THE ELSON LEGACY (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 6)

by Lawrence de Maria

  “He and that kid hit it off, and we’ll be back long before all the chores are done.”

  The high school boy that Evelyn Rogers hired to keep up the farm had arrived right after the locksmith gave me a new set of keys. The boy, Lucas Browne, was, like most country kids, comfortable around dogs and soon had Gunner following him around.

  At the front nurses’ station I asked to see Laurene’s mother, Beatrice Elson. The nurse on duty wanted to know who I was and if I was on the approved list. I told her my name, and said that the woman’s daughter, Laurene Robillard, had called to get me on a visitors’ list. The nurse tapped a keyboard on her computer.

  “Yes, Mr. Rhode. You’re on the list. Miss Beatrice is in room 226. You can take the elevator over there. Her room will be to the right as you exit the elevator.”

  I thanked her and we started to walk away. Then I turned back.

  “Excuse me. But in most nursing homes I’ve been to, there are no approved lists. Visitors are encouraged to drop by.”

  “Yes, I know. This is the first place I’ve worked where we had to check people. Mr. Gruber runs a very tight ship.”

  “Mr. Gruber?”

  “Malcolm Gruber owns Heartland. In fact, he owns all the nursing homes around here.”

  “How many?”

  “Three.”

  “Do they all have an ‘approved list’?”

  “I don’t know.”

  On the way to Beatrice Elson’s room, Alice asked, “What was all that about lists?”

  “Probably nothing. Laurene said the guy who ran this place was creepy. I don’t know if she meant Gruber or just some supervisor. But it’s kind of strange that they restrict access. People in nursing homes are usually lonely enough.”

  “It’s a crazy world out there, Alt. Maybe they are just being careful. This certainly looks like a nice facility.”

  That was true. The Heartland Nursing Home appeared to be state-of-the-art. Everything looked clean, and even the typical nursing home odors, a mixture of medicinal and I-didn’t-want-to-know smells, were muted. The staff we encountered seemed friendly, efficient and helpful. We passed a recreation room where several patients in wheelchairs were watching television. We paused. It was The Maury Povich Show.

  “I take it back,” Alice said. “They apparently torture people here.”

  Beatrice Elson had a private, sunlit room that looked out over a well-manicured rear lawn that sloped into the woods beyond. She was sitting in a chair next to her bed, also watching a show on a large flat-screen TV sitting atop a six-drawer, Dark Cherry dresser that must have come from her home since most of the furniture we saw when passing other rooms appeared to be institutional.

  I knocked on the door jamb.

  “Miss Elson?”

  She turned her head at the sound of my voice.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” I said as we approached her. “Your daughter, Laurene, asked me to look in on you.”

  Beatrice Elson smiled. It was a lovely smile. She was a thin, attractive woman with startling white hair that made her look older than I knew she was. There was a fragility about her. The smile evaporated and she turned back to her show, as if we weren’t even there. I looked at the screen. She was watching a black-and-white movie starring Spencer Tracy. I stepped in front of the TV.

  “Is this a bad time, ma’am? I can come back later.”

  No response.

  “Alton, let me try.”

  Alice bent down in front of the woman.

  “Hello, Beatrice. My name is Alice. We are friends of your daughter. Is there anything we can get you?”

  Beatrice Elson smiled again and lifted a hand to Alice’s face, which she brushed gently.

  “There isn’t anything you can get her,” a voice behind me said. “We see to all her needs. I’d like a word with the both of you. Come with me, at once!”

  I turned to see a small, rather rotund man with a short handlebar mustache standing officiously in the door. He was wearing a white suit, light blue shirt and a pink polka dot tie that was too short. I didn’t like his tone.

  “And who are you?”

  “Malcolm Gruber. This is my nursing home.”

  “Well, pal, they shouldn’t have let you out of your room, especially dressed like that. I’ll get a nurse to take you back. It must be near lunchtime. Wouldn’t want you to miss your chicken and gravy.”

