When I retrieved the beverages for my latest customers, Noelle gave me the okay sign. I sighed with relief but hurried to the kitchen during the next lull.
“Was the ambulance for Happy Days?” I asked.
Noelle nodded. “Mrs. Hodges died in her sleep. Mom did her hair and nails yesterday. The woman moved in six months ago and raved about her Happy Days experiences.”
“Six months?” I recalled Logan’s assertion that life spans in facilities he investigated were shorter than average. I wondered how much money Mrs. Hodges had contributed. Did each person contribute a half million, or was there a sliding fee?
“You’re not listening,” Noelle said.
“Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”
Noelle said, “I’ve scheduled a yoga class at Happy Days tonight. I asked if you’d help. You’re pretty good at the poses. You should ask your grandpa to attend. Men need flexibility too.”
“Great idea. I’ll grab a quick nap this afternoon. Logan and I stayed up late talking.”
My friend wagged a finger. “I think you like him.”
“Noelle, did you know Detective Hardy is married?”
“You changed the subject, and yes, the local law officer is married. His wife teaches at the high school,” Noelle said. “They have two darling girls. You know them. They sit on the fourth pew on the right in church. Detective Hardy ushers, so he stays in the back.”
“I didn’t know he was married. I mistook his friendliness for flirtation.”
“He’s nice to everyone, even when he gives tickets. Be warned, Ladessa, I plan to grill you about Logan on the drive to Happy Days. Oh, the class will only be thirty minutes, a teaser, something to get the residents interested.”
“Got it.” Maybe the ruse Logan used on my grandfather would work on Gramford. I’d inquire about the Happy Days admission policies by pretending a Texas friend expressed interest.
Without an activities director’s encouragement, only eight people showed for the yoga class. Betty’s death definitely changed the ambiance of Happy Days. Harlan Gramford should hire a replacement immediately, someone like Noelle Rollins.
Noelle gave instructions for the poses, and I attempted to do them. My final postures didn’t look as polished as Noelle’s, but she wanted students to know that the effort, not the final result, mattered.
Noelle challenged the attendees to embrace yoga for improved strength and flexibility. In between stances, my mathematical brain churned numbers. If the deceased woman forked over a cool half million, and expenses were five thousand per month, the facility would hit the break-even mark for her residency around eight years. With her death occurring after six months, Happy Days pocketed about four hundred seventy thousand dollars.
After Noelle closed the session with corpse mode, which I hoped wasn’t an omen, Harlan Gramford appeared, dogs in tow.
“Ladessa, I need a word.” Harlan walked toward his office, expecting me to follow.
Had he heard me asking about the latest death? Maybe it was Noelle’s application. I knew she listed me as a reference. Or was it about Grandpa’s fake visit with my family?
He held the door and his dogs until I sat in the wingback maroon leather chair. When he released Sunrise and Sunset, they rushed to me for petting.
“What’s up?” I acted casual.
“Ladessa, let me explain what’s happening to your loved one.”
In tones and vocabulary suitable for a child, Harlan warned me that my grandfather might need more care than Happy Days could offer.
“What kind of care?” I jiggled my feet, trying to hint to Harlan’s dogs that I didn’t like their weaving around my ankles.
Harlan snapped his fingers to call Sunrise and Sunset. “Our doctor says John is slipping both physically and mentally. Our medical expert believes your grandfather may have lost the will to live. I’m not sure Happy Days is the best place for him.”
“Wait. He told me Happy Days was his final stop—so to speak. Are you trying to kick him out?” I never expected this.
“Happy Days is like the family the residents don’t have. Since you arrived, your grandfather has changed. He’s no longer happy here. He left for a ‘vacation’ after Betty’s death. Everyone shared their grief and worked through the feelings about her death together. Everyone except your grandfather, because he wasn’t here, was he?”
“No.”
“Do you want him to live with you? You’re a young woman. Do you want the responsibility of an elderly man who has health and mental challenges?”
