Death With Dignity

by E B Corbin

  Marriage was something Sam seldom thought about, but if she never tied the knot herself, she hoped she wouldn’t turn into an unhappy scarecrow like Nora Robinson. She didn’t want to think about it, so she asked again, “Nora, can you tell us about that day? Start in the morning when you first arrived.”

  “Not much to tell. It was an ordinary day. Mrs. Maguire had breakfast prepared for Mary Margaret when I arrived—oatmeal and toast. I took it up but she didn’t eat much. She’d been barely taking in enough to stay alive for the last several weeks. I was concerned about keeping what little strength she had so I spoon-fed her the oatmeal until she pushed it away. I read to her the rest of the morning.”

  “Did anything unusual happen that day?” Sam asked.

  “Not really. Her worthless excuse of a brother stopped in and I took the opportunity to leave them alone. I went to the supermarket and did a few chores I had been putting off. I don’t get much free time during the day and I don’t like to be running around after dark.”

  “I take it you don’t care for her brother?”

  Nora shook her head. “Never did like that man—even when I was a kid. He struck me as a creepy uncle whenever he came around.”

  “So you’ve known Mary Margaret for a long time?” Henry sat forward on the sofa.

  “Her daughter and I have been friends since second grade. We kind of hit it off when we were both picked on by the popular girls in our class.” Nora made air quotes with her fingers around the word “popular.” “You’ve met Stacy?”

  Sam didn’t care for how the conversation veered from what happened the day Mrs. Bledsoe was killed. She tried to steer Nora back to the subject. “She seems quite upset by her mother’s death. Did you see Stacy that day?”

  “I saw her every day. Stacy seldom ventured far from home unless she had a potential home buyer to show around.” Nora’s eyes searched the wall above Sam’s head. “Sadly, that wasn’t often.”

  “Stacy was home when her mother died?”

  “She had a headache and stayed in her room.” Nora’s features softened enough to ease the furrows in her forehead but not enough to erase them. The grooves seemed permanently implanted, whether from constant sorrow or just plain meanness, Sam couldn’t tell.

  “You’ve seen Stacy’s face. The misshapen nose makes it hard for her to breathe and at times she gets a debilitating headache. It’s not exactly a migraine, but nothing helps except lying flat on her back in a dark room. She has room-darkening shades on her bedroom windows.”

  “So you didn’t see Stacy that day, even though she was home?”

  “No, I try not to bother her when she’s under the weather.” Nora crossed her legs and sat back.

  “What did you do after you finished reading to Mrs. Bledsoe?”

  “I turned on the TV for her and went to get her lunch. The housekeeper had made chicken noodle soup that day, which was one of Mary Margaret’s favorites. But she pushed my hand away when I tried to feed her.”

  “She wasn’t able to feed herself?” Henry thought that if she was that far gone, mercy killing should definitely be a consideration. Not that it would change anything. Smothering a person, no matter how sick they are, is still murder.

  “Oh, she was capable of eating. On a good day, she’d sit at a small table Norman brought into the room and have dinner with him.” Nora watched the bubble rise in the lava lamp as she spoke. “Her last day was not a good one.”

  “Was she in pain?”

  “She was always in pain. But usually her medication took care of it. Mary Margaret mastered the pain, it was the depression she couldn’t handle.”

  “Was it usual for her to be depressed?” Sam realized her questions weren’t getting them any closer to who had the opportunity to kill Mary Margaret, but she floundered trying to ask the right thing. This detective business was hard.

  “Lately she was. I’ve only been working with her full-time for the past two months, since her last bout of chemo. Before that, she could handle daily living on her own.”

  Henry perceived his boss was at a loss for another question. He broke into the conversation. “On the last day, what happened after lunch?”

  Nora gave him a look of disdain, as if he interfered with the natural flow of the conversation. “Nothing unusual except for her brother stopping by. I told you that already.”

  “That was unusual? He didn’t come very often?” Sam took over the questions. She was thankful that Henry had been able to keep things on track, but she sensed Nora would rather speak with another woman.

  Nora snorted. “He never came unless he wanted something.”

  “What did he want that day?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t any of my business.” Nora scrunched her lips. “Why are you asking me all these questions anyway? I don’t see how it helps anything. Norman killed her. The cops think it’s pretty obvious.”

  “We’re just trying to get a timeline to see if anyone else had the opportunity.” Henry tried his most engaging smile. “When was the last time you saw Mrs. Bledsoe alive?”

  “Right before I left for the day, of course. I never leave without checking on my patient.”

  “Did you speak to her?” Sam allowed Henry to take over the questions. Maybe he could uncover a clue better than she could, even if Nora Robinson didn’t like him. He could play the bad cop for a while.

  “No, she was sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb her.”

  “Are you sure she was asleep? Did you check to make sure she was still breathing?”

  Nora took offense at the implied dereliction of her duty. “No, I didn’t check her pulse either. She looked peaceful for the first time all day. I didn’t want to disturb her.”

  “Did you talk to her after her brother left?”

  “I was out when he left. By the time I returned that priest was in with her.”

  “You mean Father Black?” Sam asked.