  I heard Alice stifle a laugh behind me. Gruber started to sputter.

  “I’m not a patient! I’m the Director!”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  I felt Alice grab my arm.

  “Alton, why don’t we all go in the hallway.”

  ***

  When Gruber calmed down, he led us to a small, unoccupied room.

  “What is your interest in Miss Elson?”

  “Her daughter asked us to stop by and see her,” I said.

  “The Robillard woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “There is some doubt as to just who she is. I believe the courts have yet to make a determination. So, I’m not sure you have any standing here.”

  “I need ‘standing’ to visit a woman in a nursing home? What is this place, a C.I.A. hospice?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. But we have to take precautions. Beatrice is Judge Elson’s daughter and he was murdered. The Robillard woman shows up and claims to be his granddaughter. There is a lot of money at stake.” He caught himself. “And, of course, there is Beatrice’s mental health to consider. As you may have noticed, she doesn’t speak and is quite ill, psychologically.”

  “Are you a doctor, Mr. Gruber?” Alice asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “A lawyer, perhaps?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been instructed by the courts to restrict access to Miss Elson?”

  “Not in so many words. But I know the matter has not been finally adjudicated.”

  “So, you are siding with the people who are fighting Laurene Robillard for control of her mother’s affairs.”

  Alice had him. But he tried again.

  “I’m not sure of the relationship.”

  “Judge Elson brought Laurene here to visit Beatrice,” I said. “And said she was Beatrice’s daughter, didn’t he?”

  “I just want to be careful,” Gruber said, lamely.

  “Of course you do,” I said. “And we appreciate that. So, what can you tell us about her condition?”

  Gruber smirked.

  “I’m not a doctor. Now, I’m a busy man. I have an important business meeting. Please try not to tire out Miss Elson.”

  He strode from the room. We went back to see Beatrice. All we got for our trouble was some more smiles and blank stares. We finally left when an orderly came by to take her to lunch. We watched them walk away.

  “That poor woman,” Alice said.

  “Come on, I want to stop by the front desk.”

  The same nurse we originally spoke to was still at her station downstairs.

  “Can I help you?”

  “You called Gruber and told him we were here to see Beatrice Elson?”

  I took her by surprise. For all she knew, Gruber had told me that.

  “Yes. We have standing orders to notify Mr. Gruber when anyone visits Miss Elson.”

  “Does such an order apply to any other residents here?”

  She hesitated. I took out my wallet and quickly flashed the N.Y.P.D. “consultant” credentials my pals on the Staten Island District Attorney’s office gave me. They help me get guns on planes and there are some other perks, but they carry absolutely no real legal weight. But they look formidable.

  “I’m investigating Judge Elson’s murder. I don’t want to have to subpoena you.”

  “She’s the only one.”

  “Keep this to yourself,” I said.

  Out in the parking lot, Alice said, “I didn’t know you could subpoena someone.”

  “I can’t subpoena a squirrel. But she didn’t k
now that.’

  “What did you make of Gruber?”

  “Laurene said he was creepy. I think he may be more than that.”

  “What now?”

  I looked at my watch.

  “Lunch. All that talk about chicken and gravy made me hungry. Let’s see if we can find a decent restaurant in town.”

  “You had better not order Jell-O.”

  CHAPTER 12 - THREESOME

  On the way into town I called Evelyn Rogers.

  “Sorry to bother you on a weekend, but do you know how I can get in touch with Clyde Spivey, the guy who found Elson’s body? I presume there is no Town Council meeting on Saturday.”

  She had both his home and cell numbers.

  “And, more crucially, got any recommendations for a decent place to have lunch?”

  “There’s a good French bistro on main Street.”

  I reserved judgment, but took directions. On the way there I called Spivey’s cell phone and got a recording. Next, I tried his home, and got his wife, explaining that I’d already tried his cell.

  “He’s not here,” she said, shortly.

  “When will he return?”

