“I’ll drive you there, drop you off, take Rascal home, and come back,” he said.
“That’s too much of an imposition,” I said. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to do all that.”
“You aren’t asking. I’m insisting. I don’t really know Dwight, but I care about him too—and I’m concerned about the things going on at that nursing home.”
When we got to the hospital, I hurried inside. I spotted Maggie and Zoe going into an exam room, so I followed them, rather than stopping at the nurse’s station.
Inside the exam room, Dwight was asleep but hooked up to a multi-parameter monitor. The monitor was beeping rhythmically, and I decided that was a good sign. Whether it really was, or I simply wanted it to be, was debatable.
I spoke in a hushed tone. “How is he?”
“Sleeping,” Maggie answered. “We don’t know anything yet.”
Zoe hugged me. “The nursing home told Mom you called and made them check on him. Thank you.”
“He got drowsy during a video chat,” I said.
Zoe nodded. She knew Max and Dwight spoke often, so she knew what I wasn’t saying in front of Maggie.
“The nurse has taken some blood and a urine sample,” Maggie said. “Hopefully, they’ll know something soon.”
Dwight’s eyes fluttered open. “H-hello? Wh-who…who’s h-here?”
“It’s us, Daddy—Maggie and Zoe.” Maggie clutched her father’s hand and stood so he could see her without lifting his head.
“Amanda is here too, Papaw,” Zoe added.
“Hey, Dwight,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“S-sleepy. So sleepy.” His eyes drifted closed again. “S-started when…I w-was…eating…my c-cake…”
The nurse came in. “How’s our patient?”
“You tell us,” Maggie said.
“He’s so sleepy he can’t keep his eyes open,” I said. “Are you checking for sedatives in the lab work?”
“We’re checking for a number of things, including sedatives.” The nurse took Dwight’s hand and squeezed it gently. “The good news is that his vitals are well within normal limits.”
“G-good c-cake,” Dwight mumbled.
Smiling, the nurse said, “He must be having pleasant dreams.”
“He said he started getting sleepy when he was eating his cake,” Maggie said. “I’m going to call the nursing home to see if there’s any of the cake left. Maybe you could test it.” She left the room.
When the nurse left, I tell Zoe Max sent me a message letting me know Dwight was in trouble. “I might’ve led Jason to believe you were the one chatting with your papaw.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “I’m only glad one of us was talking with him and could save him. If there was something in that cake, it might’ve killed him if we hadn’t gotten him here in time.”
I gave her a one-armed hug. “Something in the cake…”
“What is it?” Zoe asked.
“Grandpa Dave and I went to see Dwight around lunchtime today, and I stopped at the grocery store and got your papaw a slice of coconut cake. I remembered your telling us how much he liked it.”
“That was nice.” Zoe frowned. “If you’re worried about that, don’t be. It couldn’t be the same cake.”
“Unless...” Unless it was. We’d left it unattended in Dwight’s room when the three of us had gone outside to the courtyard.
“What cake?” Maggie asked, coming back into the room.
“The coconut cake Amanda got Papaw,” Zoe answered. “That couldn’t be what made him sick.”
“Oh, no?” Maggie crossed her arms and glared at me. “Could I speak with you in the hall?”
We stepped into the hallway and Maggie pulled the door halfway closed. Zoe followed, staying in the doorway.
“There was a half-eaten piece of coconut cake on the table beside Daddy’s laptop,” she said. “Do you want to tell me what you put in that cake?”
“I didn’t put anything in it,” I said. “I bought it at the grocery store and never touched it.”
“Mom! You know Amanda loves Papaw. She’d never do anything to hurt him.”
“Well, it’s pretty convenient she starts making accusations about the nursing home giving sedatives to the residents and then Dad practically passes out while eating a piece of cake she brought him.”
I emitted a squeak of indignation. “I assure you if there was anything put in Dwight’s cake, it was done after I left. Zoe is right—I’d never hurt Dwight.”
