Parrots Prove Deadly (23 page)

Chapter Forty-six

“There you are.” Much to my surprise, the shelter had been unlocked and Albert was sitting at his desk when I walked in. “I was beginning to think I’d have to take that dog for a walk.”

“Not to worry, Al.” I eyeballed his desk, looking for Frank. “I said I’d be back. I thought I’d look in anyway,” I dangled my own key, “seeing as it’s Sunday.”

Albert blushed. Not a pretty sight. “I had some paperwork to catch up on,” he said. The half-finished fishing lure in front of him told a different story, but I smiled and nodded as he hit the release for the door. As I reached for it, I saw him slip a peanut into his open desk drawer. Good, I hated to think the little ferret had gotten in trouble doing me a solid.

Buster was lying on the floor when I approached, and I kicked myself for not having thought to give her a blanket. She rose silently as I came close, though, without any rancor. “
Walk? ”

I nodded and unlatched the door. She headed for the side exit, toward the dog run, and I let her lead me there. She needed to go, but as I watched her sniff at the ground where I’d set the raccoon’s carrier, I thought something else might be at work, too.

“
Out! ”
It was a quiet bark, much softer than the frenzied noise she had made back at Rose’s.

“You want to go? We should go through the building.” I started to turn, but Buster held firm.

“
Out! ”
Another bark, almost questioning.

“Yes, the raccoon went out this way.” I wasn’t entirely sure what I was responding to. The question in my head was so vague. “The raccoon went back to the woods. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Buster didn’t bark again, and after a moment’s silence, she turned with me and led the way back into the shelter. She was, however, wagging her tail.

“So, we’re off, Albert.” I waited. Could it really be that he hadn’t noticed that the raccoon was gone?

“Okay.” He was closing his tackle box, making ready to follow me out. “Oh, hey, Pru?”

“Yeah?” I’d almost made it to the door.

“That raccoon—You’ll help me with it?” So he hadn’t gone into the back.

“Yeah, Al. First thing tomorrow.”

“Great,” he picked a fishing rod off the floor. With any luck, in a day or two, he’d forget that the shelter had ever housed a raccoon. “Thanks.” As he stood, I saw a quivering nose poke out of the desk drawer. Frank.

“Hey, Frank.” I needed to get moving, but it seemed rude not to acknowledge the alpha male in the room. Albert looked down at the ferret, who had surfaced holding a peanut.

“Mmm…salty! ”
Frank bit into the nut. I turned to leave.
“Be careful out there
.” Frank’s voice reached me, along with an intense sensation of sweet and salt.
“He was right, you know
.”
Frank was eating, but his attention was focused on me.
“About trusting
.”
Another nibble, the flavor overwhelming.
“Trust leads to traps
.”

***

I didn’t know what Frank was referring to exactly, though it did strike me as odd that I was voluntarily doing what a police officer had wanted me to do. I’ve never been one for committed relationships. They last as long as they last. Maybe it was being back here. In a small town like Beauville, the pickings were slim. Besides, I still enjoyed Creighton, or would if he’d stop acting like a cop. Then again, maybe he’d taken the ferret’s advice. I hadn’t seen him in a few nights, so maybe he’d moved on like some woodland creature: silent and smooth.

Buster sat on the passenger seat beside me, appraising me with her dark doggy eyes. “Do you think I’m a fool, Buster?” Nothing. “Come on, just between us girls.”

She turned and looked ahead. I’d rolled the window down, but unlike every dog I’ve ever known, she hadn’t pushed her nose through it. Instead, she simply stared at the road. Buster didn’t say much, but I was beginning to sense that there was more going on than rigorous training. She knew she was going to see Rose, and she couldn’t wait.

***

Buster’s impatience finally took on a sound as I pulled into the LiveWell parking lot. A soft whine, almost as if she were trying to calm herself, started as soon as I’d parked and gained in intensity as I let her lead me to the big double doors.

“Hi, Nancy.” Buster wanted to keep moving, to go to the elevators. I could sense the urgency. She felt me stop, though, and waited. Training dies hard. “How do I get to the rehab unit?” I nodded down to the dog. “I thought a visitor might do Rose some good.”

