Claws for Celebration

by Linda Reilly

  They disconnected, and Lara went into her studio. She studied the painting she’d started the night before. Sometimes, when she began a project in the evening, it looked like a mess to her the next day. This time was different.

  Her heart clenched when she looked at the partially completed watercolor. She’d captured the mood she was aiming for—warmth, security, and a touch of mystery. The faces had to be filled in, and the background needed more detail. But the work she’d done the previous evening had been spot-on.

  Lara breathed out a sigh. Should she work on the painting for another few hours? Or try to get information from the nursing home where Eugenia Thryce had died?

  She opted for the nursing home. There were too many coincidences for Lara to ignore.

  Todd’s grandmother had died on the day Lara was born, and then the letter fell out of the library book only days before Miss Plouffe was murdered.

  A sudden chill washed over Lara. Had a certain blue-eyed cat been responsible for Lara finding that letter?

  Only Lara, Aunt Fran, Kayla, and Gideon were aware of the letter. What harm would it do to make a visit to the nursing home? The chances were overwhelmingly high that no one who worked there when Eugenia Thryce died was even still employed there.

  Lara pulled Eugenia’s obituary out of her tote. She made another copy on her printer, then left it on her worktable.

  Pine Hollow. She Googled it and pulled up the address. It was located on the outskirts of Whisker Jog, near the Moultonborough town line. She’d probably driven past it dozens of times but hadn’t paid any attention. Lara programmed the address into her phone, then went into the kitchen to let Aunt Fran know of her plan.

  Her aunt was standing at the counter, whipping up some pumpkin-colored batter in her favorite Pyrex bowl. Dolce snoozed on her sneaker. “Be careful. Cat underfoot,” Lara said.

  Aunt Fran smiled. “There always is. How were Daisy and Sherry this morning?”

  “About a thousand times better than they were yesterday. What a change of mood in the coffee shop! Daisy was chirping like a spring robin. And wait till you see the cookies she made for us.”

  “My hands are full, but I’ll look at them later. I’m making those pumpkin squares you all liked so much at Thanksgiving.”

  “For the chief’s birthday dinner?”

  “Exactly.”

  Lara inhaled the air, as if she could already smell the finished product. “Save me a couple, okay? Those things were out of this world.”

  “You got it.” With her forefinger, Aunt Fran swiped the excess batter off her spatula and set the utensil in the sink. “So, what are you up to now?”

  Lara gave her a rundown of her planned events for the day, including Kayla switching days and working in the afternoon.

  “It’s always a joy to have her here,” Aunt Fran said. “We should get her a small something for Christmas, don’t you think?” She pulled out a rectangular pan from the drawer beneath the oven. “She’s our only employee, and she’s been a godsend.”

  “I agree,” Lara said. “Let’s try to think of something fun, but not too expensive. Otherwise she might feel she has to reciprocate.”

  Aunt Fran set the pan on the counter. “Lara, I’m wondering if I should go with you to the nursing home. This whole thing with the letter, and now the obituary, has been so strange.”

  Stranger than you know.

  “I hear you, but honestly, there’s really no need for two of us to go. You’ve got a lot of Christmasy stuff to do today, and besides, I’m sure it will end up being a wild goose chase. Think about it—almost thirty years? Who’s going to be there who’ll remember anything? And remember, people die in nursing homes all the time.”

  “That they do,” Aunt Fran said. “But Mrs. Thryce was a so-called pillar of the town. Even I remember that much, and I was only in my twenties when you were born.”

  “I got thinking about that, too. It surprised me that she died in the nursing home. I’d have thought that the Thryces, with all their dough, could’ve paid for twenty-four seven care for her at home.”

  “There could be any number of reasons. She might have been there for rehab if she’d broken a hip, or something like that.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  Aunt Fran snapped her fingers. “Lara, on your way home, would you stop at the market for me? I want to get another package of that crabmeat to make the crab cakes for Jerry. I’ll give you the money.”

  “Sure thing. And you can pay me later. Don’t interrupt what you’re doing.”

