Lacey nodded. “How’s the food?”
Margaret shrugged. “It’s all right. Allison takes me shopping on the weekends so I can buy a few things. Snacks. Ice cream.”
Lacey was actually surprised to hear Allison was doing that much. Must be shoehorning it in between all her own shopping trips.
Lacey found herself searching for topics on safe ground. Everything seemed to lead to loneliness, to depression. She wasn’t sure where to go next.
“You heard I moved?” Margaret asked suddenly. “From…?”
“Derrick. He called and told me.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“He’s… worried about you,” Lacey said. “He told me he hasn’t heard from you, and every time he tries to call you, he can’t get through. Have you gotten his messages?”
She looked disturbed, but in what way, Lacey couldn’t guess.
“No. I’ve gotten no messages. He’s… he’s called here?”
“Several times,” Lacey confirmed. “Do you receive messages from others? Can people call you directly?” She looked around but saw no sign of a phone. What kind of place had no phone?
“No. I mean, yes, I get messages from Allison. But no, there’s no phone here.”
“Is that their policy here? No phone?”
Margaret shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess.”
“You know what?” Lacey said suddenly. “I’m going to go ask at the front desk. I’ll be right back.” Before Margaret could respond, she jumped up and headed for the door. Her outrage was growing, and it propelled her down the hall.
At the counter, the heavy woman watched her approach with wariness. Lacey smiled, although it felt more like a grimace.
“Hi. I’m visiting Margaret Nelson. I’m a family friend. I don’t understand why she doesn’t have a phone in her room. Do you have a policy about that? It seems to be a safety hazard to me.”
The woman perked up a little nervously at the words safety hazard. “No, we don’t have any policy regarding phones. Residents can have them installed if they want. She didn’t.”
“Mrs. Nelson didn’t? Or her daughter, Allison Rush?”
The woman swallowed. “Mrs. Rush made all the arrangements.”
“I see. Well, Mrs. Nelson would like a phone. Can you order one for her? Or do I need to do that?”
“The resident needs to do that. Or her advocate.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll go do that right now.”
Lacey spun and strode back to Margaret’s room. She’d left the door slightly ajar, so simply walked back in.
“You can have a phone,” she said as she retook her seat. “Do you want one?”
Margaret seemed slightly confused. “Yes. I think that would be best, don’t you?”
“I do,” Lacey said forcefully. “Let’s call and arrange it right now.”
She called the regional phone company and placed the order. When the service rep questioned her ordering service in another’s name, she put Margaret on to confirm it, then took the phone back to settle the details.
“So that’ll be installed on Wednesday?” she verified. “And what will the number be?” She jotted the information down on a blank page of her notebook. After she hung up, she wrote the number on another page for herself, and tore the first page out for Margaret.
“That was easy,” she said.
Margaret stared at the note. “Why wouldn’t Allison have done that?” she asked. She raised her eyes to Lacey, her confusion obvious.
Lacey dragged in a breath. This was going to get ugly, but it needed to happen. “I don’t know,” she said gently, “but I’m worried about you. I don’t believe Allison is acting in your best interests.”
Margaret’s eyes darted back and forth across Lacey’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Well, let’s look at this,” Lacey said. “She insisted you sell your house and move here, but she didn’t have a phone installed for you. Derrick’s been trying to reach you, but you don’t get his messages. He said he’s tried calling Allison, too, but she won’t return his calls.”
“Why would she act this way?” It was obvious Margaret would never suspect her daughter of unscrupulous behavior.
“I have an idea,” Lacey said. She pulled her laptop out of the case and booted it up. “When Derrick and I were talking about this, we checked your bank account. Let me ask you, do you still get mail here? Bills, statements, things like that?”
“No.” Margaret shook her head. “Allison said she’s taking care of all of that now.”
“I was afraid of that.” Lacey pulled up the bank interface and logged in. When the checking account activity came up, she turned the screen so Margaret could see it.
“Look here,” she said. “Monthly payments to Mercedes Benz. Pretty substantial charges to major stores. Allison hasn’t taken you shopping at any of these places, has she?”
Margaret leaned forward to peruse the list of charges. She adjusted her glasses, but Lacey could see her eyes darting across the screen. Her mouth thinned into a tight line.
“No,” she said. Her voice was hard.
Lacey sat back and let that sink in. She felt horrible to be the bearer of bad news, but it was important for Margaret to draw her own conclusions.
Finally, she began to. “Why would she do this? She and Ian are doing very well. Why would she steal from me?”
“Has she mentioned to you that Ian lost his job?”
That startled look again. The deer in the headlights. “When?”
“About six months ago, as near as I can find. His company reorganized—without him.”
“Six months ago.” Margaret stared down at her toes. “That’s about when she started nagging me about moving. About selling the house. I didn’t want to.”
“Were there any… issues about you living alone in the house? Had you had any accidents, fallen, had any problems that you couldn’t handle?”
“No, not really. Oh, I lost my keys once, and she had a fit about that. She said my mind was going. She just insisted I needed to have people around me. She said she was worried about me being taken advantage of.”
