A Manor of Murder

by June Shaw

  He focused his attention on our mother. “Ma’am, may I see that pouch?”

  Eve and I shot to our feet.

  “Oh, no,” she insisted.

  “You don’t need to, Mom,” I said.

  She pushed her little self up. “There is absolutely no reason why I cannot show this police officer what he asked for.”

  “But—” I blurted.

  She swiped her index finger across the air at both of us. “You two can sit right down. I am doing just like everyone else here is doing and letting an officer of the law see my prescription.”

  When Eve and I remained on our feet, she gave us that slit-eyed stare that dared us to defy her.

  My twin and I swung our gazes toward each other. At the same time, we lowered our hips and sat.

  Mom waited and watched us, seeming to make sure we weren’t going to try to get up again before she made a move. When we did not, she turned and went into her bedroom, allowing little time for thumps from my heart to punch against my chest wall. I wanted this man away from our mother. Hurry and go question someone else, I silently told him.

  Mom didn’t need her blood pressure raised from having him stay in here.

  At least he would soon leave, I knew when Mom stepped back in, her knotted fingers holding out her little tan knit bag.

  Detective Wilet opened his wide hand and accepted it. He felt the pouch and touched its drawstring. “May I?” he asked her.

  “Of course. Although I have no idea why you’d want to.” She stood hands on hips.

  He pulled the strings on the bow, and the bag opened. All four of us were leaning over, attempting to see inside.

  The policeman stuck his fingers in there and pulled out the prescription bottle. He lifted the bottle closer to his eyes—probably needing glasses but not wearing them just like me. “I see your doctor’s name,” he said, “and the date and place where you had this filled.”

  “You probably know they deliver,” I told him.

  Mom nodded, a small smile playing around her lips. “My fiancée took me to get my prescription refilled.”

  My head jerked back. “He did?”

  “He really owns a car?” Eve asked.

  Mom turned her nose up, her only response to any of us.

  Detective Wilet was writing on his pad. “He doesn’t normally take her?” He glanced at me.

  “Eve and I have been offering to get medicine for her or take her to the drugstore to get it herself so she could look around and see if there was anything else she’d want. It would be a little outing for her.”

  Eve explained more. “We’ve wanted to take her a lot of places. She used to come. She seldom comes anywhere with us anymore.”

  Three of us trained our eyes on Mom. The smile she offered in response was demure. She slid back down into her chair.

  “This bottle also says how many pills were inside it and that you are supposed to take one pill a day.”

  “Yes, with a meal. My doctor suggested that since I sometimes felt queasy if I took it on an empty stomach.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said.

  Eve shook her head. “I didn’t either.”

  “As I’ve told you girls, you don’t know everything. About me—or everyone else.” Her sharp response was surely concerning her male friend.

  The detective made notes about what he read on Mom’s prescription bottle like he had jotted a note here or there during our conversation. He pointed toward the kitchen cabinets. “Would you have two clean bowls that I could use to count these in?”

  “Good grief,” I said.

  “All of my dishes are clean.” Mom’s tone hinted of insult. She yanked out two shiny white gumbo bowls and thrust them on the table in front of him.

  “I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise.” He easily unscrewed the bottle’s cap that wasn’t childproof. Lowering the bottle to set its opening close to the bowl on the right, he used slow motion to pour the pills in, a careful move for someone who looked so gruff. He mustn’t have wanted to dump them in case any might spill to the floor and go undetected.

  “Most of them are still there,” Mom said. “We went to get them not long ago.”

  “Do I have your permission to touch them?” he asked Mom, reaching his hand toward the bowl of pills and ready to do that.

  “If you wash your hands first.”

  With his mouth closed, what sounded like the smallest laugh came from his throat. “Yes, ma’am. I sure will.” He shoved up and went to the sink near us. While he had his back turned, I stared at the pills and started counting them without putting my hands on any, only because I didn’t want him to see me doing it.

  “Use soap,” Mom told him while the water ran, and he nodded. “And you can use that dishtowel to dry your hands.” After a second’s pause, she added, “It’s clean.”

  Once he returned to his seat, all eyes aimed at the pair of bowls. “I’ll count them twice,” he said, “just to make sure.” And then silently he lifted one round, white pill that would keep our mother’s heart working well and help to prevent her from having a stroke. He set it in the empty bowl.

  “That’s one,” Mom said. “Two,” she counted when the next one made a slight clicking sound as it hit the bottom of the nearly empty bowl. She was the only person counting out loud. Eve was probably doing like the officer and keeping a silent count. I, on the other hand, distrusting my dyslexic tendencies, used my fingers. I straightened each one as a white pill dropped into the second bowl, my heartbeat thrusting harder, my jaw growing tenser. What count I was hoping for, I wasn’t certain. I only wanted it to be the right one.

  All the pills sat in a little pile in the second bowl before the detective wrote on his pad. Mom had stopped counting out loud when she got to sixteen, but then decided that pill might have been seventeen, and so she quit, leaving the numbers up to the man in the room.

