Deadly Traditions, page 13
“Of course. I'm going to finish my rounds, but if you need anything, just hit the call button next to the bed.”
Myra left the door slightly ajar as she departed. The subdued sounds of trumpets from the “March of the Toy Soldiers” filtered in from the hall. I waited a few beats to see if Orville might stir before calling the restaurant.
“Hey, Marn.” A dining room full of voices raised together singing “Let It Snow” made it difficult to hear my waitress-turned-acting-manager. “A warning of an incoming stampede would have been appreciated.”
“Agreed, Piper. Sorry about that. I just heard about it myself.” I grimaced. “I stopped by the hospital to check on Orville and only just found out everyone headed there after the Exchange.”
“Well, don’t worry about us. Allie, Damon, Luis and I got it under control. Although we’re low on cocoa mix now, as the crowd has decided that’s the drink of the hour.” Her control of the situation didn’t surprise me. The eighteen-year-old could run that place in her sleep. “Some licorice cookie won, by the way. They just tallied the votes here. People can’t stop talking about it.” I smiled to myself, thinking of Pru’s last-minute entry that morning. My only regret was not getting to taste her unusual concoction myself.
“Did Ken make it there?”
“Yeah, everyone was beside themselves with worry until he showed up and announced Orville was finer than fine, and the whole thing was just a scare.”
I stared at the frail recuperating body in bed and couldn’t reconcile it with the image Ken had painted for everyone else. That was typical Ken, though. Keep everyone calm.
A few raised voices sounded from the hallway outside Orville’s door. With a promise to check in later, I hung up with Piper and moved to close the door so as not to disturb the patient.
“That’s cute, but I’m gonna need to speak to an actual doctor.” I recognized Greg’s voice before I saw him. My eyes peered through the crack into the hallway. He stood, one hand on his hip, talking down to Myra.
“Sir, we have a protocol for this kind of thing.” Myra pushed back.
“But I’m Orville’s next of kin. His only kin, for that matter.”
“Rules are rules,” Myrna shrugged. “The hospital will need you to submit a notarized affidavit recognizing you as next-of-kin to weigh in on medical decisions. It’s standard practice. You are more than welcome to speak to the hospital’s lawyers.”
Greg stamped a foot into the ground and stared at her. “Yeah, you wanna talk about lawyers? You’ll be hearing from mine!” With that, he stormed off down the hallway. The nurse rolled her eyes and went back about her rounds.
For a guy who didn’t give a hoot about his uncle this morning, Greg was suddenly excessively concerned about his treatment. More specifically, Greg’s input into said treatment. And the more I thought about it, the more suspicious this behavior seemed. Orville had a reputation for being a bit gruff, but the people of Clear Springs still loved him. In fact, his nephew was the only person I ever knew to express outward hostility toward the man.
A toxin.
Was Greg hostile enough to try to kill his uncle? Even I realized that was a big leap. I dropped my head into my hands. To accuse a man of attempted murder, I’d need way more to go on than a bad attitude and self-righteous nature. But it was the only puzzle piece I could see.
“Oh, dear!” A frail voice interrupted my thoughts. I lifted my head to watch Prudence Harrington burst through the door. “Orville? I didn’t believe the nurses when they told me we admitted him. I just saw him at the cookie contest, and he was fine!”
“Pru.” I gave a weak smile to the pharmacist. “He took a turn during the judging, so we’re just awaiting some test results.” The older woman’s eyes drooped with concern. She was a little younger than Orville, but still well past retirement age. Though she was relatively new to Clear Springs, having only been the hospital’s pharmacist since the beginning of the year, she was devoted to her job and community. “In happier news, I hear your cookie won the Baker’s Choice Competition!”
“I can’t worry about cookies right now.” Pru waved me off and moved towards the room’s computer. One part of my brain wanted to ask how common it was for pharmacists to review patient records, while the other part reassured me that Pru had way more experience in medicine than I ever would.
“See anything interesting?”
