Chapter Eleven

Dad drove to a soup and sandwich place he knew. When I got out of the car, I paused in the open door, facing outward, one hand clinging to the door and the other to the side of the car. I propped my foot on the seat behind me and stretched my quad. The pain radiated up my back and down to my foot. Meanwhile, aches and twinges danced all over my body.

After half a minute or so, the pain receded to a dull ache and I could move again.

Dad waited for me without speaking, but once we sat and ordered the baked potato soup he recommended, he asked, “How is your leg?”

“Much better.” Where had that come from? Even at that moment, I was absently massaging the leg under the table. But it had improved. “I stopped taking the serious painkillers during the day, and my leg hurts about the same amount as before. I’ve been afraid to ease up on the meds, but maybe I’ve improved more than I realized.”

“It’s been two months,” Dad said. “Sometimes after surgery it seems like you don’t get better and don’t get better, and then within a few days you suddenly improve. But, of course, recovery always has ups and downs.”

“It still hurts all the time. But I’m getting used to it.”

Dad nodded. “It’s amazing what you can get used to if you must.”

“Mm.” How many things had he gotten used to, physically and mentally, as he and my mother aged? Was I already starting down that path of accepting more pain and less function, because I couldn’t do anything about it?

My gut reaction was refusal. I’d fight and claw my way back to how I was before this injury, back to what I still believed to be normal for me. Was it a strength or a weakness to fight what was probably a losing battle?

Fortunately, the waitress came by with our water, interrupting my dark thoughts, and I took some ibuprofen. For weeks, I’d had nothing to do but think about the pain from my injury, the things I couldn’t do, and how this would affect my career. Now, I had pain, but I was too busy to focus on it all the time. I could still tackle a difficult investigation, which gave me hope that my career wasn’t over, even if I’d slowed down.

Conversation turned back to the investigation while we waited for our food. It was fun. Dad and I had always gotten along, but we hadn’t spent much time together since I’d become an adult, especially not the two of us alone. Mom and Dad had met me in Europe a few times, but those trips focused on seeing the sights, and Mom was the chattier one.

I’d tried to come home at least once a year, but holiday visits involved bigger family gatherings—my parents, Jen and her husband and kids, and sometimes other social groups like neighborhood parties.

I’d never spent much one-on-one time with my father, but now I could. If that was the only good thing to come out of my injury and Mom’s disease, I’d appreciate the silver lining.

The baked potato soup was rich with cheese and sour cream. Living someplace with a dozen restaurants on every block had advantages.

As we headed to the car, Dad asked, “What do we know about this woman you’re going to see next?”

“Not a lot. Lisa Delacruz isn’t a terribly common name, but the ones I found don’t seem to be the one we need. As far as I can tell, our local Lisa isn’t on social media, which is unusual these days but not suspicious. Her last name is different from her mother’s, so presumably she got married and changed it, but I can’t tell if she’s currently married. Lisa’s mother, Brit Egland, was the second person to die. That makes her the third victim, if you assume our villain also caused Mrs. Gregorian to get sick.”

“So Brit Egland was the most recent death.”

“Right, less than a week ago.”

“Her daughter’s feelings will be fresh.”

I shrugged. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. People are often more honest when they’re more emotional.”

While stopped at a light, Dad gave me a long, considering glance.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you ever find it hard? Poking into people’s lives, getting them to talk about things they might not enjoy?”

“Of course it’s hard, but it’s important. I’m not harassing people for fun or to get a titillating story about celebrity sex scandals. We’re trying to find out if there’s a murderer on the loose! The truth is important, and sometimes you can’t get to it without upsetting people.”

“I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. I admire what you do, but I’m sometimes amazed that my daughter is doing it. Your mother and I used to wonder where you got that drive, to travel around the world, go dangerous places, do things that would terrify most people.”

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I got my passion for the truth from the two of you.”

He chuckled. “I guess we’ll take some credit.”

