Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (13 page)

L
ynn left us just outside the sunroom. Or, rather, she passed us along to our next escort. In contrast to our last visit, this time the entrance to the room was being watched. An orderly, whose name tag identified him as Jay, stepped aside when we approached and held the door open for us.

Jay was big, with broad shoulders and taut, sinewy arms. He had smooth skin the color of dark chocolate, and his wiry black hair was cropped close around his skull. “Pleased to meet you,” he said in a surprising soft voice as his large hand swallowed my much smaller one.

Then he squatted down so that he was eye level with Faith. “Hey, big Poodle.”

Seeing her cue, Faith sat down and offered him a paw.

“Her name’s Faith,” I said as Jay shook the paw and returned it gently to the floor.

“We had a Poodle when I was little,” he said, rising to his feet. “Name of Frenchie, on account of, you know…French Poodle?”

The Poodle breed actually originated in Germany, and the stylized trim worn in the show ring is a remnant of a traditional German hunting clip, but Jay’s designation was a common mistake.

“I’ll bet he was the best dog you ever owned,” I said with a smile.

“You got that right.” He nodded toward Faith. “I saw her last week, but I didn’t have time to come over and say hello. She’s a big one, isn’t she? I didn’t know they made Poodles that big.”

“Faith is a Standard Poodle. It’s the largest of the three varieties. You probably had a Mini?”

“I guess so.” Jay held up his hands about fifteen inches apart. “Like this size.”

“That would have been a Mini. Toys are the really little ones.”

“The yappy ones.”

“Sometimes,” I said. “And sometimes not. As with any dog, it’s all in how well they’ve been trained by their owners. Lots of toy dogs are very well behaved.”

“Your Poodle looks like she’s had a lot of training. Is she a show dog or something?”

“She used to be.” I reached down and ruffled my hand through Faith’s topknot. “She’s retired now.”

Jay laughed out loud. “A dog that’s retired. That’s a good one. I never met a dog that had a job before.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the room. “If she’s retired, then she’s in the right place, considering this is like a retirement home. Most of the people here are retired from something or other.”

As we spoke, I’d been looking around as well. During our previous visit, the sunroom had been filled with patients, obedience club members, and the occasional attendant. It wasn’t until Minnie and Coach had begun their performance that nurses and staff members had appeared from other parts of the building. Today, however, there were at least as many staff members in the room as there were visitors. They were trying to remain unobtrusive, and most were staying in the background, but their presence was unmistakable.

I was looking at heightened security. The precautions were probably unavoidable; still, I was sorry to see them. It was just one more thing that would make Winston Pumpernill feel a little less like home to the people who lived there.

“Some of these people, you know…” Jay paused, then chose his words with care. “They were pretty impressive in real life. They had nice houses, good jobs. They had some power. It’s kind of sad to see them here now.”

“But they’re happy here,” I said. “Aren’t they?”

“I guess they seem to be.”

Jay looked to be in his mid-twenties; he still had everything ahead of him. The concept of wanting to slow down probably wasn’t even on his radar screen.

“It just isn’t what you want for yourself,” I guessed.

“Hell, no. Me? I’m going out with a bang.”

The eternal optimism of youth. “Not anytime soon, I hope?”

“Nah.” Jay cupped an arm around my back and ushered me into the room. “Not anytime soon. Don’t you worry about that. Now look here, I shouldn’t be monopolizing your time. Mr. Beamish over there is staring at us like he thinks I’m talking too much. Probably right, too. That man, he’s just sitting there waiting for a visit from a pretty lady and a big Poodle. You’d better get going now.”

“I will,” I said. “But thanks. It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” Jay replied.

Mr. Beamish was indeed eager for a visit from a big Poodle. Seated in a wheelchair in the sun with a lap robe thrown across his legs, the old man reached out his hand as soon as he saw Faith head in his direction. His face creased in a broad smile.

“I knew if I waited long enough, someone would make their way over here and find me,” he said.

“No complaining now,” said the nurse standing behind his chair. A name tag affixed to her tracksuit revealed her name to be Molly. “You haven’t even been in here but five minutes.”

The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe so, but at my age, every five minutes counts. Come on over here, girl. What a pretty doggie you are.”