Jason arrived and put his arm around me. “What’s going on?”
“Dwight said he started getting sleepy while eating a piece of cake Grandpa and I took him at lunchtime,” I said. “He saved the cake for later, and he asked us to take him outside to the courtyard since it was sunny. Someone must’ve tampered with the cake when we were out of the room.”
“Yeah, that’s a tidy little story,” Maggie said. “Tell it to somebody who hasn’t been around as long as I have. And tell it walking.”
“What?” I asked.
“You heard me—get out of here. We don’t need you here.”
“Mom, stop! You’re being a jerk!” Zoe shouted. “I was there when the nurse offered to sedate Papaw, and I know Amanda would never drug him. She loves Papaw! Maybe even more than you do—at least, she cares what happens to him in that lousy place!”
“Zoe, it’s okay,” I said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” Maggie said. “My daughter’s days of working in your dress shop are through.”
“Mom, no!”
The nurse returned. “I’m going to have to ask you all to either keep it down or leave.”
“I’m going,” I said. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“I think you’ve done enough.” Maggie turned and went back into the exam room.
Zoe stood there with tears streaming down her face.
“Everything will be okay,” I whispered. “Go on back inside before you get into trouble.”
“I hate her,” Zoe said.
“No, you don’t. You’re both just upset.” I gave her a quick hug and then left.
As Jason and I walked down the hall, the tears I’d managed to hold at bay coursed down my cheeks.
He stopped walking and gathered me into his arms. “It’s all right. Maggie is scared—she’ll be better once she knows her dad will be okay.”
Clinging to him, I drew in a ragged breath. “I don’t understand how she could possibly think I’d do anything to hurt Dwight.”
“She doesn’t.” He rubbed my back and kissed the top of my head. “In the morning, she’ll call and apologize—wait and see.”
“I’m not going to hold my breath.”
It was too late to talk with Grandpa when I got home; but as I’d expected, Max was online and waiting to hear from me.
“You’ve been crying.” Her voice was flat.
“No, it’s not what you think. Dwight is fine.”
“That doesn’t explain your puffy eyes.”
I took a deep breath. “Maggie thinks I put a sedative in the coconut cake I took Dwight. She made me leave the hospital and said Zoe can’t come back to the shop again.”
“Horsefeathers. Don’t worry about that.”
“I am worried about it. About all of it. First off, I think someone did put something in Dwight’s cake. If that’s the case, they had to have done it while we were outside in the courtyard because Dwight was finishing his lunch when we got there and wanted to save the cake for later.”
“But it was sealed, right?” she asked. “I’ve seen the things you bring in here from the grocery store, and they’re always sealed tighter than Dick’s hatband.”
“It was sealed, but there might’ve been a way someone could open it and then seal it back.” I sighed. “I don’t know. And I’m concerned that if the cake really is what the person used to drug Dwight, what would have happened if he’d eaten the entir
e thing?”
“No.” She wagged a finger at me. “Don’t do that. Never concern yourself with what could’ve happened. It didn’t. Learn from it and move forward.”
“But we can’t even learn from it,” I said. “Maggie thinks I did it, and she’s not even looking in the right direction.”
“Dwight will set her straight.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m not. What if he also thinks I did it?”
“Why would he think that?” she asked.
“Maybe he’d get it into his head that I’d do it so Grandpa and I could keep the proceeds from the sale of your Dad’s strongbox.”
“Oh, that’s not a bad idea.” She rested her chin on her palm. “I’m glad Maggie doesn’t know about the box yet, because that does give you one heck of a motive to slip Dwight a Mickey Finn.”
“Who is Mickey Finn?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Somebody who used to drug people without their knowledge, I imagine. I’m guessing that’s where the saying came from.” She frowned. “Back to the important stuff—who would’ve drugged Dwight and why?”
