Crush. Candy. Corpse.

by Sylvia McNicoll

  “N35!”

  “Bingo!” Jeannette called. “Bingo, bingo, bingo!” She stood up and turned to the other tables, holding up her card and grinning.

  The caller awarded her my lipstick.

  “Can you put some on me, my dear?” She smiled as I opened the package and rolled the plum shade over her lips.

  “What a great time,” Cole said as we left the crafts room. He leaned over and whispered into my ear. “You are the best.” He kissed my cheek while he was there.

  That touch of his lips made my heart flip-flop. I had to stop myself from kissing him back more.

  Instead, with my face feeling warm, I walked alongside of Jeannette. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Cole pushed his grandmother’s wheelchair ahead of us. Jeannette became slower as we went. Shuffle, shuffle, into the elevator. Swish, and down. Out, shuffle. I had to nudge her to move over the opening of the door. No smile on her face anymore; her eyes looked vacant again. I took her hand, and led her through the foyer to the lockup — Cole keyed in the code — through the door, just as slow as a herd of snails. Two lipsticks down, but I had been able to make Jeannette happy without putting anyone else in a coma. At least for a moment, which is all an Alzheimer’s patient ever gets. I was starving by now, too, but that was okay ’cause both Cole and I were blowing this joint. “Goodbye, Jeannette. Take care, Helen.”

  Then Mrs. Johnson stuck her head out of the nurse’s station. “There’s something I need to speak to you about. Can you step in for a moment, Sonja?” Did she want to compliment me on how I was helping Jeannette today? Something in her tone told me not. But what could I have possibly done wrong?

  chapter eighteen

  The next morning we’re back in court and the Crown buzzard asks his most important witness to the stand: Mrs. Johnson, the one who had me charged. She looks a bit older than usual with that tired expression around her eyes. She’s put too much concealer around them and the raccoon look really doesn’t help. Her honey brown hair appears darker, no slivers of gold in it. I bet she coloured it herself. The top is less poufy today. And the flatness of her dark hair just makes the angles of her face sharper, the wrinkles deeper. She looks tired and angry.

  She states her name and occupation and swears on a Bible.

  The jury settles in as the buzzard flips through some papers and frowns. The lady who usually wears track suits has a ruffled blue blouse on today and black jeans. The guy in the plaid with jeans has switched to a burgundy shirt and dark pants. The chubby dude wears much more slimming vertical stripes with grey slacks. Even the bearded duo in the back look a bit fresher. Did they all go shopping?

  Maybe there’s hope for me. I wore a dark-blue shirt paired with black pants. A somber look. I need them to believe I’m responsible and that I tell the truth.

  The buzzard finally speaks. “How would you describe Sonja Ehret’s attitude to her volunteer duties at Paradise Manor?”

  “Oh, she was just like the rest of the kids who are forced into it by their high school. Sonja did not want to be there. She made up that story about the sewer exploding to cover cutting the first time. The reason she started showing up again was so she could flirt with Cole Demers.”

  “Objection, Your Honour. The witness cannot possibly know for certain what Sonja’s real reason for coming back was.”

  “Sustained,” the judge answers.

  Besides, I came back before I even knew Cole.

  The buzzard’s beak twitches a bit, but he continues. “What was her treatment of the seniors like?”

  “That was the only good point about her. Even though she was always screwing up, I didn’t kick her out of the program because she was kind to the older people. They seemed to like her a lot, too.”

  “What do you mean by . . .” the Crown prosecutor makes his fingers into quotation marks, “screwing up?”

  “There was the hair dyeing thing with Mrs. Demers and worse, the box of doughnuts Sunny left behind that put Mrs. Demers into a comma. She just generally didn’t pay attention to the rules.”

  “What rules?”

  “She didn’t like signing in and out, or sanitizing her hands. She wouldn’t wait to have new clothes for the residents labelled. She didn’t bother about their diet restrictions. Oh, and she really wasn’t supposed to be alone in their rooms without supervision. She violated that rule all the time. Most importantly on that last visit on February 14.”

  “Why did Cole volunteer at the residence? Was he qualifying for his high school requirement too?”

  “No, he fulfilled that ages ago. He was just a nice boy who really had a close relationship to his grandmother.”

  “Would he do things for her?”

  “All the time. When she could still walk, he used to take her down the street to the hotel diner for lunch. When she got worse, he brought her things. Magazines. Stuffed animals.”

  “Would you say he would do anything for her?”

  “Absolutely. So when his grandmother wanted her hair done in that silly shade, I do understand why he went along with Sunny.”

  Went along with Sunny? That is so unfair, he begged me to do it!

  “Did you know about his routine of slipping his grandmother a candy at the end of every visit?’

  The juror in ruffles sits forward. She’s on the edge of her seat. “No. I didn’t know anything about it.”

  How could she not know? That just goes to show you how much adults liked Cole.

  “When Mrs. Demers was first admitted, what was her attitude to being in longterm care?”

  “She was extremely upset. She didn’t want to have to rely on anyone. She said she wanted to die.”

  The buzzard nods and looks thoughtful.

