Part 28 (2/2)

”And next week we'll ask the board to approve the cla.s.ses she proposed for the nurses and attendants, to train how to give hand and foot ma.s.sages to those residents who request them.”

”I'll tell her.”

It was dark by the time I'd pulled into the parking lot, and Tootie hadn't turned on a light in her room. I didn't want to wake her.

”Tootie?” I called softly from the doorway.

A rustle, then a soft voice out of the darkness. ”Yes?”

”It's Sophie Mae.” I put the box on the floor and walked in, using the light from the corridor to find the lamp I remembered from before, fumbling for the switch for a moment before turning it on.

She had plummeted downhill, far more than I'd gathered from Ann. She looked out at me from dull sunken eyes, her unbraided hair spilled across the pillow in a snarled ma.s.s. At only a few minutes after six in the evening, I didn't think she'd gone to bed early. She'd never bothered to get up. Someone had turned the thermostat too high. The stuffy room smelled of dust... and I realized with a start that I could smell Tootie herself.

”Good G.o.d,” I said, and marched out to the reception desk.

”What's going on? She hasn't even had a bath lately.”

Ann nodded. ”I know. We've tried. She fights us. It's the only time she shows any animation at all now. At some point the doctor will prescribe tranquilizers just so we can clean her up.”

I stared at her. ”Drug her? To give her a bath? That's barbaric.”

Ann looked apologetic. ”So is the alternative.”

Shaking my head, I went back to Tootie's room. Pausing in the doorway, I studied her. Her eyes were open, but she was staring at the ceiling.

”You have to stop this,” I said.

Silence, then finally a little sigh.

”You have to stop this pity party of yours ”

She blinked.

I took a deep breath, crossed my fingers, and followed my instinct. ”Walter's death had nothing to do with whatever feud you two had going on, and nothing to do with anything you ever said to him. In fact, he must have taken some of what you said to heart, because after spending so long mentally crippled by losing his wife and son, he put that aside and got on with living. He kicked the booze. He fell in love with a woman named Deborah Silverman and asked her to marry him. He helped hundreds of kids-maybe more-with money he won from the lottery and donated. Even dead he's helping people. He was a good man. And you know what else? He was pretty darn strong after all. You had a lot to do with that. He was his mother's son. He didn't commit suicide, Tootie. Someone killed him. The police are investigating it as a suspicious death as we speak.”

She turned her head, and her eyes met mine. At least I had her attention now, though her face remained expressionless.

”I have something to show you. Will you at least sit up in bed long enough for that?”

Nothing. Then a light s.h.i.+ft under the covers. A deep breath, and she moved again. I went over and helped her sit up, then plumped her pillows, and a.s.sisted as she settled back into a more upright position.

She glared at me as I went and got the box. Good. Better anger than nothing. I unloaded the framed photos, one by one, setting them on the coverlet.

”These are from Walter's house, what I managed to get out before it burned down. This one is of you, isn't it?”

She glanced at the picture I held, of Tootie in her youth, standing in a s.h.i.+rtwaist dress in front of a house, and looked away.

Putting down that photo, I picked up another one. ”What about this one?” I'd selected the one of Walter as a little boy, giggling open-mouthed as a beagle puppy lapped at his chin. Hallmark would have snapped it up in a second.

Her eyes flickered to me, and her hand crept out from under the covers. She took the picture from me, considering it for several moments. Then she drew it to her chest.

”I'll keep this,” she said.

”Tootie,” I said, exasperated. ”You can keep all of them.”

She shook her head. ”I don't want all of them. I only want this one.

”Well, what about his stuff?” I took out the Bible and the chicken bank. She shook her head.

”There are other pictures,” I said.

”I only want this one.”

I regarded her for a few moments, and her eyes sparked in rebellion. She'd shown the most animation when the Caladia Acres staff had tried to make her do something she didn't want to do. There was life in the old girl yet. Just had to find the right b.u.t.tons to push.

”I'd like you to look at one more thing. Well, two, actually.”

She turned her face to the wall. It was like dealing with a stubborn six-year-old.

I stood up, started putting the pictures back in the carton. ”No? Okay. Probably just as well. You wouldn't remember who the people were anyway. It was a long time ago. And Mrs. Gray has told us most of what we need to know. You know Mrs. Gray-Walter's landlady? Oh, she said you'd know her as Mavis Smart. Anyway, she's told the police enough, I suppose, though it's too bad we can't find out for sure who's in these pictures, since it would probably help find Walter's killer. But I wouldn't want to bother you, Tootie...”

My words had spilled out as I got ready to leave, and I hadn't tried to be tactful. Tact wasn't working with Tootie, and it couldn't hurt to try and startle her out of her funk. But still, I was unprepared for her reaction.

She hissed.

I whirled in surprise. Tootie Hanover's eyes blazed at me. I controlled the urge to smile.

”So am Ito take it you do want to help?” I asked, feeling smug.

”Walter rented from Mavis Smart? Is that who I talked to on the phone that day you went through his things?”

”Um, yeah. Why?”

She barely breathed the words: ”That wh.o.r.e.”

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