The Royall Send-Off, page 15
Rosie grabbed it, opened it. “What’s this?”
“I picked it up earlier. I wanted to check on prices because Barbra said she’d seen them somewhere. No prices in that. Mostly pictures, selling the place as the next thing to Nirvana. Ronald’s smiling face is all over it. But look on the back. That’s your boy Jimmy smiling for the camera, right?”
“You already know that. Sure, that’s him. Looks like he’s posing in his office.”
“Indeed he is. Now look again, this time at the background. See the credenza?”
“That piece of furniture behind him, right?”
Winnie nodded. “You’re two for two. Now count the golf trophies sitting on top.”
Rosie frowned at the photograph. “I’m guessing you have some earthshaking reason for this. Three. One-two-three.” She tossed the brochure onto the counter.
“Good. Now guess how many trophies were sitting there the night Jameson got thunked. When I did my reconnoiter.”
“Two? Because he was thunked with one of them?”
“Try one,” Winnie said, slipping the brochure back into her pocket. “Making that one for Jameson, one for Andy Norman the security guy. Sound about right?”
Rosie took a last drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in the Royall Crest ashtray Barbra had brought her. “Okay. That makes sense. To us. But where are they now? And how do we prove you’re right?”
Winnie leaned her elbows on the quartz countertop. “I don’t know. Not unless the coroner found the words First Flight Champion or some such thing indented on Norman’s skull. Because nobody’s ever going to locate those two trophies, and Jameson’s nowhere to be found.”
“You could go to the police. You said that you know who the cops were that you saw. Show them the brochure?”
“Tell them I snuck into Jameson’s office to find the body that wasn’t there, you mean? Using the key card you gave me after you ran away from the sound of the thunk? Right before you also ran away from the exercise building, leaving your size four bikini pants behind with the body of—”
“Okay, okay, I get your point, again. We can’t go to the police. At least I can’t. Not until their first move wouldn’t be to lock me up—right after the chief of police or the mayor or somebody called their pal Ronald Royall to tell him they found me.”
“Then we agree. In other news—”
“There’s more?”
“Lots more, but let’s finish with the news you don’t want to hear. Norman didn’t drown. The knock on his head killed him before he went into the hot tub. I wouldn’t bet the farm on it—not that I have a farm anymore—but it’s at least likely the cops could make a case to charge you for murder, or negligible homicide. No, that would be negligent homicide. I think that’s what it’s called. I can check on my computer when I get back to my condo, except it probably doesn’t matter all that much either way.”
“Jules said he could get me out of the country until everything dies down.”
Winnie didn’t say anything. She’d found that a well-placed silence could do the talking for her.
“I’m not going,” Rosie looked over at the couch where Barbra was still sleeping the sleep of the happily inebriated, and finally said into that silence. “I wouldn’t do that to her. Or Patty.”
“Good, because that would be the same as announcing you’re guilty of something. Now on to the rest of it, because if we solve all of it, you’re home free.”
“And can we solve the rest of it, whatever the rest of it is? Quickly? I’ve already been a no-show for three clients. I can’t afford to lose clients. So soon, right? We solve this soon?”
“We have to, for more reasons than your particular problem. I just don’t know how to do it, or even where to start. I’m beginning to wonder if this is all too big for us.”
“Wow, that doesn’t sound good. I was getting used to you acting like you know everything. Okay. As you said to me not all that long ago, maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”
Winnie took a cursory look around the kitchen area. “Did Patty stock anything stronger than wine?”
Rosie headed for the living area, to return with a bottle in each hand. “Bourbon or Scotch. Pick your poison.”
Winnie pointed to the Scotch bottle. “Two fingers. Neat.”
“Definitely starting to like you.” Rosie grinned, then retrieved two short glasses from the cabinet next to the stove.
Winnie took a sip from her glass, and allowed the liquid to warm her from throat to belly. “I didn’t have any trouble getting inside, and I didn’t see anything that looked different in Jameson’s office, so I headed straight for the file cabinet drawers.” She tapped the open notebook. “I took notes.”