  “I guess that’s his name. Never did pay much attention to those religious types.”

  “Did he come often?”

  “About once a week. They’d always pray together. I left them alone for that. I don’t believe thoughts and prayers help very much.” Nora shook her head. “It seems like a bunch of wishful thinking to me.”

  “Some people find it brings them peace.” Henry’s sincerity surprised Sam.

  Was he a churchgoing devotee? She never thought of him as a deeply spiritual person, but then, they never discussed the matter. For all she knew, he could be one of those holier-than-thou individuals.

  Maybe she should have checked into his background a bit more thoroughly before she hired him instead of going on impulse. She didn’t need to deal with preaching in the middle of her mission to return the money her father stole.

  She shook her head to rid it of that thought. No, he would have given it away before this. Unless—he took great care to hide his religious fervor. She dismissed the thought and pulled her mind back to the situation at hand. “Then you weren’t in the room while either her brother or the priest was there?”

  “I told you I wasn’t. How many times are you going to ask?” Nora tugged at the sleeves of her sweater. “I think it’s time you leave. I have nothing more to say.”

  Sam made no move to get up from her position on the sofa. “Just give me a minute to recap what you’ve told us so I don’t get anything wrong. You last interacted with Mrs. Bledsoe at lunch. You didn’t see her awake again that day. So you don’t know for sure if she was dead or alive when you left.”

  The nurse pushed herself up with scrawny arms. “I’m certain Mary Margaret was alive, but sleeping, when I last saw her. Now, I’d ask you, once again, to please leave. I have nothing more to say to you. And I don’t care for your insinuations that I didn’t do my job correctly.”

  Henry rose and pulled Sam beside him. “Thank you for your time, Nora. We appreciate it. You’ve been very helpful. Please stay seated. We can find our way out.”

  Nora emitted
a strangling sound. “I’ll show you to the door. I’m not rude.”

  Sam thought Nora hadn’t been very helpful. As far as she was concerned, the nurse was plenty rude. She imagined the woman could even be worse if she so desired, but Sam thanked the nurse for her time with a friendly smile.

  When they stepped onto the porch, they heard the three locks click into place and the chain slide across. The streetlights cast pools of light every so often down the quiet residential street, but Nora Robinson’s home was in a void between poles. No wonder the nurse secured her door better than Alcatraz. The darkness surrounded them, giving an eerie atmosphere for the walk to their car.

  “What do you think of your Mrs. Robinson?” Sam asked Henry as they reached the SUV.

  “Not the woman I was expecting,” Henry said. “She wasn’t very happy to see us.”

  “Or very helpful,” Sam said.

  “So far, nobody we’ve talked to today has been very helpful. That attorney obviously wanted us to keep out of her case.”

  “Yeah, she’s one of those damned crusaders. Her cause is more important than her client. I think Norman needs a new lawyer.”

  Henry shrugged. “It’s not our call.”

  “But we can suggest it. I’ll front the money to him for a better attorney.”

  “We’ve got other things to worry about at present.” The buzzing had begun in his head as soon as they stepped out the door.

  Without being obvious, he scanned the street before he took Sam’s arm and put his mouth to her ear. “Don’t look now, but our friends in the van are parked down the street.”

  Naturally, she started to look, but Henry grabbed her chin and guided her into the car. She fought the urge to turn around as she reached into her bag for the snub-nosed revolver she always carried. “How the hell did they find us?”

  “Wish I knew,” Henry pushed a button to start the engine. The noise in his head was so loud he felt his head begin to throb. “They’re becoming annoying.”

  “Annoying? I’d call them more than that.” She reached for the door handle,

  Henry grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to find out what they want.”

  “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  “If they wanted to shoot me, they had a chance when we walked out Nora’s door.”

  “Not unless they’re damn good marksmen. They’re parked at a bad angle for a shot. And it was too dark to zero in on a target.”

  “Then why didn’t they get out of their stupid truck and hide in the bushes? They could have covered both of us as we stepped out of Nora’s house.”

  “Maybe they’re not the brightest bulbs in the pack.” He closed his eyes to gain control over the buzzing. It kept fading, then coming back strong like the danger lessened before it grew even more. He’d never had that happen to him before and didn’t know what it meant.

  There were two men in the truck. Perhaps they were arguing over what to do. One of them could be more dangerous than the other. Unless Henry’s danger radar was off-kilter, it was the only explanation he could come up with.

  Sam had no inkling of what was going through Henry’s head. “Or maybe they’re just watching us to see what we do. They didn’t start shooting the other day until I fired at them.”

  “No use driving ourselves crazy trying to figure it out. We’ll go back to the apartment as if nothing’s wrong. Might as well not bother to lose them again. They seem to turn up like weeds in a vegetable garden.”

  Sam shook her head but pulled on her seat belt. “Let’s go then.” She let out a long breath. “I still want to know how they found us.”

  “They’re either real good at tracking or someone’s giving them information.”

  “We didn’t even know where we were going tonight. How could someone else know?”

  Henry didn’t bother to answer as he pulled out of the parking spot and drove down the street at a pace a little too fast for the residential neighborhood. If they were stopped for speeding, they could always sic the cops on their tail and hope the men in blue believed their story.

