Christmas Cloches and Corpses Page 6

  “I don’t know. That’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately, and I don’t have an answer.” She looked down at the tiny pieces of paper now scattered on the table like the world’s most boring confetti. “I’m not even sure I want an answer. If I know there’s something hokey going on around here, then I’ll have to try to fix it. And I don’t have a clue about how to do that.”

  “We’ll help you,” Grandpa said.

  She swept the paper off the table and put it into a nearby trash receptacle. “Let me think on it. I don’t want to get kicked out of here. This isn’t my job, so I wouldn’t suffer any financial loss; but I love these people, and they love me. I’m the only person some of them have to visit with.”

  “We understand,” I said. “And we’d never do anything to jeopardize your position here. But we know that—like us—you have the residents’ best interest at heart. All we want is to make sure they’re being properly cared for.” I took a business card from my purse. “Please give me a call anytime.”

  Grandpa Dave and I left then. When we were outside, he asked if I’d like to go to lunch.

  “I’d love to, but I’d better get back to the shop and start sewing Ruby Mills’ coat up.”

  “All right, Pup. I’ll talk with you in a bit.”

  On the drive back to Shops on Main, I called and left Zoe a message: “Grandpa Dave and I went to check on your papaw—he’s doing fine. Talk with you after school.”

  I didn’t tell her he was sleeping because he’d likely been given a sedative. I knew that information would make her worry herself sick—which was the last thing she needed on a day when she was taking mid-term exams. I felt confident Sally Jane would check on Dwight another time or two before she left, and I could go see him again after work.

  I really hoped to hear from Sally Jane soon. It would be great to have more inside information about Winter Garden Nursing Home.

  Chapter Eleven

  M ax was anxiously awaiting my report when I returned to Designs on You.

  “We might have someone on the inside.” I told her about Sally Jane. “Her heart is in the right place, so I’m hoping she’ll agree to help us.”

  “What shape was my nephew in when you got to the nursing home?”

  “He was asleep.” I raised a hand before Max could interrupt me. “I asked Sally Jane if she thought he’d been sedated. She said maybe and admitted it was a common practice, but she said it was apparent Dwight had been awake most of the night.” I gulped. “She got the feeling he’d been afraid to go to sleep.”

  Max closed her eyes and lowered her head.

  “Either way, I believe the rest will do him good,” I said. “And Sally Jane will look out for him while she’s there today. Even if she ultimately decides not to help us, I’m confident she’ll make sure he’s being treated properly while she’s in the building.”

  “Who was the friend who died?” Max asked.

  “His name was Clarence Perkins. He didn’t die from heart failure but from a blow to the head he suffered during a fall.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Max paced. “This is disastrous. We have to get Dwight out of that horrible place.”

  “If it isn’t safe for him to be there, we will,” I assured her.

  “It’s not safe. I just know it’s not.”

  I wished I could give Max a hug or a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you rest for a little bit, so you’ll have plenty of energy when we call Zoe after school?”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll see you soon.” With that, Max was gone.

  I picked up my phone to call Jason, but there was a sharp knock at my workroom door. I was crossing the room to see who was there when Jason poked his handsome head inside.

  “Hello, beautiful.” He came on into the room, closed the door behind him, and gave me a quick kiss. “How are you?”

  “Better now. As a matter of fact, I was getting ready to call you.” I smiled. “You must be psychic.”

  “Actually, Dave called. He’s bringing us a large calzone from Milano’s for lunch.” He nodded toward the worktable. “If you’ll clear us off a spot, I’ll get some drinks from the fridge. Dave should be here any minute.”

  I quickly moved the cut-out pieces of Ruby Mills’ white coat and hat to the shelf on the other side of the room to avoid getting any grease or marinara sauce on the fabric.

  Jason came back with the soft drinks and several paper towels to spread onto the area where we’d be eating. “It’s nice of Dave to do this.”