“What sort of notes?”
Winnie and Rosie looked at Barbra, who now stood behind Winnie, her soft brown hair mussed, holding a blonde wig in her hands.
“She is arisen,” Rosie said as Barbra slid onto the bar stool next to Winnie. “How’s the head?”
Barbra laid the wig on the countertop and raised a hand to her temple. “Oh, boy. Still there,” she said with a weak smile. “What time is it?”
“A little past midnight. Did you have a nice nap?”
Barbra winced, as if she’d just remembered something she didn’t want to share.
“It’s all right, Barbra,” Rosie said quickly. “I told her Jules is going to handle everything.”
“Oh, thank you! Winnie, I’m so ashamed of myself. Mr. Royall said the weekend and I didn’t know how to say no to him.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. We can still bring Hildy here, at least for a couple of days, until we figure out what else we can do with her. I have one possible solution to offer, but let’s hope we don’t have to use it, because it would take a lot of explaining. And convincing.”
“Can we get back to the notes?” Rosie asked as she slid a glass of water and two white pills across the countertop to Barbra. “Relax, they’re only aspirin.”
Winnie consulted several pages of her notebook again, starting, as suggested, at the beginning.
“First, I found the waiting list for Royall Residences. I copied down the first ten names, with four of them specifically asking for Division One. Three want Division Two, and the others just specified first available. Samuel and Rosalind Plummer are first on the list for Division One, so by rights, they get this condo. Brayden and Laura Wentzel are second in line.”
“And…?”
“And nothing, Rosie,” Winnie said, turning to the next page of the notebook. “It was information we might or might not need. All I did was write it down. I looked through every folder, every file. I won’t bore you with how much Royall Crest spends on employee uniforms or golf balls, although Jameson kept printed out records of everything, but when I got to his ordering records for Royall Gardens?”
Winnie closed her eyes, able to see the long file drawers. White tabs marking each section of folders, smaller tabs breaking down the many folders within each section.
“Yes? When you got to the records for Royall Gardens?”
“Sorry, Barbra, I’m stalling and I know it. I don’t know why he did it—or maybe I can make a pretty good guess—but Jameson kept handwritten annual totals for some of the items, neatly filed at the front of certain folders, covering the past three years. Written on yellow legal paper, so once I found one it was easy to locate the others. I’m figuring they were on top of anything kept on spreadsheets, and probably on his computer, and that they had some special meaning for him.”
She flipped to another page in the notebook. “He did the same thing for other stuff, because once I saw those yellow sheets under Royall Gardens, I went back and checked for more, but I didn’t have time to look through them. You could probably lump them all under maintenance and improvements. I haven’t figured out why he thought it was important to keep those other totals, not yet, but Royall Gardens was pretty self-explanatory.”
“I hesitate to point this out,” Rosie said, pouring another two fingers of Scotch into the glass in front of Winnie. “But you’re still sort of stalling.”
Winnie took a deep breath, let it out slowly. What she’d learned had hurt, and if it hurt her, Barbra could lose it entirely. “I don’t think we got flu shots for this last flu season,” she said flatly, and then waited for Barbra to react.
“Sure we did,” Barbra said. “We offer them to all residents, most especially everyone in Royal Gardens, and they’re mandatory for staff. We all got flu shots.” She bit her bottom lip. “Didn’t we?”
Winnie shook her head. “Again, I don’t think we did. Not real flu shots. At least not all of us. Jameson recorded the number of vials of flu vaccine ordered and received for the past three years. Remember, these are yearly totals. The total for three years ago seems pretty reasonable. Two years ago, the number was higher than the year before, which seems normal, when you think about how Royall Crest seems to grow every year. This past year, however, the order was cut by over one-third.”
Barbra frowned, rubbing at her temples. “So some people did get the shots. What did the others get?”