“We call it LiveWell Transitions,” said the receptionist. Well, it was her job. “And you can go down the hallway to administration. Follow the hall past the offices, all the way to the fire door. Once you’re through there, you’re in the hospital wing.” She caught herself. “The Transitions wing.”

I smiled. “Got it.”

“Or you could just walk around the outside of the building.” She shrugged. “It’s shorter, and it’s a nice day.”

“Indeed it is.” I could sense Buster’s reluctance, but she turned with me toward the door.

“Tell Rose ‘hi’ from me, will you?” Nancy said, a little softly, stopping me as I began to walk away. “Tell her I hope she feels better soon. I know it must be hard, but, well. Just tell her we’re rooting for her.”

I nodded. Conventional wisdom must have decided about the nature of Rose’s “accident,” and maybe there was some sense to it. The brightly lit lobby, the pastel logos aside, this was still an old-age home. I could walk in and out of this place under my own power. Maybe Rose had chosen to do the same.

Chapter Forty-seven

No matter what euphemism they used for LiveWell House proper, this part of the complex was clearly for the sick or the frail old. There was no sign of Creighton, here, but he knew this was where I’d be. And so I’d checked in at the nurse’s station and was directed down a hall where monitors blinked and IV frames stood waiting, as if on break, outside the doors.

“Miss? Oh, Miss!” I heard a voice call after me. Buster, of course. I should have donned my own dark glasses, but now I turned with a big, fake smile.

“Yes?”

“The dog.” The nurse who’d signed me in was standing. Pointing. Buster ignored her.

“She’s a service dog. I need her.” I tightened my grip on Buster’s handle, as if I’d fall into a seizure without her. Or start crying. Whatever, it worked. She sat back down.

And Buster barked.
“Help! Help! ”
Loud, ringing barks.

“Quiet.” I stepped in front of the dog, where she could see me, and signaled, palm down, for her to stop.

“Oh, this won’t do, Miss.” The nurse was standing again. I looked behind me. A closed door.

“We’ll be quick.” Rose’s room was right next door, and so I hustled Buster over to it before the nurse could object further. “Thank you!”

“What was that about?” I turned toward the dog. We were in some kind of anteroom, curtains separating us from the beds. Buster lifted her big, sad eyes to mine and moaned softly. An answering moan from the other side of the curtain.

“Rose?” Buster strained forward, tail wagging.

“Who’s there?” A voice so weak, I could barely hear it. Buster recognized it, though, and I pulled back the curtain to see Rose. Without her glasses, she looked shrunken and pale.

“It’s me, Pru Marlowe. And I brought Buster.” As if on cue, the dog put her big front paws up on the side of the bed and shoved her face toward Rose, licking the pale cheeks. I reached for her harness, to pull her back. But Rose was laughing.

“That’s my good girl! I thought I’d heard you out there!” Whether it was the company or the miracle of doggy saliva, Rose’s color seemed to come back, and I pulled up a chair to enjoy the visit.

“She barked as soon as she could sense you,” I said. It wasn’t strictly speaking true: the dog had seemed to bark at the closed room next door, but I wasn’t under oath.

“So I heard!” Rose was smiling, but she hadn’t moved much otherwise, her head lay still on the pillow. “And Pru, how nice of you to bring her.”

“We were worried.” I felt I spoke for both of us. And then, because I couldn’t help it. “What happened?”

A slight shake of the head and a frown that furrowed her brow even further. “They say I took a dose, a double dose. I don’t know.”

“You don’t remember?” I didn’t know what she’d taken, or what lingering effects it might have. Buster, meanwhile, had sunk to the floor. I could feel her tail thumping out its happiness at the reunion.

Another shake, almost imperceptible. “I felt so out of it. It’s a time-release, they say. I’m supposed to wait for it to work. I know that.”

This didn’t sound like a suicide attempt to me. “Were you in a great deal of pain?”

