Laced with Poison (29 page)

Emma studied her hand quickly. She shook her head. “Nothing much, really. The police
still don’t think the two deaths are connected.”

Eloise snorted as she threw down a card. “That’s ridiculous. Two people who both worked
at Sunny Days suddenly snuffed out? I can’t believe there isn’t a connection.”

Emma shrugged and tentatively proffered up a card. She wasn’t going to win this game,
that was for sure. But she didn’t care. She was here for something very different.
Robert put down a card, his face creased in concentration. His eyes darted between
Eloise and Emma as if judging their reaction.

Deborah, the woman with the white hair, slid a card forward casually. She glanced
around the room as if she were more interested in what other people were doing than
in their card game.

“You do know that Crystal had a huge dent in the right front fender of her car,” Emma
said casually as she threw down the jack of spades. Clubs were trump, and this was
the second-highest card in the deck.

Eloise made a sucking noise under her breath, and Emma knew it wasn’t because she
had thrown down the jack.

“Of course she says she loaned her car to Jessica at lunch and when she came out to
the parking lot after work, the damage had been done,” Emma said.

Eloise tossed out a card that had Robert, her partner, staring at her mutely.

“I heard the two of them arguing about it,” Eloise said breathlessly as Deborah raked
in the winning trick. “Crystal was furious.” She leaned across the table toward Emma,
and her gold inlaid pendant swung forward, nearly disturbing the cards. “Jessica kept
saying she’d returned the car in perfect working order, but Crystal was having none
of it.”

“Really?” Emma glanced at her new hand of cards, but she was paying far more attention
to Eloise’s conversation.

“Frankly, I think Crystal had had her fill. Jessica treated her like a slave, then
Jessica borrows her car and doesn’t even have the decency to own up to the damage.”

“That might be because Jessica was telling the truth,” Deborah said as she carefully
placed a king of diamonds in the center of the table. Her voice was quiet but deep
and smoky.

Emma had to force herself to play it cool. “What makes you think that?” she said as
she considered the cards in her hand.

“I happened to be looking out my window. I have a view of the parking lot.” Deborah
made a face. “I told my son I wanted an apartment in the back, but he never could
do anything right. Anyway, as Jessica was pulling into the lot and getting out of
Crystal’s car, Lotte Fanning was leaving. She stood under the canopy—you know where
the big Sunny Days sign is—and watched as Jessica let herself in that side door that’s
by her office.”

Robert cleared his throat tentatively and glanced at Emma. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh.” Emma threw down the first card she touched, and Robert, who was now her partner,
gave her a startled look. She didn’t care.

“Lotte stood there waiting and watching until Jessica was inside, then she got into
her own car and drove around toward where Jessica had parked.”

By now Emma was holding her breath.

“Yes?”

“And then she ran right into Crystal’s front fender. It left a huge dent in both cars,
at least as far as I could tell.”

Emma sat, stunned.

That explained the dent in Lotte’s car and also the one in Crystal’s. What it didn’t
help explain was who had murdered Jessica and who had run Gladys Smit off her bicycle.

EMMA was about to leave Sunny Days when Sylvia and Earl came up behind her.

“What’s the matter, kid? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

Emma gave a bitter laugh. “That’s what it feels like. No, my best friend is fine.”
She thought of Liz and mentally crossed her fingers. Liz certainly did seem to be
doing better these days. “But two of my murder theories got shot down.”

“Now that’s bad. Why don’t you come back to my place and tell Auntie Sylvia all about
it?”

Emma followed Sylvia and Earl down the corridor. All the residents were going back
to their rooms after the game evening, and it was slow going maneuvering around the
walkers and people in wheelchairs. Eloise Montgomery breezed past them, a cloud of
French perfume trailing behind her.

“Make yourself at home.” Sylvia opened the door to her apartment. “How about a cold
drink?”

“Sure. But not vodka. I’m driving.”

“Too bad. I’ve got some nice Stoli on ice.”

Sylvia bustled out to the kitchen, and Earl made himself comfortable in the wing chair.
Emma got the impression that it was his accustomed spot. Sylvia reappeared with a
tray, a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. She set it down on an end table and
began to pour. She handed a glass to Emma.

Emma took a sip of lemonade and turned to Sylvia. “You know, it seems as if your cough
is getting better.” She gestured toward the tank parked in a corner of the apartment.
“You’re not using your oxygen as much.”

Sylvia made a face that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. “I can’t smoke
in here, you know.”

Earl jerked his head in Sylvia’s direction. “She’s got to sneak outside for a puff.”

Sylvia nodded. “Yeah, and sometimes it’s not worth the bother. By the time I get downstairs
and out the door, the urge has passed.”

“So you’ve given it up?”

“Not exactly, but I’ve sure cut down. Guess the doctor was right, and it wasn’t doing
my lungs any good.” Sylvia was quiet for a moment. “But tell us what happened to your
theories. I really thought you were onto something.”

Emma explained about the dents in Lotte’s and Crystal’s cars and how she now knew
they had nothing to do with Gladys Smit’s murder.

“But why would Lotte ram Crystal’s car? They don’t have anything against each other,
do they?”

“No, but Lotte obviously thought it was Jessica’s car,
since she was the one driving it. And she certainly had something against Jessica.”

Sylvia nodded sagely, her long, dangling earrings swinging to and fro. “Never mess
with another woman’s man,” Sylvia declared. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Especially a Southern woman’s.” Earl stroked his mustache thoughtfully.

“So you’re back at square one, huh?”

Emma made a face. “Looks like it.”

“I’ve got to think that story Jessica told about the old nurse had something to do
with it. What do you think?” Sylvia tipped her glass toward Emma.

“I agree. I wish I could talk to her, but the doctor has ordered no visitors for the
near future.”