  “It is. He’s one in a million.”

  Grandpa arrived then with our delicious-smelling lunch. “Hi there.”

  “Hey, Grandpa. You didn’t have to do this,” I said.

  “I know, but I had a hankering for one of these calzones and knew I couldn’t possibly eat the whole thing myself.”

  “You could if you didn’t get one as big as half outdoors.” I kissed his cheek before I went to the kitchen and got us each a plate and a set of utensils.

  “I’m glad you got a big one,” Jason was saying when I returned. “I’m hungry.”

  “So am I, and I believe Amanda is too.” Grandpa opened the box and took the plastic knife I handed him. “She took her lunch break visiting the nursing home.”

  “Did something else happen?” Jason asked. “Is Dwight okay?”

  “He’s fine,” I said, “but another of his friends died—this time from injuries sustained in a fall.”

  “We do think Dwight might have been sedated.” Grandpa cut the large calzone into three pieces.

  Jason looked at me. “Have you spoken with Ryan?”

  “Not yet. I thought I’d try to reach him sometime this afternoon.” I cut the portion of the calzone Grandpa had given me in half and returned part of it to the box. “I am hungry but not famished.” I laughed. “Your eyes always have been bigger than my belly.”

  “Just want to be sure you always have enough, Pup.” He looked down at Jazzy who’d gotten out of her bed to sit by his feet. “You, too, Jazzy—we’d never let you go hungry.”

  We chatted about mundane things while we ate. I knew Grandpa was probably wondering where Max was, and I hoped I’d get the chance to tell him before he left. If not, I’d give him a call.

  Sienna joined us just as we’d finished eating. “Hey.” She addressed the group in general.

  “Hi, Sienna. This is my grandpa, Dave. And have you met Jason already?”

  “No. We haven’t met, but I know he’s the photographer who has the place next to Uncle Ford’s.” She nodded. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “Sienna is not only Ford’s niece, but I’ve hired her to be my spy. I need her to help me figure out what to get Ms. Oakes for her Secret Santa gift.”

  “Uncle Ford and Mr. and Mrs. Peterman hired me to do some work for them too,” Sienna said. “Do either of you need a detective?”

  “I’m in good shape at the moment,” Grandpa said, “but I’ll keep you in mind. Have you got a business card?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll have some tomorrow.” Sienna looked at Jason. “How about you?”

  “I don’t want you to get overworked your first day here,” he said. “But see if you can work me into your schedule mid-week.”

  She nodded. “You got it.” Looking at me, she asked, “Would you like a preliminary report, or would you prefer to wait until I have the whole thing?”

  “Go ahead and give me a preliminary report please. That way, if I have any follow-up questions, you can take care of them.” I gestured toward the piece of calzone in the box. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, thank you. I just got back from lunch with the Petermans. It looks good, though. May I take it to Uncle Ford?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Mom calls him a garbage disposal.” She shrugged. “She said he always was one.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters, Sienna?” Grandpa asked.

  “No. I think I might like to have one someday. It mi
ght be fun to have a business partner.”

  I suppressed a smile. Sienna had been in business for less than a day and was already seeing the need to take on a partner. Granted, she did have the business of half the merchants in the building.

  “Now about Ms. Oakes.” She glanced toward Grandpa and Jason before turning her attention back to me. “Is it all right to speak freely in front of these two?”

  “You may,” I said.

  She flipped open her notebook. “I told Ms. Oakes I wanted to talk with her about running a business. She invited me into her office to chat. There was a skinny Christmas tree in the corner of her office decorated with purple and silver ornaments. She had a stack of books on the corner of her desk with sunny covers.”

  “Sunny?” I frowned.

  “Yeah, you know, like at the beach,” she said. “I told her the books look nice, and she said she loves the beach. That’s all I have so far.”

  “Excellent work.” I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll have my full report and invoice for you by the end of the day.” She closed the box and plucked it off the table. “Thank you for this pizza thing.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “I hope Ford enjoys it.”

