Grace Sees Red (18 page)

Santiago lifted his chin. “Hey, look who's here.”

Hands in his pockets, Dan loitered outside his father's apartment door, stopping to view the framed artwork on display in the hallway as though seeing the pieces for the first time. He radiated the air of a man en route to a commitment who wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

Flashing us a quick grin, Santiago boosted himself from his perch. “I wonder if
he's
heard about the arrest yet,” he said.

What was wrong with this guy? How could someone so cheered by others' misfortunes have settled on a career in nursing? It was mind-numbing. Speechless, I turned to Joe, who shot me a commiserating “I can't believe this” look.

I leaned close and pointed to the new arrival. “Dan. The missing brother.”

“He isn't dressed for hard labor,” Joe whispered back.

He wasn't. Where Harland and Joslyn had been blue-jeaned and T-shirted, Dan wore dark slacks, a long-sleeved dress shirt, and a conservative tie. He held a jacket thrown over his shoulder.

Raising his hand, Santiago signaled Dan to join us.

Dan acknowledged Santiago's greeting but didn't look particularly pleased at the prospect of swinging by to chat. As luck would have it, however, Debbie emerged from another patient room just then, nearly bumping into him.

They were too far away for us to overhear their conversation, but their brief interaction threw Santiago into a tizzy. “Why should she get to share all the good gossip?”

“Gossip?” Percy twisted his chair to confront Santiago head-on. “That's my wife you're talking about.”

“Uh-huh,” Santiago said. “And she'd be the first one to appreciate how juicy all this is. Don't tell me she wouldn't.”

Percy sucked in his cheeks. His upper body rose and his eyes glittered. “If I could get out of this chair, you low-life scum, the police would have another murder to investigate—but this time there would be zero doubt who did it.”

Unfazed, Santiago glanced over to Joe and then to me and found no sympathy. “If we're done here, I suppose I
ought to check on a few residents.” His smile was as cold as his tone.

Before leaving, he tapped his chin, then brought his face low, close to Percy's. “I'm betting you haven't taken your anxiety medicine today, have you?” Without waiting for an answer, he said, “I think we may need to discuss upping your dosage. All this misplaced anger isn't healthy.” Straightening himself, he pivoted and walked away.

Percy wheeled to position himself closer to me. “Imbecile,” he said loud enough for Santiago to hear. “I don't know how that guy keeps his job. We all complain about him. Nobody listens.”

Picking up on that, I asked, “Did Gus complain about Santiago?”

“Sure, yeah.” Percy didn't seem to catch the reason for my interest. “Like I said, we all did.”

“And you told me Gus was wealthy.” I glanced over to make sure Dan and Debbie weren't close enough to overhear. “Rich enough for Indwell's administration to pay attention to his concerns?”

Percy's eyes lit up. “Are you suggesting that Santiago may have had a motive? To shut Gus up so that Santiago didn't lose his job?”

“It's a stretch,” I admitted. “That's a pretty drastic measure. Way out of proportion. What do you know about Santiago? Is there anything in his personal life that suggests violent tendencies?”

Joe leaned in. “If you know where he worked before coming to Indwell, I could make discreet inquiries. I have a network of colleagues scattered all over the country. You never know.”

“I don't.” Percy's mouth set in a line. “I've always tried to avoid him myself. But I can find out.” He gave a brisk nod and said, “I'll do my best,” before wheeling away.

“You'd do that?” I asked Joe. “That's incredibly generous of you.”

“Not so generous. Curiosity is getting the better of me.”
He gave a sheepish grin. “Something isn't right here. Now I'm intrigued and I want answers.” He lowered his voice as Debbie and Dan made their way toward us. “Is this what it's like all the time?” he asked, “I mean, is this how you've gotten involved in so many investigations before?”

“Yep,” I said. “This is exactly what it's like.”

After calling Dan and Debbie over and making quick introductions, I learned that Dan had heard about Frances's arrest before he'd left home this morning. All of Santiago's aggravation was for naught.

“Harland and Joslyn will be glad to see you,” I said with a vague gesture toward the apartment.

“They're here cleaning again?” Dan ran a hand through his hair. “What is up with those two?”

“I don't understand,” I said. “If you didn't come to help, then why are you here?”

Dan cough-laughed. “I don't know. I felt compelled to stop by. Does that make me a weirdo?” He turned to Debbie. “Is that normal? People coming back even after their parents are gone?”

“Perfectly understandable,” Debbie said solemnly. “Everybody grieves in their own way.”

“I thought I'd take a look around my dad's room again before you guys rent it out to someone else.” He shrugged. “But if Harland and Joslyn are here, it might be smarter to sneak out before they see me.”

“Then you'd better get going.” Debbie tapped her watch. “They're bound to catch you.”

“Ever since Dad died, they've been fanatical about his possessions,” he said. “They think he hid money in there. No way.” Again, he turned to Debbie. “You guys made it clear that we weren't supposed to let him keep valuables in his room.”

“Very true,” she said. “Indwell can't be responsible for lost items. Your dad signed a contract to that effect before he moved in.”

“Exactly. So there's nothing in there for me to worry about, right?”

She shrugged with a look that said, “What am I supposed to say to that?”

For a man eager to make a clean getaway, Dan seemed reluctant to leave our little group.

“What are they doing with all of your father's stuff?” Joe asked.

Dan didn't seem to mind the fact that a complete stranger had posed the question. “They want to go through it all next week, piece by piece, at Harland's house to see if there's anything we want to keep as a memento.”

“I imagine you'll find some lovely surprises,” Debbie said.

Dan nodded. “I guess I'll come back another time.”

I was itching to broach the Santiago-as-the-killer idea to Dan, but reluctant to do so in front of Debbie. Although I got the distinct impression she and Santiago weren't friends, they
were
coworkers, and who knew what sort of an allegiance existed between them.

