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“We wasted the black-and-white’s night watching the wrong house,” she grumbled. “Motherfucking Roxanne.”
“At least we know where she’s not,” Connor said mildly, tapping something into his phone.
A woman’s voice proclaimed, “Starting route to Starbucks.”
“I think you need caffeine as much as Mr. Blanchard did,” Connor said. “How much sleep did you get last night? You know how cranky you get without sleep.”
Kit narrowed her eyes at him. “I was going to apologize for being cranky until you called me cranky.”
“If the shoe fits,” Connor said cheerfully, starting the car. “So Roxanne isn’t here, she lied, and we don’t know where she is. Let’s get coffee and regroup.”
Kit sighed. He was right. She was cranky and it wasn’t fair to take it out on him. “I’ve got the list of places Roxanne worked at over the last five years. Last night, I checked for reports of lost or stolen items at all of them. I called two of the places who’d reported thefts on my way into the station, but I had to leave messages at both. And then I got the call from Janice Lenski saying that Roxanne hadn’t shown up for her shift this morning.”
Roxanne’s shift had started at seven. When she hadn’t shown up by eight, Lenski had started calling the traveling nurse to find out if she was okay. But when she hadn’t reached Roxanne by nine, Lenski had called Kit. Which had prompted them to go to Roxanne’s home to bring her in for questioning. Kit had expected Roxanne to have run, but not to have never been there at all.
“What was reported stolen at the two retirement homes you called?” Connor asked.
“One was a small painting. The family found that it was missing after the resident of the assisted living center passed away. None of the relatives had been to visit in quite some time, so they had no idea when the painting disappeared. They accused the staff, but the investigation showed no leads.”
“How long had Roxanne been gone from the facility?”
“Eighteen months.”
Connor frowned. “The family had no contact with the old guy for eighteen months?”
“Old lady,” Kit corrected, “and no, nobody had visited in that long.” Which was incredibly sad. “The painting had been appraised at nearly a hundred thousand dollars. It hasn’t turned up in any legit auctions. I passed it and all the others I found on to Goddard. Hopefully his crew can find some online breadcrumbs to follow.”
“And the other retirement home you called?”
“A man, early seventies. Family visited once a month since they lived out of state. He and his wife had moved into the continuing care facility when she began losing mobility to rheumatoid arthritis. He owned a diamond-and-emerald-studded brooch made in the 1920s, valued at over twenty-five grand. Roxanne had moved on from the facility a full year before it was reported missing after the man died. The family was stunned because it was an heirloom that their father treasured. He had to have noticed it was missing.”
“That is weird. How many total theft reports did you find?”
“Six,” Kit said. “I wonder how many others were never reported?”
“Or reported outside of California,” Connor said thoughtfully. “Can the traveling nurses cross state lines?”
“Good point. I don’t know. Let’s find out.” Kit googled it. “They have to be licensed in every state. There’s a consortium that accepts licenses from different states, but California, Oregon, Washington, and Nevada don’t participate. Neither do Alaska, Hawaii, Minnesota, or Connecticut. Others are pending, but those states would be the ones she’d need an individual license to work in.”
Connor turned when his phone told him to, bringing the coffee shop into view. “At least the consortium cuts down a lot of checking. We can split the work and get a scope of this woman’s scheme.” He shook his head. “Stealing from old people is really low.”
Kit thought of Benny. She’d never met him, but she had the impression of a kind, good-hearted soul. Not just a victim of the nurse’s greed.
“I wonder what exactly Benny knew that caused Roxanne to kill him?” she wondered as Connor guided the sedan into the drive-through. “It must have had something to do with the fight he and Frankie had before they died.”
“Sad that they both died while still angry with their best friend,” Connor said quietly. “Maybe Frankie warned him and Benny didn’t believe him. Or didn’t want to, anyway.”
“But when Benny saw the knife in Frankie’s chest, he was forced to believe him. Sam talked to him that day. Said Benny was confused but insistent that Frankie’s death was his fault. That he should have listened. He said that Frankie was wrong, but then he was right, so the theory that seeing Frankie dead made Benny believe him rings true. You talked to him that first day before I arrived. Did you see any kind of guilt or regret?”
“I wasn’t looking for it. I was just trying to keep him quiet and not throwing punches at…” He sighed. “At Roxanne. He was so frail, but he got a few good hits in before she calmed him down.”
“How? How could she have calmed him down on Monday if Benny knew what she’d done?”
Connor placed their order, rolled up his window, then turned to her. “Maybe Benny didn’t know that she’d done it. Everyone said how good Roxanne was with him. Who knows what she was whispering into his ear? If you know what I mean.”
Kit made a face. “You’re suggesting that Roxanne used sex to get Benny to cooperate?”
“He was old, Kit,” Connor said wryly. “Not dead at that point. It could have even been simple companionship. He’d been lonely since his wife died. Friends like Georgia and Eloise are different than a woman whispering sweet nothings into his ear.”
