Death Pays a Visit (A Myrtle Clover Mystery Book 7) (6 page)

Mickey fixed her piercing gaze on them. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I have visitors,” said Ruby breathlessly, giving Myrtle and Miles a look of wonderment.

“Here to visit Ruby?” Mickey studied them even more carefully.

“That’s right—just visiting Ruby and getting acquainted with Greener Pastures,” said Myrtle with a vague wave of her hand.

“Acquainted with Greener Pastures?” repeated Mickey. “As a prospective resident, you mean?” She snorted. “Why would you want to come here? It’s dangerous.”

Mickey’s daughter, Natalie, rolled her eyes at this statement as if it were something she’d heard many times.

“That’s right! I see your disbelieving eyes. My daughter won’t believe the truth because she doesn’t want the inconvenience of moving me.” Mickey gave Natalie a resentful look. “This place is cutthroat. Dangerous.”

Ruby bobbed her head in agreement, looking anxious.

Miles gave Myrtle a meaningful look. This certainly sounded promising—as long as Mickey wasn’t simply demented.

Natalie interrupted in a nasal voice, “It’s
perfectly
fine here. The staff is charming. There are wonderful activities and very nice people who live here.”

“Bah!” Mickey glared at her daughter. “My life is constantly threatened. Constantly. I’m always watching my back. I sleep with one eye open.”

“If you can manage that trick while snoring at the same time,” said Natalie with a snort. “Seems you’d lock your door every now and then if you felt so endangered.”

Mickey ignored Natalie’s latest interjection. “The staff refuses to believe me.”

“And
I
don’t believe you, either. It’s all pretty implausible, Mama. Why would someone possibly want to murder you?”

Mickey gave Natalie an inscrutable look.

Ruby said, eyes opened wide, “Oh!
I
believe you, Mickey. Every word.”

“This is why you’re my friend,” said Mickey. “You’re one of the very few people with any sense at this place.”

Miles gave Myrtle a look that said that Greener Pastures was in a lot of trouble if Ruby Sims was the only one making sense.

Myrtle cleared her throat. “Why do you feel as if you’re in danger? What’s happened?”

“Crime,” snapped Mickey. “Crime has happened. I’ve called the Bradley Chief of Police himself and can’t seem to get any resolution to my complaints. He acts as if I’m making the entire thing up.”

Myrtle nodded. “The Chief of Police is a most annoying man. Most annoying.” She could easily picture Red unsuccessfully trying to smooth over Mickey’s ruffled feathers. Naturally, he would think she was making it all up.

“For one thing,” said Mickey, clearly warming up to a favorite topic, “And this is on the very smallest scale, but someone is stealing from me.”

Mickey’s daughter rolled her eyes. She picked up the celebrity magazine next to her and started reading with great determination.

Ruby said solemnly, “And people are stealing from me, too. I have a missing toothbrush and a missing deodorant. And a shoe from my favorite pair has been stolen, too.”

Myrtle sighed. But Mickey nodded at Ruby, validating her delusion.

“Well, Ruby doesn’t have a lot to steal, but I guess they steal what they can. Maybe it’s the staff—they’re a dangerous lot of people here. Maybe it’s some of the sneaky, horrid inmates they have here. But I’ve had necklaces stolen, cash stolen, rings stolen.” Mickey gave an exaggerated shrug.

Miles said carefully, “Not misplaced? Stolen?”

Mickey glared at him. “Stolen. I do know the difference. Do you really think I can misplace something in a room this size? Where on earth would it go?”

And, indeed, the room did appear very tidy and organized.

“As I was saying,” she continued, giving Miles a repressive look, “that’s just the tip of the iceberg. An annoyance. Something to report to the police to give them fodder later for not believing my most serious allegations. Now I know that my
life
is in danger.”

“Why is that?” asked Myrtle. She was feeling a lot less skeptical than she might ordinarily have because of Wanda’s prediction.

“Because I know too much,” said Mickey simply. “I work on the Greener Pastures newspaper.”

“News
letter
,” corrected Natalie.

Mickey leveled a stern look at her daughter. She took a deep breath. “Natalie, I need you to go to the nurse’s station and get me my afternoon medication. Now.”

Natalie heaved a sigh, stood up, and slouched over to the door, letting it slam behind her on the way out.