“Joe and I plan to stop by the Rosette police department on our way back to Marshfield,” I said to Dan. “We'll walk you out.”

He and I fell into step together. Next to me, Joe kept pace.

“You look like you came straight from work,” I said as we made our way toward Indwell's lobby. “What do you do for a living?”

“Until recently, I was a high school social studies teacher.
Not working right now, though,” Dan said. “Burned out a few years back, but I stuck with it until my pension kicked in.”

“Aren't you a little young for a pension?”

“Ha,” he said. “No, I'm not, but thanks. I took the earliest exit they offered. I just got to a point in my life where I realized my best days were behind me and if I didn't stop to smell the roses now, I never would.” He shrugged. “Maybe a couple of years off will inspire me to return to the classroom. In the meantime, I can always sub.”

“How long have you been out?” Joe asked.

“This is my first semester as a free man,” he said with a chuckle. “I took that trip to celebrate, but wound up coming back to all this.” He waved vaguely over his shoulder. “I'm starting to feel guilty about that.”

“You do? Why?” I asked.

“I don't know.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe if I hadn't gone away, my dad would still be alive.”

“You think you could have prevented his death?”

“Sounds silly, doesn't it?” he asked. “But I can't help it. Did they tell you I used to visit him all the time here? Three times a week, at least. Never missed. Until I went on vacation.”

Another aide had replaced Cathy at the front desk so we were spared making small talk with the nosy woman.

“What kind of relationship did your father have with Santiago?” I asked.

“That crazy nurse who called the police and got this whole mess started?”

“Yes, him. Did he and your father get along?”

“Why? You have reason to think
he
could have killed Dad?”

“I heard that your dad had registered a few complaints. Maybe Santiago was afraid of losing his job.”

Dan tilted his head one way then another as though examining the question from different angles. “I don't think so. That wouldn't make any sense. If he did it, then why would he call the police? Why wouldn't he just report a regular death?”

That was the one argument I had no answer for. “I know I'm grasping at straws but maybe he thought that calling the police would deflect suspicion. That by reporting an alleged murder, he would come across as the innocent informant.”

“I guess.” He seemed unconvinced. “I'll tell you this much: I wish he would have kept his mouth shut.”

“I do, too,” I said. “That's only because I know Frances has been unfairly accused. But what if someone did murder your dad? Wouldn't you want that person brought to justice?”

“At this point, I just want it done. Nobody killed our dad, and this is all a ridiculous waste of time.”

“So you don't believe Frances is guilty?” Joe asked.

“No,” Dan said with a dismissive swipe. “But it's not like I can march down to the police department and demand they release her. They're not going to listen to me.”

“If you thought of anything—any evidence or information that could help clear Frances—you would tell the police though, right?”

“There's nothing for me to tell,” he said. “Maybe if I'd been here, I'd know more.” He shook his head. “But I wasn't. I don't know anything.”

Debbie came hurrying toward us, waving. “Dan!” When she reached us, she said, “I'm glad I caught you before you left. Harland and Joslyn are carting boxes out via one of the side entrances. I didn't mention that you were here. Harland found this and asked me to give it to you if you happened to show up later today.”

The item in question was a small leather box—the kind expensive pen and pencil sets arrived in. She placed it into Dan's palm.

“What is it?” Joe asked.

The wells of Dan's eyes turned bright red. He stared down at the box and gingerly opened its hinged lid. Inside—sure enough—was a fancy silver pen.

“Harland said that this one doesn't count as one of your picks,” Debbie said. “He said it belonged to you already.”

Still staring down at the pen, Dan nodded. He cleared his
throat. “Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I bought this for Dad with my first paycheck. Thought he chucked it years ago. Didn't realize he kept it.” Snapping it shut, he tucked it into his pants pocket and wiped at his face with the back of his hand.

I locked eyes with Debbie, who looked like a kid that had mistakenly done something terribly wrong. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I thought it would give you comfort.”

Dan shook his head. “Makes it worse.”

“We'd better get going,” I said.

Composure regained, Dan cleared his throat again and smiled at me. “You take it easy,” he said as he swung his sport coat on. “Good luck to your friend Frances. Maybe she'll be released soon.”

“Thanks. I hope your day improves,” I said.

“Say hi to your girlfriend for us,” Debbie said.

He shook his head. “What?”

“You're all dressed up,” she said. “I assume you have a hot date tonight.”

I warped back to Harland's comment when I'd first met him, when he'd assumed I was Dan's girlfriend.

My brain immediately jumped into high gear. If Dan had a girlfriend, could she have overdosed Gus with insulin? I had no idea what sort of motive the woman could have or even if she'd visited Gus while Dan was away. I was mulling ways to pose that question delicately when Debbie came in with an assist.

“We've been hearing about this girlfriend of his for months,” she said with a wink. “But he refuses to bring her around. I'm starting to wonder if the woman really exists.”

“She exists, all right,” he said. “And no, no hot date. She's been giving me the cold shoulder lately.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said.

“You'd think with all I've had to deal with this week, she'd be a little nicer. A little more sympathetic. She doesn't understand why I can't give her all the attention she wants.”

“Why don't you bring her with you next time?” Debbie asked. “We can all tell her what a great guy you are.”

“Yeah, right.” He cough-laughed again. “You have to understand,” he said, even though we didn't, “there was no way I could let my dad know about her. The old man never liked any of the women I brought around for him to meet. Including my ex-wife. He never liked anyone Harland dated, either.”

“Not even Joslyn?” I asked.

“He
hated
her,” Dan said. “I'm surprised Joslyn didn't start dancing a jig when we got the word that he was gone.”

The more I learned about Gus, the wider the suspect pool grew.