Chapter Twenty-One

We went to a nearby restaurant and got a table in a back corner, away from the loud group of young women by the windows. The scent of french fries wafted from the kitchen. My mouth watered.

After we ordered, I said, “Detective Padilla seems competent.”

“Mm. But not what I expected. I’ve been a feminist for three decades now, and yet when I hear ‘police detective’ I picture a man.”

“Tall, muscular, square-jawed, and ruggedly handsome?”

Heather chuckled. “Or, knowing my luck, potbellied, reeking of cigarette smoke, and with a seventies porn mustache. Either way, definitely a stereotype. Shows what I know. This whole experience is going to be one of those annoying personal growth things for me, isn’t it?”

“You and me both.”

“That’s comforting, I guess, but you’ve seemed completely in charge.”

I made a face. “You didn’t see me with my sister this morning.”

“Ah. Family is different.”

The server dropped off our soup and sandwiches, and we enjoyed our lunch while carefully avoiding any topic involving Sunshine Haven.

When we’d finished, Heather said, “I’m tempted by a piece of pie, but I think I’m too full to eat it.”

“Get it to go. You might need more comfort food this afternoon.”

She stared at me. “Because of what the police might find out? Or is there . . . don’t tell me there’s something else.”

“I’m afraid you’ve still got a rat in your woodpile.”

She groaned and gestured to the waiter. “One piece of chocolate cream pie to go, please.” She looked back at me. “Just when I was feeling better.”

“This one isn’t as bad, at least, I don’t think so. Let’s get out of here before we discuss it.”

Back in her office with the door closed, I explained my concerns about Norman Mendelson.

By the time I finished, Heather had her fingertips pressed into her temples.

“It’s too much to take in.” She frowned. “Do you think Steven Hicks and Norman Mendelson were working together?”

“I doubt it. Mendelson may be guilty of something else, though. He doesn’t want me to talk to other patients or their families.”

“He’s pretty uptight, but that is extreme.”

“I think he called me pretending to be Henry Wilson and he pushed the wheelchair into me. Hicks drives a big white truck, but the car that almost ran me down could be Mendelson’s. He’s hiding something.”

“I don’t understand all this,” Heather said. “He’s not my favorite person, but I would’ve said he was a good employee. Shoot, his mother is an Alzheimer’s patient. How could he feel anything but sympathy for the patients here?”

“I get the impression, from things I’ve heard, that Mendelson might resent you for not letting his mother in here.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s still upset about that? It wasn’t my decision. I followed company policy.”

“People can take disappointment personally. Maybe he feels he’s devoted himself to this place and should get a discount for his mother’s care.”

“It wasn’t only the money. Alzheimer’s patients vary in how they behave and what they need. We pride ourselves in having a home-like environment, where the patients are allowed to leave their rooms at will. That means we can’t take violent patients or those who harass people. Sometimes patients change after they get here, and we take steps to protect them and others. But we won’t accept a patient who is already dangerous. Mrs. Mendelson got agitated and verbally abusive. She tried to slap people. We don’t have the security to handle someone like that, and we could be liable if one patient bullies or injures another.”

“I’m not blaming you, but that doesn’t mean Mendelson isn’t.”

“Here I thought I was doing such a good job. You must think I’m an idiot.”

I thought she was making it too much about her, rather than Sunshine Haven and the patients.

“You’re doing a good enough job that you suspected something was wrong and followed through,” I said.

She sighed. “I’ll hold on to that. Do I have to tell the police about Norman?”

“Not yet, but you should probe further. If Mendelson has been misusing his position to manipulate patients and extort money, you need to stop him, but how is up to you.”

If she could handle it quietly, it would be better for Sunshine Haven’s reputation and probably easier on the patients—and the police wouldn’t think we were paranoid, pointing accusing fingers at everyone.

Heather slumped back in her chair with a moan. “I can put him on probation while I check into things. It would be nice if we could deal with this Hicks guy first . . . but there’s no use in putting anything off. I’ll talk to him right now.” She looked at the piece of pie sitting on her desk in its clear plastic container. “That’ll be my reward.”