“I can come up with only one reason—whoever killed the other residents is anxious because we’re poking around in their business,” I said. “I believe they hoped this would warn us away from asking any more questions.”
“I don’t know.” She drummed her fingers against her cheek. “Maybe. Or it could be for the reason the others were killed.”
“Which is?”
“I haven’t got that figured out yet,” she said. “But that’s something we need to do—quick.”
“I know. But it’s going to be hard now that Zoe is banned from seeing me.” I fought back tears. “Maggie might even have me banned from the nursing home now too.”
“One problem at a time, darling. Go get some sleep and we’ll ruminate together later.”
As I got ready for bed, I found myself wondering what all the residents who died had in common.
Chapter Twenty-Three
W hen Jazzy and I got to work on Thursday morning, Max wasn’t there. I guessed she’d expended too much of her energy last night.
After I got Jazzy settled and cleaned off the worktable to start cutting out Marsha Billings’ dress, Grandpa came by.
“Hi.” I stopped what I was doing to give him a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I got a message from Max telling me what happened last night.”
I slumped into one of the sewing machine chairs. “I feel so stupid. Why did I take that cake to Dwight in the first place?”
“You did it because you’re thoughtful.” He sat in another of the chairs and rolled closer to me. “You can’t beat yourself up because someone saw your act of kindness as an opportunity to frame you or to shift blame.”
“We have to find out what each of the deceased residents had in common—other than being unruly and then presumably being sedated. There has to be more to their deaths than that—and I don’t think their deaths are coincidental.” I shuddered. “Dwight might’ve eaten that entire slice of cake and died had he not been talking with Max at the time.”
“She told me you’d say that, and she said to remind you she warned you not to dwell on what could’ve happened,” Grandpa said. “Because of you, Dwight is fine.”
After briefly tapping on the door, Jason came into the workroom and closed the door behind him. Not that it mattered much, since Jazzy had already hopped up onto Grandpa’s lap, but I’m glad he was being mindful of her.
He came over and hugged me. “Are you all right this morning?”
I waffled my hand. “I hate that Maggie thinks I put something in her dad’s cake.”
Jason shook his head. “Like I told you last night, when she can think rationally again, she’ll know better.”
Grandpa and I exchanged a look—he was the first to look away. He wasn’t any more convinced than I was that Maggie Flannagan wouldn’t continue to believe I’d drugged her dad until her dying day.
“The fact remains that someone did drug Dwight,” Jason said, “which makes me wonder what that person had in store for him.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” I said. “Had Dwight eaten that entire piece of cake, his fate could’ve been the same as those who died.”
“Yeah, it’s a really good thing he was video chatting with Zoe when he started acting strange.” Jason shook his head. “And thank goodness, she thought to call you. Although I have to admit, I think it’s sad she didn’t run and get her mother right away.”
Neither Grandpa nor I weighed in on that statement. I mean, short of correcting Jason and telling him Dwight wasn’t talking with Zoe but with his dead aunt, what could we say?
“We have to consider the possibility that whoever drugged Dwight might strike out at him again,” Grandpa said.
“And even if it isn’t Dwight, that person is sure to target someone else, if it’s the same one who drugged the other residents,” I said. “Grandpa and I have been trying to determine what the deceased residents had in common.”
Grandpa stroked Jazzy’s head. “Since the one man’s insulin disappeared, I’m wondering if someone is stealing residents’ medication.”
“That’s possible,” Jason said. “I’ll ask Ryan to look into it—see if any of the recently deceased patients had any illnesses in common or if any of their medication was reported missing at or prior to their deaths.”
“Would you please also ask Ryan if he can determine for certain that the drug that knocked Dwight out was found in the cake?” I asked. “And maybe he could also tell us what it is. Anyone could dose a resident with an over-the-counter sleep aid or allergy medication, but—presumably—only a medical professional would have access to a prescription medication.”