“Mr. Gramford, I appreciate your diplomacy, but what are you trying to say?”
“Ladessa, it’s a simple question. Are you going to care for your grandfather, or do you prefer our professional team to administer his care? I’d like your decision within the week.” He stood, indicating my dismissal.
Noelle waited with her mom and my grandfather in the open area. “What was that about?” Noelle asked.
“Some suggestions he wanted me to consider.” I gently punched Grandpa’s shoulder. “How’s my favorite Grandpa today?”
“Sad. That lady who died was my Thursday night dinner partner. Betty came up with the idea. We rotated tables so we’d get to know each other. She was my Thursday partner. I’ll miss her.”
Mary spoke. “We’ll all miss her, John.”
“What was her name?” Grandpa asked.
Mary smiled. “Her name was Alice. Pretty blue eyes, always wore pearls to dinner.”
“Alice.” Grandpa turned toward me. “Alice was her name. She had pretty blue eyes and always wore pearls.”
I kissed his forehead. “Grandpa, I’ll see you tomorrow. You can tell me more stories.”
“I don’t tell stories!” Grandpa glared at me. “And I’m sick of picking through boxes.”
“I meant family memories, not stories, and I thought you enjoyed going through the mementos in those boxes.”
“Well, I don’t.” Grandpa walked away without allowing me to give him a hug.
Noelle loaded her yoga mats into the trunk and slid behind the wheel. “You want to talk about Logan?”
“No.”
“How about what Harlan really said?”
“No.”
“Why you asked me if I knew Detective Hardy was married?” Noelle persisted.
“No.”
“Then you must want to listen to my problems,” Noelle said.
“Yes, let me listen to your problems, for once.”
“It’s Will. We had a huge fight. I said I blamed Trent Sharp for destroying my father’s reputation and for the sadness that caused him to end his life.”
I turned as far as the seat belt allowed. “Didn’t he know that?”
“Apparently not. He blew up. His uncle treated him terribly, but when I said something negative about the man, Will turned Sharp into a saint.”
“He’ll realize his mistake,” I said.
“I don’t know. Telling him I’d asked Harlan to accept us as a package was like throwing oil on flames.”
“He’ll calm down.” I didn’t know Will Tomlinson well enough to know whether he would or wouldn’t. “You’ll win either way. If he decides to be mean, you’ll be lucky for him to be gone. If he decides to grow up, you’ll be lucky to have him in your life.”
“So I’m going to be lucky,” Noelle said.
“Absolutely.” I believed that about Noelle, but I wondered what my Grandpa’s future held. Would he be lucky?
CHAPTER 15
Sleep eluded me. Noelle knew about Sharp’s peanut allergy, and she could have sneaked into the shop via the back door to nab the doctored nasal spray, but so could a dozen other people. I’d positioned myself by the front door for the demonstration and after I discovered the body. More possibilities to keep me awake.
I also fretted over the conversation with Harlan Gramford. His demand for my decision fit with the pattern Logan described about other facilities. They isolated the resident
s who relied on their new home for social interaction, food, shelter, and medical care. Isolate, the key element. Harlan wanted Grandpa under facility control, or out, a simple decision. Before my arrival, no one questioned Grandpa’s new doctor, one employed by Happy Days, or the prescriptions he wrote. Because of my presence, Grandpa was no longer isolated, and Harlan did not want that.
Grandpa’s future depended on his permanent escape. I didn’t want him to be another Alice Hodges, dying and leaving Happy Days a tidy bundle. Grandpa’s tenure at Happy Days measured the same as the recently deceased. I needed to act, now. Happy Days locked their doors at eleven. Locked? That sounded like a prison. My phone showed ten. I could get there before they shut the place down.
When I arrived I tapped the front desk bell, and Harlan appeared. He invited me into his office for the second time that evening.
“Ladessa, this is a surprise. Have you reached a decision so quickly?”
“Yes. I want my grandfather free from your clutches, now. I know what you’re doing.”
