Blackout (25 page)

Maxwell arrived around eleven, bounding into her office like a young boy.

“How are you?” he asked as he sat down in the visitor’s chair.

“I’ve been better.” There was no way to soften the news. “Lettie died last night, Max.”

“Damn.” He stood up and paced the room. “What happened?” he asked finally.

She started at the beginning. When she got to the part about what Lettie said about the pillow, Max sat back down abruptly.

“Tell me again. What exactly did she say?”

“‘Pillow took my breath away.’”

“Strange way to say it if someone was smothering her,” Maxwell mused.

“Not for Lettie.”

“That’s true. Okay, then what happened?”

She told him about going home with Thomas and suggesting an autopsy.

Maxwell looked at her sharply. “What did he say to that?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Usual reasons. Mutilation. Couldn’t stand the thought of it.” Betty tried to keep her voice noncommittal.

Maxwell gave her another searching look. “You suspect him?”

Betty swallowed hard and turned her head away from Max’s penetrating eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Hey.” Maxwell got up and came around the back of the desk. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. It felt good. She leaned into him a little as he rubbed. “Mr. Black mean more to you than just being a resident’s husband?”

Betty nodded.

“Then he probably didn’t do it. Don’t you trust your instincts yet? You should. You have very good instincts.”

“Thanks, Max.” Betty swallowed painfully again.

He patted her shoulder and went back to the visitor’s chair. As he sat down, he said, “Is something else going on?”

“Frankly, I’m at my wits’ end. I can’t get the police to do anything, and I’m very worried about Betty Senior.”

“I know. I know. But we have to use caution. You understand that. The publicity about possible murders could close us down.”

“Maybe that would be better,” Betty said softly.

“Don’t even think it!” Maxwell replied.

“All right, then, tell me how we’re going to catch a murderer in this big place. We can’t watch every resident. The police don’t believe me, and you don’t want any publicity.”

“Don’t want a panic, either,” Maxwell said. “Only way I can see to do it is with video.”

“Video? What do you mean?”

“I mean we install some hidden cameras in rooms where we think residents are vulnerable.”

“We can’t do that. It would violate each one’s right to privacy.”

“Only you, me, and Donald will know about it. Each tape will be erased if there’s nothing on it. Can you think of any other way?”

“No. No, I can’t. But we can’t do this either, Maxwell. You know that. What if we get caught? And if we do find something and take it to the police, we will get caught!” She stared at Maxwell a moment. “And you trust Donald?”

He hesitated only an instant. “Almost one hundred percent. We have to. No one else can do the job for us. Now, I want you to make up a list of about five of our most vulnerable residents. I’m meeting the meat supplier in about half an hour. We’ll be in the kitchen. When I’m done with all that, I’ll come back and find you so we can get together with Donald and get this started. If your nephew can help, great, but I’m not relying on anyone but us.” He stood up. “I’ll see you in a while.”

After he left, Betty sat in her chair worrying about the whole idea. All her training told her she couldn’t do this. It would be like spying on the residents. If the state surveyors found out, they’d probably shut the place down. But if the murderer wasn’t caught, how could they, in good conscience, stay open? She reached in her drawer for some trail mix. She tossed a handful into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, then grimaced. Her throat was so dry the mix barely went down. Angrily, she threw the bag back into the desk, grabbed a warm soda, and shut the drawer with a bang.

She stood up and gazed out the window. Alice and Joyce walked out of the parking lot, going to lunch. It made Betty happy to see Alice with someone near her own age. She checked her watch. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. She sipped her drink and thought.

When she checked the time again, almost an hour had passed. As she threw the soda can away, she decided action was the only answer. Since she couldn’t think of an alternative plan, Maxwell’s would have to do. She would go down each hall and decide where to tell Donald to install the video cameras.

Grabbing her clipboard, she made a tour of the whole building, noting rooms where she thought taping would do the most good.

After she went back to her office, Maxwell and Donald arrived within a few minutes of each other. Maxwell explained his scheme to Donald.

“We’ll set up a command post in Katherine’s office.”

Betty watched Donald to see if he had any objections, but he said nothing, just agreed with everything Maxwell wanted to do.

