Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (3 page)

15

Busted. I eased around slowly, afraid I’d find a battle-ax resembling my tenth-grade social studies teacher, Mrs. Bartelsby, itching to drag me back to the reception area to face the Muzak.

I looked down into a wheelchair at a shrunken woman, her thinning hair an unnatural shade of auburn, her watery blue eyes magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses. She wore a baggy gold lamé tank top, purple velour sweatpants, and Sponge Bob slippers.

She’d gone braless. Her long, thin boobs rested on her skinny thighs as if waiting to be fashioned into balloon animals. I tried not to gawk at the droopy tubes or at the
Sex Kitten
tattoo melting down her right bicep.

“Hi there. I’m, umm—”

“Up to no good, aren’t you?”

“Ah, no. Actually, I’m lost.”

16

She snorted. “Actually, you have a map in your hand, which means you had no reason to paw through those private files.”

Crap. “I didn’t think anyone saw me.”

“Why?” She waggled a bony finger around the vicinity of my belly button. Because this is an old folks’

home? You see a sea of white hair and think we’re all blind, deaf, and dumb? Oblivious to our surroundings?”

“No, ma’am.”

She squinted at me. “What is your name?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I attempted to sidestep her; I’ll be damned if she didn’t maneuver her wheelchair like Earnhardt Jr. and run me into the wall.

“Don’t you try to get around me. I’ll ask you again: What is your name?”

Tired of being bullied by a woman half my size and three times my age, I leaned down until we were nose to nose. I smelled Emeraude perfume on her wrinkled skin and butterscotch candy on her breath.

“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

Those bug eyes blinked at me for a second before she sent me a sly smile. “Fine. I’m Betty Grable.”

“And I’m Lauren Becall. Try again,
Betty
.”

She smiled broadly—the grin of a woman proud to have all her own teeth. “Okay, I’m Reva Peterson.”

“Nice to meet you, Reva. I’m Julie Collins.”

The grip of her withered hand was surprisingly strong. “That isn’t the name you gave to Dee.”

Double crap. “You been spying on me, Reva?”

17

“Yep.”

“Why? You the head of Security around here?”

“You’re a real laugh riot. No, I’m keeping an eye on things because I have nothing better to do.”

Great. Just my luck Prairie Gardens had their very own Miss Marple.

“So, unless you want me to turn you in, you’d better tell me exactly what you’re up to.” The wheels squeaked as she backed up. “Come on, I know a place where we can talk in private.”

I was glad she hadn’t ratted me out, so I followed her.

We ended up in a bare bones employee break room consisting of a card table circa 1970, two dilapidated chairs, a microwave, and a Coke machine. The angle of the room was cockeyed and doorless, providing an unobstructed view of the entire reception area. No wonder Reva knew what I’d been doing.

I flopped on a rickety folding chair.

Reva said, “Out with it.”

“Why don’t you get right to the point?”

“Don’t see why I shouldn’t. I’m old. I could die at any time.”

“Well, there’s that saying about curiosity . . .” My gaze landed on her
Sex Kitten
tattoo. Made me think of Martinez. Was I the only person in the world who wasn’t inked?

“You’re stalling.”

“You weren’t by chance a drill sergeant in your former life?”

18

“Nope. I spent forty-seven years as head librarian in the Gillette Public Library.”

That explained it. “I’m assuming this will stay between us?”

She nodded.

“The truth is, I’m a private investigator.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Are you undercover? Like that woman on
Alias
?”

“Sort of, but without the cool clothes and awesome wigs.”

“Do you have a hot partner like that Vaughn guy?”

“Yep.” I grinned when her blue eyes widened behind her thick lenses. “My partner and I are checking out a couple of concerns a client has about a relative living here.”

“Which resident?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Shoot. That’s no fun.”

“Sorry. But you can answer a few general questions, right?”

“Be happy to.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Five years.”

“Yeah? Been big changes since the new owners took over?”

Reva scowled. “Yes. They’re bombarding us with people and visits and activities. Something going on all the time. They claim we need the mental stimulus.”