  In the back row of jurors, the guys with goatees shuffle in their seats. One scratches his beard. The man with the crooked glasses eyes him. How can what Helen Demers said be held against me?

  “Did anyone else but you hear Helen’s wishes?”

  “Oh, yes. She repeated it to anyone who would listen. Dr. Lisker, Gillian Halliday, all the staff . . .”

  “Cole?” The buzzard flips a page of his notes and appears to be studying them.

  “Yes, she told Cole and I know he was troubled about it. He asked me if she was in pain and how long she could be expected to live.”

  “And how did you answer?” He looks up again.

  “That she would never be in any pain in our care and that with routines, proper medication, and good nutrition her memory might make a little recovery.”

  “How did he react to your answer?”

  “Well, he was excited about the prospect of her memory improving. And it did temporarily . . . but then, of course, the disease progressed.”

  The buzzard nodded and then flipped through his binder. “It says in my notes here that you attended Helen Demers’s assessment meeting last year?”

  “Yes I did.”

  “Besides any staff of Paradise Manor, who else attended?”

  “Dr. Lisker, Helen’s daughter-in-law . . .”

  “Was Cole there?”

  “Yes. He was so involved with his grandmother, I suggested to his mother that he should attend.”

  I close my eyes tightly. They’re burning from lack of sleep. How can they turn Cole’s attention to his grandmother against me? This is so unfair.

  “What is typically discussed in such a meeting?”

  “Any concerns the primary caregivers might have, medications, progression, special treatments.”

  “Did any particular questions come up during this meeting?”

  “Yes. Dr. Lisker asked Cole’s mother if she wanted to sign for palliative care only.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning that if Helen Demers became ill she would be made to feel c
omfortable but she would not be administered any antibiotics or other measures, such as feeding tubes or CPR, to prolong her life.”

  “Did she agree to sign?”

  “No, and Cole argued with her. He told her it was the right thing to do. That his grandmother would have wanted her to sign. That his grandmother wanted to die now.”

  “Do you feel he had a private agreement with his grandmother to assist in her suicide?”

  My lawyer jumps up. “Objection! Leading the witness, Your Honour.”

  “Sustained.”

  Heh, heh, the man formerly in plaid coughs. The bearded guy with all the piercings leans forward.

  “Mrs. Johnson, do you know what time Sunny left on February 14?”

  “Yes, I do. She didn’t sign out that day but that’s not unusual for Sunny. I happened to be heading towards the recreation room when I saw her leave Mrs. Demers’s room. It was five-thirty.”

  “And when was Mrs. Demers’s death discovered?”

  “Five-forty when one of the attendants went to feed her. Sunny Ehret was the last person to see Helen Demers alive.”

  The Eighteenth Visit — four hours left

  Isn’t it great, Mr. Brooks? Even Alzheimer’s patients can find true romance at Paradise Manor. Fred and Marlene, two residents, started walking together and one thing led to another. Now they’re in love. Meanwhile, I’m helping Mrs. Johnson keep track of some of the patients’ personal items. I’m good with these old people, I can help them remember what they did with their stuff.

  The nursing station was empty except for Mrs. Johnson, who stood waiting for me. “Close the door behind you, please.”

  If she wasn’t taking a seat neither would I. I didn’t want her towering over me. She lifted the front of her hair with her fingers. Nervous, fidgety. Why? She called me in, after all. She had all the power. She opened her mouth, shut it, and then opened it again and just started talking at me. “Jeannette Ferrier’s niece was in yesterday and she wanted to know where her thirty-year service pin went. You didn’t happen to see it, did you?”

  “I don’t remember any pin. Did you check in the shower room? You know they have a stack of glasses there from when they forget to return them to the residents’ faces.”

  Mrs. Johnson’s mouth pulled down out of shape. “No.” A sour note, like I’d insulted her, “Jeannette doesn’t wear this pin. It’s usually on the photo of her in her room, pinned to the frame.”

  “Oh, yeah? What does it look like? Maybe I’ll see one of the other residents wearing it.”

  “It’s ten-carat gold and about this size,” she touched her pointer finger to her thumb. “A miniature camera and where the lens would be is a diamond.”

  “Whoa, that sounds valuable. Oh, ohhh. You think I

  took it!”

  “I didn’t say that. I just asked you because she likes you a lot. Maybe she even gave it to you, for all I know.” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

  “I wouldn’t accept a present like that without checking with you.”

  She untucked her hair again. “Good. That’s very good, in fact. Other things have been disappearing, too. Marlene’s gold earrings, Evelyn’s wedding band . . .” Evelyn was the new lady who had taken Susan’s room.

  “But that’s awful. Who would take such personal stuff? I mean, those things have so much sentimental value.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you can let me know if you see one of the residents wandering into other rooms. Or if you see a visitor, that biker or anyone . . .”

  Donny. It came to me in a flash. Was that who she was thinking about too? Could he sink that low? It was all a game for him. Was there any challenge to lifting things from Alzheimer’s patients?

  “I’ll watch for that pin. I just hope it didn’t get vacuumed up or something.”

  Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “I certainly hope it turns up again.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Johnson. See you next week.” I left the nursing station. Cole had waited for me and I told him about the missing things. “How come she didn’t call you in to discuss them with you?”