  “Who knows? He’s playing golf at the club with his pals. He always turns his cell off on the course. I can never reach him, either.”

  From her tone, I suspected she was probably the reason he turned off the phone.

  “He’s at Castlereigh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still plays in the same foursome?”

  “It’s a threesome now. They haven’t replaced Judge Elson. Don’t know if they ever will. You a friend of Clyde’s?”

  “Sure am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “If you see him, remind him he has a home.”

  She hung up abruptly. I looked at Alice.

  “Golf widow.”

  I had Alice look up the phone number for Castlereigh Golf and Country Club and she dialed it for me. I spoke to someone in the pro shop and found out that Clyde Spivey had a 1 PM tee time. A minute later we pulled into a small parking lot next to the restaurant, a place called Chez Louis. The bistro was small and crowded and we had to wait 10 minutes for a table. I didn’t mind. A bustling restaurant is usually a good sign. When we were finally seated, I ordered a bottle of Bordeaux. I opted for steak-frites; Alice had a croque monsieur.

  “Alton, What do you think is going on in this town?”

  We were on our first glass of wine, waiting for our entrees.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, a prominent judge is brutally murdered. Months later his house is torn apart. His daughter is confined, basically helpless, in an institution run by a creep who keeps close tabs on who she sees. It’s like a bad Patterson novel.”

  “Is there any other kind? Not that he writes them himself any more.”

  “You know what I mean. Something stinks in Denmark.”

  “I agree, although this restaurant smells pretty damn good. You know, I always get horny in a French restaurant.”

  “You get horny at a Taco Bell drive-through window.”

  Our lunch came. We started eating. Evelyn Rogers had picked a winner.

  “So, what now?”

  “After we eat, I’ll drop you back at Elson’s place. Then I’m going to that golf club to speak to Spivey. He should be off the course around 4, and from what his wife said probably head to the bar.”

  “What do you hope to get from him?”

  “Who knows? But if he was in Elson’s regular foursome he might know something. And he’ll probably be in his cups, so he might also be indiscreet. Gives me a chance to talk to the others who played with Elson. I’m flying blind now, so I don’t think it can hurt.”

  We finished our meal and ordered coffee. The waiter handed us dessert menus.

  “Do you want to share something, Alice?”

  “Only if you want to,” she said.

  We go through the same routine with just about every meal we eat out. Alice wants a dessert, but won’t make the first overture. I have to make believe it’s my idea. Then I act magnanimous and insist that she pick it out. Thus, she orders the dessert she first set her eyes on.

  “I think the peche melba would be delightful,” she said to the hovering waiter. “Two spoons, please.”

  ***

  It was too early to head to the country club, so when we got back to the Elson place I went inside with Alice. I looked out the window of the living room and could see Lucas and Gunner in the stable area. The boy was doing something with a rake and the dog was keeping him company. Alice came up next to me and put her arm around my waist.

  “Peche melbas make me horny,” she said. Her voice was husky. “Do we have time for a quickie?”

  “Probably two.”

  “Braggart.”

  I started leading Alice to the bedroom. She stopped me.

  “No. It’s a quickie, so let’s do it right here. Undress below your waist and sit in the chair. I want to be able to see Lucas. I don’t want him walking in on us.”

  That’s the type of suggestion I don’t have to be told twice. Alice also partially undressed and straddled me. It was indeed quick, but totally satisfying for the both of us. When Alice’s eyes finally came back into focus she looked out the window.

  “Oh, my God! They’re back!” I tried to get up but she held me down and started laughing. “I’m only kidding.”

  Alice can be perverse that way, especially when making love. And I normally have nothing against a little perversity when sex is involved.

  “You had me going there, kid,” I said.

  She started moving her hips again and pulled my head toward one of her nipples..

  “I think I’ll keep you going. But not so quick this time.”

  “You want a slowie?”

  But she wasn’t listening to me any more. And soon I wasn’t listening to me, either.