“Well, they’ve taken the right steps and ordered blood tests. Results haven’t come back yet, and the lab might be slow with all the injuries from that highway pileup this morning.”
I sat in silence while she clicked away on the keyboard.
“He have a history of bloody noses?”
Even though I interacted with Orville every day, I didn’t know him that well. I shrugged.
“And when was his last checkup?” She leveled a stare in my direction.
“No clue, honestly.”
“I see.” Pru’s lips settled into a disappointed line. She turned back to her screen and continued clicking around. “Well, this is odd.”
“What are you seeing?”
The pharmacist sighed. “His chart lists different dosages for a few of the same medications. That might indicate his dosages have been recently switched around but, oh dear. This dosage of warfarin looks quite high. Perhaps it’s too high.”
I wanted to ask her to explain that all to me like I was five.
“Myra told me they found a few stray pills in Orville’s breast pocket when he came in. She was hoping I could help her identify them. It took me three seconds to recognize it as extra strength Excedrin. But looking at his chart, that could create a dangerous interaction with the blood thinner.”
“Dangerous interaction?” I felt like Charlie Brown listening to his teacher speak mumbo jumbo.
Pru shook her head and closed out of the screen. “Excessive bleeding, for one.”
“So this all looks to be one giant mistake?”
“I’m no doctor, dear. But that’s what I can interpret from his charts.”
My stomach twisted with guilt. What if this was all some unfortunate accident? At least I hadn’t spoken my theory about Greg out loud. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with the guy. In all my years working at The Pumphouse, I’d never seen the uncle and nephew share a meal. Why, all of a sudden, was he so interested in his uncle? Greg hadn’t even bothered to check in and see the man. He just argued with Myra then left.
The heart monitor continued its slow, steady beep. Orville hadn’t moved an inch since I’d arrived. The man was a creature of habit. Waking up in a strange place, thrown out of his day-to-day routine, would not go over well.
I waved to Pru. “I think I’ll swing by Orville’s house and grab a few things to keep him comfortable. Looks like nobody else will do that.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea. While you’re there, maybe look in his medicine cabinet and see if there aren’t any other medications we didn’t find in his report. That kind of info could be the key to this mystery.” The pharmacist put a soft hand to his blanketed leg and gave him a gentle pat.
“Pru, I won’t even know what I’m looking for. I know nothing about what drugs interact with others.”
She checked her watch. “Y’know, my shift is ending. Plus, this place cheated me out of a real lunch, anyway. How about I join you? Two brains are always better than one.”
Before we left, I asked Myra to keep an extra eye on him in case he woke up. Nobody deserves to wake up alone in a hospital bed. Not even grumpy old cookie monsters.
Chapter 3
I turned over the statue of a meditating frog.
A silver key, much smaller than your average house key, was taped to the bottom. Pru leaned over my shoulder for a closer look.
“Well, that certainly ain’t it.”
Leave it to Orville to contrive a complicated riddle for breaking into his own house. I freed the key from the adhesive then held it up to the lock on his front door. Definitely too small. But the actual hide-a-key couldn’t be far off.
“There has to be something around here.” My eyes searched every nook and cranny of his front porch, looking for the logical next step. “A-ha!”
Stashed behind a snow-covered wicker chair was a small rusty lockbox. I held the key up to the lock and gauged its size to be a perfect match. Without waiting, I shoved it in the lock and twisted, hoping to find our answer inside.
“It in there?” Pru called, still holding the frog statue in her hands.
I peered inside and frowned. There was no key, only a folded slip of paper with a few words scribbled on it in black ink.
Beneath the other frog.
The other frog? Since when did Orville have such a thing for frogs? And what was with the complicated scavenger hunt?
“Do you see another frog around here?”
Pru searched one side of the porch while I scanned the other. Just when I was about to give up and call it a loss, two globular eyes peaked up at me from the accumulated snow. Frog eyes. I dusted the powder away and pulled the shocked looking statue from its burial spot.