Harlan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I had Grandpa’s meds analyzed, and I know you’re sedating him. Your medications create his confusion.”
“You had his prescriptions evaluated? Why would you do that?” Harlan leaned back in his chair.
“Just a hunch. Grandpa’s not the man I knew.” I didn’t mention Logan’s investigation into similar complexes as money-making machines.
“He wouldn’t be the man you knew. Even a year can alter an older person’s cognitive and physical abilities, and you haven’t visited him for … how long?”
His point hurt. Holiday cards and the occasional phone call didn’t make up for personal visits.
“I’m here now.” My lame protest sounded hollow.
“How do you plan to care for him? Where will you take him?” Harlan stroked one dog, then the other.
“Texas. He could live with me.”
Harlan pushed his black-rimmed glasses up on his nose. “Has your grandfather ever lived in Texas? Would he have any friends? Who would care for him while you work? We’ve created a complete support system for older individuals. You’re an impetuous young woman.”
“I’m a CPA, which means I’m not impetuous. I’m practical, organized, and efficient. Grandpa’s medication analysis compels me to act. He’ll be different off your laced prescriptions.”
“I know nothing about ‘laced’ prescriptions, but I do know that aging affects abilities.”
“I’m not leaving without him.” I lifted my chin.
“Ladessa, Happy Days exists and grows based on contented, active residents. Having someone ranting about doctored prescriptions would be damaging.” He slapped his thighs. “My dogs haven’t had their evening constitutional. Would you mind?” He riffled through a drawer and held up his find. “Treats and bags. We’ll go out front. There’s a nice area over to the side for the dogs.”
I buttoned my coat against the cold.
Harlan affixed the leashes on the dogs and hit the door buzzer.
I attempted to explain my position calmly. “The drugs I had analyzed were supposed to be for blood pressure, thyroid, and cholesterol. They were those medications, with a sedative added to each.”
“Was the authority you hired a friend or professional? Go Sunrise, Sunset.” Harlan shooed his dogs away, their leashes trailing behind them. “They like that spot under the trees.” He focused the flashlight’s small beam to a dark area outside the facility’s wreath of lights.
“Mr. Gramford—”
“Harlan. We’re informal.”
“Harlan, I want to remove my grandfather from Happy Days, and I think the life fee he deposited should be reimbursed.”
“Have you consulted other family members?” Harlan watched as the bigger dog scratched in the dirt.
“No, no. I intend to handle the paperwork for Grandpa’s move, and then I’ll explain the situation to my dad, aunt, cousins, all the family.”
“So you haven’t told anyone about the pills or your absurd rescue or, should I say, kidnapping plan?”
“I haven’t, but you can’t hold him here like a prisoner.”
“I created a home, a sanctuary for the elderly. My childhood was not idyllic, Ladessa. My macho plumber father ridiculed me for not being able to catch, throw, or kick balls, depending on the season. I was short, overweight, and near-sighted, a natural target for bullies. Because my mother was unwell, I spent most of my adult years caring for her. Now I provide a haven for people like my mother. Our residents need their Happy Days family.”
“My grandfather doesn’t.”
Harlan made clicking noises with his tongue. “Where was his loving family when he lost all his money? Where were they when he needed a place to live? Trent Sharp offered him an option. Your grandfather received a medical evaluation and was certified as competent.”
“By the same doctor who now prescribes his meds?” I pushed.
“Your grandfather needs medications.”
“This is a circular argument. I demand you produce the papers for me to sign to remove my grandfather, legally and immediately.”
The moon hid its face behind a lonely cloud, leaving the sky an inky black.
“Ladessa, perhaps you’re the one agitating your grandfather.”
“Mr. Gramford, I mean Harlan, I did not add sedatives to his meds. I didn’t create a scheme to have senior citizens forfeit their life savings for room and board.”
“But I didn’t do that,” Harlan protested.
“If not you, then who? Was Trent Sharp responsible? Was he the kingpin in the swindle?”