19

She snorted. “Half the people in here only have half a working brain anyway, and that isn’t because they’re old in body.”

“Meaning?”

“Who likes change? We’re set in our ways. What’s wrong with the way things were? Some of us like hiding out in our apartments entertaining ourselves.”

“Then again, Reva, some of you skulk around the hallways making your own entertainment.”

“True. But you wouldn’t believe the shenanigans going on in the utility closet right after shift change.”

She offered me an impish smile. “Something to be said for access to unlimited Viagra.”

“You talking about the employees?”

She shook her head. “The residents.”

I did not want to think about prunish bodies slapping together. “I thought you were gonna say the volunteers. But I guess they gotta get their perks where they can since they’re not getting paid.”

“Who told you the volunteers weren’t paid?”

That jarred me. “Doesn’t the word
volunteer
mean

‘work without compensation’?”

“You, me, and
Webster’s Dictionary
are the only ones who seem to know that.” Reva adjusted the gold chain holding her glasses. “These new owners started a senior group called Prime Time Friends. Notice I didn’t say volunteer group. Their organization is run more like a hospice than Meals On Wheels.”

“Hospice services aren’t free.”

20

“Neither are the visits from Prime Time Friends.”

“So who’s paying for the visits?”

“We all are.”

“Individually? Like if you want someone to spend time with you alone, you pay for it?”

“Yes . . . and no.”

I waited while she gathered her thoughts.

“Every resident is allotted two hours a month of personal time and two hours a month of activity time. If you want additional time with the friends, you pay extra.

But collectively, when the new owners hired all new staff and started remodeling, they upped the rent, tacking on an ‘activities and recreational improvement’ fee.”

“Jesus. Is that even legal?”

Reva harrumphed and tapped her foot. Sponge Bob’s head bobbled. “Yes. Fair warning rate increase is perfectly legal. But when I looked up the statutes online, the language seemed vague when it comes to specifics governing assisted living facilities. The rules are much more rigid with traditional nursing homes.”

No surprise Reva had researched the matter. Librarians lived for that stuff. “How much was the increase?”

“A hundred bucks straight across the board.”

My stomach dropped. That’d be a huge financial hardship for residents on fixed incomes. It’d also be a huge chunk of cash for the organization. “No one questioned it?”

“A few did.”

“What happened?”

21

“They got rid of them.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.” Reva counted off the infractions on her gnarled fingers. “Louise Ellis broke her hip and was transferred to acute care before she was shipped out. The staff counselor diagnosed Dan Reese as violent after he blew up about the increase so he had to move back in with his daughter. Jim Rea suffered a stroke and he’s up at the VA.”

Sounded like normal ailments for the elderly.

Where was the conspiracy?

“Two others in wing C also left right away. The new residents don’t question paying the extra hundred bucks. But you want know the worst thing?”

Not a rhetorical question so I couldn’t shout
no
.

Especially after I saw tears welling in Reva’s buggy eyes.

“I feel sorry for the people who don’t have a little financial cushion. I’m not talking about these folks giving up luxuries; I’m talking about them giving up necessities. They’re either eating Meals On Wheels or not eating at all.” She raised her moist eyes to mine.

“Before you ask, no, they can’t just up and move. Like me, most people in here don’t have immediate family, so they’re stuck.”

The soda machine made a loud thump.

“Do these friends you’ve bought visit you on a daily basis?”

“Biweekly. We’re assigned two friends and they 22

rotate. Of course, you have to take the good with the bad. Half the time I get Dottie, a cheerful do-gooder who treats me like an imbecile. Luella is better, but she should be since she’s head of the program.”

Casually I asked, “She is?”

“Yeah.” The frown lines on Reva’s face increased.

“I thought it was strange at first, too. In my experience those administrative types don’t get their hands dirty, yet Luella is here every day.”

“I take it Luella is your favorite?”

“Mine. Not everyone else’s.”

My first thought was because she was Indian. Sad, but true. “Why is she your favorite?”

