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.”

“Happened? Like what?”

“Like something that would have made Michelle’s personality change.”

Linda Sue snorted. “Hell, a six-year-old ain’t got no personality.”

“On the contrary,” Horatio said. “A child’s permanent personality is substantially formed by age six.” Linda Sue snorted again and started fiddling with her purse clasp while Horatio turned his attention back to Hazel. “Did you notice anything like that? I know it was a long time ago but it would really be a big help if you could remember.”

Hazel seemed to reflect on this for a bit, pursing her lips as she did so.

Linda Sue finally broke the silence. “I’m going out for a smoke.” She rose and then wagged a finger at Horatio. “And there’s only one way in and out of this place, so don’t you even think about trying to scoot off without you know what.” She flicked what she probably assumed was a sincere smile in her granny’s direction and left.

“How much did you promise to pay her?” Hazel asked as soon as her granddaughter was out of earshot.

Horatio smiled, pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “A hundred bucks. I’d much rather give it to you.”

Hazel waved this gesture off. “I don’t have anything to spend money on in this place. Just give it to Lindy. Way the girl goes through deadbeat men, she’ll need it. Four babies by four different sperm donors, excuse my French, and she’ll probably have four more before she’s done.” She sat quiet for a few moments and Horatio decided to ride it out.

“How is Michelle?” Hazel asked.

“She’s been better,” Horatio said frankly.

“I followed her career,” Hazel admitted. “Read about her in the papers and all.”

“You did? Why?”

“Look what the girl did with herself. Olympic athlete. Secret Service. Girl’s done herself proud. Always knew she would.”

“How?”

“Like you said, with a child you can tell how they’re going to be from a pretty early age. That girl was stubborn and determined. I remember thinking about her that it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. And that girl was not going to let anything or anyone stand in her way.”

“You would’ve made a good psychologist.”

“I wanted to be a doctor. Graduated third in my class in college.”

“What happened?”

“My older brother wanted to be a doctor too. And back then the boys got what they wanted over the girls. So I stayed home, took care of my ailing parents and then got married, had my babies, my husband dropped dead of a coronary the day after he retired, and now here I am. Not much of a life, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Raising a family is a pretty important job.”

“I’m not saying I regret any of it. But everybody has dreams. Some people, like Michelle, fight hard enough to realize theirs.”

“So did you notice a difference in her?”

“Yes. I couldn’t say it was when she was six. Too many years ago, you understand. But all of a sudden the child wouldn’t meet my eye and we were friends, had her over for little tea parties and such with some of the other neighborhood children. Then she stopped coming. Things would make her jump, or cry. Tried to talk to her mother, but Sally Maxwell didn’t want to hear about it. As it was they moved away shortly thereafter anyway.”

“And do you have an idea of what might have happened to cause the change in Michelle?”

“I’ve thought about it over the years, but nothing ever popped out at me.”

“One of the things that her family told me was that she became increasingly sloppy. And that hasn’t changed.”

“I wasn’t really invited over to their house much. Sally had her hands full, what with Frank gone so much with work and all.”

“I would’ve thought police work there would’ve had pretty regular hours.”

“Michelle was a late baby for them. Frank was trying hard to get on with a major city police force. He worked during the day and was taking night courses at a local college to get a master’s degree in criminal justice.”

“Ambitious guy. So nothing else you can tell me?”

“Well, there is one thing that’s puzzled me. Probably has nothing to do with what you’re looking at.”

“Right now, I’ll take anything.”

“Well, the Maxwells had a beautiful rose hedge that ran in front of their house. Frank planted it for an anniversary present to Sally. It was a pretty thing and the aroma. I used to go over there just to smell the flowers.”

“It’s not there anymore.”

“That’s right. I went to bed one night and woke up the next morning and somebody had chopped it all down.”

“Did you ever find out who did it?”

She shook her head. “Frank figured it was some kids he’d busted for drunk driving, but I’m not so sure about that. Teenage boys, what do they know from flowers? They would’ve slashed Frank’s tires or thrown rocks through the windows.”

“Do you remember when this was?”