Sylvia slapped her knee. “I’ve got it. You can take my book cart and go around for
me. They won’t even look at you twice. I go in and out of all the rooms, and no one
says a thing.”

For a wild moment, Emma wondered if she would have to dress up as Sylvia, and she
stifled a laugh. “Do you really think it would work?”

“Sure. We get new volunteers all the time. Besides, the staff have already seen quite
a bit of you here volunteering.”

“But I’ve already been up there, and they might remember that. I told them I was a…relative.”

“Go at a different time. A new shift will be on.” Sylvia turned toward the small wood
cabinet next to her. “Let’s see what the cards say.” She opened the top drawer and
pulled out a deck of tarot cards.

Earl leaned forward expectantly in his chair as Sylvia laid the cards out on the coffee
table.

“I’m doing a simple five-card spread. That ought to give us some answers.”

Emma found herself holding her breath as Sylvia’s hand hovered over the cards.

“This is the Future card,” she said, picking up the card on the far right of the middle
row. Sylvia turned the card over and collapsed back in her chair as if she’d been
shocked.

“What is it?” Emma felt her stomach churn, which was ridiculous since she didn’t believe
in Sylvia’s tarot readings.

Sylvia showed the card to Earl. His bushy eyebrows shot up like rockets.

“The Tower,” he said in a soft voice.

“What does it mean?” Emma asked.

Sylvia frowned. “There are many ways to interpret this card. Basically, though, it’s
about lies and the revelation of the truth.”

“So maybe…”

Sylvia nodded. “Yes, I think the old nurse is going to be able to tell us the truth
about this whole affair at last.”

*   *   *

SYLVIA arrived at Sweet Nothings the next day shortly after lunch. She didn’t have
any bra fittings scheduled, but she was going to help Arabella in the shop while Emma
took her turn at Sunny Days with the book cart.

“It’s parked in the activity room,” Sylvia said, as she settled in behind the counter.
“Romances are on the top shelf, mysteries the second and nonfiction and everything
else on the bottom.”

“Do people have to sign for the books?”

“Nah. They’re donated so it doesn’t matter. Besides, people bring us more all the
time.”

Emma felt a combination of nervousness and excitement as she got into her car and
began driving toward Sunny Days. There was a delicious cool breeze, and she rolled
down all the windows and let it blow through her hair. She wished she were off on
some adventure—preferably with Brian—instead of playing detective. Perhaps when this
was all over, they’d be able to do something together again.

Emma hoped no one would say anything about her taking the book cart around. She was
pretty sure Sylvia was right and no one would even notice.

She found it easily enough—tucked into the back corner of the activity room. It was
a little unwieldy—like a grocery cart with a bum wheel—and she wondered how Sylvia
managed to push it. Unfortunately, she had to follow Sylvia’s route, which meant starting
with the first floor. The nurse, Rosalind Newell, was on the fourth floor, and it
would be quite a while before Emma was able to get there. She hoped no one would stop
her before she did.

No one noticed that it wasn’t Sylvia doing the rounds with the book cart. Staff nodded
at Emma as she passed, and the residents were far more interested in what volume they
were going to pick than who was dragging the cart around. Emma felt like groaning
as they carefully examined each title before making a decision. In the end, it took
her two hours to get to the fourth floor and the nursing unit.

Emma forced herself to take the rooms in order. Rosalind, or Rose, as Jessica called
her, was in the middle of the hallway. Fortunately, most of the rooms’ occupants were
sleeping, and Emma was able to back the cart out without having to wait for someone
to take an endless amount of time to make a decision.

Rose’s room was across from the nurse’s station, and Emma was relieved to see that
a different woman sat behind
the computer. She looked up long enough to nod at Emma before going back to the spreadsheet
open on her monitor.

Emma eased the book cart into Rose’s room. The recalcitrant wheels refused to cooperate,
and it banged against the door frame. She held her breath, but the woman at the computer
didn’t even look up. The rest of the corridor was empty and quiet except for hissing
and sighing noises from various machines.

Rose was propped up in bed, her brilliant white hair spread out across the pillow.
Her blue eyes were open and sharp. Emma smiled as she approached the bed.

“Would you like something to read?”

Rose smiled sadly. “I’d love to, but the books are too heavy for me to hold. Can you
believe that? I have to watch the idiot box if I want to do anything.” She gestured
with a thin hand crisscrossed with blue veins at the television mounted in the corner.

Emma was relieved to note that Rose’s voice was quite strong. She’d been thinking
and thinking about how to broach the story Jessica had told but had finally decided
that she would simply have to rely on inspiration when the moment presented itself.
Inspiration, alas, had deserted her.

“Is there anything I can get you? Some water?” A tray with the remains of lunch and
a plastic glass with a straw sticking out was pushed to one side.

“Some water, please.”

Emma held the straw to Rose’s lips, and the woman took several small sips. She smiled.
“Thank you.”

Emma returned the glass to the tray. “Do you get many visitors?”

Rose smiled sadly. “Hardly any. I’ve outlived most of my friends, and I never did
marry or have children, although I saw a lot of babies come into this world.”

It was the opening Emma had been praying for. She perched on the edge of the plastic
chair that was drawn up near the bed.

“You were a nurse.” It was more statement than question.

Rose nodded, her hair swishing back and forth against the pillowcase. “For fifty years.
At the Henry County Hospital—the old one before they redid everything.” She closed
her eyes for a minute. “Everything is so different now.” She plucked at the bedcovers
with her bony fingers.

Emma waited quietly.

“I loved helping the babies come into the world. So much joy and happiness.” She was
thoughtful for a moment. “But there was sadness, too. And babies who weren’t wanted
or who were a burden.”