“I really hope that’s it. I’m startin’ to freeze out here.” Pru crossed her arms and rubbed them with the opposite hands. “Plus, I gotta be gettin’ home while there’s still daylight.”
Sure enough, taped to the bottom of the second figurine was a normal-looking house key. Only a paranoid person with memory problems would think to construct this. And Orville was definitely paranoid. But his memory was intact.
Wasn’t it? Suddenly, the idea of him mixing up his medications didn’t seem too far outside the realm of possibility.
My body relaxed when the lock clicked and the door slowly fell open. Pru stepped inside first and I followed. We both stopped dead in our tracks to process what greeted us.
“I have no words.” Pru gulped, unable to peel her eyes from the floor-to-ceiling stacks of newspapers, file folders, piles of clothes, and heaven knows what else that took up ninety percent of the livable space.
“His wife passed a long time back.” My chest and throat tightened thinking of him rotting away in here all alone, day in, day out. For as particular a person as Orville was, I’d always assumed his house would be spotless. But this looked closer to an episode of Hoarders.
“What a shame,” Pru murmured, still overwhelmed by the sheer volume of stuff.
A faint jingle sounded from a distant room but grew nearer with each passing second. Moments later, a cylindrical mass of white and orange fur rounded the corner and waddled toward us.
“Who the heck are you?” I kneeled down to greet the pudgy corgi with some scratches behind the ears. A shiny blue name tag dangled from the collar. “Ralphie. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ralphie. I hadn’t the faintest clue Orville had a dog!”
The eager creature panted and searched my face with urgent eyes.
“Poor baby’s probably starving! Orville hasn’t been home all day!” Pru threw open a nearby closet in search of the kibble.
“You need to go out, boy?”
He panted a response but didn’t move toward the door.
My partner in crime and I regrouped in the main foyer once the dog had settled. “You’re the brains of this operation, so you hit the medicine cabinet and I’ll grab some things from his room.”
Pru nodded in agreement and we split.
I began through the open concept kitchen — though there was too much clutter for it to be “open” in any functional way — in search of his bedroom. But there, on the large island, was a collection of orange prescription bottles. Some still had their white caps off. At the far end of the island was a small basket containing another stash of similar containers.
My hands began grabbing the bottles closest to me. The ones out on the counter were varying levels of empty, while the ones in the basket were full, yet several labels were faded, and the dates stretched back more years than seemed healthy.
“So… the active set and the extra set?” I asked Ralphie who, fully satiated, had sprawled on the floor for a nap. The dog lifted his eyes at my question, but if he knew the answer, he wasn’t forthcoming.
Next to the medications were more piles of papers. I flipped through the pages. Medical appointment reminders, invoices from doctors’ offices, and Orville’s chicken-scratched appointment reminders on a spiral-bound insurance calendar.
“Pru?” I called out to the brains. Clearly, Orville had grown accustomed to functioning within dysfunction. While I couldn’t make heads or tails of the mess, maybe it would all mean something to her. “I think I got something in the kitchen!”
Think Marnie, think!
I pictured Orville at my six-top that he shared every morning with the group of retired farmers. Now that I thought about it, he frequently chased his orange juice with a handful of pills. I’d never really given it any notice. I supposed it happens. People get older, they develop health issues. Still, he never gave me the sense that he wasn’t on top of things. He was a lot of things, but confused was never one of them.
Pru wandered into the room and her eyes widened at the orange mass on the counter. Without a word, she adjusted her glasses and began looking over the names and dosages.
“Something’s not sitting right with me.” I leaned against the butcher block countertop. “He’s got that nephew… Greg? The guy appears out of nowhere and suddenly has all this concern? I don’t trust him. Look how many meds Orville’s on. Messing with his meds would take no effort at all.”
Pru turned toward the refrigerator. “Some meds need to be kept cool, so…” She tugged the door open then stuck her head in.
“Anything?”