  He started again. While he took them from one bowl to the other, Mom did like me and stretched her fingers out to count. When he was done, he wrote on his pad. Air in the room seemed to still.

  He looked at Mom. “Some of your pills are missing.”

  “What do you mean?” Eve asked.

  “Are you sure?” I blurted.

  Mom placed her closed fingers across her lips. The skin between her eyes folded. “I thought I always took them correctly,” she said, sliding her hand away from her mouth.

  “How many?” I asked him.

  “A few.” His bad cop expression took hold of his face.

  Eve got up. “Maybe some of them fell out.” She grabbed the knit pouch from the table, pulled it wider open, and looked inside. Obviously not satisfied, she reached in and ran her finger around the bottom. Then she turned the bag upside down and shook it. Nothing fell out.

  “Let’s go look in her bedroom,” I said. Eve hurried with me, and we went straight to Mom’s bedside table where she always kept that pouch. Hearing a slight noise, I saw Mom and Detective Wilet had followed us into her room.

  From the small tabletop, I lifted Mom’s Bible and rosary to see whether any pills got caught in them. Finding none, I raised her little clock, aware that it couldn’t hide much.

  Eve got on her knees and looked under the bed that our mother always made the minute she got up. She felt around on the carpet with a low pile under the edge while I checked the floor around the little table, hoping for once that our mother had spilled some of her meds.

  Finding nothing, we exchanged stares with the detective. We stepped into her bathroom, and he and Mom came behind us and watched from the doorway of the small room while we searched everywhere—including the small medicine cabinet that held only her toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, and pale pink lipstick. No pills lay on the floor around the toilet or tub or in the empty garbage can. I rubbed my hands one way and the other across the whi
te rug beside her tub and raised it to look underneath. Slowly, I stood.

  As though hearing each other’s thoughts, Eve and I moved toward each other and stood in front of our mother, facing the man and blocking her from him.

  “She must have accidentally taken more than she was supposed to,” Eve said.

  I gave a hard nod to confirm her words.

  “I understand that.” Even while we spoke, his eyes zeroed in on the slim area between us at our mother. We automatically shifted nearer each other, closing in that space. He turned and walked out of the bathroom. The space felt like it expanded.

  Both Eve and I gripped our mother’s hands when we stepped with her into the kitchen area where he stopped.

  “Thank you all,” he said and looked at Mom. “I may be getting back with you.”

  A tremble ran through our mother’s fingers.

  Chapter 20

  The three of us remaining in the room behind the door the detective shut once he went out released simultaneous exhales that might have been heard in the next room.

  “Mom, do you sometimes take more than one of your pills in a day?” I asked her.

  “Not without meaning to.”

  Eve moved closer. “Are you sure?”

  Mom began shrinking back from us. “I don’t believe I do.”

  “Then how come you don’t have all of the pills you’re supposed to in your bottle?” I asked.

  She was shaking her head, lips pulled forward and face tight, fear in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m sure I take one of them every day right before I start eating my lunch. That’s why I bring the medicine with me every morning.”

  Her eyes looked so fearful of us, of what we were saying, that I stepped away from her. Eve seemed to realize the same thing. She also moved and gave her space. Eve pointed toward the bowl holding pills on the table. “Do you have any idea why you have fewer pills left than you’re supposed to?”

  Slouching, Mom shook her head. Her eyes squeezed tighter until they became slits. She looked ready to cry. My mother, our mother. And we were doing this to her.

  I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay, Mom. Don’t worry about anything.”

  “Yes, it’s no problem.” Eve used a sympathetic tone.

  For the first time ever, our mother felt frail inside my arms. She was soft, except for the ribs in her back against my fingers. Her scent was light, the same enticing baby powder she had dusted her torso with after a bath ever since I could recall. Instead of lifting her arms and hugging me back as she had always done, she left her arms limp against her sides. A slight tremble ran through her body. I gripped her tighter. A soft whimper came from my mother. As though that sound gave the command, her whole body shook. Tears coated my eyes when I knew my mother was silently crying.

  I couldn’t remember seeing her cry, although she must have when Crystal died.

  Mom stayed snuggled inside my grip, and I kept my head lowered against hers, creating a cocoon for her to feel safe.

  Eve remained quiet and still. Sadness touched her eyes while she watched Mom.

  “I’m all right.” Our mother said this and nudged me to let go of her. My instinct was to keep sheltering her there, to keep holding her close, to take care of her as, for so many years, she had taken care of us.

  She used a slight swipe of her fingers across her eyelashes to wipe away the moisture still visible there and moved her hands away from her face. She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. “Thank you both for your support. You can go now.”

  “Oh no.” Eve stepped closer to her. “We’re not going to leave you alone now.”

  “We can stay here a bit,” I said.

  “And do what?” Mom swept her arm toward the table. “Help count my pills again? Be really careful putting each one back in its container to make certain I don’t spill any? Watch me to make sure I won’t take another one even though I had one right before lunch today—as I always do?”