  “He will.”

  Jason got up and opened the door for her. After she went through, he closed it back and said, “That one’s a force of nature, that’s for sure.”

  “She’s got some gumption all right,” Grandpa said.

  “Who’d have thought Trish Oakes loved the beach so much?” I stacked up the plates and gathered the utensils.

  “And that was your preliminary report.” Jason resumed his role as doorman, so I could take our trash to the kitchen.

  I came back, closed the door, and sat back down at the worktable. “Back to what we were talking about earlier—do you think we should call the deputy?”

  “It’s whatever you want to do,” Jason said.

  “Would you be providing him any pertinent new information?” Grandpa asked. “Yes, there was another death, but this one wasn’t like the others. I feel you’d be better served if you could provide Deputy Hall with some hard evidence the next time you contact him—give the man something to work with.”

  “That’s an excellent point, Dave.”

  I held up my crossed fingers. “Fingers crossed that Sally Jane will give us the help we need.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I was applying interfacing to pieces of Ruby’s coat when Max reappeared that afternoon.

  “Hi, there,” I said. “You look as if you feel better.”

  “I do.” She smiled. “I’ve gone decades without being a worrier. Then you people come along and, suddenly, I’m pacing the floor.”

  “Sorry.” I put my work aside and moved into the reception area to log onto social medial from my laptop. “Let’s see if Zoe is home from school yet.”

  Seeing that both Zoe and Grandpa Dave were currently online, I sent video chat requests to them. When they accepted, I could see Zoe in her bedroom with a print of Edgar Allan Poe behind her; and there was Grandpa sitting in his living room.

  “Where’s our sassy specter?” Grandpa asked.

  “I’m here, silver fox.” Max sat on the desk so she could be visible onscreen.

  “Hi.” Zoe stifled a yawn.

  “Are we boring you already, darling?” Max asked.

  “No. I stayed up late last night studying for today’s exam,” Zoe said. “Amanda, thanks for your message. I didn’t have time to respond because I was taking my test.”

  “I assumed as much,” I said. “I just wanted you to know your papaw was fine.”

  “He was sleeping when we got there,” Grandpa said, “but we don’t know if it was because he was exhausted or because the nurse had given him a sleeping pill.”

  “Either way, Sally Jane seemed to think he needed the rest.” I quickly explained who Sally Jane was and that, hopefully, she was going to help us discover what—if any—shady practices were going on at the nursing home.

  “Pup, after I got home today, I was thinking about the person who died last night—Clarence Perkins. The name sounded so familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. I asked around and found out Clarence was the brother of one of my casserole crusaders.”

  “What in the world is a casserole crusader?” Max asked.

  “It’s a woman who’s trying to woo Grandpa Dave before winter sets in, so she brings him casseroles,” I said. “The casserole crusades have occurred around this time every year since Grandma Jodie died.”

  “Are the casseroles good?” Zoe asked.

  “Some are, but my freezer is getting full,” Grandpa said. “You think you and your mom might like one or two?”

  “Sure.” Zoe grinned. “I might even let Mom think I cooked.”

  “So, did your casserole crusader give you any information on Clarence?” I asked.

  “Yeah. She told me Clarence was a diabetic.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose, indicating we were about to get a lecture. “The nursing home’s policy is that all unused prescription medications are returned to the dispensing pharmacy for disposal when a patient dies. Clarence’s daughter is a registered nurse, so she asked for a list of the medications returned to the pharmacy so she could make sure her dad had been receiving the proper dosages. She, too, was concerned by the number of recent deaths at the nursing home.”

  “Did they give her the list?” I asked.

  “They did, but there was no insulin on it,” Grandpa said.

  Max gasped. “He was a diabetic with no insulin? How did they explain that?”

  “They couldn’t.” He lifted his shoulders. “The staff member the daughter spoke with has no idea what happened to the rest of his insulin. She thought maybe it had just ran out on the day he died.”