Helga the GPS announced that our destination was on the right. Lisa Delacruz’s neighborhood had little in common with Kellie Armstrong’s. We were in a much older community with houses that had probably been considered quite nice in the 1950s, but they would now seem outdated, rundown, and too small. Some residents had tried hard to keep up appearances, with fresh paint and carefully tended bushes and flowers in the yards. Other houses had peeling paint, sagging porches, and hard-packed dirt yards scattered with toys or random junk. A group of children played in one yard, while an older woman in a flowered dress watered bushes in another.

Lisa Delacruz had a tiny house with fading paint, but the yard was tidy, and pretty curtains hung in the windows. The old brown sedan parked in the driveway had some scratches and dings but no dust or mud.

“Are you going to chat up the neighbors again?” I asked Dad.

“We’ll see. It’s harder to approach women and children without seeming creepy.”

“Good point. Don’t get arrested.” I left him in the car and headed up the walk.

Voices filtered through the door as I reached the porch. It sounded like a TV show. I knocked, and half a minute later, the door opened, revealing a tall, skinny teenager with dark hair hanging over one eye. Probably the grandson, Ryan.

“I’m looking for Lisa Delacruz. Is she home?”

He glanced at my cane, turned, and yelled, “Mom!”

The teen retreated to the couch, leaving the door half-open. I waited in the doorway until a woman came out from a back room. She was somewhere between forty and fifty, short and plump. Her shoulders hunched and wide eyes peered at me from under bangs that showed graying-brown roots at the base of the honey-blond strands.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

She looked ready to flee, so I gave her a reassuring smile and spoke softly.

“Ms. Delacruz, my name is Kate Tessler. I’m writing a story about Sunshine Haven.” I avoided using the words reporter or journalist, as they often made people anxious, and she already looked anxious enough. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother passing away so recently. I know it’s a difficult time, but could we talk?”

“About Mother?”

“About her experience at Sunshine Haven, and your experience as relatives.” Judging by the house, paying for the care facility would have been a burden for this family, so I said, “I know how hard it is for families to pay for end-of-life care, especially for someone who has health or memory issues. We need better options.”

She nodded and stepped back from the door, waving me inside. “We were lucky to find Sunshine Haven. Some of the other places were simply awful, but most of the good ones were much too expensive. And I couldn’t take care of her at home and keep my job.” She glanced at her son and the blaring TV. “Let’s go into the kitchen. Would you like a cup of tea? Or some lemonade?”

“Lemonade would be nice. Thank you.” I didn’t particularly want anything, but sharing drinks would make this seem more like a friendly visit.

I followed her slowly, studying the room. Faded furniture, worn carpeting, an old TV, and a can of soda on the coffee table. The boy slumped on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV, which showed racing cars zipping around a track. I noticed a smell I couldn’t quite identify. Pine-scented furniture polish and burned toast?

Lisa mixed spoonfuls of powdered drink mix into glasses of water and added ice. I sat at the scarred Formica table and glanced around the room. A door led into a small backyard. Several coats hung next to the door, including a man’s jacket that had to be huge on skinny Ryan, but maybe he thought loose clothes were a fashion statement.

“I take it the young man was your son, Ryan? He was mentioned in the obituary. Is it only the two of you here?”

With her back to me, Lisa hesitated until the moment grew awkward. Finally, she turned and put drinks on the table. “Yes.”

It hadn’t been a hard question. Still, a single mother might be cautious about admitting that she didn’t have a burly husband around the house.

She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, so I thanked her for the lemonade and took a sip. I managed not to make a face at the overly sweet, artificial taste. “And your father? He passed away before your mother?”

“Yes, he’s been gone for some time now.”

“That must have made your mother’s passing especially hard, leaving only you and your son.”

“It was such a shock. She seemed fine one evening, and the next morning, they called to say she was gone.”

I turned the questions toward Sunshine Haven and managed to drag out some answers. The place was nice, the staff seemed competent, and Lisa didn’t have any complaints. She was lucky to get her mother in there. The prices had dropped after the trouble two years before, but they’d been rising again. Lisa slowly warmed up.

