Blackout (19 page)

They sat down next to each other at a table. Impatiently, Alice thumbed through the first thirty pages, which listed popular names, celebrity names—before and after some of them were changed—birthstones and flowers and other miscellaneous information. The
A
’s stared with Abbey, Abby. Then Abigail, Abra, Acacia, Ada, and on until on page thirty-two she saw Alice. Then Alicia, Alisha, Alida, Alina, Allegra, Allison.

Allison
.

“A form of Alice.” Lissy was listed as a nickname.

“That’s it!” She pointed to it excitedly. “I remember now. I’m Allison. Allison Armstrong. Oh, Donald. I know my name!” She felt as if she’d just been born. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she smiled radiantly at him.

“That’s wonderful!” He closed the book and returned it to the shelf. “Come on. Let’s go.”

He took her by the hand, and she stumbled out with him to the VW.

“Where’re we going?” she asked as he put the car in gear.

“To see Betty! To tell her your real name. Her nephew should be able to find out all kinds of things now.”

Alice shivered in anticipation and some fear, willing Donald to drive faster.

At Merry Hills, they dashed up the front steps. They found Betty’s office empty and began searching for her.

As they passed the activity room, they saw a volunteer conducting a sing-along. Oblivious to the off-key music surrounding her, Yolanda sat at her desk, writing in a chart.

Brenda came down the hall, high heels clicking. Alice stood up a little straighter. The social services director stopped when she saw them.

“Brenda,” Donald said. “What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

“Hello, Donald. Alice. I’m working on two discharges. Both families needed to do it today, unfortunately. You working, too?”

“Not exactly. Came to see Betty for a minute.”

Brenda gave them a curious look, then said good-bye. She clicked down the hall as Donald and Alice hurried off in the other direction.

In the dining room, aides placed silverware and napkins on the tables under Margaret’s watchful eye. She stood at the door, arms crossed over her chest, blue hairnet snugly in place. For some reason, Alice felt glad she worked for Betty and not Margaret. Then she reminded herself that starting Monday she’d assist Yolanda in Activities.

A man cornered Donald and asked to speak to him a moment. Donald introduced her to Lucas, who was in charge of the housekeeping, laundry and maintenance departments on the weekends.

While the two men talked about one of the boilers, Alice excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.

Lettie came down the hall, popping corn chips into her mouth as she walked.

“Do you know me?” She stopped in front of Alice, eating a chip, staring with her soft brown eyes.

“Yes, Lettie. I know you,” Alice said, remembering the first time Lettie had asked her that question. She hadn’t even known her own name. Now she did!

She turned to watch Lettie go down the hall. The small woman always made her feel better.

She spent some time in the ladies’ room thinking about knowing who she was. Donald hadn’t given her a chance to just feel it.

“Allison Armstrong,” she said softly. “Allison Armstrong. I can’t believe I know my name!” She grinned at herself in the mirror and then went out to the hall.

Donald and Lucas stood where she’d left them, talking about the roof now.

When Donald saw her, he excused himself, and they went searching for Betty again. They asked several people if they’d seen her. They kept missing her and Maxwell walking the halls.

The intercom blared. “A call for Dr. Redd. Dr. Redd needed in the 300 hall. A call for Dr. Redd.”

Donald and Alice stopped walking and stared at each other.

“Come on,” Donald said, heading toward the 300 wing.

Employees rushed to take residents to the exits. As they passed the dining room, two aides were closing fireproof doors, expressions of shock and fright on their faces.

A large group of people milled in the center of the 300 hall. Alice couldn’t see any fire or smell smoke. Betty stood in the center of the group, asking rapid questions.

Suddenly firemen rushed in, yelling, “Clear the area. Everyone back.”

They checked each room and finally declared the area safe.

“Everyone back to work,” Betty said. She appeared furious, Alice saw as they followed her and Maxwell and two firemen to the central rotunda.

When they arrived, Betty asked, “Who announced the fire?”

“I did, Betty,” a nurse said. “I got a phone call. Someone said they saw smoke in the 300 wing, then hung up.”

“Did they call on the house phone or from an outside line?”

The other nurse thought for a moment. “Inside line.”

“Man or woman?” Maxwell asked.

“They whispered. I…I couldn’t tell.”

