Deadly Dosage (13 page)

And speak of the devil’s prey,
in walked Shantel. She looked so happy I didn’t want to tell her, yet she
needed to be prepared.

“Hey, Sunny,” she said smiling
as she came through the door. “How was your lunch? Get some?”

“Shantel!” I said with mock
disgust. “A little,” I kidded.

“Girl, that’s what I want to
hear.” She did a little dance and slapped me on my injured shoulder. “So, any
important calls while I was out?”

“Just one,” I said. “You may
want to sit down first.”

Her eyes grew serious and she
took the seat I vacated. “Was it Leroy?”

I nodded.

“Shit.”

“He said he’d be waiting for
you tonight when you get off work.”

“He said what?” She shook her
head in denial. “Lord in Heaven.”

“Shantel, maybe you should
leave early tonight.”

“It don’t matter, Sunny. He
knows I’m living with my mama,” she said, ending with a sigh. “He’ll just go
there. No. I gotta face him on neutral ground.”

“Do you want me to go out with
you? I can ask someone to watch the phones?”

“Nah. It’s not like he’s
dangerous.” My doubt reflected on her face She tried to convince herself
otherwise. “Hell, it’s okay. Probably just wants some money for weed and booze.
That’s all.”

“You don’t have to face him
tonight.” I thought she was making a mistake.

“Sure I do. I’ll get it over
with.” She waved me off. “Stop worrying. You’ll get wrinkles. Then Mr. Hot will
dump your skinny white ass.”

“Well, I’ll be here if you
need me.”  

She nodded and busied herself
with the messages I took while she was at lunch.

I took my stack of therapy
charges back to my office and sat down at my desk. Leroy’s call depressed me
and I wanted to feel happy again, as I did when I returned from lunch. A quick
trip to the Medicare wing would solve that. Specifically a trip to Mr. Harper’s
room.

Chapter
21

Casually, I walked down the hallway, stopping to check
resident’s names as I went, pretending to do work. I passed Mr. Harper’s room
intentionally and made my way to the nurses’ station. I checked their patient
census log. Mr. Schroeder went out to the hospital while I was at lunch. Then I
remembered that his daughter was in the building. The hairs on my neck stood
up. This had to be more than just a coincidence.

     As walked back to Mr. Harper’s room, I wondered
if I would be imposing. After all, Lloyd was here to see his dad and he already
spent time with me. Maybe just a momentary glance inside his room would be
enough. I strolled by his room, and caught the intimate sight of Lloyd
embracing his father. Then I noticed the bottle of juice on Mr. Schroeder’s
bedside table, over Mr. Harper’s shoulder. I needed to investigate so I
casually entered the room as though I was on a routine bed check.

     “Hi,” I said crossing the room, “don’t let me
disturb you.”

     “Hello Sunny,” said Mr. Harper, “did you enjoy
lunch with my son? He didn’t try and kiss you, did he?”

     “Dad,” Lloyd said, obviously embarrassed, casting
me a fleeting glance.

     I smiled at his father. “Actually, I tried to
kiss him.”

     Mr. Harper chuckled. “You got spunk! Told you she
was a smart one,” he said to Lloyd.

     “So you did, Dad,” Lloyd conceded. “Don’t egg him
on,” he directed at me.

     Seeing them sitting side-by-side, the affection
between father and son was apparent from their body language, Lloyd’s hand
resting on his father’s hand, and his father’s arm around Lloyd’s shoulder. They
both had lively brown eyes, nice bone structure, and engaging personalities.
Their builds were also similar.

     “Sorry to barge in, but I noticed Mr. Schroeder
is back in the hospital. I wanted to check something out.”

     I walked over to the bedside table and picked up
the juice bottle. “He seems to get sick every time he drinks this stuff.”

     “Rodney didn’t want it,” Mr. Harper offered.
“That homely daughter forced it on him. She always does. A bully. And that
little boy of hers isn’t much better. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree
with that one.”

     I smelled the juice container. Label read orange
juice. Contents smelled like orange juice. Maybe the guy was allergic to it.

     “What?” Lloyd asked with a curious face.

     “Orange juice,” I said, screwing the cap back on.
“Still, it’s strange it made him sick.” I had an idea. “Lloyd, do you have any
friends who work in a lab, who could analysis this?”

     “Analyze orange juice?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Can’t you just read the ingredient label?”

     “I know he doesn’t need it. I talked to Carol,
the RN. So why does his daughter always bring it in?”

     Mr. Harper and his son exchanged glances and
shrugged.

     “We give,” said the older of the two.

     “So, Lloyd, are you friendly with anyone in the
lab?”

     “Yeah, John Tarver, he works out of our lab in
Illinois. I could call him and go out there tomorrow. I need to stop into the
corporate headquarters anyway, but I’ve been putting it off due to the weather.
I’m sure he’ll do it. It could take a week or so.”

     Mr. Harper’s lips tightened into a straight line
and his eyes glittered. “What are you thinking?”

     “Attempted murder,” I said seriously. Verbalizing
the words make me shiver.

     “Poison?” Lloyd asked disbelievingly. “Isn’t that
going about things the hard way?”

     “Not if you want it to look like old age killed
him. He’s had a history of health problems, hopefully not all due to the
daughter.”

     “Can’t you notify the hospital?” Mr. Harper suggested.

     “Not without proof. That’s why we need a lab
report.” I felt like I just jumped into a page from a Nancy Drew novel. Maybe I
was hoping for some excitement or maybe I read too many thrillers, or maybe,
just maybe, I was right. I had to be sure.

