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Didn’t have to be the same doer. But it most likely was.
Kit filled the glass with water and pressed it into Georgia’s hand. “Sip it.” Then she scooped Marmaduke from the sofa and placed him on Georgia’s lap. The dog snuggled up close, Georgia’s hand shaking as she petted him.
Georgia stared up at Kit, her eyes filled with horror. “Who could have done this?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to find out.”
Chapter Eight
Shady Oaks Retirement Village
Scripps Ranch, San Diego, California
Tuesday, November 8, 12:15 p.m.
Kit stood against Georgia’s living room wall. Next to her was Miss Evans, who’d been wringing her hands since she’d arrived.
“This is terrible,” Evans whispered. Again. The words seemed to be the only ones the woman was capable of uttering at the moment.
Georgia sat at her dinette table, Marmaduke still cuddled in her lap. Nurse Roxanne had responded to the call for help, her manner calm and efficient despite her slightly swollen eyes. She’d apologized as she’d wiped away tears, saying that she’d only just heard about Benny Dreyfus’s passing.
The man had been loved by everyone, it seemed. So far, the staff Kit had dealt with had reacted in a sadly resigned way. They’d expected his death for some time. That it had happened so close to the murder of Mr. Flynn had many of them shaken, but Mr. Dreyfus’s death seemed to be the type that they were all used to.
Kit felt a twinge of doubt at requesting an autopsy but didn’t change her mind. If his blood tests were clear, she’d release his body to the family for his burial. She really wanted to believe the man had passed peacefully in his sleep, but something hinky was going on at Shady Oaks, and if Mr. Dreyfus’s death had been due to foul play, she wanted the perpetrator punished.
“Your vitals are all good, Miss Georgia,” the nurse said, patting the elderly woman’s arm. “Hey, Marmaduke,” she added, giving the Chihuahua a scratch under his graying, grizzled chin. “Miss Georgia, Dr. Tidwell ordered anti-anxiety medication. Do you want one?”
Georgia looked at the space where her knife block had been. It was empty now, CSU having picked it up. Shuddering, Georgia nodded.
Kit leaned closer to Miss Evans as the nurse gently led Georgia to her room. “I’ll need to know who had access to Miss Shearer’s room.”
“Of course,” the director murmured. “Anyone with a master key. I’ll get you a list.”
“Today,” Kit insisted. Miss Evans had promised this yesterday but hadn’t yet delivered.
“Of course,” Evans repeated. “I’m sorry, Detective. I’ve been…scattered.”
“I also need the duty rosters for the last week. Including any last-minute changes.”
Miss Evans expression became frosty. “My staff had nothing to do with Mr. Flynn’s death.”
Kent Crawford was part of your staff, ma’am. And their deaths were connected. Kit was sure of it.
“Just following procedure, ma’am. We’ll be able to conclude our investigation faster with your cooperation.”
The woman nodded stiffly. “Yes, Detective.”
The nurse emerged from Georgia’s bedroom, closing the door with a weary sigh. She crossed the room, stopping in front of Miss Evans.
“She’ll rest now,” the nurse said. “She’s badly shaken, what with Mr. Benny’s death and now this knife business. But she’s a strong woman. She’ll be okay.”
Kit hoped so. She was starting to like Georgia Shearer. She’s who I’d like to be in fifty years.
“Nurse Roxanne, yes?” Kit said. “I’m Detective McKittrick. Can you give me a few moments of your time?”
Roxanne’s lips thinned. “I wish we’d had a few minutes of your time yesterday. I was with Mr. Benny while he waited for you to get around to interrogating him. He was distraught and confused. You just left him there to suffer.”
Kit blinked, taken aback at the woman’s overt hostility. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t aware that Mr. Dreyfus had a heart condition that needed special care. And we weren’t going to interrogate him. We were going to interview him. There’s a difference.”