Faith preened from side to side, as charmed by the older man as I was. She sniffed his fingers, then pressed her body up against his legs, so he could run a gnarled hand down her back.

“Her name is Faith,” I said. “And I’m Melanie.”

“Pleased to meet you, miss. Sit down and stay a spell. I think I’ve met most of the other dog handlers, but I’ve never seen you before. Why is that?”

I dragged over a chair and had a seat. Molly, seeing that everything was under control, faded back to give us some space. At a nearby card table, a spirited game of bridge was in progress. The nurse strolled over to kibitz.

“This is only my second visit,” I said. “Faith and I just joined the obedience class, and we came here last Sunday for the first time.”

“Not a great start for you, was it? I guess you know what happened to poor Mary Livingston.”

“Yes.” I’d only spoken to Borden and Madeline the day before, but word had evidently gotten around.

“Hell of a shame, pardon my French.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Hard to imagine what this world is coming to when something like that is even possible.”

“We…all of us…” I gestured toward the rest of the obedience club members, who were scattered around the room. “…are really sorry about what happened. And we’re sorry it happened while we were here.”

“Can’t say it had anything to do with you and your dogs. Leastwise, I wouldn’t think so.” Mr. Beamish frowned, peering at me closely. “Would you?”

“Um, no.”

“Me neither. So that’s enough of that. Why talk about something depressing when you don’t have to? Aren’t you supposed to be cheering me up?”

“I think so.” When he smiled at me and lifted his brow, I couldn’t help but smile back. “But I’m new at this, so you tell me. All I know for sure is that I’m supposed to be letting you play with my dog. You know, since you’re not allowed to have pets here, and maybe you miss having them around.”

While we were speaking, Faith had climbed quietly up the side of his chair and placed her front legs across his lap. Her head was resting against his chest. His fingers were curled through her thick coat. The two of them were breathing in unison.

“Never had a pet before in my life,” he said cheerfully. “Can’t miss what you never knew.”

“Didn’t you just tell me that you knew all the other handlers? I thought you were a regular for the dog club visits.”

“Of course I’m a regular. Look around, wouldn’t you be?”

I did. The room didn’t look any different than the last time I’d scanned it a few minutes earlier.

“All those nice young women want to come and pay an old man a visit, you think I’d be crazy enough to stay in my room?” He shook his head, looking very pleased with himself. “Nope, not a chance.”

Young, I thought, was a relative term. The ages in our group ranged from Kelly in her late twenties to Stacey’s early forties. Compared with Mr. Beamish, however, I supposed we were a group of youngsters.

“Everybody doing okay over here?”

Molly materialized beside us. She stared hard for a moment at Faith, and belatedly I wondered whether dogs were allowed to climb up on the patients. Then the nurse’s gaze lifted, and she smiled.

“Looks like you’re making friends, all right. I have to run out for a minute, but I’ll be right back. Our bridge group is breaking up, and two of the players have decided they’d like to try another game, but that nice leather backgammon set seems to be missing from the cabinet. Everybody knows the games aren’t supposed to leave this room, but somehow that doesn’t stop them from walking all over the building. Let me just go see if I can hunt up another set.”

While Molly was gone, the bridge players got up from their table and wandered over to say hello. I already knew Borden Grey and, luckily, he seemed to remember who I was. He introduced me to his partner, Sandy Sandstrum. It was no wonder the foursome had broken up; these two were still bickering over the outcome of the rubber they’d just finished.

“When I open with one heart, you aren’t supposed to come back and say three hearts when you’re only holding two of them in your hand,” Sandy said to Borden. He looked over at me, “Isn’t that right?”

“Umm…I don’t know. I’ve never played bridge.”

“Well, then, you can take my word on it, it’s just plain wrong.” His hand reached down absently to stroke Faith’s hindquarter. She wagged her tail in reply. “I’ll tell you this,” he said to Borden. “We would do much better as partners if you could remember some of the rules of the game.”

“It’s not my memory that was at fault, it was your playing,” Borden replied. “I had fourteen points and two aces. That’s an opening hand right there. Anyone would have jumped in my position.”