“No.” That frown again. “At least, I don’t think so. That’s what I don’t understand. I don’t think I asked for all those pills—”

“And who have we here?” It was Wachtell, pulling back the curtain with a grin. Close behind him was that nurse. “Ms. Marlowe. How nice of you to visit.”

He reached across the bed, where a blood-pressure cuff waited. That movement, though, or maybe the shadow, sparked something. Suddenly Buster was on her feet, barking. “
Help! Help! Help! ”
It was her alarm bark.
“Help! ”

The nurse started and looked up at Wachtell, as if expecting him to do something.

It was up to me. “Buster, silent!” With my left hand, I gestured for quiet, with my right, I pushed her hindquarters to make her sit. She did, whining softly, and the nurse proceeded to take Rose’s blood pressure.

“Ow.” Rose complained as the cuff tightened. Beside me, Buster strained to respond.

“He was right, you know. He was right
.” The external barking may have died down, but suddenly and for the first time, Buster was besieging me with thoughts.

“
It’s okay
.” I reached down, hoping both to keep the large dog in her place and to convey some sense that this was normal. Despite her soft protestation, Rose wasn’t really being hurt.

“Excuse me?” Wachtell had said something, and I’d missed it. Was the doctor “he”? Was it Creighton?

“I said, you’ll have to take that animal out of here.” Wachtell had his stern doctor face on. Clearly, I was annoying him.

“Buster is a service dog.” I didn’t see why I had to point out the obvious. “She’s Rose’s dog.”

“I understand.” Wachtell was writing on a chart as the nurse unwrapped the cuff. “But Rose doesn’t need it right now, and clearly the animal is reacting badly to the situation. We have other patients here.”

“But—”

“You’ve brought it here for a visit, and that was very thoughtful of you.” He replaced the chart and nodded to the nurse. “We will let you know when Rose is ready to make use of her service animal again. Now, if you’ll please…” He motioned toward the door, and I stepped toward it. Buster was reluctant to leave. I could feel her straining back toward Rose’s bed, but there wasn’t much else I could do. And then Wachtell drew the curtain behind him, separating us from Rose. I could feel his eyes on us as we walked back down the hall.

Chapter Forty-eight

“I know, Buster, I don’t like him either.” We were taking the outside route back. We both needed some fresh air after that exchange. “But she’s going to be okay.”

Even as I said it, I was wondering. Rose had faded a lot since I’d first met her, less than a week before. That day, she’d been bright: funny and so sharp I wasn’t sure what she was doing in a place like LiveWell. Since then, every time I’d seen her, she’d been tired, half asleep or more, and increasingly out of it. Today, she’d seemed so confused she hadn’t been able to tell me what had happened. Age was a bitch, there was no doubt about that. But I couldn’t discount the role of the drugs. Maybe she did need them more than she admitted. Maybe she’d hadn’t wanted to talk about her pain. Still, I wondered. I knew from my mother that at some point, balance isn’t possible—that one begins to sacrifice awareness, even personality, in the quest to dull the sharp edges. But sometimes people—practitioners—are careless. There were so many links in the human chain: the pharmacist, the aides. Maybe Wachtell did overprescribe. Maybe Genie had been less than careful. Maybe—Buster began to whine again, even as I formed the thought—Rose had had enough.

“You don’t think that, do you, girl?” I reached down to stroke that dark head. We both needed the comfort. As I did, I got a flash of the raccoon. Of course, I was using my right hand. “Yeah, you’re right, Buster. I’ll go back this afternoon, once everything is straightened out, and start the shots.”

For now, however, I had animals to deal with. There was still no sign of Creighton as I came back through the LiveWell lobby, and Nancy had stepped away. A little placard, with that knockoff logo, was propped up. “LiveWell! We’ll be right with you,” it said. “Please take a seat.”

I ignored it, letting Buster lead me to the elevator instead. As we waited, I tried to figure out what to do. I didn’t think I could leave Buster here again, and I didn’t want to bring her back to the shelter. For starters, Albert might not have left yet, and there was only so long I could keep him in the dark about the raccoon. Besides, that sterile back room was no place for an animal.