“Now!” said Mickey. “Now maybe I can finally get a couple of words out. It’s impossible to even think with Natalie hanging around like a vulture all the time.”

Miles said stiffly, “Not a vulture, surely. It appears she’s here to help you out.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” snapped Mickey. “She’s less dutiful than avaricious. She’s worse than all the staff and all the nefarious residents put together. And she wields guilt trips like weapons. Now where was I? Oh yes—I know too much because I’m in charge of the Greener Pastures
newspaper
.
The Home Truth
.”

Miles knit his brows and glanced over at Myrtle in puzzlement.

“When we were in the dining room, a woman named Inez seemed to think that she was the editor of the paper,” said Myrtle.

“
That
silly newsletter? Pah. Mine is hardcore,
real
news. I don’t cover who is holding hands with whom at the Valentine’s mixer. And mine doesn’t function as a mouthpiece for the Greener Pastures management. Mine has exposés. It has secrets. It has in-depth profiles on people who are influential or have been influential. Mine has the real truth. Like with the petty thievery—I know who’s behind it all. The kind of stuff that people have covered up for years and now forget to cover up.”

Myrtle blinked at her. This didn’t somehow sound like something that Greener Pastures would be excited about endorsing. “And this publication is sanctioned by the home?”

“Of course not!” spat out Mickey. “It’s not only discouraged, it’s snatched up at every opportunity from every commons area and tossed away as if it were trash. That’s because truth is dangerous and knowledge is power. Money is power too, and I have plenty of that.” Mickey’s eyes gleamed.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“Come in!” hollered Mickey. She snorted. “Am I having a party? Does this number of guests in one’s room constitute a party?”

The door opened and a man of indeterminate age who bore a striking resemblance to Wanda except for a long ponytail stuck his head in. “Housekeeping, Miss Mickey,” he drawled. He gave Myrtle a wink.

“Housekeeping? Now? For heaven’s sake,” said Mickey.

“Just taking your trash out,” he answered mildly.

“Well, there’s certainly plenty of that. All of Natalie’s Ho-Ho and Twinkie wrappers. That girl’s eating is deplorable.”

The man nodded his head in an agreeable manner as he quickly and expertly cleared out the two trashcans in her room. “Also needed to let you know the bug man is coming through. Should be here in a minute.”

“The bug man!” Now Mickey looked alarmed. “I don’t like that guy. Talks my ears off when he’s here and eats my peppermints. Why on earth is he here in the dead of winter anyway? Let’s head out to the commons area.”

Miles said, “What about Natalie?”

“She’ll find us.”

Each floor apparently had a small commons area with a table and chairs, a sofa, and some armchairs arranged around a large television. Although the furniture and carpeting looked nice and there were plenty of lamps, Myrtle still retained that rather claustrophobic feeling from the lack of windows and the sense of being underground.

Miles said under his breath, “At least this would be a great place to be if a tornado comes through.”

“We
never
have tornadoes in Bradley,” said Myrtle with a sniff. “Especially in December.”

Miles said, “Are you thinking that Mickey is our possible victim?”

“Of course. But what other conclusion can I come to? After all, she’s the only one talking about the dangerous environment here and her life being in danger. Everyone else is full of happy talk about sunbeams and kitties and good food.”

They settled in two armchairs that were close to the sofa where Mickey and Ruby had plopped down. Mickey said in her fierce voice, “Now, what were we talking about? Before that blasted interruption?”

“I don’t remember. But I know what I wanted to ask you about,” said Myrtle.

“Then lay it on me,” said Mickey, leaning back on the sofa and half-closing her eyes in either reflection or sleepiness.

“You sound like a truthful person,” said Myrtle.

“You can bet your bippy I’m truthful.”

“Then share your opinion of Greener Pastures with me. Really. You touched on some issues that were different from other people’s views. I want to hear more about them.”

Mickey gave her a hard look. “It’s okay. It’s had a face-lift recently, but don’t let that fool you ... it’s the same old place. They’re trying to put some cosmetic upgrades on a home that needs a complete overhaul. Needs more nurses. And they need lots more security, since it’s dangerous here. Now are you asking about the
people
? The poor inmates of this place? Because you really should be asking about them. And it’s a mixed lot. Some of them are a little edgier than you’d think you’d find in an old folk’s home. Lots of secrets here ...
lots
of secrets.”