“I’d better go.”

She straightened. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I must admit, I’d like to hear what he has to say, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to be here during a conversation between a boss and employee.”

She stood and paced the small office. “You’re right, of course. I have to do this on my own.” She opened the door. “June, could you please ask Mr. Mendelson to come to my office?”

I said, “Don’t name Zinnia. Or me, if you can avoid it.”

“I’ll tell him I have concerns and ask for his side of the story. Then I’ll put him on leave until I can check into things.”

I crossed the lobby, got another cup of coffee, and settled down in a corner. Mendelson might suspect I was responsible for his downfall, but I didn’t have to rub his face in it. He had enough of a grudge against me already.

Mendelson didn’t glance in my direction when he went into the office, his movements stiff and jerky as if he already knew something was wrong. I did some of the stretches Berta had shown me, the ones that could be done in a chair without looking like I was having a fit and needed an ambulance.

Ten minutes later, Mendelson stumbled out of Heather’s office and rushed for the front doors. In seconds, he was gone.

Heather stood in her doorway and stared after him. I grabbed my cane and limped toward her. June Songpole looked up from the reception desk, her eyes accusing.

Heather glanced down at June. “Mr. Mendelson is on leave until further notice. If he enters the building, report it to me. Don’t give me that look. I did what I had to do.”

“But his mother!”

Heather rubbed her forehead. “What about his mother?”

“She’s really sick, not expected to live out the week. He said he might have to take some time off.”

Heather sighed. “I’m sorry about his mother, but the timing can’t be helped. At least he has his time off.” She waved me into her office.

Once we were private, she said, “At first, he denied everything, claimed he didn’t know what I was talking about. When I pushed him about patients getting the wrong doses of drugs, he insisted he only does what’s best for people. They shouldn’t ever be in pain, he said. Which may be true, but it’s not his call.”

“So he messed with drug doses?”

“He didn’t admit anything, but he kept insisting he does what’s best, he does what he has to do, he only wants to help people. The way he said it made me think that his view of what’s best is not always what he is supposed to do, by law and by our policy.” Heather shook her head. “I don’t know. I told him to take the rest of the week off, paid leave. I’ll get an inventory of the drugs and check with the nurses to see if anything’s missing.”

“Okay. Talk to the Gregorian family about Mrs. Gregorian’s finances. See if there’s anything suspicious there.” I stifled a yawn. “I’m going home. It’s been a long day. Call me if you need anything or learn anything.”

I left her sitting at her desk, staring at the piece of pie.

I tracked down Dad in Mom’s room. Jen had gone, fortunately. The TV was on, but Mom’s eyelids kept drooping, while Dad gazed at her rather than the screen. He looked almost as tired as I felt.

“Ready to go home for a while?” I asked.

He sighed. “I guess we can’t stay here forever.” He rose and kissed Mom before following me out.

I felt like I was leaving part of myself in the room with Mom, but as Dad said, we couldn’t mount a twenty-four-hour guard indefinitely. We’d gotten through the suspicious Sunday evening through Monday morning period, and the police would hopefully keep Hicks busy for a while. It was time to step back.

But it wasn’t easy.

At home, Dad wanted to lie down. A tempting thought, and I eyed the stairs. Did my bed warrant the trip up and down? I compromised by stretching out on the couch.

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang. I groaned, pushed Harlequin off my legs, and dragged myself to my feet. As I passed the stairs I called up, “I’ve got it.”

I peeked through the small window inset in the door before opening it to Detective Padilla.

“Come in.” I waved her toward the living room.

We sat, and she studied me. Harlequin brushed against her legs and Padilla reached down to stroke the cat’s back. If she was waiting for me to spill my secrets to fill the silence, I knew that trick.

Finally I asked, “Did you learn anything?”

“I heard about you when I was serving in Afghanistan. We never met, but you did some good stories. Respectful.”

