Angel Sleuth

by Lesley A. Diehl

  “I’ve got an appointment at ARC,” said Kaitlin. They were finishing up the dishes.

  “I know you don’t really want a pig in here, but thanks for being so understanding,” said Mary Jane. “We had to rescue her before she became petit jambon where she was living.”

  “Kidnap her, did you?”

  “Kind of. With the help of the woman who wrote the letter to you. She said she’d clear it with the pig’s owner next door. She didn’t think the owner would care much. He said he wanted to give the pig away.”

  “Well, she’ll be a help around here, eating all the table scraps,” Kaitlin said.

  Jeremy had taken Dessie up to his room to introduce her to the other animals there. She’d already met Hester who’d hissed at her, then made forays from under the couch to smell the pig and dash back into hiding.

  Instead of setting up the coffee after dinner, Kaitlin opened the back door, several storage bags in her hand.

  “What have you got there?” asked Mary Jane.

  “Oh, shh, don’t say anything to Dessie. It’s the bacon and pork chops we had in the freezer. I’m putting them into the garbage.”

  * * *

  Floyd Toliver, a short man with a narrow face that seemed not to fit his round body sat behind a desk whose surface was bare with the exception of a bottle of Maalox. One hand gripped the bottle tightly, but let go of it when Kaitlin entered. He swept the bottle into the drawer, and cleared his throat. “Have a seat.”

  He reached over the now bare surface, offered Kaitlin his hand, and gestured to a chair. She thought his manner toward her just missed being unfriendly, but then, he was the director of one of the most prestigious senior facilities in the state and the death of his ombudsman put him in a pickle. And pressed by the state to replace her, she knew he had to be desperate to choose someone as untrained as Kaitlin for the job.

  She felt almost invisible in the room. He made no eye contact with her and had the annoying habit of closing his eyes and quivering his eyelids when he spoke. She was used to men feeling uncomfortable when she towered over them as she did Floyd Toliver. Sitting usually took away the threat, yet Toliver continued to twitch his eyes and move his hands at random over the desk top even after she sat. She wished she were home with the pig, who paid her attention, even if it was aimed at extracting another meal from her.

  “For the time being you can just come and visit for a few hours several times each week, get to know the residents. The staff here will be helpful in introducing you around. You won’t see much of me. Busy, busy, you know.”

  His high-pitched laughter, almost a giggle of hysteria, sounded forced. His fidgety-widgity manner made him one of the most annoying men she’d ever met. With the exception of her husband, of course.

  “Let’s just give you the ten cent tour for now. When you come back here, you can spend as much time as you like in all the areas.” He sprang from his office chair and beckoned her to follow, setting a pace down the corridor that was impressive for a short guy.

  “We have apartments for those wishing to live independently. They pay for meals in our dining room only if they wish to dine there.” He hustled her down a hallway leading off to the right from his office. One of the doors in the corridor was open, and they stuck their heads into a small living space.

  “As you can see, there’s a full kitchen, attached dining and living areas, bath and separate bedroom.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the apartment before she had a chance to greet the occupant, who sat smiling on her couch. Kaitlin returned her smile, waved, and chased after Toliver.

  “Dementia and Alzheimer’s wings are over there.” He flapped an arm toward a corridor on his right.

  “Depressing,” he said. What a curious comment from the facility’s director. His hand in the small of her back propelled Kaitlin down yet another hallway.

  “And these are private or shared rooms. All the residents here take their meals in the dining room. Oh, right. I haven’t shown you the dining area yet, have I? How forgetful of me.”

  He turned and began a dash back toward his office. Kaitlin waved at residents as they hurried past.

  “Mr. Toliver.” She grabbed at the back of his suit jacket as they raced around a corner. “Could we just stop a minute? I have a few questions for you.”

  “Like what?” His tone seemed to express irritation that she had interrupted his tour, and she caught a note of defensiveness in it.