  “That would be convenient,” Zoe observed.

  I rubbed my face. “Does this nurse believe her dad wasn’t getting his insulin?”

  “She doesn’t know. My friend said the daughter wanted an autopsy but couldn’t afford to have it done.” Grandpa removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirttail.

  “If the nurse wants an autopsy, why can’t she get one?” Zoe asked. “Doesn’t the nursing home or the insurance company pay for that?”

  Putting his glasses back on, Grandpa said, “Nope. The doctor already signed off on Clarence’s cause of death, and he saw no need for an autopsy. The family would have to pay for a private autopsy in this case, and they run between three and five thousand dollars.”

  “Yikes.” Zoe scrunched up her face. “That doesn’t seem fair when she’s not sure her dad was getting his medication.”

  “Zoe, I wondered if you’d care to leave your phone in your papaw’s room one night so Max can hang around and see what might be happening there when no visitors are around,” I said.

  Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, I should be able to make that work.”

  There was a problem with her leaving her phone—I could tell. “Are you afraid to leave your phone because your mom would be concerned?” I asked.

  “If she missed it, she’d have a fit,” Zoe said. “And I’m on my phone a lot, so she’d notice if I wasn’t texting or anything all night. But I want to make sure Papaw is safe.”

  “Don’t you think we might ought to tell Maggie that we’re concerned about what’s going on at the nursing home?” Grandpa asked.

  Zoe took a deep breath. “Not yet. She’d probably think Papaw and I both were overreacting.”

  A striking woman in a beige silk suit and a royal blue coat walked into the reception room.

  “Hi,” I said. “Welcome to Designs on You. Let me put this laptop in my workroom, and I’ll be right with you.”

  “We can hang up and resume the call when you’re finished with your customer if that would work better,” Max said.

  Smiling and avoiding the temptation to respond to Max, I took the computer into the workroom, placed it on the table, and closed the door behind me b
efore returning to the reception area.

  “Thank you for your patience,” I told the woman. “Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.” She sat on one of the blue wingback chairs near the window. “I want a dress—something like they’d wear on Downton Abbey…the upstairs people.”

  I chuckled. “Gotcha. I’ll grab some pattern books, we can see what styles appeal to you, and then I can make you a custom dress that would do Lady Mary proud.”

  “Will it be expensive?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She gave a succinct nod. “Good. Will everyone know it’s expensive?”

  “Well, you can tell everyone it’s a custom design,” I said.

  “I could do that with any old off-the-rack dress.”

  “You could.” I inclined my head. “But if you buy from me, you won’t have to worry about someone else showing up in the same dress.”

  “Let’s get started then.” She gave me a wry smile. “I feel the need to explain so you won’t think I’m a total snob.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” I told her.

  “Well, I want to. My husband’s company is having a Downton Abbey themed Christmas party. All the women there act as if I’m second class, and I want to show them that I’m not.”

  I got up and retrieved the pattern books. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. I was impressed with you the moment you walked in. But if you feel the need to show off, I’ve got you covered.” It was hard to believe that a woman this elegant and outwardly self-assured was actually insecure.

  We were able to find a pattern we liked for a sheath dress with an embroidered overlay and a sash. I grabbed my sketchpad. Giggling like two schoolgirls, we created a beautiful maroon gown with a gold overskirt.

  “Do you have a tiara? If not, we’ll have to get you one,” I said.

  “I will.” She laughed. “I didn’t dream this would be so fun. What’s next?”

  “I’ll get some measurements, and then I’ll make a muslin pattern for you. Once that’s done, I’ll give you a call and have you come in for your first fitting. In the meantime, I’ll order your fabric so that after we make sure the muslin pattern fits properly, I can make the actual dress.” I grabbed my gold pencil and made her some gloves. “Gold opera-length gloves are a definite must as well. Want me to order them?”