“Mother’s memory was going. She’d try to run errands and forget how to get home. I’d stop by every day before and after work, but it wasn’t enough. I was going to move her in here, but—” Her mouth snapped shut.

“But what?”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have worked.”

I gave her a questioning glance.

“I’m at work all day, and Ryan’s at school, and we couldn’t have left my mother here alone anyway. Sunshine Haven was better.”

I forced down another gulp of lemonade. If I managed half of it, it wouldn’t be too rude to leave the rest. I dried my mouth with the back of my hand. “Even with the lower prices, a place like that is expensive.”

“I was shocked when I first saw the amount they wanted. Medicaid alone wouldn’t cover it, but with the money from selling Mother’s house, and her social security payments, we managed to make it work.” Lisa sighed. “Of course, she was only there for three months.”

“Really? Your mother wasn’t very old. Did she have a lot of health problems?”

Lisa turned her glass around and around in her hands. She hadn’t taken a sip yet. “I didn’t think so, but heart attacks can be so sudden.”

“Was it a heart attack? The obituary didn’t specify.”

“I think they called it cardiac death or something like that. Some fancy term that means her heart stopped.”

Heather had said no autopsies were done. The doctors probably put the simplest reason on the death certificates. When one died, the heart did stop, even if that wasn’t the reason for death. “Did your mother have heart problems?”

“Not that we knew, but you know how doctors are. Half the time, you can’t understand what they mean.” She glanced at my cane and away. “If we’d known . . .”

“What would you have done differently?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s only that Mother’s house was worth a fair amount, so I could’ve quit my job and stayed home with her, and she would’ve been happier too. But now Sunshine Haven keeps the money, even though they only had her for a few months. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“You would have inherited more if you hadn’t signed over the house?”

She nodded. “If Mother had been in Sunshine Haven for a year or more, that would have been different. If we’d known it would be this short, we could have sold the house and kept the rest of the money. Ryan graduates in another year, and unless he gets scholarships, I don’t know how he’ll go to college. I want him to do better than I did.”

We chatted a little longer, but I didn’t hear anything useful. Lisa checked the wall clock every few minutes. Twice, she jumped at a shout from the TV. I decided to stop tormenting her.

“Well, thanks for your time.” I rose and picked up the glass for a last sip of lemonade. “Where should I put this?”

“I’ll take it.”

I called a thank you as I left the kitchen. I paused in the living room behind the couch. Ryan held a phone with some kind of racing video game playing. He glanced between it and the TV race.

“You’re a race fan, huh?” I said. “Who’s in the lead?”

Ryan mumbled a name I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t see any way to get a surly teen talking without making his mother suspicious, so I left.

Dad started the car as I got in. “Where to now?”

I pushed the seat back so I could stretch out my leg. “Home. I need a rest, and I need to think. I feel like we’re on the wrong track and wasting time.”

He headed down the street. “You didn’t learn anything useful?”

“She didn’t have any complaints about Sunshine Haven or its staff, and she doesn’t seem to consider her mother’s death suspicious. As for Lisa Delacruz herself, she has the opposite of a motive. If she’d killed her mother instead of putting her into Sunshine Haven, she says she would’ve inherited some money. As it is, Sunshine Haven got the money from Brit Egland’s estate. Unless the home killed patients to get their funds without having to care for them, I don’t see how money could be a motive here. It’s looking more like mercy killings, or else we’re on the wrong track entirely. If we’re after an ‘angel of death,’ I’m not sure how to identify the person.”

Dad stopped at a light. “What about the guy who called you pretending to be Henry Wilson?”

I rubbed my hands over my face. “That would fall under the category of ‘we’re on the wrong track entirely.’ I have no idea how it fits into the deaths, or if it does. If a board member really made the call, I might suspect a conspiracy to kill patients and embezzle the money. But the call could have been from anyone. An employee trying to deflect attention from his own crimes? Someone trying to set up Henry Wilson? Someone who wanted me to investigate Sunshine Haven and correctly assumed this would make me suspicious?”

“That’s a lot of questions.”

“And no answers.” We needed more clues. But how could we find them without waiting for another patient death?