Valerie Wolzien - Death In Duplicate

“You think the person who stole things was-is-an addict, someone who worked here and has now left,” Susan guessed.

“Got it in one. And so did I,” she added, fitting another piece of the puzzle into its place.

“Do you know the identity of the person?”

“Yes. Mike Armstrong. Nice young kid. Not that we see many kids here, nice or not nice. But I liked Mike and he’s sort of family here. He was in trouble with the law while he was in high school-graffiti. I don’t approve of vandalism, of course, but he definitely has real artistic talent. Not that talent will make any difference if he gets involved in drugs.”

“And was he?”

“I don’t know. He might have been. I noticed that his eyes were red on more than one occasion. I do know that he was very, very upset the day before he vanished.”

“And when was that? After the murders?”

“The day after the last one. I’m not telling this story very well, am I?”

Susan didn’t want to criticize. “Well…,” she began reluctantly.

“You don’t have to tell me. I know I’m not. My mind is not as sharp as it was, and there are days when I’m confused. Time goes so slowly here and, despite the inane decorations they’re always taping up on the walls, it is not always easy to tell one season from another. But I remember this… I remember the day Mike Armstrong left. And the circumstances.”

Susan sat and quietly waited for Sally to put her thoughts in order and begin her tale.

“We were all upset about the murders. Death is all too familiar to those of us who live with other elderly people. But unnatural death, death intentionally caused by another human being-well, that’s different, isn’t it? We were all on edge.”

“Thinking you might be the next to die?” Susan asked.

“I don’t know about everyone else, but that didn’t concern me much. I wanted-I want now-to know who was killing the other residents, but murder is not the way I expect my life to end.”

Susan thought that was probably true of most victims of murder, but she didn’t interrupt.

“But some residents and staff were very upset, and Mike was among them. I was surprised by his reaction. I mean, a lot of old people get weird and paranoid and of course the murders upset them a lot. But Mike always impressed me as being a pretty tough kid-self-sufficient, streetwise. I didn’t expect the murders to have quite such an effect on him.”

“What had happened?”

“He was a wreck-nervous, on edge. I swear, he looked as though he was going to cry.”

“What did he do here exactly? What was his job?”

“He was an aide, a health care assistant. He helped out in any way he was asked to-feeding residents, helping the male residents get in and out of bed, things like that.”

“Was he good at it?”

Sally smiled. “Sometimes. He was wonderful working with the people he liked, residents as well as staff. But he wore his heart on his sleeve and if he didn’t like someone, they knew it. So he wasn’t always the most popular of the staff, but he did what he was supposed to do even if he didn’t always have a smile on his face.

“But as I said, the murders upset him. At first I thought he was shocked-this was his first job working in a nursing home and he just wasn’t used to people dying. It sounds callous, but if every time a resident died the staff became distressed, things would be much more difficult around here.”

“But murder…”

“Of course we were all upset by the thought that there was a killer among us, but Mike more so than normal-if there is a normal in an abnormal situation…” She stopped speaking and frowned.

“You were going to tell me about the day before he vanished,” Susan reminded her.

“Sorry. It’s so easy to get lost-there is little logic to my train of thought these days, I find. I was telling you about Mike stealing things.”

“He did? Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure. I actually saw him. He was cleaning up after one of our hideous art therapy sessions. The teacher who comes in to help us explore our artistic capabilities-that’s what she calls it; I’d say make messes-had removed her watch while she demonstrated painting on silk. Mike was cleaning up the room after the class had ended. He just slipped it into his jeans pocket. I was walking by and happened to see him.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

“I certainly did! I told him to put it right back and he said that he hadn’t been going to keep it. Of course, he was lying, but I knew a lecture about the virtues of honesty wouldn’t change him. I’m over ninety years old and I’ve never known anyone to change their life because someone lectured them about it.”

“And did he give it back?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t take other things and get away with it.”

“No, of course not. But you were telling me about the day before he left,” Susan said.

“He was upset-well, I told you that didn’t I?-and he came into my room late in the afternoon and said that he was being accused of things that weren’t true and he wasn’t going to put up with it. He was angry and I thought for a moment that he was talking about me. I explained that I hadn’t told anyone about what I’d seen and he laughed. He said that if I’d seen what he’d seen, I’d be dead from the shock.”

“Did you ask him what he was talking about?”

“Yes, of course. And he answered with one word. Murder.”

“And?”

“That’s all-murder. And then he turned and left my room and I never saw him again. The next morning the police were around asking about him. They never found him, though. Two or three days later his cousin quit her job and left P.I.C.C. as well.”

“His cousin?”

“Oh, yes, she worked here too. She’s a nurse. Her name isn’t Armstrong though. It’s Tapley. Shannon Tapley.”

SUSAN’S CELL PHONE RANG AS SHE CROSSED THE SOUND. Scrounging around in her large Coach bag, she managed to find the phone and answer before the caller hung up. It turned out to be Kathleen, who knew Susan’s penchant for misplacing her phone in the massive purses she preferred.

“Kathleen, you’ll never believe what I found out!” Susan said.

“I could say the same thing.” Kathleen’s answer was as clear as a bell.

Susan frowned. Just her luck-her new phone’s reception was best in the middle of the water. “Mike Armstrong is Shannon Tapley’s cousin.”

“Who is Mike Armstrong?”

“A young man who worked at the nursing home and my guess is that right now he’s a major suspect in the murders at P.I.C.C.”

“And he hasn’t been arrested?”

“Apparently no one knows where he is.”

“Not even his cousin?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you going to ask her about him?”

“I guess… Why are you calling?”

“Because I have some information I thought you might be interested in.”

“What?”

“Nadine and Donald were having marital problems-before his mother put him in charge of her company’s branch office and he bought the house next door to you.”

“You’re kidding! Where did you hear that?”

“At the office of Blaine Baines Executive Homes and Estates right here in Hancock.”

“Who told you? Who? Kath? Kathleen, I’m losing you… Damn.” Susan flipped her phone shut and reached out for the key in the ignition. As the ferry bumped gently into the dock, she started her car, and drove onto the mainland.

The days were getting longer, but it was dusk when Susan entered her house to the sound of babies screaming, dogs barking, and the phone ringing. Clue forgot all her obedience training and leapt all over Susan. “Down, Clue,” she ordered, smiling and roughing up the fur around her dog’s neck. “Let me get the phone.” She decided to deal with the simplest problem first.