Harlan gasped. “Did that man use my facility for personal gain? Did Betty? Were they defrauding my residents? My friends?” His voice quivered. “I trusted them with recruitment of clients and the day-to-day operations.”
“You honestly didn’t know that prescriptions were being altered?”
“No! Do you think I’m a monster?” Harlan’s earnest denial reverberated in the stillness.
Perhaps Detective Hardy nailed it. He pegged Betty as Trent’s killer and her subsequent death as a natural heart attack. I sought a conspiracy theory when the simple truth made more sense. Harlan deserved an apology.
“I don’t think you’re a monster. But I’d still like to move my grandfather.”
“Terminating the agreement is complicated. We offer sanctuary to those in their sunset years using the facility’s lifetime investment model.”
Lifetime investment model? I gulped. Harlan’s use of the term set off flashing red lights in my brain. “You did partner with Trent Sharp in this fraud, but then Sharp gave his life to God. He must’ve threatened to end the scam and make amends to those wronged.”
“My dear, you should be a fantasy writer instead of a CPA.”
Everything fell into place. Sharp’s charm lured the residents to Happy Days. Betty’s computer skills checked the prospect’s background and net worth. Harlan’s facility provided the setting. Stir in a doctor willing to write bogus scripts, and the arrangement hemorrhaged money to participants who didn’t concern themselves with larceny or the occasional death. Happy Days was not an isolated facility operating under nefarious guidelines, but one of many.
Harlan sidled next to me. “Figure it out?”
I nodded, as the horror of being in a secluded area with a murderer washed over me. Harlan Gramford was a small man, one who loved dogs, an innocuous-looking fellow who generated trust. “Sharp threatened to expose you?”
“He did.” Harlan moved closer.
“Why kill Betty?” If he bragged about his accomplishment, I might buy some time to come up with an escape plan.
“When Sharp’s lawyer told her she would get a sizable distribution from his estate, she announced she was through with our lucrative enterprise. I couldn’t allow her to destroy what I’d built. We had tea, hers with a powerful sedative. Then, when she slept, I injected a high dose of insulin in her ea
r. No medical examiner looks there. Betty was prediabetic and had high blood pressure. The doctor never questioned the heart attack.”
“You can’t keep killing people. What about Mrs. Hodges?”
“She died peacefully. Isn’t that what everyone wants? She was happier here than she’d been in years.” Harlan laughed. “Actually, the food Mrs. Hodges ate was intended for your dear grandfather. He gallantly switched places with Alice because she complained of a draft before the poisoned food arrived.”
Despite the dark, I saw the rock when he raised his hand. I ducked before he could crash it into my skull. He shoved me against a tree with a strength that shocked me.
“Help! Help!” I yelled.
“No one can hear you.” Harlan’s left arm pinned me as he prepared to strike again.
I swiped with my foot and cut his legs out from under him. He toppled to the ground, and Sunrise and Sunset raced to their master, weaving their leashes around his arms while covering his face with wet doggy kisses. I unclipped the leashes and tied Harlan’s legs and arms behind him. Then I wriggled my phone from my back pocket and called 911.
Ignoring Harlan’s entreaties to release him, I relived my powerful swipe kick that dropped him to the ground. If I’d faced this danger two months ago, I might have died. In only a month and a half, my biking, walking miles as a waitress, and performing yoga poses had transformed my body from chubby couch potato to a lean fighting machine. That might be an exaggeration, but I survived to tell the story. And I could tell that story any way I wished.
I welcomed the blaring siren and waved my phone’s flashlight beam to guide the car to our location.
Harlan started yelling before Detective Hardy stopped the car. “Detective, over here. This woman is mad. She attacked me. She’s as crazy as her grandfather, and you know we have to keep him locked up.”
Detective Hardy extended a hand to me, then Harlan.
I voiced my own accusations. “That is not true, Detective. He tried to kill me.”
“In the car. Both of you,” Detective Hardy commanded.
The Tea Shoppe Mysteries Page 36
