“Afternoon, Martha,” Sheriff Carmichael greeted the woman as she drew herself up from her chair and made her way over to the front desk. “How is she today?”
Constance glanced around the clean but small lobby area. The squat, somewhat new sign at the entrance to the semicircular drive read Holly-Oak Assisted Living Facility. Inside, the building itself looked more like what her grandparents use to call a “rest home.”
Holly-Oak was obviously well maintained, but from an architectural standpoint it had definitely been around awhile. Of course, that seemed to be an ongoing theme in Hulis, as with many other small towns where time itself seemed to be on an extended holiday. It also hadn't escaped her notice that a funeral home was located directly across the street, well within view from any of the facility’s front windows; in her way of thinking, not exactly the most comforting vista for the residents. In fact, it brought the old adage, “location, location, location,” right to the forefront of her thoughts.
“Afternoon, Skip.” The woman returned the sheriff's greeting, then answered, “She's Merrie,” punctuating the words with a shrug, as if that simple statement and gesture said it all.
Given the knowing nod the sheriff offered in response, for them, apparently it did.
“So, how's Kathy?” Martha asked as Sheriff Carmichael signed the visitor's register. From her posture it was readily apparent that she was ignoring the fact that Constance was even present. There was also an audible tension in her voice that more than indicated the pleasantries, while sincere, were for some unknown reason forced.
“Feisty as ever,” he replied. “I stopped tryin' to keep up with her a long time ago.”
She nodded. “Smart man. And the girls?”
“Fine, fine. Doing fine,” he replied. “Cyn came home on break Friday.”
“This is her last year at Mizzou, isn't it?”
“Supposed to be,” he grunted. “But she's making noise about going after her Masters.”
“Good for her.”
“So, Martha,” Carmichael said, shifting the subject toward the inevitable as he wagged a thumb at Constance. “I'm sure you know why we're here. This is Special Agent Mandalay from...”
“I know, I know,” she replied before he could finish. “I've been expecting you all morning. Then I got the call from Stella not fifteen minutes ago.”
“Yeah, not surprised. She's got a big mouth, just like her mother.”
Constance reached in to her jacket to extract her credentials, but the woman stopped her. “Don't bother. You're with Skip, that's all I need to know. Or want to know, for that matter.” Her voice held more than a hint of disgust as she almost spat the comment.
“I'd like to speak with Merrie, if that's possible,” Constance said, leaving her badge case stowed in its pocket and slowly pulling back her hand.
“When are you people going to leave that poor girl alone?” the woman demanded. “Don't you think she's been through enough?”
“Calm down, Martha,” the sheriff said. “She's just doin' her job. You know that.”
“I thought her job was to find whoever is doing this killing,” she replied, directing herself solely at him. “I don't know how dredging up the past for that poor girl every year is going to do that.”
“I know, Martha, I know...” he soothed.
She scowled at Constance for a moment, then snorted in disgust as she turned away from the counter and headed back toward her desk. “She's in her room, Skip,” she called over her shoulder. “Just keep an eye on the time. You know as well as anyone what day it is.”
“What does she mean by that?” Constance asked.
“I'll tell you later,” Sheriff Carmichael said as he stepped back and pointed toward a door off the side of the lobby, indicating that she should go first.
“It's this way,” he said.
Mandalay gave him a puzzled look. “Shouldn't we wait? You did contact her state-appointed advocate, correct? I assumed that was the call you were making earlier.”
“Nope. She doesn't have one.”
“If she has diminished faculties as you've said, then she definitely should.”
“Special Agent Mandalay,” he replied, a mix of bemusement and disingenuous formality in his words. “In case it has escaped your attention, this whole damn town is Merrie Callahan's advocate. We'd all pretty much adopted her even before her parents were killed in that accident. Believe me, if you get your toes anywhere near the line, they're gonna get broken, I don't give a damn who you work for.
“I'll do whatever it takes to protect our little girl... So will anyone else here in Hulis. And just so you know, that's not a threat, sugar, it's a promise.”
Merrie Axemas: A Killer Holiday Tale Page 5