Myrtle asked, “And you like finding them out?”

Mickey was starting to look a little bored. “It’s a hobby of mine.”

Myrtle glanced over in Ruby’s direction and noticed that Ruby had fallen asleep—her chin resting on her chest and her breath coming out in little regular puffs. Looking over at Miles, Myrtle saw that he was looking drowsy too and was blinking his eyes with great force to try to keep them from shutting permanently. The heavy Greener Pastures lunch must have gotten to him.

“I guess we’d better be going,” said Myrtle with a small sigh. Mickey seemed to have spilled everything she was going to if the sudden expression of boredom had been any indication. And she needed Miles to drive her home before the sleepiness got too bad.

They stood up. Mickey just gave them a small smile, not bothering to stand. This choice might have been influenced by the fact that Ruby’s head had now swung over to Mickey’s shoulder. “Good to meet you,” she said briskly.

As Myrtle and Miles walked back through the halls to the elevator, they saw the old man with the fringe of white hair again. “Uh oh,” said Miles. “Ruby said that was the mean one.”

And, indeed, the old man glared at them as they approached. “How are you?” murmured Myrtle.

“My business is my business!” grouched the man. His eyes were a fierce blue.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” said Myrtle with a frown. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“I saw you hanging out with her. That motor-mouth Ruby. She tells Mickey everything. And it’s not her business or anyone else’s.” The old man was nearly foaming at the mouth.

“We’re not exactly part of their group or anything. We don’t even live here. We were only visiting,” said Miles in a soothing voice.

“Sure you are!” snarled the man. “But here comes Ruby running up behind you now. So apparently you’re all closer than you say.”

They turned around and sure enough, Ruby, looking amazingly fresh and not at all like someone who just woke up from a deep sleep, was rushing up as fast as possible. She skidded to a stop when she saw the old man however, giving him an apprehensive look.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Myrtle and Miles. “I had visitors and didn’t even say goodbye! I just got so sleepy.” She edged away from the old man who was now looking even more agitated.

He said furiously to her, “You just stay away from me, Ruby. Don’t want to see your face for a while. Telling tales! Thought you were a friend!”

“I
am
a friend,” said Ruby, but her voice was uncertain.

The old man wasn’t hearing of it, though, and quickly unlocked his door and disappeared into his room. Outside his door, ironically, was a miniature fishing pole with the name Fred on it, and a small table had a basket of fishing flies in it. Apparently, whatever peace or Zen that fishing gave him had worn off since his last trip.

Ruby gave a humorous large sigh of relief when he was gone. “Let me walk you back up to the front door,” she said, beaming at them. “It’s the least I can do. And it’s like a maze in here sometimes.”

As they continued toward the elevator, they ran into an exasperated Natalie holding a clear bathroom cup that held pills inside. “Have you seen Mother?” she asked.

“In the commons area,” said Ruby stumbling over her words a little. “Escaping the bug man.”

Natalie grunted a response when they told her goodbye and walked toward her mother like a martyr going off to the stake.

Ruby seemed very relieved to see that the halls were now free of people. She resumed her guileless chatter as they rode up in the elevator and walked through the halls upstairs. “Could I get your phone number, sweetie? In case I want to call you.”

Myrtle opened her large pocketbook and pulled out a pad and pencil, handing her cane to Miles as she did. She wrote down her number in large print and, after a moment’s hesitation, added her name to the paper since it was clear that Ruby had already forgotten her name.

Ruby carefully folded the piece of paper and put it in her blouse pocket. “There. I won’t lose it now. Thank you.”

She waved to Myrtle and Miles as they finally exited the building.

Myrtle and Miles discovered that the janitor with the ponytail was waiting for them outside the building. He was scrubbing diligently at a shiny-looking handrail as they approached and then stopped and smiled at them.

Myrtle said, “Randy, I presume?”

The janitor nodded, his wide grin showing a few gleaming gold teeth. “That’s right. I’m Wanda’s cousin. She told me y’all were coming out. Real glad you’re here. Wanda said there was going to be some trouble.”

“And you?” asked Myrtle. “Do
you
think there’s going to be trouble?”