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Roxanne swallowed. “I know and I’m sorry for being rude. But Mr. Benny’s last hours were not peaceful. He was so upset yesterday and he never really snapped back.”
Kit frowned. “Miss Shearer was under the impression that he had spoken normally once he’d woken up. No slurring or lost memory.”
Roxanne’s smile was wistful. “That’s true, but he wasn’t himself. He was so upset about Mr. Frankie. Kept saying that it was all his fault. He was calmer when he woke up, for sure, but he wasn’t the same.”
“Why do you think he thought it was his fault?”
Roxanne narrowed her eyes. “You’re not suggesting that Mr. Benny killed Mr. Frankie.”
“No. Not at all.” Kit was certain of that, if nothing else. “But he must have known something or felt like he did. Did he say anything yesterday while you were waiting for us?”
Roxanne shook her head regretfully. “No, Detective. I think he believed that if he’d been there, Mr. Frankie would be alive. I don’t know how, but guilt doesn’t always make sense.”
Kit wanted to sigh. She might never find out what Mr. Dreyfus had meant. “When did you last talk to Mr. Dreyfus?”
“Around ten last night. I got him settled in his own bed and sat with him, monitoring his vitals until he went to sleep and my relief came on duty. I’d worked more than a full shift and we were still short staffed, so I crashed in the staff quarters. I think I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was back on duty again at seven this morning.”
“Did you check on Mr. Dreyfus this morning?”
“No. Nurse Trudy was on duty last night. I don’t know if she stayed with him the whole time, but I doubt it.”
“She didn’t,” Miss Evans said. “We checked on him during the night, but like Nurse Roxanne said, we were short staffed. I had to rearrange schedules yesterday.”
Kit nodded. “I remember you saying that. Is Nurse Trudy still on duty?”
Miss Evans nodded. “She is. She’s downstairs, checking on our assisted living residents today. I’ll tell her that you wish to speak with her. Roxanne, can you cover for Trudy?”
“Of course.” Roxanne smoothed a hand over her hair, a vibrant mahogany color. “Please let me know if I can be of any additional assistance, Detective. I haven’t been here long, but I’d grown fond of both Mr. Frankie and Mr. Benny. Their passing will leave a hole in the fabric of this place, for sure.”
Kit turned to Miss Evans once Roxanne had left the apartment. “How long has she been with you?”
Because Evans hadn’t given them the employee roster, either. Evans hadn’t actually given them anything that they’d asked for.
“She was assigned here for twelve weeks. She’s a traveling nurse and we have her here for the rest of the week. Friday is her last day. I’ve offered to hire her full time because she’s very good and we have a vacancy to fill, since one of our nurses retired recently. Roxanne told me today that she’d been considering my offer, but that the recent ‘drama’ here has caused her to decline.”
“I’m going to check in with Nurse Trudy, and then I’d like to speak with your IT guy. Archie Adler. Is he here today?”
“Not at the moment. I can call him in, if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary. You said he’s a college student during the day? We’ll find him.” She’d bring him in to the station to chat, because along with Crawford, he was the one with the most access and the most understanding of what had been described as an overly complicated system.
But first, she’d ask CSU what they’d learned from the Shady Oaks server so far. Hopefully they’d found something, because their list of questions was growing, but they had no answers.
Once she talked to CSU, she was going to interview all the nurses who’d had contact with Mr. Dreyfus. Roxanne and Trudy were her priorities. She wanted to find out who was on duty at what times, though.
There were too many puzzle pieces floating around. She needed to either put them together or eliminate them.
She’d made it out into the hall when someone called her name. It was Vanessa, Mr. Dreyfus’s granddaughter. The woman wore a scowl and Kit prepared herself for another diatribe about her grandfather’s autopsy.
“Yes, ma’am,” Kit said politely. “How can I help you?”
“Can you come with me, please?”
Kit followed Vanessa into Mr. Dreyfus’s apartment warily. Carla, Mr. Dreyfus’s daughter, sat on the sofa in front of an open cabinet, her expression full of both dread and rage. “What’s happened?”
Carla pointed to the cabinet. “My father’s coin collection is missing.”
Kit peered into the cabinet, which was actually a very large—and empty—safe. “What exactly is missing?”
