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Daryl called after them from the porch. “Hey, Lindy, if you got to shoot him make damn sure you got the money first.”
“Well, if she shot me, she could take all my money since I’d hardly be in a position to object,” Horatio said helpfully.
“Hey, that’s right,” Daryl agreed excitedly. “Baby, you listening to this?”
Horatio held up a cautionary hand. “But then she’d have to spend the rest of her life in prison for murder and armed robbery. In fact, in good old Tennessee that might just get you the death penalty. And that might apply to accessories before the fact. I hope you recognize your role.”
Daryl simply stared at him, his mind unable to form a response.
Horatio turned to Linda Sue. “Make sure you don’t shoot yourself.”
“I’ve got the damn safety thingy on,” she snapped.
“That’d be quite a feat, since revolvers don’t have safeties.”
“Oh,” Linda Sue said.
“Yeah, oh.”
CHAPTER
32
THE NURSING HOME was about an hour’s drive away. When he walked into the facility, the odor of human urine and feces hit Horatio like a sledgehammer. He’d been in these state-run places before treating people for depression. Hell, who wouldn’t be depressed having to spend their Golden Years in a festering dump like this? Old folks were stacked like packing crates in their wheelchairs and walkers up against the wall. From down the hall the sounds of canned laughter from a TV floated to Horatio and Linda Sue as they headed to the reception area. The laugh track was insufficient to cover the moans and groans coming from the Greatest Generation abandoned in this stench-filled pile of concrete and crushed hopes.
Linda Sue moved steadfastly ahead, somehow ignoring the human misery on all sides of her.
Two minutes later they were in Granny’s room, a semiprivate ten-by-ten with its own TV that didn’t appear to be working. Granny’s roommate was out but Granny herself was sitting in a chair in a checkered housecoat, red, swollen feet bursting forth from her tattered slippers. Her gray hair, what was left of it, was flattened under a net. Her face was saggy and lined, her teeth yellowed and worn down in many places. Yet her eyes were clear and steady. They moved from Linda Sue to Horatio and then back to her granddaughter.
“Haven’t seen you for a while, Lindy,” Granny said in a mellow southern accent.
Lindy Sue looked extremely put out by this comment. “Been busy, got kids to raise and a man to keep happy.”
“Which man might that be? The one just out of prison or the one headed to prison?”
Horatio had to stifle a chuckle. Old Granny was clearly not suffering from dementia.
“This here feller,” Lindy said, pointing at Horatio. “He wants to know some stuff ’bout folks that used to live in the neighborhood while you were still there.”
Granny’s gaze swiveled around to rest on Horatio. There was intrigue in those old eyes, he could see. Probably she would welcome anything to get her mind off this place.
“I’m Horatio Barnes,” he began, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for your time.”
“Hazel Rose,” she replied. “Time is the only thing I got plenty of in this place. Now who do you want to know about?”
He told her about the Maxwells.
She nodded. “I remember them, sure. Frank Maxwell cut quite a figure in his uniform. And those boys they had; big, good-looking fellows they all were.”
“And the daughter, Michelle? Do you remember her?”
“I do. Now why don’t you tell me why you want to know all this?”
“You’ll probably find it very boring.”
“I doubt it could compete with this place in the boredom department, so please go ahead and humor an old woman.”
“I’ve been engaged by the family to find out something. Something that happened when Michelle was around six. That would have been about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago.”
