"You really aren't authorized to be here," Jerri repeated. "And the doctor has asked you to leave."
"I don't think I need authorization," I said. "Unless you've already managed to make yourself Dottie's new guardian. That's what you do, isn't it?"
Jerri's face went pale. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.
"You're the doctor for all of Jerri's wards, aren't you?" I asked the man with the stethoscope. "That's the arrangement here, isn't it? Someone researches people without much family, Jerri takes over their finances, you get them moved here so you get a kickback from Sunset Home, you label them as incapacitated, and then Faith sells their property."
"That's ridiculous," she said, but her eyes were darting around the room.
"You've got the judge in your back pocket, too, don't you?"
"Don't say anything," the doctor warned her.
"That's why you drugged up Dottie," I said. "She knows too much. She was asking questions of the wrong people. You have to keep her quiet. How many of your other wards are kept tranquilized twenty-four seven? It keeps them quiet and pliant. And you've somehow managed to cut out any family members. That's the piece I haven't figured out yet."
"You're crazy," Jerri said.
"Faith's part of it, too, isn't she?" I asked.
"You need to leave," Jerri said. "Right now."
"Want me to call the police for you?" I asked, picking up my phone. "Because I will."
Her mouth formed a thin line. She looked like she was about to respond, then changed her mind. "Let's go," she said, and just about yanked the doctor out of the room after her.
I waited until they were gone, then poked my head out into the hall. There was no sign of them. I knew Dottie's friend Anna Neukirch was in the next room—Dottie had told me about her. With Dottie's door open, I quietly knocked. When Anna answered, I slipped into the room.
"Lucy!" Anna said, her brown eyes bright in her weathered face. "I'm so glad to see you. There was a hullabaloo with Dottie a few hours ago. Is she okay?"
"They drugged her up," I said. "Dottie told me you were in trouble; that you'd lost your rights."
Her eyes flashed. "Jerri got that doctor to declare me incompetent and then took over all of my property. She put me here and sold my house for almost nothing."
"That's horrible!" I said.
She nodded grimly, her eyes looking haunted. "I can't see my daughter, and I know Jerri's making a fortune off me. I was the one working with Eva. They've been keeping me on some kind of drug ever since; I just stopped taking them and spit them all out now. Eva was going to do something about it, but then..."
"Let's call Mandy Vargas down at the Buttercup Zephyr." As I reached for my phone, I heard the sound of footsteps in the hall. Anna and I locked eyes.
"Go check on her," Anna whispered.
I nodded and hurried out the door. Sure enough, it was Jerri, with a security guard at her side, marching down the hall.
"Ma'am? I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the guard said to me.
"Why?"
"This is private property. You're trespassing."
"I'm here to visit my friend. I believe I have a right to do that."
"Ms. Roswell said you were causing a disturbance and were a threat to the residents," she said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"I'm afraid Dottie Kreische may be in danger," I told the guard. "I'd like to talk to the administrator."
"I'm sure she'll be fine," the guard said. "Now, let's go."
"No," I said. I walked into Dottie's room and sat down on the visitors' chair. "Call the police if you want me to leave. Heck, I'll call them myself," I said.
The security guard looked at Jerri.
"I'll handle this," Jerri said, and with a shrug, the guard left the room. Jerri waited, dry lips pursed, until the woman had walked down the hall and rounded the corner before turning to me. "What do you want?" she asked.
"What do you mean, what do I want?"
"How much?" she asked.
"How much?" I repeated. "You want to buy me off?"
"Look," she said, giving her head a slight, contemptuous shake; her dark bobbed hair didn't move. "These people are at the ends of their lives. They have no family; they're just winding down their last bits of time. What we do is a service to them. If they didn't have us, who would they have?"
"I talked with a resident who told me family isn't even allowed to visit."
As I spoke, she looked down at her phone and sent a quick text.
"Who are you texting?" I asked.
"Just my daughter," she said breezily. "Seriously, though," she said, leaning forward in a conspiratorial way. She smelled strongly of perfume and antiseptic. "I hear you're a farmer. That's got to be a hard business. Wouldn't, say, five hundred or a thousand a month go a long way to help?"
She was looking to bribe me. "What would you say the payments were for?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Maybe you could provide our residents with some organic produce," she said. "It would be good for their health, I'm sure. We care very much about the wellbeing of our clients."
"I can tell," I said drily, glancing at Dottie's waxen face.
"Seriously," she said. "Why not? They're not around for long. We give them a good life. They don't have families, so the money would just go to waste anyway."
"What about Dottie?" I asked. "She's got family."
"She and her daughter have been estranged for years," she said. "She won't care."
"You can tell her that when she gets here," I said.
17
Dottie was starting to come to when Jennifer arrived. Jerri had backed off, and once Jennifer had started the process of getting her mother out of the home and under proper care, I headed back to the farm, where I pulled out my laptop as Chuck curled up on my feet. I Googled Dr. Frederick; he'd moved to Buttercup five years ago, after leaving a geriatric practice in Houston. Then I started going through the names on the list of residents I'd photographed at Sunset Home and ran them through the Fayette County Appraisal District. Of the first ten names I ran, four of them had owned property in Fayette County, but sold it in the last five years. I wrote down the names of the properties, wondering if Mandy could figure out who had handled the transactions—or how much the homes had sold for. And to whom.
