by Terri Reed
Kris exchanged a worried glance with Gina.
“She was fine earlier, and then said she needed to rest,” Gina said. “I didn’t realize that was abnormal.”
“I’m getting the nurse.” Kris hit the call button on the bed frame which would send a signal to the front desk that help was needed.
A few seconds later the door opened. A blonde nurse hurried in. “What’s the problem?”
“Her breathing was very weak when I arrived. And she’s very groggy. This isn’t normal for her,” Kris said, trying to keep anxiety from echoing in her voice.
“I’m Annie,” the nurse introduced herself. She listened to Sadie’s lungs and heart. “You’re breathing is good now, Sadie. Was your chest feeling tight? Any sharp pain?”
Sadie shook her head. “No. Just jelly.”
At Annie’s questioning look, Kris explained, “She said her muscles felt like jelly.”
A confused expression crossed Annie’s face. “That is interesting. Have you taken any meds today besides your blood pressure medicine?”
Sadie shook her head.
“Any herbs?”
“Just some lemongrass tea.”
“Well, that wouldn’t account for relaxed muscles.” Annie hung her stethoscope around her neck. “I’ll ask Doc Crowley to come see you.”
“Thank you,” Kris said as the nurse left. Turning her attention to her grandmother, she asked, “You said you had some tea. With Mrs. Tipple?”
“Yes, dear. With Evelyn, Vivian and Ruth.” A twinkle entered her eyes. “And Gabe stopped by. He’s such a nice young man. You really ought to snag him before someone else does.”
Kris straightened the bedcovers, keeping her face turned slightly away so her grandmother wouldn’t see how her words affected her. “Grams, I’ve already told you. We’re just friends.”
Though she wished it were more. But wishing wasn’t going to make it so. The only thing she knew that could make a difference was prayer. And she’d already told God what was on her heart. There really wasn’t more for her to do, was there?
Pushing the subject from her mind, she thought about Mrs. Tipple’s tea. The other day Kris had become ill after drinking Mrs. Tipple’s lemongrass tea.
Her heart rate picked up speed. And she was sure that Sadie had mentioned that at least one of the missing people had also had tea with Mrs. Tipple. “Grams, do you remember if Carl or Lena or Denise had some of Mrs. Tipple’s lemongrass tea before they went away?”
“Hmm. I do believe so. But it was such a long time ago now.”
Kris started and exchanged a glance with Gina. Long time? It hadn’t even been a full week since Sadie had insisted that her friends had gone missing. And since that point, Kris had reconnected with Gabe, her apartment door had been defaced, her tires slashed and someone had shot at her, hitting Gabe instead, and a van had tried to run her off the road. She shuddered at how close he’d come to serious injury.
“Cold?” Sadie asked.
“No. You?”
“A bit. I think I’ll have dinner in here tonight.”
Okay, Grams must really not feel well to willingly miss eating in the dining hall, which was usually one of Sadie’s favorite parts of the day. A time when she could socialize before heading to the common room for board games.
“I’ll go order your meal,” Kris offered, glad for the excuse to leave the apartment because somehow she had to get a sample of Mrs. Tipple’s teas. But how?
“I can get it,” Gina offered.
“I’d rather you stayed with Sadie,” Kris stated as she moved toward the door.
Kris took the long way to the dining hall so she wouldn’t have to walk by Don. The last thing she needed was her shadow chasing after her. And she was thankful Gina had stayed put. Obviously she hadn’t received the “don’t let Kris out of your sight” memo.
Kris placed Sadie’s dinner order, which she could have easily phoned in as the attendant reminded her after promising to deliver the meal within the hour.
She then made her way through the independent living wing and paused in front of Mrs. Tipple’s apartment. She pressed her ear to the molded, fiberglass door and listened, but heard no sound or movement from the other side.
Gathering her courage—Gabe was going to be so mad at her—she knocked, intending to tell Mrs. Tipple that she’d enjoyed the tea so much the other day that she’d like to take some home. It could work.
Her knock wasn’t answered. She knocked louder.
A whisper of movement behind her sent her heart slamming against her ribs. She whirled around and found herself staring into Frank’s dark, wary eyes.
A scream lodged in her throat.
TWELVE
Kris stifled her scream and stepped back until her shoulder blades pressed flat against the door. Frank looked as scared as she felt when he scurried around the other side of his cart. Why?
“What are you doing?” he asked, his gaze skittering away and back again. He held on to his cart like he was afraid it would take off without him. He wore his usual uniform and his face needed a shave. “You shouldn’t be out roaming the halls.”
“I was just coming to see Mrs. Tipple,” Kris said, her voice sounding a bit reedy.
“She’s in the common room.” His glare darted down the hall toward the window and back again. “You need to leave.” He rounded his shoulders and seemed to fold in on himself. “It’s not safe.”
“What?” She pushed away from the door. “Why isn’t it safe?”
His shoulders hunched even more, deepening the impression that he wanted to hide within himself. He glanced once more down the hall toward the big picture window that showcased the courtyard now invisible in the night. “It’s dark outside. Bad things happen in the dark.”
“What? Tell me. What things?” she pressed.