  But no cops showed up on the drive downtown. Henry stayed off the interstate and took small streets back to their place in the Pearl District, running into little traffic. In fact, the streets of Portland were so deserted, he wondered where all the bright young hipsters hung out.

  Henry pulled into the parking garage, wishing there was some way to get to the apartment building other than walking down the empty street. He found a slot on the second floor.

  Not too many vehicles filled the garage at this time of night. The commuters were all at home in their cozy nests while there weren’t too many restaurants or bars in the immediate block. Only the owners of the condos in their building took up space.

  They sat in the SUV without making a move to get out.

  “Is there a back exit?” Sam finally asked.

  “Not that I’ve ever seen, but we can look. Anything’s better than walking into a trap.”

  They took the stairs to the lobby, turning right instead of left, and following a dark hallway to a dead end. Several wooden doors lined the passageway with a heavy metal one at the very end. It had no markings to indicate where it led but a push bar invited finding out.

  Sam turned to Henry with a question in her eyes. “You think it’s alarmed?”

  “Let’s find out.” Henry pushed on the bar, holding his breath.

  Silence.

  He peeked around the door into an alley filled with dumpsters. “Looks clear.”

  They crept along, staying close to walls where possible, until they came to two double doors leading into the last building, where their apartment awaited.

  A tug on the handle did nothing. Sam backed off and started for the corner of 45th Street. Maybe they could sneak into the front while the passengers in the van were concentrating on watching the garage.

  Henry blocked her path. “Let me check it out first. That’s what you pay me for.”

  The throbbing in his head had retreated to a dull hiss, but he knew they weren’t home free yet.

  Chapter Twelve

  They edged along the alley until they came to the street at the end of the building. Across from them, a small park sat, well-lit but vacant on this chilly March evening. A few wooden benches lined the sidewalk while others waited on gravel-lined paths for the denizens of the morning to sit and sip their lattes while waiting for the day to start.

  Henry grabbed Sam’s hand and crept closer to the main street and the entrance to their building. The droning in his head grew louder as they approached the corner. He stopped so suddenly that Sam bumped into him.

  “What’s wrong? Do you see them?” she whispered.

  He edged his one shoulder past the building until he had an unobstructed view of the street. “They’re in the next block in front of the parking garage.”

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” Sam gave him a tiny shove that didn’t budge his solid stance. With a tiny grin, he glanced at her as if she were a robin trying to move a tree.

  He focused on the sounds in his head. The buzzing stayed at a medium pitch, neither growing stronger nor abating. Then he swung an arm over her shoulder and tucked her close. “Let’s hope they’re not looking in the rearview mirror.”

  They strolled down the street—two lovers coming home from a night on the town. Sam kept her head snuggled against Henry’s chest to hide her face. Nothing she could do about her blonde hair. She kept pace with Henry’s leisurely stride, fighting off the urge to run.

  When they entered the lobby, she pulled away. Happy to be both warm and protected by the locked door, she rushed toward the elevator.

  The ringing in his head dulled when the outside door swung shut and locked. As they waited for the elevator, he blocked any view of Sam from the glass entrance, still on alert. But he relaxed a little more when the low buzz remained at the same muffled level.

  Sam jumped into the e
levator as soon as the doors opened and grabbed Henry’s jacket to pull him inside at the same time she pressed the button for the sixth floor.

  Busy watching the outside entrance as the doors slid shut, Henry didn’t pay attention to Sam’s action or the lit number on the panel until they stopped on six. The hallway looked identical to theirs on eight except for carpeting with blocks and rectangles of different colors and the soft white paint on the walls. The paintings on the wall were colorful modern interpretations of the Cascade Range with Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens dominating once again. The renovations brought an extra shot of brightness to the corridor.

  Sam pushed every button from seven to twelve while they waited for the elevator to resume its climb. “No use giving away our floor in case they get in.”

  She stepped out on eight, struck by the dullness of the old carpeting, which had seemed fine when they first arrived. Funny how she accepted things as they were until someone or something prompted a new viewpoint. She couldn’t decide if it was a flaw in the way she approached life or a plus to be so open-minded. Either way, she didn’t have time to reflect on life’s mysteries now. She longed to be inside the apartment, behind locked doors.

  Henry stopped her before she swiped the key card. “Let me go in first to check things out.”

  Although Sam thought it was overkill, she waited in the hall until Henry called her in. His next words brought her up short.

  “They took my old laptop.”

  “What? Who?”

  Henry shrugged. “Someone’s been here while we were gone.”

  The rooms looked the same to Sam. Nothing torn up, nothing out of place. She checked the locks on the door but found no telltale signs of forced entry. “Are you sure?”

  “I left it on the counter this morning. It’s not there now. So, yes, I’m sure.”

  When they left that morning, Henry didn’t bother to pack away his computer. Not that it was any great loss. It ran on Windows 7 and had not been updated for years. He endured the slow machine only because speed wasn’t important to him since he’d become a civilian. That and he really didn’t have the money to replace it before Sam came into his life. Since then, he didn’t have the time.