  ***

  Alice and I showered and changed our clothes. She had moved into the small guest room I’d been using. It was a bit cramped and I suggested that perhaps we could switch to one of the larger bedrooms, which had a king size bed.

  “This is fine,” she said. “I like being close to you.”

  I pointed out that there wouldn’t be much room for Gunner.

  “That too,” she added.

  When I came out of the bedroom, I found Alice in the den holding a silver picture frame. In it was a photo of Beatrice Elson. The frame was engraved with the words “Sweet Sixteen”.

  “What a beautiful girl, Alton.”

  “Yes, it’s a wonderful picture.”

  The young Beatrice was wearing a red dress and looking at the camera. With long dark hair, blue eyes and come-hither look, she was a perfect combination of innocence and burgeoning sexual power.

  “The resemblance to her daughter, Laurene, is striking,” I said.

  “It’s so sad,” Alice said. “The girl in this picture had her whole life ahead of her. And not that many years later she’s in a nursing home. I wonder what happened.”

  “Life. She had Laurene when she was 18 and she apparently went mentally downhill shortly after that. She was never the same and a few years later her parents placed her in a nursing home. She has been there ever since. Virtually catatonic.”

  “Wasn’t there a more suitable facility?”

  “Laurene told me the Elsons were big deals around here and the Judge wanted her close, so he could visit. He apparently doted on her, especially after his wife died. And now he’s gone. It’s hard to believe that her daughter, who started out with virtually nothing and had everything go against her, turned out so well and is her mother’s only real hope.”

  “You are fond of Laurene, aren’t you.”

  “She wants me to give her away at her wedding.”

  Alice put down the photo and kissed me.

  “And to think, she almost got you killed once.”

  “Grudges are for suckers.”

  It was still warm out and Ali
ce had opted for white shorts and a light blue polo shirt. It was an outfit that accentuated her summer tan and long legs. I had put on tan slacks, a blue Brooks Brother sports coat, a white shirt and a yellow polka dot tie. I was heading to a country club, and figured I was spiffy enough to get past the door. I would also take my gun, just in case.

  Before I left, Alice asked Lucas to show her around the property. He stammered a yes. He was a very nice kid, and obviously a little nervous being around so beautiful a woman. Eat your heart out, kid.

  Lucas had tried to give me directions to the Castlereigh Golf and Country Club, but after the third time he told me to make a right “by a big oak tree” or some such rural nonsense, I decided to look up the address and use my GPS. I made a few adjustments to make sure I was not tailed, which again gave the GPS fits. But I was soon driving, untailed, through rolling country that reminded me a little of golf courses I’d played in northern New Jersey near the Delaware Water Gap. As I drove onto the property at Castlereigh, I could see golfers on both sides of the road. The fairways looked perfect and, as usual, I wished I was playing. I always feel that way when passing a golf course. It’s the same when I see someone fishing on a lake or a stream as I drive by. I wish I had a rod with me. I sighed. At least I had Alice on this trip for a couple of days.

  I parked outside the main clubhouse and had no trouble finding the bar where golfers congregated after a round to lie about their game. I grabbed a waiter, who pointed me toward Clyde Spivey’s table by a window overlooking the 18th green.

  “Which one is Spivey?”

  “The one facing us, wearing glasses.”

  I walked over. Spivey was sitting with two other men. They were all drinking beer. I didn’t recognize one of the men with Spivey.

  But I knew the other, and smiled. It was Malcolm Gruber. He must have come straight from the nursing home to play golf. So much for his “important business meeting”. He smiled and looked up, trying to place me. Then the smile disappeared.

  “Hello, Malcolm, old boy, nice to see you again.”

  The other two men also smiled at me. If I was a friend of Malcolm’s, I was probably all right, especially looking and sounding as country clubbish as I did.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Malcolm snarled.

  So much for club decorum. Now, I was the only one smiling. Without being asked, I sat down. There was a small bowl of honey roasted nuts on the table. I love them, so I grabbed a handful and signaled a waiter.