ELEVEN

SUSAN DIDN’T KNOW WHO WAS PALER-SHANNON OR DONALD. But she knew where her priorities lay; she got up to take Ethan and Rosie from their nurse’s arms.

“I… Oh, I…” Shannon seemed unable to express herself.

Donald was not having that problem. “You! You’re that nurse!” He pointed at her dramatically. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Shannon whispered, hugging the babies close to her chest. She turned to Susan. “If you could just check on the warmer for me and put a pan of water on a burner to warm? I don’t trust microwaves to heat evenly and these little guys will realize how hungry they are any min-ute now. I’m going to go back upstairs. I was trying to let Chrissy sleep. But…” She glanced over at Donald Baines. “I…” She left without finishing her sentence.

Donald Baines wasn’t so discreet. “You know who that is, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s the person who killed my wife! Call the police immediately!”

“I won’t and she isn’t,” Susan protested loudly, hoping Shannon was still close enough to overhear. “She was with Chrissy and the twins yesterday-all day. She couldn’t possibly have murdered your wife!”

Donald Baines got up, oblivious to the fact that he was grinding the handle of Susan’s antique Herend cup into her carpet. “If you won’t call, I’ll go home and do it myself!” he announced and stormed out.

Susan sat quietly for a moment, gazing at the mess on her carpet. She didn’t have long to wait. Shannon walked back into the room, bouncing the now whimpering twins in her arms. “Let’s go into the kitchen and warm up those bottles. We can talk while we do it,” Susan suggested.

“What he said… I can explain… but you… It didn’t surprise you, did it?” Shannon asked, following Susan.

“No. Nadine told me about the Perry Island Care Center deaths.”

“And that I was working there at the time.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you know I was here with Chrissy when the murder occurred. You checked.”

“Yes.” Susan grabbed a heavy copper pan, filled it with water, and plopped it on the stove. She turned back to Shannon. “You know what?”

“No. What?”

“I think we need two baby seats in here. We could put them on the table and then the babies would be nice and safe when you’re working at the stove or getting things from the refrigerator or whatever.”

“Chrissy is trying to keep their stuff from taking over the house.”

Susan smiled. “Fat chance.”

Shannon didn’t return her smile. “Why are you letting me stay here if you knew about P.I.C.C.?”

“You’re such a good nurse. And I don’t believe you’re the murderer.”

“Yesterday you said you have discovered the identity of murderers in the past.”

“Yes,” Susan answered modestly.

“So you can tell who is a killer and who isn’t-that’s why you trust me?”

“No. I’m not psychic or anything. I just… I can figure things out. It started years ago-there was a murder inthe PTA. The police began an investigation immediately, of course. But they didn’t know anyone involved or the various groups or how things work in town. You could say I had inside information.”

“Like you have now. I mean, you knew Nadine and she told you about me.”

“Yes, I knew Nadine but not all that well. She only moved to town a few months ago.”

“And you’ve really found murderers.”

Susan nodded.

“It’s too bad you don’t live out on Perry. My life would be different if someone had figured out who killed our residents. And not just my life, the lives of others as well,” she added sadly.

The water began to simmer and Susan put the bottles in to warm. Ethan started to grizzle so she took him from Shannon ’s arms. Tucking his head underneath her chin, she began to walk about the room. Just as this movement had consoled her babies decades ago, Ethan settled down immediately. “What exactly happened on Perry Island? I remember hearing about some deaths in the nursing home there, but not many of the details.” She decided it was not the time to tell her that she had visited Perry Island only yesterday.

Shannon gently wiped a line of drool off Rosie’s chin before answering. “It’s hard to know where to begin.”

“At the beginning.” Susan was always willing to use a cliché if the circumstances required it.

“That’s just it. I’m not sure when the murders began or who was the first person to be killed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Nursing homes aren’t like other places. The residents of nursing homes are old and many of them will die there, so when there is a death, no one thinks of murder. Death is just not all that unusual.”

Susan tried out the formula on her wrist before handing one bottle to Shannon and sitting down to offer the other to Ethan. “I understood that three people were killed.”

“Well, there were deaths that the coroner called murder, but there was one death right after I began working there that struck me as odd-well, not when it happened, but later when we knew about the other three. You see, the murders were all different. More than one method was used. That’s the reason no one knew what was happening at first. There was no pattern.”

Susan smiled down at the baby in her arms and thought how nice it was that he was too young to understand even one word of their conversation. “What do you remember about each death?”

“Everything!”

“Could you tell me about them?”

“I suppose… yes.”

“Why don’t you begin with the one that you didn’t realize was a murder at the time?” Susan said.

“Okay. It was Mr. Roper; we used to call him Mr. Reporter. That’s what he had been. He worked on a paper in California -I don’t remember which one-and he loved to talk about it. The good old days. You know, lots of the residents felt that way about the past and we tried to humor them.”

“Like calling him Mr. Reporter.”

“Exactly.”

“How did he die?”

“He was diabetic and his blood sugar got out of control and he went into shock. After he died, empty bourbon bottles were found in his locked drawer. Each resident had a locked dresser drawer although we never had any problems with theft, at least not while I was working there. Anyway, after they found the bottles, everyone assumed that he had drunk himself to death-not a terribly difficult thing to do if you have diabetes, a serious heart condition, and you’re almost a hundred years old.”

“But you didn’t believe that was the cause of his death?”

“I… it didn’t make sense. See, one night we-some of the younger staff-were having a little celebration for another nurse who had just gotten engaged. We had champagne and little cakes, but we weren’t getting drunk or anything. It was just a toast and a bite to eat and back to work. Anyway, Mr. Reporter was having trouble sleeping and he wandered down the hallway so we asked him to join us. And he did, but he refused any champagne or anything to eat. He said he hadn’t gotten to be as old as he was by ignoring doctor’s orders.”

“So you don’t think he drank?”

“Oh, it’s possible. I know that some alcoholics refuse to indulge in public and will drink only when they’re alone. But… well, everyone was surprised when the bottles were found. And we took good care of our residents. I don’t think something like that could have gone unnoticed.”

“How could he have died then?”

“It would have been possible for someone on the staff to either give him the wrong medication or withhold the proper meds and cause a serious imbalance in his blood sugar levels.”

“And then plant the bottles in his locked drawer?”

“Yes.”

“What about the lock?”

“There was a master key. It was kept in the office. Almost anyone could have gotten hold of it if they had wanted to.”

“Anyone on the staff or anyone at all?”

“Oh, I think just the staff…” She paused and rearranged Rosie’s arms, much to the baby’s dismay. “I guess… I mean, no one ever thought it might be a resident.”