Polly Dent Loses Grip (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (11 page)

 
All this registered in my mind in the seconds it took for the bearded man to turn and notice me. I checked out the name stitched on the front of his work blues. Chester. “Yeah?”

“You think I could use one of them vacuums? My mother-in-law moved in yesterday and her apartment could use a good going over.”

He hesitated, his eyes going over me real slow-like. Made my skin wrinkle up in distaste. His mouth moved like he worked a plug of tobacco, but he didn’t spit. Good thing, too, or I might have hurled right there on his feet. Never took with men who chawed the stuff. My Caleb went through a stage where he thought it was cool. ‘Til instead of spitting he swallowed. Ha!

I finally received a reluctant nod from the man.

I cocked my hip and plugged my hand down on it. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, ma’am’.”

His lips compressed and his eyes seemed to darken. I’m guessing he wasn’t too humored by me. Or maybe his hostility had more to do with an ages old struggle that I had no tolerance for.

“I don’t even call my momma, ma’am. Never will either. Take a vacuum but have it back here in thirty minutes.”

“Right nice of you.”

His eyes stabbed at me. I’d had enough. “You got a problem? Because if you do, I need to know about it. No reason why you can’t be civil.”

Chester’s severe expression lessened a degree. He averted his face. “Thirty minutes.”

I made my way through the maze of equipment and snagged a vacuum cleaner, upright, feeling the burn of Chester’s eyes on me. I ignored him, but his attitude sure left me smokin’. By the time I made it back to
M
omma’s room, I felt drained, as if the day had included a marathon and two workout sessions.

I sank into the recliner and put my feet up, sure that a nap would solve my problems. I had to stay awake to deal with Darren and our promised game playing session. I imagined that
Momma
Matilda had brought Thomas and Gertrude on board by this time. Being alert to possible clues would be imperative. Thomas especially interested me because he seemed like such a nice guy. Too nice a guy, if you get my meaning.

Things weren’t going forward in this investigation. Maybe I was reaching too far. Hardy was right
;
one successful murder investigation
didn’t
mean I should assume people had some kind of vendetta against Polly Dent. She wasn’t a very likeable person by first appearances, but everyone has redeeming qualities.

All that hall walking built up a powerful thirst in me. I rolled to my feet to fetch a tall glass of water, never so grateful for its liquid coolness. When I dropped into the recliner again, I closed my eyes and drifted away.

Hardy shook me awake what seemed like seconds later. I glared up at him. “What you think you’re doing? Do I have to post a D
o
N
ot
D
isturb
sign?”

Instead of responding, he plastered his hand to my forehead. “You sick or something? Two naps in two days. This isn’t like you, LaTisha.”

“I’m tired, that’s all. You all waiting on me to start the games with Darren?”

“Sure we are. You up to it?”

“Of course I am. What do I look like, an invalid?” My brain felt a little fuzzy though, my mouth cottony. The last thing I felt like doing was hauling myself up from the recliner. I sucked in a breath and did a mighty heave. Hardy’s hands were there guiding me up, but when he didn’t let go, leading me toward the bedroom, I didn’t resist.

He pushed me down onto the bed. “I want you to lay down and take it easy.” His cocoa brown eyes, flecked with gold, stared hard into mine. “I’m setting up an appointment for you. You’re not acting right.”

Tears formed in my eyes. “You get me a drink before I run salt all over this floor.”

He patted my shoulder and sat down beside me on the bed. “What’s wrong, LaTisha?”

“Nothin’.”

“None of that. You used to come down hard on our girls for telling you nothing when there was somethin’.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to line
up
my thoughts. Why did my brain feel like Old Lou misfiring on a cold day? Old Lou’s what we call our decades old car that still gets us back and forth where we need to go. Neither of us wanted to put Old Lou to rest, but with her motor sounding like the hacking of someone with bronchitis, her days were numbered.

“Missing the babies?”

I shook my head and buried my face. “Can’t think right. Things keep spinnin’ around in my brain. I’m tired, too. Down to the bone exhausted. Didn’t sleep well last night, you know.”

“You lay down then. Darren and
M
omma are waiting on me to get back. I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well.”

Hardy moved to stand
,
and I grasped his hand firm in mine. Fear gnawed at the fringes of my gut. Fear of what, I wasn’t sure. Hardy stroked my cheek, his gaze melting over me, letting me know I wasn’t alone.

He flashed his gold covered front tooth at me. “Want me to stay and tuck you in?”

I laughed at that, swatting him away. I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on the bed as Hardy pulled the covers back. He pulled them up to my chin and kissed my cheek, making me feel every bit the love and security I needed most to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. “Keep your ears open for things about Polly,” were my last words before I fell asleep.

Chapter Fourteen

Weak morning light spread its fingers over Hardy and me. My eyes popped open taking in Hardy’s skinny self and the thin white blanket cocooning his body. I blew in his ear. He didn’t move. Probably all those ear hairs blocking the breeze. I blew again anyway and kissed his cheek. His lips poofed out on an exhale. This man slept like a mummy, looked like one too.

I slipped out from under the covers and shoved myself to a sitting position. Cotton brain symptoms of the previous evening didn’t seem as bad, but when I stood to my feet I immediately felt off somehow, like laying on a hotel mattress after years of sleeping on one that fit your body to perfection.

The clock read 8:24 a
.
m. Time to boogey. With great effort I dragged myself toward the bathroom, avoiding the mirror. No sense making myself feel worse. The steamy water did help revive me somewhat, and my mouth didn’t feel nearly as gummy after I brushed.