He scrambled back a step, swinging his cart around. It bounced off the wall before straightening. He pushed the cart forward and practically ran away.
“Wait!” Kris started to follow him. He knew something. Something bad.
“Be careful,” he said over his shoulder before hurrying around the corner and disappearing out of sight.
Hmph. Lot of help that was. He’d freaked her out.
She sighed, trying to slow her pulse. Well, she wasn’t going to get any tea samples right now. She’d have to come back later.
Unless…she tried the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand. Mrs. Tipple really should learn to lock her apartment.
Stealthily, she entered and quickly shut the door behind her. Moving rapidly, she headed straight to the cupboard where Mrs. Tipple kept her teas. Taking four napkins from the holder, she spread them flat on the table and then put a scoop from each of the four loose tea jars on a napkin, then folded the napkin and tucked the samples into her pockets. She tidied up, making sure there was no evidence she’d been in the apartment.
At the door, she halted. What if it wasn’t the tea leaves but something she puts in the tea after she made it?
She rushed back to the cupboards and swiftly began to search the kitchen, even though she had no idea what she was looking for. A bottle with the word POISON printed across the top would be helpful. But not likely.
She did find several clear liquid vials in the refrigerator. The plastic shrink wrap on the bottles read Insulin. A couple of the small containers had what appeared to be a splash of pink nail polish on the side as if Mrs. Tipple reached in with wet nails.
Shutting the fridge, Kris moved to the drawers. By the sink, she found Mrs. Tipple’s junk drawer full of menus, bills, several bottles of eyedrops, mints, pens and miscellaneous stuff that was shoved in when one wasn’t sure what to do with it. Kris had her own junk drawer. Well, actually, she had two.
There didn’t seem to be anything overtly suspicious. Feeling like her time was running out, she abandoned her search and hastily left. She was out of breath by the time she reached Sadie’s apartment.
Taking her cell phone, she du
cked into the bathroom and called Gabe’s cell.
“Burke.”
“It’s me, Kris.”
“You okay?”
The slight lift of worry in his voice made her smile. “Yes, I’m fine. But I think I know what’s going on.”
“You do?”
She couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. “Yes. Mrs. Tipple is poisoning people.”
There was as slight pause. “Mrs. Tipple?”
The disbelief in his tone was understandable. Mrs. Tipple seemed like such a nice, genteel woman. And Kris hadn’t found anything concrete to support her theory. But still…“I know it sounds crazy, but listen to me. Carl, Lena, Denise. They all had tea not long before they went missing. I got sick right after drinking some of her tea. I think she’s putting something in the teas she uses.”
“Kris—”
“Think about it. You said you saw Grams drinking tea with her and now Grams isn’t feeling well.”
Kris took the silence as a good thing. At least she’d got his attention. “I got some samples of the teas.”
“What? How? Where are you?” he yelled.
She held the phone away from her ear. She’d been right. He was mad. “I’m in Grams’s room. I—” The words snuck into her apartment stuck in her throat.
“Go home. Right now.”
His authoritative tone raised her hackles. She could just imagine the hard line of his jaw and the glitter of anger in his gem-colored eyes. “But what about the samples?”
“I’ll come pick them up later. I’m going to text Donavan. You be ready to leave when he gets there.”
She sighed. Better not to argue now. She wanted these samples tested.
Then he’d see that she was right.
Gabe snapped his cell phone closed. “She’s going to be the death of me yet. I just know it.” He then sent a text to Donavan asking him to please escort Kris to her parents’ home ASAP.
“Oh?” Angie didn’t even look away from her computer. “What’s up?”
He ran a hand down his face, fatigue making his eyes burn and stress making his neck muscles tense. He tried to roll out the tension. “She’s got it in her head that one of the little old ladies is poisoning people at the retirement center.”
“Interesting. Does she have proof?”
He blew out a breath. “She has samples of teas.”
His gaze fell to the open file folder in front of him. Had Mrs. Palmer drunk tea before her death? From what they’d gathered during their initial interview, Mrs. Palmer had eaten dinner in the cafeteria and retired early.
Ever since he’d returned to the station house, he’d been going back over the files of the three missing people and Debra Palmer, hoping to find something concrete to link the four.
He dug through the folders until he found the one with Mrs. Evelyn Tipple on the tab. He read through the file. She arrived in the states from London, England, twenty years earlier, married to a Jonathan Tipple and they’d lived just outside Boston in the small village of Hopkins. Husband died five years earlier and she’d taken up residence in Miller’s Rest only three months ago. Nothing troublesome there.
“Sweet. We got a BOLO hit!”
Angie’s excited voice drew Gabe’s attention. “On the van?”
“Yep.” She read from the screen. “Best of all, it was spotted near Miller’s Rest.”
Gabe snapped upright in his chair. “Where exactly?”
“A uniform saw the van parked outside of a mortuary. ‘Curiousier and curiousier,’” she mused, rocking back in her chair. “It’s registered as a company vehicle.”
A chill skated across Gabe’s neck. “What company?”
“Plank’s Mortuary.”
The residents’ files forgotten, Gabe bolted to his feet. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Let me see who owns the place.”