“Jameson kept notes on that, too, and in that same folder. I believe he considered the items related. The yellow sheet tucked right behind that first one listed the same three years for the total of vials of sodium chloride ordered—that’s saline. Below that, he recorded the number of disposable syringes ordered, again for the same three years. This past year, the total ordered for both was higher than for the other two. A lot higher, like almost double. Rosie? You want to take a shot, pardon the pun, on putting two and two together?”
“Just like you said. You all got shots, but some of them weren’t real.”
“We got the real flu,” Winnie told Rosie. “At least I did. Barbra here did. Barbra, didn’t you say Royall Gardens was put on quarantine because so many residents had the flu? Barbra? Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Mister…Mister Archer,” Barbra said, sniffling. “His family was so upset…”
Caleb Archer. Winnie remembered now. Barbra had mentioned him when they’d been checking the list of names of deceased Charter members. And he wasn’t the only one.
“I’m sorry, Barbra. I know this is hard. Just, sadly, as I know I’m right. Jameson kept these records for a reason. I don’t know exactly why, but I’m betting he was playing a little CYA, making sure he wasn’t the only one with something to hide. I checked the photocopies of the actual orders, those were also in the files, and it seems Rotten Ronald signs off on everything.”
“CYA?”
“Cover your ass,” Rosie explained, squeezing Barbra’s hand. “In case he was caught, I suppose, or to maybe blackmail someone else. Or, like I heard him say—retire. I forgot about that. The information might have been his retirement plan. Go on, Winnie. You’re going to tell us Ronald Royall is behind all of this, just like you’ve thought since the beginning. Killing off these Charter members, killing Jimmy when he tried to quit, because he knew too much, killing that Norman guy for some reason. All of it.”
“While making sure others had a better chance of getting sick as well, so it didn’t look suspicious.”
“But, Winnie, how could he know the right people would actually get sick, actually die? I mean, even if they got sick, that didn’t mean they’d die. Because you’re thinking of the Charter Members, aren’t you? The right people? Oh, I can’t believe I’m saying all this!”
“No, it’s a good question, Barbra. It does seem pretty scattershot. Unless he had some back-up plan, some ace in the hole, which is something else I don’t understand. But it has to be him. With Jameson dead, who else is there, and he was murdered, we’re sure of that. It’s not like there are any partners or anything. Ronald is sole owner, presumably calls all the shots— sorry, no more puns.” Winnie pushed her glass of Scotch to one side and then closed her notebook. “That’s enough for now. We’ll leave everything else for tomorrow, when we’re all not so—” She looked over at the silently weeping Barbra. “Not so tired.”
“Yeah, what about tomorrow?” Rosie asked as Winnie gathered up her notebook and pen.
Winnie put her hand on Barbra’s shoulder. “Honey, why don’t you head back to the couch. I’ll be here by eight o’clock tomorrow morning and we’ll work out the logistics for rescuing Hildy. Don’t think about anything else. Just Hildy.”
Barbra did as she was told, but not before asking, “But what about Patty? She didn’t have the flu. Because I know you’re thinking something bad happened to Patty. You’ve been thinking that since the beginning.”
Winnie had been waiting for that question. She wished she had an answer. In fact, she really had nothing on anything, at least nothing she could prove. Just a lot of random puzzle pieces, only slowly beginning to come together. What would the final picture look like? Ronnie the Weasel and even Jameson might be giving the orders as to who got the flu vaccine and who got bupkus, but they weren’t the one giving out the flu shots.
So who loaded the syringes with saline, got them ready to go? Winnie gave herself one guess.
She waited until Barbra had curled up on the couch again, and laid the cashmere throw over her.
“Barbra, sweetie, do you remember who gave you your flu shot? I stopped in for mine on one of the days they offered them in the courtyard of the triple R. No appointment necessary.” She refused to refer to the large brick area as Royall Restaurant Row.
“Let me think. It was just after I got back from vacation…” The girl frowned, clearly trying to remember. “I… maybe it was Mrs. Gehringer?”
That was disappointing to hear.