  “Well, if she’s mostly looking for that camera pin, it makes sense. You know Jeannette better than I do. You give her stuff, she might want to give you something back. Grandma used to insist I take spare rolls of toilet paper back with me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Well, she got pretty upset if I didn’t. So I took the toilet paper and just returned it at reception. How’s Donovan?”

  “He’s fine. Why do you ask?” I squinted at him. “He doesn’t need some old lady’s service pin.”

  “Geez, I wasn’t thinking about him stealing. I just hoped you’d broken up with him. Does he have a gambling addiction or anything?”

  I rolled my eyes at Cole. “No. And I haven’t broken up with him.”

  “The dance is the weekend after Valentine’s Day.” He reached into a jean pocket and pulled out a couple of long stubs of cardboard. “I bought two tickets betting you couldn’t last till then with that jerk.”

  “He’s not a jerk, Cole.” But everyone did have me wondering about him. His shoplifting, that was kind of a gambling addiction when you thought about it. My cell went off and I read Donny’s text message.

  Where r u?

  The Manor, I texted back.

  Can pick u up

  Pls do

  “You coming to the bus?” Cole asked when I flipped the phone shut.

  “No, Donovan’s giving me a ride.”

  “Well, okay. I’ll see you. You’ve got four hours left, right?”

  “Right, two visits, four hours.”

  “Still time to change your mind. Bye!” The bus approached from around the bend and Cole began running for the stop. When he was almost there, his feet slipped out from under him and he fell spectacularly. “I’m okay.” He waved at me from the sidewalk.

  I shook my head. That kind of thing didn’t happen to Donny. He wouldn’t take a bus, and he wouldn’t run for one. Besides, he was more coordinated and wouldn’t go flying like that.

  When his car pulled up, I jumped in.

  “Hello, Beautiful.” He reached over and kissed me. “Where to?”

  “Take me to the Princess building, only let me off before the turn.”

  “Sure.” He drove out from the paved circle in front of the Manor, onto the parking lot road, and then out to the street. It was wintry dark. Within a few moments, we passed Cole’s bus, lit up brightly against that dark. I saw his face. He was watching the car, which stood out because of its strange bitter-orange colour. Tango, Donny told me it was called. His father had paid extra for the shade, which meant no one owned one like it. I waved at Cole, but I didn’t think he saw me. It was too dark and we were ahead of the bus by then. He looked kind of sad.

  “Donny, you didn’t take something from Jeannette’s room, did you?”

  His eyes stayed on the road even as we stopped for a red light. “Jeannette who?” he asked without turning to face me.

  “That lady from Paradise Manor.”

  “Sunny, there are so many old ladies. How can anyone remember them all?”

  “Did you take something from any of their rooms? Jewellery, you know, or maybe a pin with a diamond?” I stared at the side of his face, looking for a reaction, embarrassment or anger.

  He seemed to sit up straighter. His neck stiffened and he lifted his chin. “Your questions are really insulting, you know?”

  I brushed a curl from his cheek, and saw the hurt in the smoke of his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re right.” I sighed. “Mrs. Johnson just finished grilling me. I shouldn’t have done the same thing to you.”

  “Yeah. ’Cause you told me none of their junk was valuable, so why would I bother? Maybe your pal Cole lifted some st
uff. He probably has a whole operation going there.”

  “Oh, come on.” I shook my head. We drove another five blocks and then turned onto the street where my parents’ condos were. He slowed down. “You know what, it’s cold out. Just take me up to the front door. My parents are never going to notice.”

  Of course Donovan lingered at the front door, leaning over, kissing me. I held him. It felt good; his strong body close to mine. So good-looking, so gallant to the ladies at Paradise Manor. He really was the perfect guy. I’d had no right to feel suspicious. Why do people always suspect you when you do something nice?

  So the next visit to Paradise Manor, I decided to really look for those missing items. I checked in the shower room and found a St. Christopher’s medal on a chain. The nurse said it belonged to the new guy. She explained he was in here because of a brain injury in a biking accident. “You’d think he would try and keep track of his saint!” She chuckled.

  I returned it to his room and while I was there, I looked around for any trinkets. Nothing. As I stepped out, I noticed Mrs. Johnson giving me the evil eye. But you can’t really defend yourself against a look, can you? If I said something like, “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, just a favour for one of the nurses,” wouldn’t that sound like I had a guilty conscience or something?

  I headed back to the dining room so I could help feed the old people.

  Jeannette called to me. “Lovely coat you have there.”

  I was actually still wearing one; I hadn’t taken it off yet. It was one of those poufy white ski jackets that made it look like I was wearing a bunch of marshmallows sewn together. “Thanks, Jeannette. You’re looking very good yourself.” Honestly, though, her grey hair was slicked back behind her ears and it was kind of oily-looking. A little white lie. “Can I ask you, Jeannette, did you give anybody a present lately?”

  “No, how could I? There are no stores, I don’t have any of my own money.” Her eyes lit up. “Ah, but did you know Fred asked Marlene to marry him?”

  “Really. That’s very surprising. You know he’s married to someone else.”