  Lara grinned when Purrcy strolled into the kitchen. He padded over to Lara and rubbed against her leg. Lara lifted him into her arms, and he put a paw on her shoulder. She pulled him close. “I’m going to cry the day you leave here,” Lara said, and planted a smooch on his forehead. “But don’t worry, Aunt Fran and I will make sure you get the best home possible.”

  “You’ve really gotten attached to him, haven’t you?” Aunt Fran said.

  Lara smiled. “Yeah, something about the way Teena kept pushing him around made my protective instincts kick in. But you know what? He doesn’t let her get away with all her bullying anymore. He figured out that if he ignores her, she’ll either bother someone else or curl up and snooze with him.”

  Lara set Purrcy on the floor, then dressed to go outside. “I shouldn’t be too long,” she told her aunt, looping one end of her scarf through the other. She tugged on her knitted gloves. “I want to be back by twelve thirty or so to get ready for adoption day.”

  “See you in a bit, then,” Aunt Fran said. “And Lara?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be aware of who’s around you, okay?”

  “I will,” Lara promised.

  Chapter 25

  Pine Hollow Nursing Home was located exactly as its name promised—nestled in a hollow set back from the road and surrounded by a thicket of fir trees.

  On the way over in the car, Lara thought about how she should approach the nursing home administrator, assuming anyone would even talk to her. She’d already decided not to tell the truth. Any mention of a murder, regardless of how old, might make someone nervous...and put her at risk. She had to dream up a believable story, something that would tug at the heartstrings.

  By the time she arrived at the facility, she’d concocted her tale.

  The residence itself was an L-shaped, one-story clapboard building, painted white with black trim. A humongous pine-cone wreath with a bright red bow hung over the entrance door. Rhododendron bushes hunkered in a row along the front of the building, their leaves curled against the winter chill. A flagstone walkway led from the parking area to the front of the building, no doubt to give the place a homey feel.

  The parking lot, which sat on the left side of the building, was nearly packed with cars. Lara figured that weekends were prime visiting hours. Lara squeezed the Saturn into a narrow slot near the rear. Luckily the lot had been plowed and sanded and was down to bare pavement.

  Inside the building, the scent hit her immediately. It was a blend of disinfectant, air freshener, and whatever the home was serving for lunch that day. Some kind of fish, Lara guessed, with a slight wrinkle of her nose.

  At the front desk, she was greeted by a receptionist with butter-colored hair twisted into a topknot, a red-lipped smile drawn widely across her face. “Good morning,” the receptionist said, then glanced at her watch. “Oh my, not really—it’s almost lunchtime. How may I assist you today?”

  “Good morning,” Lara said. “I’m wondering if I could speak to the administrator for a few minutes.” Darn, why hadn’t she looked up the name on the internet first? “I won’t take up too much of his, or her, time.”

  The woman’s smile shortened a bit. “May I ask what this is about?”

  This was the part Lara dreaded. “It’s a bit hard to explain. It’s about a former pat
ient, a female patient. She lived here almost thirty years ago, and I just have a few questions.”

  “Thirty years?” The woman looked aghast. “I was in high school thirty years ago.”

  And I wasn’t even born, Lara wanted to retort.

  “I know, it’s a long time ago. I don’t know how far back your record-keeping goes—probably not that far. I thought I’d give it a try anyway.”

  The receptionist rose from her desk chair, which swiveled slightly as she backed up. “Wait here. I’ll find someone who can help you. May I have your name?”

  “Sure. It’s Lara Caphart.”

  The woman nodded, then stalked away down a rear hallway. Lara sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  As she waited, she glanced all around at the bland furnishings. A sage-colored sofa, flanked on either side by what looked to be maple end tables, sat in a central part of the reception area. A needlepoint pillow emblazoned with a Santa face rested at one end. In the far corner of the room, a round table boasted a Christmas tree about two feet tall, clustered with tiny bulbs and glowing with colored mini-lights.

  “Ms. Caphart?”

