Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (the false prince .TXT) 📗

Driving to work, I reminded myself of my goals: talk to Ray’s mom about the consequences of committing murder, find out which one of Johnny’s kids was the medical marijuana entrepreneur, and schedule a hearing test for Nora.

I drove past the visitor’s parking lot. The building sign read “naively Slung Views” and I pondered the possible metaphorical meanings. At least the anagrams were G-rated. I parked next to Marabel’s Honda, in my favorite spot, with a pothole on the passenger’s side that was still filled with water from the weekend rain. Potholes riddled the employee’s parking lot, giving it a lunar landscape atmosphere. Repaving was supposedly on the corporation’s list of future improvements, hopefully before they replaced the sign. I picked my way past the puddles to the employee entrance.

The locker room had an excited hum of conversation, and the occasional slam of a bright blue locker door. It was my first day back, and I was greeted with several sorry-about-Oscar sentiments from my co-workers.

“Thank you so much for the card. I really appreciated it.” I offered a quick smile, and shuffled past Diane and Megan to my locker.

Marabel stood in front of her locker, and put her lunch bag on the shelf. “How are you doing, really?”

“Better, thanks. And thank you for removing me from the schedule last week.” I tucked my phone in my back pocket and locked up my purse.

Marabel pouted in the mirror on her locker door and reapplied her lipstick, a bright red smile against her warm brown skin. “Of course.” She smacked her lips together and dropped the lipstick in her pocket. She closed her locker and spun the combo.

We turned right in the corridor, and headed toward the long-term care nurses station.

I remembered my list of things to do. “You know Nora Fitzgerald on the residential side?” Marabel nodded, so I continued. “She suggested that one of Johnny Marino’s kids could be resourcing medical marijuana.” I used air quotes around resourcing, because I wasn’t quite sure if Johnny’s kid was stealing from some residents or just bringing in new pot.

“Oh, that’s bad.” Marabel frowned. “Which one of Johnny’s kids?”

“I’m not sure which one of Johnny’s twins.” And I didn’t want to be the one to ask. This was one of those times I appreciated not being the boss.

Marabel massaged her forehead. “Darn it. Can you go through the charts and see which of our patients have CBD oil or marijuana listed as a current prescription?” Her shoulders slumped. “I feel like a middle school principal.”

I patted her shoulder. “At least we don’t have to worry about pregnancies.”

She stopped and faced me. “No, but I need you to do me a favor.” Her serious expression made my stomach drop. “I understand you talked with Mrs. McGuffin last week?”

“Yes. She joined the Trivial Pursuit game.” I stepped to the side of the hallway to avoid Mr. and Mrs. Blevins toddling with walkers toward the cafeteria.

“At breakfast on Saturday, Mrs. McGuffin told Herb Potter there’s a chlamydia outbreak at Sunnyview, and Evie Feeney is patient zero.” Marabel’s lips tightened. “I called Mrs. McGuffin’s neurologist, but he assured me that her behavior is not a symptom of anything other than meanness. Could you talk to her? I’ve called her family, and her son Ray promised to talk to her today. He mentioned you have a special rapport with his mom.”

I exhaled. “He did, did he?” He could have warned me. “I know Ray.”

Marabel’s eyes widened. “Wait, how do you know Ray?”

“Not. Like. That.” Sheesh! I sprained my eyeballs with the rolling. “He lives next to Oscar.”

“Oh.” She bit her lips and then laughed. “Yeah, right. I forget sometimes that you didn’t grow up here.” She shook her head. “That would be so awkward.”

“You and Ray had a thing?” It took a moment to erase the horror I was sure was mirrored on my face.

She raised an eyebrow. “I was younger and stupider then.” She nodded her chin toward the nurses’ station.

Violet waved her pen at me and then returned to taking a note while talking on the phone.

“He was kind of a rite of passage for us back then.”

“Ick.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, now I totally agree with you, but back then a date with Ray was like getting the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. And he was easy on the eyes with his Bon Jovi hair and gladiator body.”

I cringed. “Ew.”

Marabel smirked at my reaction. “Come on, wasn’t there some guy at your high school that every girl wanted to go out with? And their social status improved dramatically after dating him?”

“Todd Barker, and he was quite dreamy, but he dated my sister, so totally off limits.” I shrugged. “I preferred art geeks to jocks, anyway.”

“Really?” She arched her brow and pursed her lips. “Funny.” She tapped her mouth with her finger. “I could have sworn one of those Sanders boys was a quarterback.”

“I didn’t know Joe in high school, and he was too busy for sports when we met.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Marabel’s eyebrows danced.

“You know, I had considered setting you up with Ray, but that’s probably not a good idea.”

She looked horrified, wide eyes, mouth gaping. She shook her head slowly.

“That’s a definite no, then,” I said.

The second phone rang at the nurses’ station. Violet motioned with her hand that her caller wouldn’t stop talking. I jogged over to the desk and answered the other phone. “This is Charlie, how can I help you?” The readout on the phone read Rita Almonds, a long-term resident with dementia and diabetes and a fondness for crosswords and bad puns.

“I can’t find my glasses. If you have a minute…” Her voice trailed off.

“No problem. I’ll be right there.” I replaced the receiver.

“Don’t forget about Mrs. McGuffin,” Marabel said.

“Don’t forget about Johnny’s kid,” I reminded her.

I returned to the nurses’ station and sat next to Violet, the sweetest and quietest nurse on the floor. I researched which patients had medical marijuana prescriptions. Violet typed at the computer,