They decided to tell the staff, residents, and visitors they were changing out the overhead lights. In the rooms Betty selected, the cameras would be put in place along with new fixtures. Maxwell suggested they call Lucas in to do the daily maintenance while Donald worked on the lights.

“How many residents did you pick, exactly?” Maxwell asked.

“Five, but they all room with others who are vulnerable. I chose anyone who didn’t have any close relatives. I know Lettie had Thomas, but the other two didn’t have anyone, and those folks seem to be the most at risk. I also picked ones who were paralyzed or non-responsive.”

“Okay. We can get the equipment in Sacramento. Donald, I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes.”

Donald nodded and left.

When he was out of earshot, Maxwell said, “I fired Margaret. I gave her half an hour to get her stuff together and leave. Would you see that she’s gone?”

“So, I was right.” Betty didn’t feel any sense of satisfaction. “Maxwell, you don’t suppose she could be the one?”

“I thought of that,” he admitted. “She certainly didn’t care about the residents. But she substituted the meat for money, and I don’t see any way she could profit from those deaths.”

“I wonder who did profit,” Betty mused. She’d been thinking about it off and on all day. “Those women had some money, and it had to go to someone. They had no relatives, so it would make sense they’d leave it perhaps to someone who worked in the nursing home. Someone they liked and trusted. I wonder how we can find out.”

“If they had wills, and they were probated, it would be a matter of public record,” Maxwell said.

“I’m going to dig out their charts and check into it,” Betty said. “Maybe I’ll see something else that would help, too.”

“Good idea,” Maxwell said. “I’ve got to go.”

“Right. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Betty walked with him to the front door.

The pounding on her door woke Alice. She glanced at her clock. 7:30. Remembering Lettie had died the night before, she groaned

“I’m awake,” she told Betty. “Be right out.”

Quickly, she wet a washcloth in cold water and rubbed it over her face, brushed her teeth and hair, then threw some clothes on and met Betty in the kitchen. Betty handed her a glass of milk, and as Alice gulped it down, she remembered she’d wanted to try Aunt Ginny again before leaving this morning. Now there was no time.

They arrived at the nursing center minutes before eight o’clock. At least she worked regular hours now instead of first shift for the nurse and dietary staff.

Yolanda sat at her desk in the activity room. The records for the volunteers were scattered across the surface, and Alice could also see Yolanda’s notes for next month’s calendar.

“You’re here!” Yolanda cried, looking relieved. “Listen, I need to do five sensory stims this morning. At nine thirty they’re coming from the local shelter with some animals to show the residents. And,” she continued, gathering up the papers, mixing the calendar notes and volunteer records all together, “the calendar for next week needs updating. The awards dinner for the volunteers is in two weeks, so we have to get organized.” She handed Alice the messy stack of papers and stood up. “The guidelines for awards are in there. Make up a list of names. Then start filling in the calendar like I showed you yesterday. By the time I get back, the shelter people should be here. We’ll need your help taking the animals around to visit residents.”

Bracelets jangling, Yolanda grabbed the sensory stimulation basket and rushed down the hall. Alice glanced at the phone, tempted to try Aunt Ginny again. As she took a step toward Yolanda’s desk, Josie Wilkinson approached, cigarette in hand. Immaculately dressed in white slacks, a crimson silk blouse, and with her hair beautifully styled, she looked as if she should be at the country club instead of the nursing home.

Alice had asked and found out Josie was fifty-nine. Her doctor had suggested she sign herself in because of a drinking problem. When sufficiently dried out, she’d go home again. She’d been here before. But as Alice got to know her, she wondered if she’d ever go home again.

“May I have a light, dear?” she asked Alice, holding out her cigarette. Her nail color matched her lipstick perfectly.

“Of course,” Alice said, going to the locked cabinet for a lighter.

Josie sat at the table after Alice lit her cigarette, staring off into space. Soon three other residents came by for lights, and they all sat at the table designated for smokers. No one spoke. Alice sat going over the list of volunteers’ hours.

Finally, Josie said, “When we’re done, let’s get our swimsuits and go to the pool.”

No one replied.