  “Like what’s with all the animals?” In their marathon run through the hallways, she had noted residents holding cats, birds chirping, and a man walking a dog past Toliver’s office.

  “The doctor who founded this place had some crazy notion that animals were good for the elderly.” He drew a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped his sweaty forehead.

  “It certainly is noisy in here. Sounds like everyone is having a lot of fun. I was expecting something, well, something less happy, but this, well, this is just…wonderful.”

  “Glad you like it.” His facial expression said he couldn’t care less if she liked anything about the place.

  “Don’t you? I mean, aren’t you proud to be associated with this place? I heard it was state of the art, but I never guessed how impressive it was,” she said.

  “Thank you.” He matched his words with the smallest of smiles. “But we have extra worries with all the animals. Cleaning for one. And the paint color, of course. It would be cheaper to use institutional grey and who would notice?”

  “I’ll bet Desdemona would love it here.”

  “A relative? We have a waiting list, you know.” He once again grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the dining area.

  As they approached the dining room, she observed the entire west wall was made of glass. Because the founders of the facility located it on the highest point overlooking the town, the view from those windows had to be breathtaking during the daylight hours. And sunset dining? Almost better than any four star restaurant.

  Tonight the tables were moved back against the other wall. A small woman with bluish-white hair played the piano and a few couples danced to a foxtrot.

  “How about picking it up a bit, Lily?” asked one man from across the room.

  Lily ended the song and nodded at the man’s suggestion. Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment, then her fingers picked out a rock and roll tune. The man who suggested the change in music spied Toliver and Kaitlin from across the room and approached. He threw his arm around Kaitlin and swung her onto the dance floor.

  “C’mon, young lady. Let’s show ’em how to do it.” He grabbed her hand and began the jitterbug. She stumbled into the moves, then caught his rhythm and whirled under his arm. It had been a long time since she’d danced with anyone this skilled. They ended their dance to the applause of the onlookers. Everyone seemed delighted at the performance, with the exception of Toliver who stood at the back of the room staring at his shoes.

  “The name’s Paul, Paul Lamb.”

  “Kaitlin Singer.” They laughed and shook hands.

  “Lived here long?”

  “My wife and I moved in four years ago. I lost her to lung cancer just this past year.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” They both paused to look out the windows. Only the lights of the town below were visible.

  “But it’s a wonderful place to live. I have my own apartment. And I’m pretty busy here. Tennis, golf, swimming, and I love to dance.”

  I’ll bet you have no lack of partners, she thought, taking in his tall frame and angular features. Her eyes wandered to his abundant white hair. He caught her glance and blushed.

  “I’m growing it out from a crew cut. What do you think?”

  “Good.” Better than good. You won’t have a moment to yourself with all the women buzzing around.

  “You’re kind of young to be here, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She laughed and explained to him she would be filling in as an ombudsman until the Office for Agi
ng could appoint a permanent one.

  “I’d love to talk with you sometime when I visit to get a sense of how this place is perceived by the residents.”

  They agreed to meet on Monday afternoon for a cup of tea in the dining room.

  Kaitlin waved good-bye to him and the others and joined Mr. Toliver.

  “You made quite an impression,” Toliver said. She was getting accustomed to the scowl on his face. This one said he thought she’d overstepped her bounds.

  “Sorry if I was out of line, but who could resist Paul’s charming invitation?”

  “Watch out for that old codger. He’s nothing but trouble around here.”

  Toliver hurried her down the hall. As usual. The tour of the facility was over. He shook her hand and reminded her to get in touch with the Office for Aging for her brief training as an ombudsman, then turned abruptly and headed for his office. As Kaitlin turned toward the exit, she felt a small boney hand grab her arm. Lily, the piano player, smiled up at her.

  “Oh, hi there. You sure are great on the piano.”

  Her smile grew broader, her blue eyes friendly but their expression was vague.

  “I like to play. Music is my life now. There used to be more, but I forget what it was. There’s just my piano now.”