My next job was to Google Jerri Roswell. Her name came up as the owner of Safe Hands Guardians, which (according to its very basic website) was a guardianship company based out of La Grange. There were no references, just a list of services, including financial stewardship and managing medical care, and no staff listed other than Jerri. When I Googled the company to find out when it was established, I wasn't surprised to discover that it had come into being at about the same time Jerri moved to Buttercup.
I flipped back to the search results and ran through the first few pages, then discovered a small news article published ten years before. Evidently Jerri had been doing guardianship longer than five years; according to the short article, which had appeared in a Bastrop newspaper, a family named Martin had sued her for guardianship of an elderly member of the family. "We had no idea what happened," the woman in the article, the elderly woman's granddaughter, said. "One day we went to visit Grandma and there was a for sale sign in the yard. Someone we had never met was inside sorting through her things, and my grandmother had been moved to a low-rent nursing home in San Antonio. We weren't even allowed to see her."
By the time I got off the computer, I was even more certain about what was happening at Sunset Home.
I picked up the phone and called Mandy at the Buttercup Zephyr.
"I was just about to call you," she said. "The outfit that is buying the property next door to you is called Buttercup Holding. I can't find out who all owns it, though; I think it's a shell company. I did find one local name connected with it, though."
"Whose?"
"Faith Zapalac set it up.
Again, I thought of what
was written on the piece of paper in Eva's pocket: Cup Holding. It made sense.
"I think I've got a scoop for you," I said. "But I need you to find out a few more things, if you can."
"Tell me," she said.
"Can you find out who the presiding judge was for the guardianships at Sunset Home?"
"I can tell you already," she said. "Guardianships are all handled by the county judge; his name is Todd McLain. He got himself into a bit of a scandal over campaign contributions a few years ago; we ran a story on it. Nothing came of it, but where there's smoke..."
"I heard a rumor that a judge is buying the property through Buttercup Holdings," I said. "If that's who it is, I'll bet he's tied up in all of this, too. I think they're working together to declare vulnerable older folks without much family incompetent, putting them in Sunset Home, having Jerri take control of their assets and selling their real property to Buttercup Holding at a discount price."
"That's horrible!" Mandy said, but I could hear the excitement of a reporter on a scoop. "I've read a few articles about that happening in other places... but here in Buttercup?"
"I know," I said. "I wish it weren't true. And we haven't proven it yet. It's just a theory."
"A strong theory," she pointed out. "I'll see if I can connect Judge McLain to Buttercup Holding. Do you think any of this has something to do with the murders?"
"I don't know. Everything leads back to Sunset Home," I said, "and Dottie just moved there. But Jerri Roswell, the county judge, Dr. Frederick... I think they're all involved somehow. I have a list of the folks who are at Sunset Home, including the ones who are under Jerri Roswell's guardianship. She owns Safe Hands Guardians, and I'm guessing she sold all their properties. Can you do a search and find out who bought them?"
"I can," she said. "But what does that have to do with killing Eva? Dottie had nothing to do with Buttercup Holding."
"No, but Jessie was working with Faith, and Buttercup Holding put in the offer for her property. Plus, I think Eva was looking to whistle-blow; that would be a good motive for any of them."
"What about Jessie, then?"
"I don't know," I confessed. "Did he find out what was going on, somehow? I know he lost his job recently; did he figure out what was going on and want in on the action, maybe?"
"I'll see if I can dig up a connection," she said.
"I'll get in touch with my contacts in Houston, too. We'll see what we can find out, and then we'll decide what to do with it."
"I'm planning on running the story," Mandy told me.
"I know," I said. "The question is, is Rooster more likely to listen to us before or after it runs?"
"Let's get the facts together first," she said.
"I'm worried," I told her. "Jerri Roswell tried to bribe me to keep me quiet. If she killed Eva and Jessie, what if I'm next in line?"
"You don't own a gun, do you?"
"No," I said.
"You might want to reconsider."
I left a message for one of my former colleagues in Houston and headed outside to clear my head. The whole mess was on my mind as I went out to plant the rest of my vegetable starts; the sooner I got them in, the better. I stopped to check on the new kid along the way; as before, she was huddled in the far corner of the stall, looking lonely, while Carrot and Cinnamon were holed up in the opposite corner. Tobias had been optimistic, but I wasn't so sure. I left the stall with a sigh. I'd been checking in on the new arrival, who I'd named Niblet, but it didn't look like there was any progress on the bonding front.
The sun was high in the sky and there was a cool breeze, making it a perfect spring day as I busied myself putting in broccoli starts in, but my thoughts were dark. As I tucked the new plants into the freshly turned soil, I found myself wondering what Mandy was going to discover... and about Jerri Roswell. Had she killed Eva to keep her guardianship business going? That I could see... but what about Jessie? Had he found out about what Jerri was up to? Had she offered to pay him off, and had he refused? Or had his blackmail offer been too high for her to accept?