“And she’d be…”
“No. No lollipops. Staff had to show up for ours in shifts, in the Rec Room. It was just two of the nurses from Royal Gardens giving the shots. There were two lines. I got in line behind Susie, from the gift shop. But Ms. Hughes was there, supervising.”
“Calla lily lady again. Ronald’s new friend. She does keep popping up, doesn’t she?” Winnie said, suppressing a fist pump.
Barbra frowned. “Ms. Hughes? Do you think—but no, she’s well liked by everyone in Royall Gardens, or at least I think so. And I was told that when Mr. Royall introduced her to the nursing staff he said she came highly recommended.”
Rosie looked at Winnie, rolling her eyes. “Do you smack her upside the head or do I?”
But Barbra apparently wasn’t listening. “I remember now. I had to ask Susie who she was, because I didn’t recognize her, and that’s how I found out Mrs. Gehringer had died while I was on vacation. She’d been the Head Nurse or whatever she was called. I know she was in charge. She always made jokes that she had to hand out lollipops or else all the men would cry.”
“So, no lollipops.”
“No, not this past year. Gee, Susie got the flu, too. They had to close the gift shop for a week.”
“Line One, flu vaccine. Line Two, saline.” Rosie whispered to Winnie. “Simple enough. This is why I don’t play the Lottery. Even with a fifty-fifty shot, odds are I’d pick the wrong ticket. Just like Twinkle-toes here picked the wrong line.”
Winnie shot a quick look to Rosie, one meant to say shall I ask about Mrs. Gehringer, or am I just nuts?
Rosie was a big help. She shrugged.
“Mrs. Gehringer had been the supervisor of Royal Gardens from the beginning, or so I heard,” Barbra said informingly if innocently, pulling the throw up under her chin. “I can remember chipping in to send flowers when her husband passed last year. She could have retired, but she said Royall Gardens was her home. She was so sweet to everyone. They found her in the break room, you know, slumped over a table. They said her heart just gave out. That’s the only sad thing about working in Royall Gardens. I go to so many funerals….” Then she yawned widely and closed her eyes.
Rosie looked at Winnie, one eyebrow raised. But Winnie only shook her head, and left.
She jammed her hands in her pockets and drew the sweater closer around her, because it was late April and the nights still could be cool, even cold. There was a breeze tonight, and it mocked her all the way back to her condo:
But what about Patty? She didn’t have the flu.
Patty wasn’t even sick. They said it probably was her heart.
I shouldn’t say this. But her heart, you know. Just gave out.
… at her age? There was no requirement for an autopsy.
They said her heart just gave out…I go to so many funerals…
Once home, and with the dead bolt engaged on her front door, Winnie noticed that the Message light was blinking on her telephone. She pressed the Play button as she shrugged out of her sweater.
The machine announced that she’d missed a call at six thirty-seven p.m., followed by a sweet, practically chirpy female voice:
“Miss Fassbinder? So sorry to have missed you. This is Katie Faust, the scheduler from Royall Gardens. I was just told you’re overdue for your yearly Medicare check-up. If you’ve forgotten, Medicare offers these check-ups annually, at no cost to you. I see you’re scheduled for an EKG, chest X-ray, and some routine blood tests, as well as your physical exam. We’re happy to provide a room for you overnight in the Royall Gardens nursing wing, for your convenience. If you’ll give me a call as soon as you can, I can arrange all of that for you. Please call 610-43—”
Winnie hit at the Stop button, her hand shaking. Three months ago, three days ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything unusual about such a call except to ignore it, as she always had her annual check-up in Florida, although she’d skipped it this past winter. She wasn’t going to give nosy Ronald a chance to look at her health records, hoping he’d find out she was terminal, or something. But she couldn’t ignore this call, or the timing of it. Not now.
Definitely not now.
“That’ll teach you to not open your big mouth, Winifred Theresa,” she told herself as she stared at the telephone, considering the time of the call, that it had come in after her encounter with Ronald and Calla lily girl.
