Grace Sees Red (5 page)

“I don't snore,” Kyle said. “I breathe heavily.”

“It's not for sure. And it would only be temporary,” Cathy said. “We'll have to make do until we get the all clear from the police.”

Percy shook his head. “No way. Frances pays an arm and a leg for me to stay in the apartment.” He flailed his elbows. “And it took two arms and two legs—mine—to get me in here in the first place.”

Cathy was the only one who laughed at Percy's attempt at humor. “Oh, you,” she said with a flirtatious giggle. To Frances: “He's so funny.”

“Funny doesn't begin to describe him,” Frances said.

“Anyway, I came to give you both that update. If anything else comes up, I'll be sure to let you know.”

A moment later, she was gone.

“She certainly is chipper,” I said.

“Cathy's all right,” Kyle said. “I'll take her over Santiago any day.”

“You mean the nurse who found Gus,” I said. “What's wrong with him?”

“He's nosy.” Frances leaned forward again. “Always butting into everybody else's business. I'd like to open his closet and see how many skeletons tumble out.”

I resisted the urge to make eye contact with Bennett. I knew at that moment we were both thinking about pots and black kettles. “Did he have a grudge against Gus?” I asked.

Frances snorted. “Everyone had a grudge against Gus.”

“Uh-oh,” Percy said.

I turned to follow his gaze. The nurse we'd spoken with earlier, Debbie, led an elderly gentleman into the room. She rested one hand on his shoulder and patted his arm with the other. The man was tall but stooped. Wearing a heavy rain jacket and carrying a small, weighty bag, he used his free hand to shield his eyes. Although he didn't appear to need the support Debbie offered, his body language suggested that he appreciated her presence.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Kyle had turned his chair enough to see where we were looking. “Anton,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Gus's best friend,” Percy said.

“Best friend?” Kyle asked. “Don't you mean contraband smuggler?”

“More like a little of both.” Percy waved an elbow dismissively. “Either way, it looks like he just heard the news.”

Debbie shot us a silent plea for help. Percy nodded and the nurse brought Anton to our table. Reading the situation, Bennett got up to bring over yet another chair. He positioned it to his right, next to Percy. Our group had swelled to six around a table designed for two.

“Why don't you sit with Kyle and Percy for a while, Anton?” Debbie said as she helped him into the seat and patted his shoulder. “The police will probably want to speak with you. I'll let them know you're here.”

Eyes red, he looked up to thank her before turning his attention to the rest of us. Though my presence and Bennett's seemed to confuse him, he mumbled a greeting. When he placed his bag in front of him, it hit the table with a heavy
thunk
.

“We're all very sorry,” Percy said. “This must be a terrible shock.”

Anton blinked glassy eyes. “What happened?” When he spoke, his voice cracked. The man was about Bennett's age and just as tall. Where Bennett was athletic to the point of slim, however, Anton was bulky. He had a ruddy complexion,
a wide, flat forehead, and a full head of gray hair. “Why are all the police here?”

I held my breath, but before Percy or Kyle had a chance to answer, Frances said, “They believe Gus was murdered, and they think I did it.”

Anton's grief-stricken expression shifted from bewilderment to surprise before settling on outrage. “They are mistaken,” he said. There was a trace of Eastern Europe in his manner of speaking. “This is not possible.”

“Frances and Gus had another blow-up this morning,” Kyle said. “That makes her Suspect Number One.”

Anton reached a furry hand across the checkerboard to rest it atop Frances's. “But of course you didn't hurt Gus,” he said. “Why would anyone? He had no enemies.”

Frances looked ready to argue the point, but my swift kick under the table warned her off.

Anton evidently hadn't expected an answer. He sat back again and turned to the group. “Why do the police suspect murder? What don't I know?”

Under the table, Frances returned my kick before getting to her feet. “I need to visit the ladies' room.” She turned to me. “You probably ought to come along so you know where it is. We may be here a while.”