The pharmacist chuckled and shook her head. “Dang, Orville’s a riot. By the looks of it, he’s trying to grow his own penicillin. This is giving me flashbacks or my organic chemistry classes. I know drug costs are rising, but this at-home-lab is taking things a bit too far.”
I left her to make heads or tails of whatever chaos was happening there and wandered towards the back of the main level, where I found an out-of-place, tidy bedroom oasis. In no time at all, I’d located the essentials of comfort. From his closet, I plucked the flannel shirt he wore at least twice a week, and from the armoire, a few pairs of thick socks so he didn’t have to suffer in those awful itchy hospital grade ones that never stayed in place. A multi-colored crochet blanket splayed across his bed, clearly something he slept with. I took care to fold it into quarters.
With my final spin around the room, my eyes landed on a framed wedding photo that sat on his nightstand. His wife had passed nearly thirty years earlier, but nobody ever mentioned her, including him. The circumstances surrounding her untimely death were a mystery to me.
“I still think it’s too much of the blood thinner,” Pru announced as I returned with my armful of items. She’d bought a printed list of his medications from the hospital and handed it over, all marked up with her notes. “Then again, the pills he’s been actively taking are a lower dose than what’s in the pile of unopened bottles. It makes no sense!”
I inspected the paper while she slung her purse over her shoulder. “I hate to jump ship but I got a date with Dancing With the Stars Holiday Spectacular. That Igor does things to my soul.” She wiggled her hips and shot me a wink.
“Drive safe, and thanks for your help today.”
I ensured Ralphie had enough food and water in his bowl and put a reminder in my phone to come let him out in the morning. Then, after dropping my pile of Orville’s belongings on my front seat, I secured the hide-a-key beneath the second frog statue, buried the ceramic amphibian back in his little igloo, then made my way back to the hospital.
This time, Rudolph the Receptionist waved me in without requiring me to sign in. A streak of gold light filtered out from room 239, along with voices deep in conversation. I pushed my back against the wall and positioned my ear to listen.
“Him being hooked up to all these machines ain’t right.” Greg. Great. Just the run-in I needed to end my night. “Uncle Orv wouldn’t want this.”
“Sir, the lab is severely backed up. A little hospital like this isn’t built to handle a mass influx of patients all at once. We’ll have a better sense of options once we get the results.” Myra’s voice was soothing, but firm. Whatever scuffle they’d gotten into earlier, she’d smoothed over.
“If it came down to it, would one option be, you know, to put him out of his misery? I’m the next of kin and I get to make all medical decisions.”
My legs nearly sprung into action at his suggestion. Somehow, Greg had out-Scrooged the biggest Scrooge of all. Pulling the plug?
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Myra snipped.
“This conversation ain’t over. Honey, we’re out of here.” Greg stormed out of the room, tugging a lanky blonde wearing a gaudy rock on her left hand behind him. They swept past me without so much as a glance.
The not-so-ex-wife.
“That money is non-negotiable, Greg. Understand?” She extricated her hand from his as they made their way towards the bank of elevators.
“Baby, trust that I’ll make this right.” He reached for her hand again. “We’ll get it paid off and—”
“Oh, please.” The wife ripped her hand away and disappeared into the waiting elevator. “I’ll never make the mistake of trusting you again, you dog!”
Greg’s head dropped into his hands as he followed her in like a poor, injured puppy.
Behind me, I heard Myra’s footsteps, then a soft whoosh and click as she slipped into the next room.
Once the coast was clear, I released a deep breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding, then slipped into Orville’s room. He lay among all the softly beeping machines, unchanged since my last visit.
I needed a spot to sit and process the events of the day, and he needed company. I set Orville’s things on the deep windowsill, then settled down on the stiff vinyl couch and pulled out my phone. Only one person could help me understand, Greg the Enigma Man.
“Well, isn’t this a delightful surprise?” My mom’s voice sang through the line. “How’s my favorite daughter this evening?”