“She goes above and beyond.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, if she sees something in a magazine that might interest me, she’ll bring it along. If I ask and give her cash, she’ll pick me up a bottle of Jack Daniels without giving me a lecture on how dangerous drinking is at my age.”

“You don’t hop on the senior bus and go to the grocery store and all the other places?”

“No. I don’t like being stuck in this wheelchair, but it does give me an excuse not to have to do those things.

Doesn’t get me out of the activities most times.”

“What kind of activities?”

“Lectures about estate and funeral planning, wills, all that old folks’ crap. Demonstrations on cooking for one. Those aren’t bad. It’s the craft ones I hate, 23

making us decorate picture frames with beads and seashells like a bunch of kindergartners. Bah.”

“Forced crafts? No wonder you sneak around. I would, too.”

“Not a crafty person?”

I smiled coyly. “Not in the literal sense.”

“Well, there’s plenty of other crafty stuff going on around here to keep me occupied, not in the literal sense either.”

“Prairie Gardens doesn’t seem like a den of iniquity.”

“It isn’t. It’s become a cave of apathy.”

When she didn’t clarify, I leaned closer. “Explain that remark, Reva.”

“You wanna know why I’ve been roaming the hallways? Because the new punks they hired don’t give a hoot about us. They’re supposed to check on each unit twice a day. Half the time they don’t bother to do it once. After what happened to my friend Nettie . . .”

“What?”

“She slipped getting out of the shower and hit her head on the toilet. By the time those minimum wage idiots found her the next morning? It was too late.

She was dead. If they would’ve checked on her that night, like they were paid to, maybe . . .” Her chin wobbled and her glasses slipped down her nose.

I allowed her a minute to find her composure.

“I’m so sorry. Did Nettie’s family know what really happened?” Neglect resulting in a fatal injury screamed lawsuit.

24

“Nettie didn’t have family.”

“No one?”

Her head snapped up. “No. Which was why I was so upset when I found out she’d . . .” Reva dabbed her eyes. “Too late at any rate. Things have changed for the worse. There’s nothing anyone can do because most of us are stuck here until we die.”

Wow. I had no idea what to say.

“So, I’m not surprised this place is under investigation.”

“Does that mean you’ll help me?”

She nodded. “I’ll be discreet, since no one notices me.”

I dug a business card out of my purse. “What’s your room number in case I need to get in touch with you?”

“Four-oh-seven.” The card disappeared in the side pocket of her wheelchair.

“Thanks.”

“No, thank
you
. I look forward to seeing you again, PI girl.”

“Same goes, spy girl.”

Reva rolled down the maze of hallways and out of sight.

I exited the break room and turned the corner to see Kevin and Dee storming to me. Neither appeared very happy. I wasn’t in a hurry to get my ass chewed so I stayed put.

Dee sent me a sour look. “We’ve been waiting for you for twenty minutes.”

25

“I’m sorry. After I used the bathroom I stopped at the desk for a map and accidentally knocked over a stack of papers. After I made your office mate mad, I thought it’d be best for everyone if I hung out here until you showed up.”

“I’m on a tight schedule today so we’ll have to re-schedule your tour for another time.”

“Jack can lead me back there for a quick run-through if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.” Her smile came off haughty, not apologetic. “We can’t have people wandering around unattended. Against company policy and such.”

I bit back the retort,
Except for letting the residents
wander around unattended?

Kevin smoothly inserted himself between us.

“We understand.” He clasped both of Dee’s hands and mustered his Boy Scout smile. “Thank you so much for the tour. We’ll be in touch about our decision.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Dee put an extra swing in her abundant hips as she walked away, but Kevin wasn’t paying attention.

He unhooked our winter gear from the coatrack.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” I buttoned up my coat and tugged on my Thinsulate gloves. That first punch of cold air seemed to crystallize my lungs.

Kevin didn’t vocalize his anger until we were huddled in his Jeep. “What the hell were you doing, Jules? I didn’t learn a goddamn thing while you were 26

screwing around. That woman watched me like I was a healthcare inspector.”