  A stout woman with a gray head of curls and wearing a navy pantsuit strode crisply toward Lara. The receptionist, whose name Lara still didn’t know, scuttled meekly behind her, and then reclaimed her seat at the desk.

  “Hello, I’m Olga Tully, the acting administrator.”

  Lara shook the woman’s hand, which felt dry and powdery. “Lara Caphart. My aunt and I run the High Cliff Shelter for Cats.”

  The woman’s brown eyes lit up. “Really? How interesting. Why don’t you come down to my office? We can chat more privately there.”

  Lara followed the woman down the same hallway. At the end, they turned left into a narrow corridor that apparently housed the administrative offices. Olga Tully’s office was the first one on the right. The door was open. “Have a seat, Ms. Caphart.”

  Leaving the door open, Olga Tully sat behind her smallish desk. She waved Lara into the chair opposite hers. “In case you’re wondering, I have an open-door policy. My predecessor always kept her door closed. Even if she was in here, she rarely answered if someone knocked. Occasionally I’d tap on her door with a quick question, then poke my head in. She’d glare at me and snap, ‘I can’t talk to you now. I’m busy.’ She was...a very difficult woman.”

  Probably why she’s no longer here, Lara thought.

  “Anyway, that’s why I keep my door open, unless I’m discussing something confidential. I want people to feel free to come in and talk to me. I’m...hoping the directors will make this my permanent position.”

  “I wish you luck,” Lara said.

  The office was cramped but tidy, with papers and folders sitting in neat, organized piles. Scads of family pictures lined the bookshelf behind the desk. Lara squinted to get a better look, but she was too far away to make out any of the faces. She thought she spied a cat in one of the pics, but it could also be a tiny dog.

  Olga Tully folded her hands on her desk and smiled. “Are you looking at Sparky?”

  “Sparky?”

  Olga turned and removed one of the smaller picture frames, then handed it to Lara. “My daughter’s cat. I figured since you work at a shelter, you must be a cat lover.”

  Lara smiled at the photo. A family of five—mom, dad, three girls—sat lined up along a picnic table bench, grinning into the camera. The smallest child clutched a pure white kitten in her arms. It reminded her of Snowball. “What a nice family—and of course, an adorable kitten.” She set the frame on the desk.

  “Sparky turned sixteen last year, but she didn’t make it to seventeen. We had to put her down because her kidneys—well, everything was failing.” Her eyes glistened, and she swallowed. “I had to call my daughter in her dorm room in Maine to let her know. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. And I see death on a regular basis.” She pulled a tissue from a box on her desk and blotted the corner of her eye.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Tully. I can’t even imagine how difficult that was.”

  “Please, call me Olga.”

  “Olga,” Lara said, “I don’t want to waste too much of your time. My great-aunt Dottie, who I was very close to, died recently. Before she passed, she asked if I would try to find her half sister, Eugenia. I was shocked, frankly, because I never knew she’d had a half sister. Evidently, Eugenia had a falling out with the family when she was quite young and was cut off from all communication. Anyway, I did some Googling and found out that Eugenia died here at Pine Hollow in nineteen ninety.”

  “I see,” Olga said. “Nineteen ninety. That’s almost thirty years ago. What is it you’re hoping we can do for you?”

  “Well, my aunt was devastated that Eugenia never tried to get in touch with her. At one time, I guess, they’d been very close. What I’m hoping is that, well, maybe someone who took care of Eugenia back then might still work here. If so, I’d like to ask her, or him, if Eugenia ever mentioned my great-aunt Dottie. It would give me and my family comfort to know Eugenia still cared about my great-aunt. Is it possible you’d still have a file on her?”

  Olga stared at Lara. “Ms. Caphart, I have to say, that’s really grasping. Even long-term employees don’t remember patients that far back. Besides, it would be a miracle if we could locate a file on her. By law, we’re required to maintain resident files no longer than six years after their discharge.”

  Discharge or death, Lara thought dolefully.

  Lara tried to look dejected. “Oh, dear. I was so hoping...”

  The sound of squeaky wheels rolling over the carpet drifted in from the hallway.