  “Where do you live here?”

  She looked confused for a moment, then pointed toward the Alzheimer’s wing of the building.

  “What are these?” She opened her hand to show Kaitlin several pills held in her palm. “Could you find out? They told me these were pills to lower my cholesterol, but they don’t look like the ones I’m used to taking.”

  Kaitlin hesitated, then reached out for them.

  “Lily, get back to your room.” Toliver strode up to them and started to walk Lily down the hall.

  “I can find my own way.” She shrugged off his hand and set off toward her room.

  “What did she want?” Not a pleasant question, a demanding one.

  “Oh, nothing much. Just to introduce herself and say good-bye.”

  She didn’t know if Toliver believed her, but for the second time that night, he warned her away from one of the residents.

  “Lily has Alzheimer’s. You can’t believe a thing she says. She’s crazy, delusional at best.”

  Kaitlin was sure Alzheimer’s didn’t fall into the category of crazy or delusional, but she didn’t let on what she knew about it. Correcting Toliver or even suggesting he might be mistaken could only result in greater defensiveness toward her, and that wouldn’t help Lily. She decided another approach might get her more information.

  “Uhm, so those letters Leda received about thefts in the facility here were probably the writings of other demented folks?”

  Toliver’s Adam’s apple worked up and down in his neck, in what looked like fear to Kaitlin, but he recovered his composure by coughing into his hand.

  “It happens all the time. The elderly often think staff and other residents are stealing their possessions. And it’s just not true at all. Usually we find the person misplaced the item or hid it.”

  “Hid it. On purpose? Why would they want to hide it?”

  “To get attention, obviously. I’m just a little concerned that this person or these persons wrote to Leda at the paper. Do you know who they were?”

  “No. The letters weren’t signed, but I think Leda was concerned. She kept the letters in her files.”

  “Well, no reason to worry about it. The mind doesn’t work so well when we get older. We think all kinds of odd things. I’m sure Leda wasn’t that concerned. As a trained ombudsman, she knew not to take these allegations seriously.”

  Toliver hurried her toward the door, opened it, and nudged her through it.

  He lied to me. Something was going on here, and Leda knew it. Was Leda’s knowledge deadly for her?

  Kaitlin opened the door to her car and slid into the seat. The overhead light in the car illuminated a slip of folded paper lying on the passenger’s seat. The one line of writing on it read: “I need to meet with you. Meet me at the staff entrance on Saturday night. Nine o’clock.”

  Now she had two concrete reasons to be concerned about what was happening at ARC. The second one rested in her hand, two of the pills Lily was able to slip to her before Toliver ran her off. Kaitlin was certain Toliver didn’t see the sleight of hand. She looked at them in the dim light of the car and could make out two numbers on each of the, an eight and a one. Eighty-one. Low dosage aspirin, and that was no cholesterol drug.

  Chapter 8

  Sleep? She couldn’t find it that night. Worry about Lily’s switched medication and excitement the pills might point to the person doing the stealing kept her awake. She assumed she’d get some answers the next night when she met with the author of the note found in her car, but the anticipation was like an additional jolt of caffeine, leaving her nerves tingling. Her confusion over how all these events related to Leda’s death gave her further cause to engage in sleepless tossing on her mattress. She pounded the pillow until down came out in puffs of tickly feathers and tossed it on the floor.

  She had to talk to someone about her evening. Too late to call her mother, Zack was out of the picture, and Mary Jane was off somewhere with Jeremy. By the time her roomies returned, after midnight, Kaitlin had changed her mind, convincing herself that any mother who kept her son out that late was a poor choice for talking with about thievery or murder. Kaitlin gave her other pillow a slam of her fist, loosening a seam. Down descended on her head and she began to sneeze.

  “You okay?” shouted Mary Jane from down the hall.