“I said,” Josie said, raising her voice, “let’s all go swimming.”

One of the other women regarded her with pity. “There’s no pool here. Don’t you know that?”

“Course there is. All hotels have pools,” Josie said indignantly.

“This ain’t no hotel. This’s a frigging nursing home,” the only man at the table told her. “You’d drown anyway.”

Josie smashed her cigarette into the ashtray and stood up, sneering at him. “You old fool, I know how to swim.”

“Well, it don’t matter none. No swimming pool here. Ain’t that right, miss?” the man asked.

Alice gave a little start when she realized he was addressing her.

“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m sorry. That’s true. No pool.”

“Hell of a way to run a hotel,” Josie said with a toss of her head before she stalked off.

The man put out his cigarette and stood up on shaky legs. “Maybe Josie’d like to put on her bathing suit and model it for me anyway.” He winked broadly at Alice and left her blushing as she looked down at her paperwork. The others put out their cigarettes and trailed off.

“Quite a group, aren’t they?” Brenda said as she entered the room, then turned to watch them all make their way down the hall. “I’ll be glad when they finally make this a smoke-free facility. Whew!” She waved her hand ineffectively in front of herself. “Yolanda forgot to change the Reality Boards again. They still have yesterday’s day and date. At least the place is always right. And 1988 will be until next year.” She laughed mirthlessly.

Alice said, “I guess I better do that every day when I come in. Yolanda seems to forget as often as she remembers.” She put her hand over her mouth as she realized that seemed critical. She changed the subject. “How can they make this a nonsmoking center? What about resident rights?”

“Ah! You’re learning quickly.” Brenda pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. Alice felt a pleasant warm flush come over her from the compliment. “We’re telling all new residents they won’t be able to smoke. The ones that are already here are grandfathered—they came in with the understanding they could smoke, so we continue to let them, in this designated area only, of course, and with supervision.” Brenda brushed some ashes on the table into the ashtray, then put it as far away from herself as she could. “I hear you were with Lettie last night when she…” Brenda looked at Alice with a quizzical expression.

“Yes,” Alice said softly. “It was sad. You talked to Betty?”

Brenda nodded.

A knock sounded on the back door. With a puzzled frown, Alice said, “Who could that be?”

“Animal shelter folks,” Brenda replied. “They always come in the back and get the animals calmed down from their ride and used to the surroundings.”

“How’d you know they were coming?” Alice asked as she went to open the door.

“It’s on the calendar. I always read the calendar to see if I should urge certain residents to go to particular activities.”

As Alice opened the door, a black Labrador retriever tried to jump on her, and she took a quick step backward.

“Down, boy,” the woman who held his leash commanded, pulling on it so the Lab couldn’t jump on Alice. “He’s a lively one,” she said to no one in particular as she came in the door. She had a blond cocker spaniel and a tiny dog on leashes in her other hand. Behind her, another woman led a collie and another dog with one hand and held a carrying cage in the other.

The second woman set the cage down on the table and opened it. A small Siamese cat poked her head out and gazed around warily. “Come on, sweets,” the woman said, reaching cautiously for the animal.

“Sit,” commanded the lady with the Lab. He and the cocker sat while the small dog sniffed around. She introduced herself to Alice, said hello to Brenda, and asked, “Shall we get started? Where’s Yolanda? Oh, there she is.”

Yolanda came into the room, swinging the basket. She put it on her desk, almost knocking over her Rolodex.

“Aren’t they adorable?” she gushed, going to the collie and petting it.

In the confusion, Brenda left. Alice, stroking the cat, watched her go, surprised she hadn’t acknowledged the animals at all.
Doesn’t she like them,
Alice wondered.
I’d love to have this kitten
.

“Alice,” Yolanda said. “You go with Mrs. Ramsey. Patsy and I will take the others.”

Mrs. Ramsey gave her the Lab’s leash. Alice looked at the phone longingly as the dog tugged her along to follow Mrs. Ramsey. She really needed to try Aunt Ginny again soon.

They didn’t get far. Residents began walking toward the activity room. Word must have spread the animals were present, and most of the ambulatory residents wanted to see and touch them.