Or had he killed Eva to prevent her from taking over his mother's estate, and then been killed by Edward out of revenge? I didn't like to think about that, but the anger in Edward's voice when I'd spoken with him had been hard to ignore.
I had finished one row and was starting the next when my phone rang. It was Molly.
I wiped my hand on my jeans and answered. "What's up?"
"Ethan didn't come home from school," she said.
I glanced at my watch; it was late afternoon. School had ended at least an hour earlier.
"I assume he's not in any after-school activities?"
"No," she said. "He didn't come home on the bus, and Brittany said she didn't see him after school. And he's not answering his phone."
"I'm sure he's fine," I said soothingly, but my stomach clenched. Had he gone to Edward's house with his friend June after class?
Was Edward a murderer?"
"Have you talked to Edward?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
"I don't have his number," she said. "Do you?"
"Unfortunately, I don't."
"I'm about to go over there."
"I'll go with you," I offered, still feeling that creeping dread. "I'm heading to the truck right now."
18
Molly was standing outside the door of her house waiting for me when I pulled up ten minutes later.
"I'm sure Ethan is fine," I reassured her as she got into the truck. After all, I reasoned to myself, even if Edward was a murderer, he'd have no reason to do anything to Molly's son. Unless he'd found out something that would implicate his friend's dad...
I pushed the thought aside and hit the gas; a few minutes later, we were pulling into the driveway of Edward's place. I recognized his red van in the driveway, but there was no sign of June or Ethan.
We hurried out of the truck and knocked on the door. Molly looked pale, and I reached out to squeeze her arm.
Edward was wearing a paint-covered apron when he opened the door. He looked confused to see the two of us on his doorstep. "Everything okay?"
"Is your daughter here?" Molly asked.
"I don't think so," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "June!" He called. "June Bug!"
No answer.
"Did she come home from school?"
"I was painting," he said. "I kind of lost track of time... Junie!"
Again, nothing.
"Come on in," he said. "Did something happen?"
"My son didn't come home from school today," Molly said in a clipped tone. "I was wondering if he and your daughter were off somewhere together."
Edward sighed. "Kids. They have their own agendas, don't they?"
"I'd like to know what their agenda is, frankly," Molly said as she perched on a beaten-up couch in Edward's cluttered living room. I sat down next to her. Edward moved a couple of books on art from a derelict rocking chair across from us and slid into it; the whole house smelled strongly of paint and solvent. "They've been spending a lot of time together, I hear. Including at night."
Edward's eyebrows rose. "You think they're more than friends?"
"I don't know what they are," Molly said, "but sneaking out at night and drinking in the barn isn't acceptable behavior in my house."
Edward bristled, and there was a dangerous glint in his eye. "Who says it's acceptable in mine?"
"I'm sorry," Molly said, raking a hand through her graying hair. "I'm just... upset. I don't know where Ethan is, and I don't know what he's been up to lately, and he and your daughter spend a lot of time together."
"It sure sounds like you're blaming June Bug for whatever it is your son is getting into. Could be the other way around, you know."
Molly's hands tightened on her phone; I could see the knuckles whiten. She took a deep breath and said, "You're right. But right now, we don't know where either of them is. And I have a bad feeling about it."
Edward said nothing, but a shad
ow of worry passed over his face.
"Do you know where they go when they hang out?" Molly asked.
"There's an old barn out in the back," he said. "I keep tools and big stuff out there; I mainly use it for storage. I know June likes to spend time out there, but I don't know if she and Ethan hang out there together."
"Let's go look," I suggested, and Molly and I followed Edward out to the back of the little house.
The barn was a weathered building with a rusted, corrugated-metal roof, and a decided slant to it.
"Is this safe?" Molly asked as Edward pulled up on the latch and opened the silvery wood double door at the end of the building. The long grass had been beaten down around the entrance; it was obvious that someone visited the barn often.
"Hasn't fallen down yet," he said. He seemed totally unconcerned compared to Molly. Was it just grief over Eva? Or was he just a much more laissez-faire parent?
We stepped into the barn behind him; beyond the square of light illuminated at the entrance, the inside was striped with light from the gaps between the boards. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but once they did, I could make out a jumble of old lumber, rusted lawnmowers, and junk. Molly's lips were a tight, thin line, and I found myself wondering if I was up-to-date on my tetanus shots.
"Ethan?" she called, stepping over a rusted metal pail. "Ethan? June? Anyone there?"
Nobody answered, and together we followed what looked like a path through the debris. It led to a far corner of the barn, where something of a sitting area had been constructed from an old futon and a couple of crates. I walked over and peered under the futon, pulling out a Mason jar with a few dead cigarettes inside of it and an empty beer can. It was a Lone Star, which I knew was Molly's husband Alfie's favorite beer.
"Well, we found the hangout," I said, bending down again to see what else had been hidden under the futon.
"But where are the kids?"
None of us knew.
I walked around a minute more, and spied an old safe half-hidden behind an old dryer. A shiny padlock held it shut.
Dyeing Season Page 13