“What exactly, word for word, if you can recall, did he or she say?” Betty asked.

“Let me think. ‘There’s smoke in the 300 wing. Better call the fire department.’ That was all. Then they hung up.”

“I’d like to kill these crank callers,” the young fireman muttered.

“If you can think of anything else, ma’am, please give us a call,” the older one said.

“I certainly will,” the nurse said. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“You did exactly the right thing, Millicent,” Betty told her as they turned away.

Betty and Maxwell thanked the firemen and walked with them toward the front of the building.

Maxwell went back into Katherine’s office, shaking his head, as Alice and Donald followed Betty into hers. She sank into her desk chair, waving them into the visitor’s chairs.

“Whew,” Betty said. “I’m glad it was a false alarm. But I sure wish it hadn’t happened at all. What brings you two here on a Saturday?”

Alice and Donald looked at each other and smiled. Then Alice said, “I know my real name.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! Tell me.”

“Allison Armstrong.” The name rolled over her tongue. “Allison Armstrong.” She couldn’t stop grinning.

“This calls for a celebration,” Betty said. “After I call Jared and have him start checking, I’m taking you both out to lunch. Now, Donald, what state did you pick her up in? What road? And the date. I’ll need the date.” She made notes on the legal pad in front of her.

She’d started dialing when the pager announced, “Ms. Cranston needed at the nursing station, STAT. Ms. Cranston, please come to the rotunda.”

Betty slammed down the phone. “Now what?”

They all stood up, and again Alice and Donald followed Betty, who almost trotted down the hall.

“What is it?” Betty snapped when they reached the rotunda.

Millicent looked somber. “It’s Lettie Black. We think she had a stroke.”

“Is she alive?” Betty demanded.

Millicent nodded.

“Did you call Dr. Henderson?” Betty asked.

“Yes. He’s on his way.”

“Where is she?”

“In her room. In bed.”

“She didn’t fall, then?” Betty asked.

“No.”

“Okay,” Betty said. “You two stay here. I’ll be back.”

Betty looks ghastly,
Alice thought as she went over to sit down on a couch next to the wall.
As ghastly as I feel. Why did this have to happen today of all days? The day I found out my real name.

“Do you know me?” echoed in her brain. She put her head in her hands as she felt Donald sit down and put his arm around her.

Betty paused in the doorway of Lettie’s room a moment and took a deep breath. She wished to be anyplace but here under these circumstances. She noticed Lettie’s roommate’s bed was empty and remembered Mrs. Michael’s daughter frequently took her home on the weekends.

Lettie lay still under the covers, eyes closed, her face as white as her hair so that she blended into the pillowcase as if she were disappearing. She breathed in and out regularly, Betty noticed as she approached the bed.

Gently, she pulled the gaily colored afghan away from Lettie’s body. Betty gasped and took a step backward. Lettie’s arms were crossed over her body, Exactly like Ida Perkins and Mrs. Lacy.

“Oh, no. No,” Betty whispered.

Betty stepped forward again and pulled the covers the rest of the way down. Lettie lay fully dressed except for her shoes, which had been placed neatly under the bed. Betty automatically took one of Lettie’s wrists and felt for a pulse. Thready, but there, and regular. She gently put the hand back the way it had been so Dr. Henderson could see the position of the arms.

She brushed a stand of hair away from Lettie’s cheek and felt a tear slide down her own. She wiped it away angrily. Poor, poor Lettie. Lovable Lettie. Who? Who could have done this?

No doubt remained in her mind. Someone was killing the residents at Merry Hills.

Betty pulled the visitor’s chair close to the bed and sank into it. She took Lettie’s hand in her own again. If only some of my strength could flow through me to her, she thought. If she wakes up, maybe she can tell us who did this terrible, unforgivable thing to her.

Her mind probed at the question again like a tongue at a sore tooth. Who?

Then she thought of Thomas. Didn’t the police always suspect the spouse first? But he couldn’t have, he was too devoted to his wife.

A small voice in her head reminded her Thomas wanted her now. And because he was married to Lettie, she’d been putting him off.

And what about money? Their savings must be dwindling pretty fast. Lettie had been here almost a year.

Why would he kill the other two, though? To throw everyone off the track? Or because he’s crazy, she thought, sighing.