  Olga pulled her laptop over and tapped at the keys. “Thirty years is a long time, but I’ll see what I can find. Can you give me her full name?”

  Lara spelled Eugenia’s name, including the middle name of Kay.

  “Thryce,” Olga said thoughtfully, tapping at her keyboard. “Not exactly a common name. I don’t suppose she was related to the Thryces who founded the flour company.”

  “Well, that’s just it, I’m not sure,” Lara said. “But if I have any distant cousins out there that I’ve never met, I’d love to connect with them.”

  Olga’s lips pursed. “Yes, I’m sure you would.” She tapped a few more keys, then pushed her laptop to the side. “Her name isn’t coming up, Ms. Caphart. I’m afraid I can’t do anything for you.”

  Lara wondered why Olga’s tone had suddenly cooled, but then she got it. Olga Tully thought Lara was trying to prove she had a distant, and very rich, relative.

  The creak of wheels rolling over the carpet drew closer, then stopped abruptly in Olga’s doorway. Lara turned and saw a painfully thin woman, who had to be in her seventies, holding on to a portable trash bin.

  “That time again, Wanda?” Olga swung her legs out from under her desk.

  “Yep.” With a nod, Wanda scuttled over and scooped up the plastic wastebasket from underneath Olga’s desk. She emptied the contents into her oversized barrel, then stuck the wastebasket back in place. She gave Lara an odd look—a cross between a wink and a scowl.

  “Don’t forget, Mrs. T—spaghetti’s the alternate today. You don’t wanna miss out on that.”

  “Thanks for reminding me, Wanda. I’ve been smelling those fish sticks all morning. I forgot about the spaghetti.”

  On her way out of the office, Wanda paused and looked at Lara. This time she definitely winked. “Ma’am, I just scrubbed the visitors’ bathroom, in case you need to use it. Right down the hall.” She studied Lara for what seemed like several seconds, then shuffled out the door and moved her cart in the direction from which she’d come.

  Olga swiveled her chair to one side and then rose. “I’ll see you out, Ms. Caphart. As I said, we really can’t do anything to help you.”

  Lara nodded. Clearly, she was being dis
missed.

  “Sorry I troubled you. But...if you don’t mind,” she added meekly, trying to look humble, “I will pop into the bathroom. I’ve been drinking coffee all morning.”

  Olga nodded and held out her arm in that direction. Lara hurried down the hallway. When she reached the door labeled Restroom, she glanced over to be sure Olga wasn’t watching her. The acting administrator was striding off in the opposite direction, apparently in pursuit of her spaghetti lunch.

  Lara ducked inside the bathroom. In the next instant, she felt a strong hand shove her toward the sink. Then the door locked behind her with a metallic click.

  She whirled and saw Wanda grinning at her. “I knew you looked smart.”

  Chapter 26

  “Good glory, you scared the beans out of me,” Lara said, her heart banging her ribs.

  “Sorry,” Wanda said. “I didn’t mean to. When I heard what you were talking about to Mrs. T, I knew I better get you alone while I had the chance.” She nodded toward the toilet seat. “Why don’t you sit? This’ll take a few.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll stand right here,” Lara said.

  With that, Wanda plopped onto the commode with a grunt. “Lordy, feels good to get off my feet.”

  Lara instantly felt bad for the woman. At her age, shouldn’t she be retired?

  “I been working here almost forty years,” Wanda said. “Not much room for advancement in this job, but they been good to me. Even gave me a fancy title: Chief Housekeeper. The pay sucks, but I’m up to three weeks’ vacation a year. Not bad for an old dame with a tenth-grade education.”

  Lara smiled at the woman. In spite of her rough edges, she seemed genuine and honest.

  It suddenly occurred to her how ridiculous the two of them would look to an outsider—locked in a tiny bathroom of a nursing home like a pair of conspirators.

  “Anyways,” Wanda said, “I heard you talking about old lady Thryce. I might be losing my teeth, but I still got great hearing.” She tapped her right ear.