Lacey met Margaret’s eyes calmly. The irony was thick, and they both knew it.
“How much of my money has she taken?” Margaret asked quietly.
Lacey pulled the laptop to her. “I don’t know. I didn’t add it up. Let me scroll back and see…”
She counted four payments to Mercedes. Multiple hundred-plus dollar shopping trips. Then, back in November, a $5000 check to Mercedes. The down payment.
Lacey sighed. “Just doing a quick count here, I’d say at least $10,000.”
Margaret’s jaw dropped. “Ten thousand?”
Lacey nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“But, but… I need that. To live on.”
“Yes, you do,” Lacey agreed. “And at this rate, your savings won’t last long. I think we need to stop the bleeding, and fast.”
“How do we do that?”
Lacey was glad to hear Margaret say we. She’d worried about having to strongarm the older woman, doing essentially what Allison had done, even if this time it was for a good reason.
“I’d suggest we go down to the bank. This afternoon if possible. We can take Allison off your account and we can cancel your debit card. At the same time, we can ask about recovering the funds spent fraudulently. I’m not sure how far we can go on that, though, since she was listed on your account. The bank might be more willing to help if”—she paused—“we filed a police report.”
“A police report?”
“Yes. This is fraud. It’s elder abuse. It’s a crime.” Lacey took Margaret’s hands in hers. “I know she’s your daughter, but these are criminal acts. That’s why she went to such pains to keep you isolated and in the dark. She knew what she was doing was wrong. But she did it anyway.”
“I don’t know,” Margaret said. She stared down at their joined hands. Lacey almost expected tears to fall there.
“I know this is difficult,” she said softly. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s go to the bank first and take care of things there. Once we talk to them, see what they say about it, then we can decide. We need to stop Allison first. Then we can think about the rest later.”
“All right.” Margaret’s voice was resigned. Sad, but resigned.
On the way to the bank, Lacey stopped by the post office and picked up change of address forms. “We’ll get your mail switched back to you. That way you can keep a close eye on everything, and you’ll know exactly how much money you have.”
The lady at the bank was sympathetic. “Unfortunately, we see this sort of thing all too often. I’ll cancel the debit card and issue you a new one, to your correct address. But I’m afraid I can’t remove your daughter’s name from the account.”
“Why not?” Lacey asked, suddenly alarmed.
“There’s another name on here, Derrick Nelson. I would need to have his permission as well.”
Lacey almost laughed out loud, but instead just grinned as she dug in her purse. “How’s this?” she asked, passing the power of attorney across the desk.
The woman looked it over. “May I see some ID, please?”
“Absolutely.” Lacey pulled out her driver’s license. The woman compared it to the document.
“All right, it looks like everything’s in order. We’ll take care of it.”
They sat patiently as the woman did the computer updates. When Lacey glanced over at Margaret, she noted the woman’s furrowed brow and the way her mouth turned down at the corners. Lacey knew this was not easy for her. She reached over and covered Margaret’s hand with her own. Margaret looked up, smiled weakly, and looked away.
The trip back to the home was a quiet one. Lacey could imagine Margaret turning this over in her mind. The last few months had been very disorienting for her. Everything had changed; everything that was familiar was gone.
“What time do you normally eat dinner?” Lacey asked as she turned into the parking lot.
“Oh, about five. What time is it?”
“It’s almost four-thirty. I was thinking I could call Derrick and have him call back on my cell phone. Would you like to talk to him?”
Margaret perked up a little at that. “Yes, I would.”
“Okay. We’ll do that when we get back to your room.”
While Margaret traded her street shoes for slippers again, Lacey made the call. She explained that it could be a while before Derrick called back.
“I was wondering if you’d like some company at dinner? I don’t have any plans for this evening. Are you allowed to have guests in the dining room?”
“Yes,” Margaret said. “That would be lovely. You can meet my friends.”
Lacey was pleased to hear her mention friends. She wanted to check out the quality of the food, and now she could see how Margaret interacted with other residents, as well. This, she thought, would give her a good idea of how well—or not—Margaret was settling in.
The dining room was less that and more a cafeteria. Residents picked up trays and silverware, then made their way down a line past all manner of meal options. Lacey noticed that, although there was some effort to supply healthy fare like salads, there were also comfort foods like macaroni and cheese and fried chicken. It wasn’t the best selection she’d ever seen, but it wasn’t the worst, either.
They filled their plates and Margaret led Lacey to what was probably a favorite table. One woman was already seated there.
“Ida, this is my… this is Lacey Fitzpatrick. Lacey, Ida Feinstein.”
Lacey shook her hand. “Ida, pleased to meet you.” She slid into the chair next to Margaret.
Ida looked pleasantly confused. Lacey was pretty sure her name—or even her existence—had never been mentioned. It made her wonder how much Margaret said about her jailbird son.
“Are you a friend of Allison’s?” Ida asked finally. The blue eyes, magnified greatly by thick eyeglass lenses, regarded Lacey with innocent interest.
Not anymore, Lacey thought. “I’m a friend of Margaret’s,” she said. “I heard she’d moved her and I wanted to see how she was doing.”