Impatiently, he took his sidearm out of the lockbox and slipped the weapon into his shoulder holster before shrugging into his overcoat, careful not to jostle his wounded arm.
“The owner is one Henry Hayes, mortician. I’m sending his name to NLETS.”
Gabe stilled. “Hayes? As in Frank Hayes, the janitor at Miller’s Rest?”
Angie lifted her gaze to meet his. “Brothers? Cousins?”
“It’s a small world, but…”
“Not that small,” she finished for him with a nod.
“Interesting,” Gabe employed Angie’s favorite word.
He thought back to Ms. Faust’s anxiousness to have Mrs. Palmer’s body sent to the mortuary. Plank’s Mortuary? He grabbed the phone and dialed Miller’s Rest Retirement Center.
When the receptionist answered, he identified himself, then asked, “What mortuary does the center use for their deceased patients?”
The receptionist didn’t hesitate answering. “I believe it depends on what arrangements each individual has made prior to their death. Though I do know Ms. Faust has a working relationship with the owner of Plank’s Mortuary. They’re located just on the other side of the center’s property line. Nice and handy. She has recommended them to several of our residents.”
Exactly how nice and handy? he wondered. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help,” he said and hung up then filled Angie in.
“This is too much of a coincidence for it to be a coincidence.”
“You think the retirement center’s director and the local mortician are…what?”
Stumped as to why or even how the two could get rid of three people, he shook his head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
The phone on Angie’s desk rang.
“Carlucci.” She listened for a moment, then said, “We’ll be right there.” To Gabe she said, “The ME found something.”
Kris heard the doorbell from her room on the second floor of her parents’ home. She flew down the stairs and skidded to a halt at the sight of Gabe in the entryway talking with her father.
Gabe slid off his overcoat, revealing his dark suit, white shirt and a muted blue striped tie. She could just barely make out the bandage around his upper arm beneath the jacket.
Carrying the brown paper bag in which she’d deposited the tea samples, Kris descended the stairs. He hung his coat on the rack by the door and turned toward her with a slight smile that made her heart jump, and she smiled in return.
Her father said, “Kris, Gabe was just telling me the police might have a lead on the people who tried to run you off the road.” He gestured them into the living room, where they found her mother and Don already settled.
Pleased, she looked at Gabe. “Really?”
He nodded. “We found the van you’d described. It belongs to the mortuary next door to Miller’s Rest. We just have to figure out if the owner or one of the employees was driving the van at the time it tried to run you off the road. The owner, as it turns out, is Frank’s brother. We also are having them brought in for questioning.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Frank’s brother owns the mortuary? That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Very.”
Her mother asked, “Who’s Frank?”
Kris quickly explained Frank and his connection to Miller’s Rest.
“What about the person who shot at you?” her father asked Gabe.
He shook his head. “Nothing concrete. The state troopers found shell casings for a common ammo. CSI pulled the same caliber bullets from my SUV.”
Kris shuddered at the reminder of how close they had come to death. “What about the missing residents?”
His expression turned grim. “Nothing yet. But the ME found a hypodermic puncture wound in Mrs. Palmer’s neck. And the tox screen revealed a combination of drugs in her system. A lethal combination.”
Excitement filled her at learning what could very well be a major key to solving this mystery. But this was real life and horror replaced everything else. She fingered the bag in her hands. “So you think the doctor gave Mrs. Palmer so
mething that killed her?”
“Maybe. Remember there are two doctors filling the staff physician’s post at Miller’s Rest. We are bringing them in for questioning, too. We’re also looking into all the medical personnel.”
“Then really you haven’t solved anything yet,” her mother said.
He shook his head. “Not on the missing residents but on Debra Palmer’s death we’re closer than we were.”
“Did Mrs. Palmer have any of Mrs. Tipple’s tea?” Kris asked.
“Not that anyone remembered.”
Frustrated because she was sure the elderly woman was involved somehow, Kris held up the bag and said, “Then these are probably a waste of time.”
“I’ll take them to the lab and have them checked out anyway.”
“What are those?” her father asked.
“Kris gathered some of Mrs. Tipple’s tea samples,” Gabe answered.
She was thankful he hadn’t explained just how she’d gathered the teas. He may have been mad at her method but he still respected her enough to take the samples. She appreciated that.
His fingers brushed against hers when he took the bag, reminding her of his touch, his kiss. She lifted her gaze to his. The light in his intense gaze made her wonder if he, too, was thinking about their brief special moments together.
He cleared his throat. “May I talk to you in private?”
There wasn’t anything she wanted more. “Excuse us,” she said as she grabbed Gabe by the sleeve and led him from the living room to her father’s study.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he pulled her into his embrace. “Do you know how much you scared me today?”
“I did?” Her heart beat so hard she was sure he could feel the pounding rhythm through the fabric of her sweater and his suit.
“You can’t keep doing stuff that puts you in needless danger.”
Trying to downplay how much his concern pleased her, she replied quietly, “I didn’t know you cared so much.”
He ran a finger down her cheek. “Of course I care.”
A shimmer of yearning touched her heart. “But just because it’s your job, right?”