“Thanks, but that wasn’t exactly what I meant. Did you learn anything about this case?”

Padilla stared at the ceiling for ten seconds. “You’re a journalist. You’re not employed by Sunshine Haven.”

Did she come here to tell me things I already knew? “My mother lives there. I care about what happens.”

“That’s my point. You might be biased, but it’s a different bias from people who work there. What do you really think?”

“I’m not sure I understand the question.”

“I talked to this guy Hicks. He denied any involvement, which only means he’s not stupid enough to confess. But he claims he suspected something wrong, and the employees are to blame. He said he asked a few questions, and the next thing he knew, his girlfriend’s mother died and he didn’t have any excuse to be there anymore.”

Drat. I hadn’t really expected him to crumble in the face of the police and admit everything, but I also hadn’t expected him to flip the story around. “Do you believe him?”

She leaned forward to scratch Harlequin under the chin. “I try to keep an open mind.”

“By his own claim, he only visited once a week, for a few weeks. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who is conscientious and sympathetic enough to notice any problems beyond his own. Why should he be the one person who suspected a problem?”

Harlequin decided he’d had enough attention. He swatted at Padilla’s hand, and when she jerked away in time, he stalked off with his tail held high.

She sat back and brushed cat hair off her hands. “Yeah. When I tried to pin him down on who he thought might be involved, he couldn’t name or even really describe any of the staff. Then he started throwing a few accusations your way.”

I frowned. “He complained about me questioning him? Or he thought I was the one who sent you after him?”

“He suggested you might be trying to get a good story by making a good story.”

My mouth dropped open. “He’s blaming me for the patient deaths?”

“Pretty much.”

“Good luck with that. I’ve been in town less than a week. I never went to Sunshine Haven until after Brit Egland’s death, and I was in another country, in a rehabilitation facility where the staff saw me every day, for weeks before that. It’s easy enough to check.”

Padilla grinned. “Apparently, he didn’t know that. I may have an open mind, but it’s not open enough to trust him over you in these circumstances. I asked a car to keep an eye on him for a day or two. We can’t allocate the resources beyond that, without more evidence.”

“So that’s it? It ends there?”

“Like I said, we need more evidence. I talked to the girlfriend, Lisa Delacruz. She said her mother has already been cremated, so that’s a dead end. Sorry, no pun intended. Ms. Delacruz wouldn’t say much, but she might have been nervous about talking to the police where she works. I’ll stop by her house tonight. Maybe I can draw her out more.”

“Her son, Ryan, might be more forthcoming. He’s a quiet kid, but he did not like Steve Hicks.”

My phone buzzed. Padilla said, “I’ll take that as my cue to leave. Let me know if you find out anything else. I can let myself out.”

I waved to Padilla as I grabbed my phone, which announced a call from Zinnia. “Kate here. What’s up?”

“He was here! He shouldn’t be here, right?”

“Who? What are you talking about? Where are you?”

She dragged in a breath. “I’m at Sunshine Haven. Ryan’s stepfather or whatever—he was here! I saw him leaving, he was wearing overalls and carrying a toolbox, like he was on a job, but he’s never done work here and he shouldn’t be here now that Mrs. Egland died, so why was he here?”

My vision blurred and my limbs went cold and tingly, but I surged to my feet. Hicks was at Sunshine Haven. That couldn’t be good. We had to stop him.

But he was leaving.

He’d finished whatever he’d come to do.

I stepped away from the couch, banged my shin on the end table, and half fell, grabbing the table with one hand and the sofa with the other. My phone shot from my hand and across the floor.

I twisted to grab my cane and dragged it along as I crawled toward the phone. When I had it firmly in my hand, I pushed to my feet and ran for the door. Pain shot up my leg with each hard step, but it paled beside the anxiety that twisted my guts and sent my heart hammering.

Why would Hicks go to Sunshine Haven?

Did he think he could somehow cover his tracks? Did he want revenge?

What had he done?