I looked into the refrigerator and decided on a repeat breakfast of the previous day. Eggs, hashbrowns, perhaps an omelet. Cheese omelet, maybe a little onion. Green pepper was out since I didn’t have any. Oh, to have a full refrigerator once again. I missed my kitchen more than ever. Missed my house.

I shoved away those thoughts and began prepping. Hardy poked his nostrils around the corner before I ever saw his body. That boy enters the kitchen nose first every time I cook, and I love him for that.

“You get on in here and sit yourself down. Is Momma up? She’s gonna miss the cafeteria if she doesn’t hurry.”

Hardy cast a glance toward Matilda’s room. “Guessin’ she’s sound asleep.”

“I’ll hardboil an egg for her.” After I put the water on to boil for the egg, I slid Hardy’s plate to him and parked myself across the table with my own breakfast, I dove in to discover what Hardy had found out in my absence last night.

“You find out when Sue Mie’s on duty here?”

His head bobbed as he chewed. “Today.”

Before I could form my next question, he slung one of his own at me. “You think it’s safe to have Momma stay here?”

I sliced a chunk of omelet with my fork and gave some thought to my answer. Polly’s death had Hardy good and scared, for sure. “Best thing to do is ask her. If she’s uneasy, we’ll move her out of here, plain and simple.”

Hardy froze, eyes wide and staring.

“What’s wrong with you, you swallow your good tooth or somethin’?”

His surprised expression molded into a smirk. “Nope. Just remembered about last night.”

I stabbed a bite of hashbrown and eyed the bananas on the counter, considering a bowl of cereal. The water was sending up steam, so I dunked in an egg, covered the pot and removed it from the heat. “You meanin’ when you came in here and pestered me to go to bed?”

“Nope.”

He paused long enough to get me looking over at him and smirked again. Um-hm, this boy was up to no good. “You better spit out whatever’s swirling in that head of yours.”

“Momma and I learned something interesting last night.” Another bite of eggs. A big bite. He chewed real slow.

“Stop messing with me, boy. You’re having way too much fun.”

His eyes twinkled and he swallowed. “Darren is a wealth of information. On our way to the common area to play games, I asked him about Bridgeton Towers’s history. He mentioned playing games with Mitzi until she got disoriented
—
”

“I knew that already.”

He wagged his finger at me. “But I bet you didn’t know that Sue Mie’s uncle was once a resident. He fell. She claimed it was a fall that could have been avoided if Bridgeton Towers had paid better attention to maintenance. Seems a hallway railing came loose, and he collapsed to the floor unconscious. Never woke up. Said it was a heart attack.”

A knock on Matilda’s door got Hardy to his feet. Sweet little Sue Mie stood there.

“I check in with Mrs. Matilda Barnhart.”

Hardy knocked on his momma’s door, waited, then opened it a crack.

His head swung my direction. “She’s not here.”

I shrugged. “She can be an early bird when she wants to. Probably already shuffled down to get breakfast.”

Sue Mie’s head bobbed. “I check there.”

I wanted to ask Sue Mie about her supposed mistake giving Matilda a sugar snack, but decided to let it slide. Maybe the stress of moving had added to Matilda’s problems
.
I’d heard stress could do that to a diabetic. No use coming down on Sue Mie now, I was sure her superiors already had.

I aimed some different questions her way. “I heard your uncle was a resident here. Is he still here? I’d love to ask him what he thinks of the place.” I remembered those daggers her eyes
. She’d
thrown
them
at Otis Payne in the office after Polly Dent’s body had been discovered. “Would love to know what you think on the matter.”

Sue Mie’s eyes flashed, then she stared down at the little plastic cup with Matilda’s pills inside. She shuffled the pills in the cup. “My uncle dead. He fall.”

“Here?”

She nodded.

“There was an investigation, wasn’t there?”

“He got fine.”

It took me a minute to unknot that phrase. “You mean he got fined?”

She finally raised her eyes to stare into mine. I could see the swell of darkness and grief curling in on itself. Sue Mie had a right to be angry. Without knowing the whole story, I guessed I’d be kind of ticked if the hallway railing came loose and knocked my momma unconscious.

“My family not rich. Lawyers expensive and money short.”

“You work here when your uncle die?” My speech was starting to sound like Sue’s. Amazing how easily one could pick up on the nuances of an accent.

“No. Mr. Payne hire me.”

This messed with my mind a bit. Why would Mr. Payne hire her, unless he didn’t know. . . “So you’re telling me he hired you, but he doesn’t know that it’s your uncle who died?”

“I not tell.” She looked at her feet. “I not want to.”

I already knew there was no love lost between her and Mr. Payne. Could Gertrude be right? Was Sue Mie setting
up
Mr. Payne
,
trying to destroy him and the reputation of Bridgeton Towers? Now why in the world did it aggravate me to know Gertrude had the inside track?

“You know, Sue, if it gets out that you are related to the last patient that fell here and died as a result, it could look to the police like you might have a motive.” That was a stretch on my part since the police ruled Polly’s fall an accident.

Her expression showed disbelief. “I not hurt Polly.”

“But you wouldn’t mind hurting Bridgeton Towers, would you? You blame Otis Payne for your uncle’s accident?”

Sue turned back to her cart, fumbling with the some paperwork. With both hands on her cart, she pushed forward, toward the next door. She fumbled around a bit, then wrote something on her clipboard. I let her go. But watching her reaction to our conversation reinforced one idea. Nurses, doctors, CNA’s, whoever, were all human, and when in the grip of powerful emotion, anything could happen. Even a mistake that cost a life.