     I handed Lloyd the juice bottle. “Are you sure
you don’t mind?”

     “No, but I hope you’re wrong.”

     “So do I. But if I’m not, we might be able to
save a man’s life.”

     Lloyd nodded and rubbed his chin, “Dad?”

     “Do it, Lloyd. It can’t hurt.”

     Lloyd placed the bottle in his jacket pocket just
as Amy Foster walked into the room.

     Amy smiled at Lloyd and then cut her raven black
eyes to me. “The administrator is checking into that little problem we
discussed. Perhaps if you spent less time chatting and more time working, the
residents’ family members wouldn’t have to resolve so many issues caused by
you.”

     She looked over my shoulder to the bedside table.
Her sharp eyes registered that the juice bottle was gone. I thought I caught a
glimpse of fear in them before it quickly vanished. She turned and swiftly left
the room, leaving behind her odd scent of old hairspray.

“Wow,” said Lloyd. He hummed
the wicked witch music from
Wizard of Oz
and I laughed, even though I
was shaken by the encounter.

 “Well, I better get back to
work before the witch has me fired.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,”
Lloyd said without rising from the bed.

“Okay. Bye, Mr. Harper.”

“Take care, Sunny.” He patted
Lloyd on the hand.

I could tell he was proud of
his son. I acknowledged him with a quick nod of my head and I left the room,
feeling that I got the ball rolling. Where it stopped was anyone’s guess.

At 3:35, I tried to convince Shantel it would be
better if I waited with her. Once more, she declined my invitation. When I
tried to ask again, she held out her hand to stop me. I wasn’t going to fight a
losing battle, so I left for home. I did not see anyone loitering outside or in
a car anywhere. Could be Leroy was just harassing her, but I still worried
about her.

Chapter
22

I stopped at the grocery store on the way home to pick
up a six-pack of beer, a bottle of wine, cheese, and some junk food. Could be
I’d invite Lloyd in for a nightcap tomorrow evening if the mood was right, and
I didn’t want to be empty handed.

     Brandi opened the door when I arrived as though
she had been expecting me.

     “Hey, how did you know I was out here?”

     “Heard you futzing with the door handle. Figured
you had your hands full.”

  “Just picked up a few things.” I paused and sniffed.
“What smells so good in here?”

     “I picked up some perfume scented candles. I have
one burning on the cocktail table.”

     “So how did the interview go?” I said walking
into the kitchen. I placed the bag on the counter and unloaded its contents.

     Brandi put the wine, beer, and cheese in the
fridge. “Good I think.”

     She put her hands on her hips. “What does it mean
if you get a salary instead of a wage?”

     I finished putting the chips, pretzels, and
crackers into the cabinet and closed the door with my knee.

     “Wage is hourly. Salary is yearly. With a salary,
you usually don’t get paid for overtime hours.”

     She looked dazed.

     “What don’t you get?”

     “Um, so which is better?”

     “Well, that depends on the salary.”

     “They said it pays $25,000 a year.”

     “So, based on forty hours per week, that’s roughly
$12 per hour.”

     “I make about $100 dollars a day at Hot Pants
without overtime. Some days less, others more. Which is better?”

     I’d give her a calculator but I didn’t want to
confuse her further, so I did my own calculations to speed things up.

     “You work 7.5 hours a day?”

     “Yeah, usually.” She bit her fingernails, a
nervous habit that evolved shortly after she moved in with me. I can be a
little intense, or so I’ve been told.

     “Okay.” I used the calculator on my cell phone.
“That’s a little over $13 per hour. Including tips, right?”

     She nodded. “Gee, so I’d be losing money?”

     “Looks that way. But what would you prefer to
do?” I know better than to ask her to make a decision. She couldn’t decide on
which half of the banana to eat first.

     “I don’t know.”

     “Well, if they offer you the job you could ask
for…hold on.” I typed some figures into the phone calculator. “Um, ask for
$28,000. That will be more than you’re making now.”

     “Okay. Thanks. Say, can I have one of those
beers?”

     “Help yourself. Any plans for dinner?”

     “No. What are you making?”

     I contorted my mouth as I thought. That was my
bad habit. “How about grilled cheese and…” I opened a cabinet door and pushed
stuff aside. Slim pickings. I really should have bought more at the store but I
couldn’t wait to get home. “And, a side of green beans?”

     “Anything. I’m starving.”

     “Shouldn’t take long. I’m going to change first.”

     “I’ll open the beans.”

     I knew she could open them. I wasn’t confident
she could get past that.

The telephone rang after we were done eating. I was
washing the dishes as usual while Brandi sat on her ample behind in front of
the boob tube.

     “Yello,” I shouted over the running water.

     “Yello? What kind of greeting is that?”

     “Hey, Mom, how’s it going?”

     “Busy as usual. Everyone wants to be in Florida
or the Caribbean this time of year.”

     “Including me.” I turned off the water and put
the last dish upside down in the sink.

     “Did you hear about Spring?” She sounded
disappointed.

     “Yeah, she called me. You don’t sound real happy
about it.”

     “Oh, I don’t know.”

     “You always say that. What is it?” I dried my
hands on a dishtowel and hung it from the stove handle. I pulled out a dining
room chair and sat down, crossing my legs.

     Talking to my mom made me nervous. She had high
expectations of her daughters. I started to dig my fingernails into my scalp.

     “Well, do you think he’s marrying her for her
money? I mean she has saved a lot over the years.”

     “Mom, how can you even say that? The guy is part
owner in at least two restaurants. Maybe more. Everyone in his family owns some
sort of business.”