Nothing like a subtle hint.
“Sure,” I said. “Good idea.”

Frances took off out of the room at a speedy pace. I caught up with her in the hallway. She didn't break stride even when I fell into step next to her. Her hands were fisted, her brow tight. “Not a word. Not yet.”

Three-quarters of the way down the long corridor, she made a sharp left and pushed her way into a door marked W
OMEN
.

Three cream-colored stalls lined the right side of the utilitarian room. Frances placed her hands on her knees and half-bent, half-crouched to check under each of the closed doors.

I pushed at all three doors, one at a time, satisfied when each of them swung wide open before banging shut once again. “No one here.”

“You do it your way, and I'll do it mine.” Frances's face was red when she righted herself. “Can't be too careful.”

“What's going on, Frances?” I asked.

She scanned the tops of the walls as though looking for security cameras.

“We're in a washroom,” I reminded her. “Nobody's going to spy on us in here.”

“You're so naïve.” Satisfied with her scrutiny, she folded her thick arms across her chest and positioned herself in the middle of the room. “First things first: Out with it. What did Percy tell you about me?”

“Nothing at all. It's all been about Gustave,” I said. “Talk to me, Frances. Bennett and I are completely in the dark here. What couldn't you tell me at the table?”

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before answering. “They're being careful not to tell me much, but you and I know how these things work.” She dug one hand out from its perch inside her elbow to wag a finger between us. “We've been through this before. Police making foolish mistakes. Bad information.
Pheh
. That busybody nurse is the one I'm mad at. When he found Gus dead, he should have called the morgue attendants, not the police.”

“You don't believe Gus was murdered?”

“It doesn't matter what I think. But now, because that nosy Santiago found a cap in Gus's room, everybody's all hysterical, thinking that I dosed Gus with Percy's medication.”

“Wait. What are you talking about? You said that the police didn't tell you anything.”

Frances's brows jumped so far up her face I thought they might spring off the top of her head. “You think I'm going to spill everything I know the first time somebody asks?” She harrumphed. “Give me a little more credit than that. I lied when we were at the table.”

I brought my hands to my head. “Frances, we aren't playing a game here. If the police suspect you, we have to take this seriously.”

“It's pretty clear to me that I'm taking this far more
seriously than you are.” She lifted her chin. “Why do you think I pulled you in here? Why do you think I'm telling you about the insulin syringe cap? It's purple, by the way.” She raised her hands in the air. “It's purple. Of course it is.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

Frances's voice had begun to rise as she spoke and she gave a self-conscious glance around the room before continuing in a quieter tone. “On top of all his other health issues, Percy's a diabetic. We keep insulin in his room for when he needs it.”

“Wait,” I said. “Stop right there. Why is Percy allowed to keep medication in the apartment? He clearly can't self-administer.”

“Don't let him fool you; he's fully capable,” Frances said. “He can't manipulate his hands as well as you and I do, but he's not as weak as he tries to pretend.” She muttered something about Percy's predilection for enlisting help from attractive young women before adding, “You probably didn't notice that he keeps an injector in the chair next to his leg. We tuck one in there for emergencies. The rest are in his room.”

“That doesn't explain why the facility allows patients to keep their own medication. Isn't it their job to deliver dosages?”

“Just because he's disabled doesn't mean he's helpless.” Frances ran her fingers up both sides of her head, clearly losing patience. “Percy's here for assisted living, not critical care. There's a difference. He needs help getting in and out of bed sometimes and he can't prepare his own food, but mostly he manages on his own. Indwell provides him a measure of autonomy, but help is here if he needs it. That's the whole point: to allow residents to live as normal a life as possible. That's why it costs so much to get into this place. And don't even get me started on the monthly fees.”

“Got it. I'm sorry. Go on.”

Jamming a finger into her chest, she said, “I didn't kill the old geezer, but if somebody did, it looks like they used Percy's insulin.”