“Jumped maybe, but not in hearts. Why didn’t you bid your own suit?”

“Because I didn’t have a suit, so I figured we ought to go with yours. It was perfectly clear to me.”

“Clear as mud,” Sandy muttered. He pulled over a chair and sat down. “I went to game when we didn’t even have the majority of the cards in our own suit, and we went down in flames. Thanks, partner.”

“Anytime,” Borden said with a grin. “Don’t you mind, Sandy,” he told me. “He takes his games a little too seriously.”

“If you’re going to play,” Sandy grumbled, “play to win. No point in doing it any other way.”

“Here, here.” Mr. Beamish thumped a fist on the arm of his wheelchair. Startled, Faith lifted her head. Bracing her feet gently on either side of him, she hopped back down to the ground.

“I heard about you,” Sandy said to me as Faith came back to my side. “Borden said you were the one that gave him the news.”

“I guess I was.” I hoped that was a good thing.

“Thank you for that, then. There’s nothing worse than being coddled like we’re a bunch of old fogies who wouldn’t know how to handle the truth. At least now we know what we’re up against. This way we can be on the lookout.”

“For what?”

“You know, a killer.” Sandy’s voice dropped to a confidential tone. “A murderer among us, so to speak.”

I must have gone slightly pale, because Borden clapped a hand heartily onto my shoulder. “Now, Melanie, don’t you pay any attention to old Sandy there. He’s always had a flair for the dramatic. None of us has any intention of hunting down any murderers.”

“Good,” I said faintly.

“Speak for yourself, you big chicken,” Sandy snapped, and Mr. Beamish began to laugh.

“Now, Harry.” Borden looked wounded. “You wouldn’t be laughing at me, would you?”

“I’m laughing at the whole lot of you,” said Harry Beamish. “It looks to me like the only one around here with any sense is that big black Poodle.” He glanced at me and added, “No offense, miss.”

“None taken. But since we’re already on the subject, do the three of you mind if I ask a question?”

“About Mary, you mean?”

“What else would she mean?” Sandy inquired tartly. “That’s what we’ve been talking about, isn’t it?”

“We don’t mind,” said Harry. “You go ahead and ask.”

I paused for a moment and glanced around. The majority of the residents and staff in the room were occupied with other members of the obedience club. Molly hadn’t returned yet, and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to us.

“I guess the three of you probably knew Mary pretty well,” I said.

“Some better than others.” Sandy offered a broad wink.

Borden reached over and slapped him on the knee. “Cut that out! The lady is trying to ask a simple question here. No sense in your clouding things up with all sorts of gossip and innuendo.”

Actually, gossip was exactly what I was looking for. That and a little insight into how things really worked at Winston Pumpernill. According to Madeline, Sandy was the man who regularly had his forbidden cigars smuggled into the nursing home. I wondered how much he’d be willing to admit about the route his contraband supplies traveled.

“Did any of you ever hear Mary talk about her son, Michael?” I asked.

The three of them shared a glance.

“Only recently,” Sandy said after a pause. “And then not very much. Why?”

“I know he’d just arrived back in Greenwich after a long absence. I heard he was anxious to see his mother, and that she was equally anxious to see him.”

Borden hung his head; he looked down at the hands that he’d clasped in his lap. “Her family was against it,” he said quietly. “Didn’t even want her to know he was here. We didn’t think that was right.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t,” I agreed. “I only met Mary once, but she seemed quite capable of making her own decisions.”

“That’s what we thought,” Harry piped up. “When she got word that he was around and nobody had let her know, she was pretty upset. And let me tell you, she had every right to be.”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you about,” I said. “I know the family tried to keep the news from her. So how did Mary find out that Michael was here?”

“That part’s easy,” Sandy said with a sly grin. “You know the old expression, “Money talks”? Well, that’s just as true here as it is everywhere else. When you want access to something badly enough, a means can be found to obtain it.”

“Like your cigars,” I said.

Sandy frowned at Borden. “Tattletale.”

“Right,” Borden snorted. “As if you can keep a secret.”

Sandy leaned toward me and said in a low voice, “Only reason Borden doesn’t blurt out everything he knows is because he forgets most of it the minute after he learns it.”