But she knew Thomas. He wasn’t crazy, and he couldn’t hurt Lettie. He loved her still, Betty felt positive of that. He was just the type of man who needed female companionship. He’d been drawn to her for some reason, but he still loved Lettie.

Didn’t he?

She sighed again.

Letting go of Lettie’s hand, Betty stood up. She stared at Lettie’s peaceful face, willing her to regain consciousness, to talk to her, although she might not be able to talk. Might never be able to say “Do you know me?” again. Not a twitch crossed the pale face, and finally, Betty turned away.

We’re here to take care of these folks
, Betty’s mind protested in anguish.
This is so wrong! So wrong
.

Suddenly, Dr. Henderson appeared in the doorway, and Betty watched with relief as he bent over Lettie, touching her cheek, feeling her pulse. The stethoscope came out of his bag, and he listened to Lettie’s chest for a long time.

“Ambulance been called?” he asked at last.

“Of course,” Betty answered. She hadn’t asked, but she knew Millicent had phoned. It would have been automatic.

“I beat them, as usual, I see.”

Betty smiled a little. “What do you think?”

“Stroke or heart attack. Probably stroke. Tests will tell.”

“Did you notice her arms?”

“What about them?”

“The way they’re crossed, the way the funeral directors lay someone out. The same way Ida Perkins and Mrs. Lacy’s were when I first saw them.”

“Really?” Dr. Henderson turned to put his stethoscope away in his bag.

Betty couldn’t see his expression, so she waited for him to turn back around. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“Perhaps.” He picked up his bag. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ll go make out the paperwork.”

Thoughtfully, Betty watched him leave
. He couldn’t be the one, could he? Stop it! You can’t go around suspecting everyone who doesn’t act the way you think they should. You know old Dr. Henderson is a man of few words. He doesn’t have much time for more.

Fast footsteps approached, and two men came into the room with a stretcher.

“This the lady needs to go to the hospital?”

Betty nodded. She stood as they carefully but quickly transferred Lettie onto the stretcher. She then walked with them out to the ambulance, hoping against hope for some sign Lettie was regaining consciousness. None came.

She watched the ambulance until it drove out of sight, then went slowly back inside.

Suddenly the image of Betty Senior lying on her bed, arms folded, jolted her. Almost at a run, she went to the 300 hall, bursting into her mother’s room.

“What’s wrong?” Betty Senior exclaimed.

“You’re all right!” Betty sank into the chair, her knees wobbly.

“For heaven’s sake, Betty, didn’t you come rushing in here once before to tell me I’m all right?” She gave her daughter a sharp look. “You mean I’m alive.”

Betty put her head in her hands so her mother couldn’t see her face. Voice muffled, she said, “I think, no, I know, someone is murdering residents. Three, at least.”

“What? Who? Betty, you can’t mean it.”

Betty took her hands away from her face. She felt her mother would have sat up straighter if she’d been able to. “They just took Lettie to the hospital. Dr. Henderson said stroke or heart attack, but I think someone tried to kill her, probably by smothering.”

“Lettie? Poor Lettie’s hurt? How bad?”

“She’s unconscious. Dr. Henderson didn’t hold out much hope. I found her with her arms folded. The same way Ida Perkins and Mrs. Lacy were found, as if ready for their own funerals. Oh, Ma, it’s terrible. Horrible. I don’t know what to do. Except I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m going to hire a sitter for you. Someone from Sacramento.”

Betty Senior stared at her daughter.

What must she be feeling,
Betty wondered,
helpless in that bed?
Oh, I shouldn’t have blurted it out. But I had to. How else would I explain a sitter? Maybe I should transfer her to another home. I’ve never been this scared before in my life. Never.

She couldn’t sit any longer. Standing up, she paced the small room. When she caught herself pulling her fingers, making the joints pop, she stopped. She hadn’t popped her fingers since she was a child.

Betty Senior remained speechless while Betty took her hand. Naked fear showed in her mother’s eyes. Betty tried to reassure her. “I’ll have someone here around the clock. I don’t want you to worry, but you had to know why.” She hesitated, then said, “You remember last time I burst in here like this? Your arms were folded the same way as Ida’s and Mrs. Lacy’s. Do you remember who did that?”