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“An antique store?” she asked. “Where was this?”
“San Francisco.”
“Thank you. Do you know who his friends here were?”
That was an easy question, because Frankie hadn’t had that many real friends. “Benjamin Dreyfus and Georgia Shearer. They were his main companions. He didn’t socialize much. He seemed to be grumpy, but he really just liked to be alone.”
Connor Robinson spoke up for the first time. “I have Mr. Dreyfus and Ms. Shearer set up in the visitation rooms, Kit. We should be getting back to them. Mr. Dreyfus didn’t look well.”
Sam didn’t expect that Benny would be handling this well. “Benny’s health is fragile. Physically and mentally.” He hesitated, wanting to warn them so that they’d be careful with Benny but uncomfortable sharing the man’s personal information.
Kit leaned in, lowering her voice. “What is it? You look like you want to tell us something.”
“Just…be gentle with him. Like I said, he’s fragile, and any murder would have upset him. Frankie’s murder will devastate him.”
“They were close?” Connor asked.
“Best friends. They’re related by marriage. Ryan was the brother of Benny’s late wife, Martha. Benny and Frankie have been friends for decades.”
“We’ll be careful,” Kit promised. It was her turn to hesitate, and Sam wondered what was going through her very intelligent brain. But she only smiled—her professional smile, not the real one that had made him feel ten feet tall, and he felt the loss. “Thank you, Dr. Reeves. We’ll be sure to contact you if we have any questions.”
And then she walked away from him. Again. It should have hurt more than it did, but Sam was already hurting over Frankie. Maybe her dismissal would hurt later.
Connor stood out of the way as she started down the hallway toward the family visitation rooms, turning to Sam with an expression of regret. “I’m really sorry about the loss of your friend. I’ll be in touch soon.” He gave him a nod then followed his partner, leaving Sam standing alone.
A feeling he’d gotten used to.
With a sigh, he headed back to the piano to gather his things, but was stopped by a tiny, electric-blue-haired lady pushing her blinged-out walker. Her normally jubilant smile was absent, her heavy makeup tear-streaked.
“Will you come back, Dr. Sam? Before next month? We’re gonna need you here.”
“Of course, Miss Eloise,” he said gently. “I’ll try to come back tomorrow, if Miss Evans says it’s okay.” The director most likely would ask him before he inquired. Sam had been around even longer than she had and knew all the residents well.
“Thank you,” Eloise said, her eyes filling with tears. “Who would do such a thing, Sammy? Frankie was kind of a jerk, but he didn’t need killing.”
“Miss Eloise. Just because he reported you for cheating at cribbage doesn’t mean he was a jerk. You were cheating.”
She made a pouty face. “Nobody else even noticed. I’m that good.”
“At cheating or at cribbage?” Sam said, his lips curving.
“Both, Sammy. Both. Frankie was here even longer than me.” Her tears returned. “Now Benny and I are the old-timers here.”
Sam gathered her in a gentle hug. “I’m awfully glad you’re here.”
“Will they catch who did it?”
He let her go, lifting her chin with his fingertip. “Did you see the lady I was just talking to? She’s Detective McKittrick and she works homicides. She’s very, very good, and if anyone can find Frankie’s killer, she can. You can take that to the bank, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Sammy. You’re a good boy.”
“I try.”
He’d gathered his belongings and was signing out at the front desk when Shady Oaks’s director, Faye Evans, hurried out of her office. She lifted her hand, delaying his exit.
“Dr. Reeves? Can I have a moment?”
“Just one. I have to get back for appointments.”