I think I had a half a thought about asking Jane. After all, I’d cared for her parrot. But as we walked down the hall, I could hear the yelling.

“You
lost
it?” Jane, as angry as I’d ever heard her. “All of it? I—I can’t believe you.”

“Come on, Sis. It wasn’t like that.” Marc must have finally been forced to reveal the truth. I wondered if my bill would be paid. “It’s just temporary. Just wait.” I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

“Forget that idea.” I also wasn’t going to interrupt. As if of one mind, Buster and I both ducked into Rose’s unit. I closed the door behind us before I even turned on the light.

“Hello? Hello?” The voice sounded so much like Rose that I caught my breath. “Pretty bird?”

Randolph! I turned on the light to see the parrot hopping around his cage. Suddenly he stopped, tilting his head to stare at me. That one eye seemed to take me in. To see me, and once again, I felt that there was a consciousness behind it—if only I could reach it.

“You!,” the parrot squawked, and I waited. That “hello” and that “pretty bird” had been encouraging.

“Hello?” I tried.

“You!” Another wordless sound, and that was it. I waited, once again, to feel something—anything—and got nothing. At least the verbal abuse seemed to have abated. That was the progress I was being paid for.

“Come on, Randolph.” I reached for the cage cover. Progress or no, I didn’t need the bird sounding off as we marched through LiveWell. “Let’s go.”

Either the fight across the hall had been resolved, or both the combatants were exhausted. The hallway was quiet as we made our way, me on tiptoe, toward the elevator. Dealing with Wallis, I’d decided, would be easier than getting more involved with the Larkins, and I counted myself lucky to be moving out of their reach.

“No, no. No!” I’d counted too soon. Jane’s voice was shrill. Marc’s response—I could hear his baritone, low and inaudible—did not seem to be having any effect. “The insurance company always investigates.”

“Sqwah!” As if in response, Randolph came awake. I could feel him moving about in his cage, and I hurried toward the elevator before he could alert Jane and Marc to our presence. “Hand’s off! Stop that! That’s mine, you bastard!”

Thankfully, the elevator opened seconds later, and I collapsed in, almost pulling Buster behind me. Then I started laughing, and the laughter came so hard I couldn’t control it, collapsing against the back of the elevator, which was blessedly empty. Randolph’s voice had been so close to Jane’s, his sentiments so seemingly similar. As the fit of hysteria passed, I wiped my eyes to see Buster looking up at me, those dark eyes sad and quizzical.

“Sorry, Buster.” I smiled down at the dog. “You’re right. There’s nothing funny about any of this.” In retrospect, it seemed clear. The two voices sounded so similar because Randolph had copied Jane’s mother. And the content?

“Hey, Nancy.” The receptionist was back at her post, and she turned as I came forward with the two animals. “I was wondering, you keep track of all the visitors, right?” I nodded toward the big ledger on her desk.

“I try to.” She saw me looking and pulled the ledger closer. “All the aides know to, when they’re covering.”

“I was wondering. The night that Polly Larkin died. Her son wasn’t visiting then, was he?” It was a horrible thought, but one I couldn’t shrink from.

The receptionist was shaking her head. “No, no way. I didn’t even meet him until after she’d died. His sister was the one who kept coming around.”

“Was she there that night?” This time, Nancy flipped back a few pages.

“That was the second, right? No.” She ran her finger down the page. I could see several entries. “She’d been here earlier in the day. In the morning. It was a Thursday. She went to the support group on Thursday evenings.”

“Every Thursday?”

Nancy nodded. “It’s over at the church,” she said. “They have cake.”

Well, at least she got out, I thought but didn’t say. We all have our vices. Inside his cage, Randolph muttered. “You!” Nancy looked up. “You!” It was time to get these animals home.

“The parrot.” I said, unnecessarily, and headed for the door. “What are you doing?” It was Rose’s voice, so close that Buster went on alert, staring at the cage—and then at me.

I had a bad feeling. “Nancy, was Marc Larkin here yesterday?”

She laughed. “He’s a businessman. He’s not here
that
often.”

I nodded and wondered, not for the first time, what exactly his business was.