“That's ridiculous. There's no way to know that before lab results come in. They haven't even taken the body away yet.”

“The police are
speculating
,” she said with an emphatic lilt to the word. “Nosy boy Santiago found a bright purple cap rolling around under Gus's bed when he went in there to do the heparin lock flush. He picked the cap up, recognized it, and planned to ask us about it later. But when he saw Gus was dead, he freaked out and called the police instead.”

“That's hardly proof.”

“Yes, but he was quick to alert the authorities about the individual who'd argued with Gus this morning—a person who conveniently has access to Percy's medicine. Guess who he was talking about?” She hit herself in the chest again, this time with both hands. “Me. That's who.”

“What did you argue about?”

“Does it matter?” A moment later, she added, “Like usual, he started complaining about the ‘mess' I made. All I did was leave my purse and coat on the sofa. It's where I always leave them. But I guess he wanted to sit there right at that very moment. I told him if he didn't shut up, I'd give him a whole lot more to complain about.”

I winced. “Couldn't the cap they found have been accidentally dropped by another nurse visiting Gus's room? I'm sure they deal with insulin every day for plenty of patients.”

“Percy's the only diabetic in that section, apparently.” Frances shook her head. “But, more than that, Gus was a whack job about cleanliness. Nothing ever out of place. And he was completely ambulatory. Believe me, if he'd seen that cap on the floor, he would have pitched a fit you'd have heard back in Emberstowne.”

“Still, that's circumstantial.”

She started to pace the tile floor. “Yeah, until you get to the part where you find out that one of Percy's insulin syringes is missing.”

“Are you sure?”

She stopped pacing to glare at me. “Yes, I'm sure.”

There had to be another answer. “Could Gus have taken the insulin himself?”

“You mean could he have committed suicide?” She shrugged. “Anything's possible, but I doubt it. The guy may have been a lousy lunkhead, but he firmly believed in his right to be here.”

“So how did the cap get there?”

“That's the million-dollar-bail question,” she said. “And when they find the syringe, guess whose fingerprints will be all over it?”

My heart sank. “Yours.”

She pursed her lips. “Yesterday, I realized I hadn't checked the expiration on Percy's meds for quite some time, so I pulled everything out. None of it was out-of-date, so I put everything back.”

“Who knew you did that?” I asked.

“I know where you're going,” she said, waving the air between us. “Nobody's trying to frame me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Nobody knew I handled the insulin. Not yesterday specifically, at least. Everyone here knows that I take care of Percy's share of the apartment and make certain his room is clean and his supplies are in place. I've done that since he moved in. Yesterday's inventory was nothing special. Nothing missing.”

“How long has Percy been a resident?”

She pulled her mouth to one side. “A little short of ten years. He was one of the first residents when Indwell opened.”

“What happened to him?” I asked. “I mean, what brought him here in the first place?”

“I brought him here,” she said with a fiery spark in her eyes. “After he lost control of his motorcycle and slammed his spine into a cement barrier.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. That had to be devastating.”

“I don't know what hurts him worse: not being able to move his legs or the fact that there was no one willing to help him. No one but me, that is.”

“He's lucky to have you.”

“Too bad he didn't realize that when we were still married.” Her eyes still blazing, she added, “Where were all those
swooning women when he needed them? Not one of them stuck around when his life fell apart. Took a life-threatening accident to wake him up.”

“I'm sorry, Frances,” I said.

She glared again. “Don't you dare pity me. I made my bed, I'm lying in it. Nobody's business but my own, you understand?”

“Yes. Got it.”

“If it weren't for that stupid nurse sounding the alarm, I'd have been able to keep you and the Mister out of all this. Now everyone in Emberstowne will know that I'm stuck taking care of the jerk who broke my heart all those years ago.”

“No one has to know,” I said. “Bennett and I won't tell a soul.”

Her mouth turned down sharply. “This news will get out. Mark my words.”