“Oh.” Ida smiled. “How nice. Margaret, did you see? Chocolate mousse for dessert.”
Margaret looked up, craning her neck toward the dessert area. “Ooh, good. I want some of that.”
Then a fourth joined them. Another woman, shorter and stouter than Margaret, took the last empty seat. She settled in, then noticed Lacey.
“Oh!” she said in surprise.
Rather than reach across the table, Lacey waved at her. “Hi. I’m Lacey Fitzpatrick.”
“Friend of Margaret’s,” Ida supplied. Then to Lacey, “This is Rosalie Davis.”
“Hello,” Rosalie said. “How nice to meet you. My daughter was here yesterday. She comes every Sunday for dinner.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to swing a visit every week,” Lacey said, “but I’ll be dropping by as often as I can.”
“What do you do, dear?” Ida asked.
“I’m a private investigator,” Lacey said. She noticed Margaret’s surprised expression.
“Oh, how interesting,” Ida said. “Like the ones on TV?”
Lacey almost snorted. What she and Sam did went way beyond TV. “Kind of,” she said, “although probably not near as interesting. Most of what I do is research on the computer, not running around with a gun in my hand.”
“Oh, I see.” But Lacey thought Ida really did not see.
“So what do you ladies do around here for fun?” she asked. “What kind of social activities are there?”
“We play bridge,” Rosalie said.
Lacey glanced at Margaret, remembering her saying she wasn’t good at bridge. “As I recall,” she said, “you used to be a whiz at Scrabble.”
“Scrabble?” Ida said. “I love Scrabble! Oh, we should play sometime.”
Margaret smiled and nodded, but then grew thoughtful. “I don’t know where my Scrabble game is. I haven’t used it in a long time.”
“I’ll get one for you,” Lacey said. “Next time I come, I’ll bring it.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” said Ida. “That will be fun.”
“I’ll bet there are others here who will want to play,” Lacey said. “Maybe you could organize a tournament.”
The women all looked at each other. Ida grinned. “I’ll bet we could.”
“You might need more than one game,” Lacey said.
While Rosalie didn’t look too enthused, Margaret and Ida certainly were. Lacey was glad to see it. Margaret needed something beyond sitting in her room, waiting for Allison to stop by. This could be a good start for her.
Having planted a seed, Lacey was happy to sit back and let the women bat the idea around on their own. These were nice women and seemed to genuinely care for Margaret. Lacey felt good about that.
As she looked around, she realized this was not a bad place. Oh, it wasn’t Meadow View, but then Margaret’s funds were more limited than Celeste’s were. Lacey doubted she could find a better place in her price range.
By the time they’d all finished their dinner, she felt sure the Scrabble game would develop into a nice diversion. As she and Margaret left the others, Ida put out a plea to Lacey.
“You’ll come back again? You could play Scrabble with us, too.”
“I’ll come back, absolutely,” Lacey said, laughing. “The Scrabble I’m not so sure about. Margaret always whipped my butt.” She noticed a secretive little smile on Margaret’s face.
Walking down the hall, Lacey felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out: Derrick. She took the call and continued walking.
“What’s up?” he asked without preamble.
“I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you,” she said. “Hang on just a second.”
Lacey let Margaret open the room door with her key, then handed her the phone as they settled inside. While Margaret told Derrick what all
they’d accomplished that day, Lacey got her notebook out and wrote a reminder for herself: get Scrabble. Then she packed up her laptop; she’d head home as soon as mother and son got caught up.
She hadn’t been paying much attention to Margaret’s side of the conversation, so she was surprised when the woman thrust the phone at her.
“He wants to talk to you,” she said.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lace, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. I feel so much better now, knowing I don’t need to worry about Mom. You’re a doll.”
“I’m guessing you’ll get some flak from Allison over this,” she said.
“Eh, I can handle Allison. At least now I can stay in touch with Mom directly.”
“Did she tell you about the phone?”
“Yeah. When is it going to be installed?”
“Wednesday. Let me give you the number.” Lacey read it off her note. “You could probably try it out that evening.”
“I will. Boy, this is great. Lacey, you really came to bat for me. I owe you big time.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “Just stay in touch with your mom from now on.” She smiled at Margaret, and the older woman beamed in response.
“Oh, I will. You can bet on that.”
“Good enough. Well, I’m going to head home now. I’ll come back Wednesday afternoon to make sure the phone’s installed.”
“That’s terrific.” Derrick sounded so relieved, for a moment Lacey could forget her own ambivalence and just feel glad for him. “You’re the best, Lacey. I love you.”
The words stunned her. She’d heard them before, but not since he threw away their life together.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said, but her voice had lost the edge it usually took when he strayed too close. “Bye.”
She chose not to think about that at all. She gathered up her things and went to hug Margaret.
“By the way,” she said, “if you should see Allison or if she questions you at all about the changes we’ve made, you tell her to talk to me. Don’t let her bully you.”
“All right.” Margaret gave her a heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Lacey. I’ve missed you.” When she pulled away, she stared into Lacey’s eyes. “My son was a fool to let you go.”
Star Walk Page 12