  “Fine. Go to sleep or you’ll keep Jeremy awake with all your yelling.” Someone had to show concern for the boy, Kaitlin said to herself. She threw that pillow to the floor where it joined its mate. I’ll buy fiberfill tomorrow, she vowed. Bird feathers reminded her of work she hadn’t finished on her book as well as the geese foreshadowing Leda’s death. She was feeling cursed by anything avian.

  * * *

  Much too soon sunlight crept through her window, rushed across the feather-strewn floor, and danced warm sparkles on her eyelids, but she resisted the pull of morning, threw her arm across her eyes, and dozed again. By the time she showered and came downstairs, Mary Jane and Jeremy had already left. The coffee in the pot was cold, so she decided to go to the café.

  At the Cappuccino Café, she spied Brittany at the counter ordering a latte.

  “Hey,” she called to Brittany. “What’s up?”

  This morning Brittany looked like a teenager. Her hair was pulled back with a brown scarf, and she had on Capris and white Keds. The only make-up she wore was a pink lip gloss.

  “You look like you’re about fourteen,” said Kaitlin. They grabbed a table at the window.

  “And you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

  “Thanks. I take my compliment back.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m out of sorts over this will thing.”

  As Brittany was about to explain her statement, Kaitlin noticed Leda’s nephew enter the café and step to the counter to order. He attracted Brittany’s attention also, and she put her nose in the air and sniffed as if she’d caught an offensive odor.

  “I don’t much care for her nephew. I guess I know too much about him from Leda. None of it good.”

  Will looked in their direction and made his way across the crowded café toward them.

  “Oh, no.” groaned Brittany.

  Before he could take a seat, a regular in the café, Lester Darby, owner of the largest contracting company in the area, grabbed his arm.

  “We’ve been saved by Lester, never one to miss an opportunity to make a buck,” said Kaitlin.

  “Good. I was about to go to the ladies’ room and leave you here alone.”

  “Go ahead. I can listen in on what they’re saying by myself.”

  There was no need to snoop because Lester’s voice carried to every corner of the room.

  “Rumor says you’r
e a rich man. Sorry to hear about your aunt, but I understand she left you her entire estate. We’re all hoping you’ll be persuaded to build a summer home here.”

  “C’mon,” said Brittany. She grabbed Kaitlin’s arm and all but yanked her out of her chair.

  Once outside, Kaitlin grabbed her friend’s arm to halt further retreat. “What is with you this morning?”

  “There’s got to be another will,” said Brittany.

  “Maybe not. Leda could have been mad at her nephew then gotten over it. He was her only relative. Who else would she leave her money to?”

  “To a charity maybe. And she was more than mad at him. She had reason not to leave him anything. She found out he was into gambling, and she knew she’d be feeding his habit with her money. I’m sure there’s another will.”

  “We’ll have to look for it then.” Kaitlin’s hand flew to her lips. “What did I just say?”

  Brittany stared at her friend, a look of total astonishment on her face. “You’ve got an idea?”

  “I need eight hours of sleep to function, and I certainly didn’t get that last night. I’ve stalled out on writing my book, but Leda’s death has sent me down a path I can’t seem to veer from. It’s as if I have to set my book aside and take over where she left off. Isn’t that odd?” Or was it, thought Kaitlin as Mary Jane’s name jumped into her head.

  * * *

  Brittany used her key to let them into the back door of the newspaper building. Once inside Leda’s office, Kaitlin slid into the desk chair and turned on the computer while Brittany hovered over her.

  “Grab a seat,” said Kaitlin. “This may take a while.”

  She waited until the icons appeared, then clicked on “My Documents.” The folders she encountered appeared to be related to Leda’s newspaper column and nothing else, but she surveyed the files in each folder. The room grew stuffy as she worked. Brittany opened a window, but the wind was from the other direction, and the air remained hot.

  “I’ll read for a while,” said Brittany. She moved her chair in front of the computer and took over for Kaitlin. “Tell me about your visit to ARC last evening. I can scan these and listen at the same time,” she said.