. “I suppose you can wait in the car.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Jenny said.

  “Ma, thanks, but no.” He pointed at her. “And I mean it.”

  Jenny turned back to the television. “You’re stifling me.”

  Ray stepped back, his mouth drawn open in surprise and then he barked a laugh. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Ma.”

  She smiled, her eyes bright and vibrant. “I love you, too. And you still look like a Yeti.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, I parked in Sunnyview’s employee lot. Today’s sign proclaimed, “leaVing wily venus’S”. I had to give the anagram anarchist points for all letters used, but today’s message made no sense.

  Nora stood by the nurses’ station and waved me over. “Did you hear? They found drugs in Evie Feeney’s room. It could be the marijuana.” She pronounced marijuana like marry-hu-wanna. “She’s being investigated by the police. Right. Now.” She glanced down the hall with a
s much nonchalance as paparazzi following a Kardashian.

  “No, I didn’t hear. I just got in.” I worried a jealous Jenny was involved, but at least she didn’t strangle Evie. “Is Marabel with Evie?”

  Nora smacked her lips together. “Maybe you should join them.” She waggled her eyebrows, which she’d penciled in with red today. Red eyebrows and brown hair gave her a very fall-festival look.

  “I’m sure Marabel has everything handled.” Although my curiosity clawed and I wanted to saunter by the room.

  “You and Violet just don’t understand fun.” Nora turned her walker toward Evie Feeney’s and thump-slid in that direction.

  A few doors down the hall, Violet came out of Mrs. Almond’s room. She stuffed her pen into the pocket of her scrub top. “It’s been crazy today,” she whispered.

  “Is Evie okay?” I asked.

  Violet’s lips flattened. “She won’t stop crying. Mr. Cheatham sent Mr. Nelson to Sam’s Club to buy a wireless camera system for the hallways.”

  Mr. Cheatham was the director of Sunnyview, and most people pronounced his name as Cheat’em, except for Violet.

  “Who will be watching these cameras?” I asked.

  “I guess they’ll keep the video and check only if something goes missing.” Violet pulled her lunch bag from the desk. “I’m glad you’re here because I’m ready to go home.” Violet went through the change of shift report with crazy efficiency. She paused, and dipped her head low, near my ear. “You might want to call Ray. Marabel thinks Jenny planted the drugs in Evie’s room. If the police prove his mom is involved, Jenny will be kicked out. I hate the idea of her going to Mayhem Manor.” Her eyes were sympathetic and sincere. She really was one of the nicest people I knew, considering how much she hated Ray for “dating” her niece.

  “Me, too.” Mayhem Manor was actually Forest Forks Manor. The facility specialized in long-term care for neurologically-impaired patients. Some of their patients made Jenny look like an angel. She’d developed a routine at Sunnyview and moving to a new place would be very stressful.

  I’d text Ray later. It was only six in the morning and I didn’t want to wake any houseguest he may have. What he really needed was a woman like Kristi, but Kristi needed a man–not someone prone to adolescent behavior.