  We backed away. “No, you can certainly take care of that,” Eve said, and with a big nod, I tried to assure her I felt the same way. But our mother knew us so well; she could still sense our uncertainty. We’d want to believe she would be fine without us staying close. I feared that wasn’t the case.

  She took steps to her door. “I thank you both for coming. I really am glad you were here, but now it’s time for you to go.”

  The slam inside my chest felt like panic. “But just let us stay here until they let all of you get out of your rooms. Then we could see what’s happened with everyone else.”

  “I can do that myself. If anything important takes place, I’ll let you know.” She set her hand on the doorknob.

  Irritating static dropped into the room. We all looked at the small speaker that was seldom used in the corner near the ceiling behind the door.

  “Everyone, may I have your attention.” The administrator’s voice sounded uncertain. “Can I have your attention?” she said louder. The three of us in Mom’s room looked at each other with pinched faces. “Due to unforeseen circumstances, we are asking all residents to stay in your rooms. Dinner will be served to you so you don’t have to come to the dining area to eat.”

  I swallowed.

  “I repeat. We want all residents to remain in your rooms or your suites, and dinner will be served to you by our staff members. A little later, your used dishes will be picked up so you don’t need to bother to wash anything.”

  By the time the three of us gave each other quizzical stares, Terri Hebert spoke again. “Please don’t get concerned about this situation. We’ve just discovered a small glitch in our system.”

  Mom, Eve, and I gave each other stares that questioned what the administrator was saying. Each of us had probably believed she would always tell people the truth.

  “There’s no major problem,” she said right after a brief wall of silence, “but as always, if any of you have a need for any assistance, please let someone on our staff know. You could call the office, or in the case of an emergency, pull the emergency cord in your bathroom, and someone will get back to you quickly.”

  Mom stared at the floor while Eve and I eyed each other, surely none of us reassured.

  “While we are dealing with this situation, we ask that you not invite others to come here. And we request that all guests should leave.”

  Muffled voices sounded, possibly grumbling residents in rooms on either side of this one.

  The static came again and then the voice. “We do apologize. We hope to have this situation cleared by tomorrow. We’ll let you know of any changes as soon as possible.”

  Who wrote those words for her to say?

  Eve gripped Mom’s hands. “Let us stay awhile. They won’t know we didn’t leave right away, and if they catch us going late, oh well.”

  “Yes, please.” I touched my mother’s arm.

  She nodded toward the counter near her coffeemaker. “Do you see my phone? I want to use it to call friends I have in this place.” Before we could suggest we remain while she’d do that, she turned the doorknob and opened her door. “I’ll let you know what happens. I love you both more than anything,” she said. “Thank you.” She puckered her lips.

  We both kissed and hugged her extra tight. She shut the door behind us. Her lock clicked.

  The long hall on this floor was empty of people that I could see. Eve and I took our time walking past residents’ rooms. Behind some of the shut doors, loud voices complained. One woman’s high-pitched voice sounded extra high. She must have been on her phone, excitedly telling someone about what happened here and that she was shut up in her room. Calls like this—residents contacting family, calling friends, someone else who lived here—were probably being made by people living behind the doors. Our mother was surely on her phone, and just as surely, I imagined, getting her beau on the line. He would be downstairs, s
tuck in his room just like she was up here stuck in hers.

  Instead of being paid guests in this lovely establishment, they were all being treated like prisoners.

  Eve and I kept quiet while we walked, she, like me, certainly keeping her ears open for words we might hear. When we neared one door after another, we slowed, listening intently. Women’s loud voices griped to people they called.

  “And he asked to see my medicine bottle,” one voice said.

  We both stopped. The woman quit talking as though she could have heard us outside her door, but then went on, so she probably had listened to a question or comment on the other end of her line.

  “Yes, I showed him all of them—the ones I take to regulate my heartbeat and the ones I take for blood pressure and cholesterol and even the things I take for constipation and diarrhea when I get that. Yes, he asked to see my medicines, so I showed him all of them.”

  Feeling a squiggle of guilt through my stomach like a thief must, I checked around to make certain no one was watching us, that nobody could see us standing here listening to someone else’s private conversation.

  The hall remained empty, almost tomblike. My heartbeat increased.

  Maybe she had stopped talking, I decided, giving Eve a nod and tilt of my head to indicate we should continue. But then the woman again spoke loud.

  “Yes, that’s right. I showed him all of them. Ha, let them ask an old lady what kind of medicine she takes.” She laughed, which I imagined the person she spoke with also did. “No, the only pills they were really interested in were the ones I take for my heart. He copied stuff off the front of the bottle and then counted them out on the table. It’s almost time to refill them, so that didn’t take long. I only had five pills left.” She paused, and my eyes and Eve’s shot toward each other. I held my breath. “No, he was satisfied. He said that’s what the count was supposed to be.”

  We hurried past her room and reached the elevators right as a young male staff member wearing navy stepped out of another room down the hall. He stayed there and stared at us as though making sure we were leaving.