“All right.” Jason nodded. “I need to go upstairs, get my equipment, and leave, but I’ll call Ryan on the drive to my appointment.” He kissed my cheek, shook Grandpa’s hand, and patted Jazzy’s head.
Was that guy a keeper, or what?
Jason left the shop, and we heard his tread on the stairs.
“Before I leave, why don’t we call the nursing home and check on Dwight?” Grandpa suggested.
I got out my phone, called the nursing home, and put the phone on speaker.
“Good morning. This is Winter Garden Nursing Home. How may I help you today?”
“Hi, this is Amanda Tucker. My grandfather and I are calling to check on Dwight Hall. He had to be—”
“One moment while I transfer you to our administrator.”
I arched a brow at Grandpa, and he shrugged.
“Larry Godfrey, how may I help you?”
“Good morning, Mr. Godfrey,” I said. “My grandfather and I are calling to check on Dwight Hall, and your receptionist put us through to you.”
“Yes…well…I’m sorry to tell you that Maggie Flannagan has asked that neither you nor your grandfather have any further contact with her father,” Mr. Godfrey said.
“Can you just tell me how Dwight is doing this morning?” I asked. “Is he back from the hospital yet?”
“I can’t release any information to you about Mr. Hall. Again, I apologize, Ms. Tucker, but since a family member has requested the ban, I must enforce it. Goodbye.” He ended the call.
I turned to Grandpa incredulously. “He can’t even tell us Dwight is okay? Or whether or not he’s there? What’s up with that?” I had another thought. “And what are we supposed to do about the box?”
“I don’t know, Pup. Based on what Dwight told me, I told Monica to sell it all yesterday. She has already put the items on an auction site.”
Following three sharp raps on the door, Trish Oakes strolled into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I saw your truck outside, Mr. Tucker, and I wanted to say hello.”
“Thank you,” he said. “That’s awfully kind of you.”
“How is your friend? The one who was interested in the space?” she asked. “Do you think he’d like to come
see the place today?”
“She might,” Grandpa said. “I’ll check with her.”
“She?” Ms. Oakes frowned. “I thought your friend was a gentleman who was interested in opening a hobby shop…you know, with all the outlets?”
“Different friend.” He grinned. “This one would be much easier to get along with, I imagine.”
“Well, I wouldn’t turn either of them away if they met our requirements,” she said.
“I need to be running along.” He kissed my cheek. “Get back to work, young lady, and I’ll talk with you in a little while.”
“All right,” I said.
“I’ll walk you out.” Ms. Oakes linked her arm through his, leaving me to wonder if she was interested in my grandpa romantically or if she just really wanted to lease that space.
I hoped she was simply desperate to rent out the shop upstairs.
Not quite ready to get back to Marsha Billings’ dress, I opened my laptop and logged into my social media account. I had a message notification and opened it eagerly. Maybe it was Zoe.
It wasn’t from Zoe. It was from Krista, Ms. Oakes’ daughter.
She wrote: Hi, Amanda. Thank you for reaching out to me! I have to admit, I’m surprised and delighted to learn Mom has friends like you at Shops on Main. She led me to believe she didn’t have any friends at work whatsoever. I would love to come visit her either during Christmas or the week after. Whatever you can work out would be great with me. I am so grateful and appreciative you’re doing this for us! XOXO, Krista
Well, I’d be buying a plane ticket for Krista for Ms. Oakes’ Secret Santa present. I wondered if anyone, other than Connie, would agree to pitch in on the cost. If not, it would be okay. I’d put it on my credit card and pay it off as soon as I could. That’s the kind of stuff friends like me do. I felt a stab of guilt. I needed to be a better friend to Ms. Oakes. But how could you be a friend to someone who didn’t seem to want one?
Chapter Twenty-Four
S eeing that Jazzy was napping on her bed, I went next door to visit Connie. I browsed while she finished up with a customer.
When the lady left, Connie joined me in front of the essential oils display. “Here to shop or to talk?”
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