“Did she introduce him to you? Do you know his name?”
“No, I don’t think so. At least, I don’t remember his name. He was short, had hair dyed black. He was wearing turquoise scrubs. That’s about all I remember.”
Susan glanced down at the sheet of paper again before she asked the next question. “And how did she seem?”
“Just fine. Perfectly normal. She was trying to convince the young man that he should go back to school. She was passionate about education and she was always interested in young people.” Mandy wiped a tear from her cheek, took a deep breath, and continued. “She was doing what she always did.”
“And her mood? Did she appear upset or nervous or anything like that?”
“Not right then, but later she changed. You see, we never did have a chance to really sit down and talk.”
“Why not? What happened?”
“The young man-I guess he was an aide. He was dressed like one at least. Well, he left to get her some water for tea and we waited in the hall and chatted.”
“And what exactly did she say?”
“What I wrote down. She told me that she thought someone was killing the residents of P.I.C.C.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I was startled… well, shocked. To tell you the truth, I wondered, just for a moment, if perhaps Carolyn was losing her mind, but she was speaking calmly, explaining what she thought as she always did. It was just a passing thought. Carolyn was as sane and intelligent as you or me.”
“So tell me exactly what you remember her saying.”
“It’s what I wrote down. She said that someone had killed a resident and she thought was going to kill again.”
“And did she identify this someone?”
“She said I had to watch Mike Armstrong. That’s the name I wrote down.”
“But what you wrote down is that she told you to watch Mike Armstrong and everyone connected to him. But she didn’t say he was the killer, did she? She might have been telling you that Mike Armstrong-”
“And people connected to him.”
“Yes. And the people connected to him-that they were in danger. Is that possible?”
“I didn’t interpret it like that, but I suppose you could be right.”
“Did you tell anybody about this?”
“I told the police after Carolyn was killed.” She looked down and Susan realized she was close to crying.
“What did they say?”
The bookstore owner took a deep breath and looked up. “The officer I spoke with told me that this Mike Armstrong had disappeared and that he was the main suspect.”
“Did you realize that Mike was the young man she was speaking with when you found her?”
“No, I had no idea. Are you sure?”
“Not positive, but I think it’s likely.”
“Oh, but she liked that young man. And she wouldn’t have if she thought he was a killer. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” Susan said honestly. “Did he say anything when he came back with the hot water?”
“Oh, he didn’t. There was some sort of problem with the alarm system. For some reason the fire alarm went off. You can probably imagine the resulting mayhem. The PA system began barking out orders: residents were to gather in the living room, the staff was to carry out a room check immediately-that sort of thing.”
“And what did you do?”
“I pushed Carolyn to the living room where all the residents had gathered. Staff members were working to keep everyone calm, but some of the people were very upset. Some wanted to leave the building and some wanted to return to their rooms for photos and things like that. Fortunately, someone came in almost immediately and explained there was nothing to worry about-it was a false alarm.”
“A false alarm or had the system malfunctioned?” Susan asked.
“I don’t remember. Is there a difference?”
“Yes. A system malfunction is completely different from someone using a cigarette lighter to set off the alarm-and, of course, to force an end to the conversation you and Carolyn were having.”
FIFTEEN
THE PERRY ISLAND CARE CENTER WAS GETTING READY FOR Easter. Cute cardboard cutouts of improbably attired bunnies had been taped up in the hallways. Plastic eggs hung from the budding branch of a quince tree standing by the front door and a gigantic basket of drooping tulips took up an unreasonable amount of space on the receptionist’s desk. The young woman seated at that desk looked up, and around the plant, as Susan entered the building.
“May I help you? Oh, you’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I met with Astrid Marlow a few days ago. She said I could return at any time and look around, and… and I have a few questions about… about security. My mother worries more and more as she gets older… about fire and things like that,” she added, not sure exactly what was like fire.
“We have a state-of-the-art fire alarm system. It connects directly to the volunteer fire department as well as to the police station,” the receptionist assured her. “The state inspected it just a few months ago and found everything completely satisfactory.”
“Oh.” Susan wasn’t quite sure how to continue.
“Have you seen the results of the inspections?”
“No.”
“They’re printed up and are part of the prospective resident package. I’m surprised you weren’t given one on your first visit.”
Susan realized that she had been given one, but she hadn’t bothered to look at it. “I did have one, but it was misplaced somehow.”
“Let me get you another then. Perhaps two copies so you can share one with your mother?”
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
“I believe there are extra copies on a bookshelf in the living room. I’m not supposed to leave this desk unmanned, but-”
“I could go get them,” Susan said quickly.
“That would be helpful. Do you know the way?”
She didn’t, but she could bluff. “It’s down that hallway, right?” She pointed to the left.
“I’m afraid you’re turned around. It’s that way.” The receptionist pointed in the opposite direction.
“Of course. I’ll just go get them. You did say on the bookshelf, didn’t you?” Susan asked, hurrying off to the right.
She recognized the living room from Mandy’s description. A few groups of residents congregated in the elegantly decorated space, sitting on the chintz-covered couches and chatting as they perused today’s newspapers and current magazines. Three women sat around a card table, working on a large, nearly completed jigsaw puzzle. Susan removed two Perry Island Care Center brochures from a nearly empty bookshelf, then walked over and peered down at the table. “What is that?” The puzzle seemed to have been created from thousands of small brightly colored disks.
A woman with a gray bun on top of her head looked up. “Bottle caps of the world. My grandson sent it to me for Christmas. He’s a hotshot student up at M.I.T.-probably thought it would stump a bunch of senior citizens. He’s going to be up here for my birthday next week. We’re determined to get it done before then.”
“Yes, nothing is quite as motivating as proving to the young that we’re not completely brain dead.” This from a chubby woman with twinkling pale azure eyes and white curls bobbing on her head.
“It looks impossible,” Susan said.
“Nothing’s impossible when you have as much free time as we do,” the last woman in the group assured Susan, getting up and wandering off to another group.
“I wonder if I could ask you some questions,” Susan said to the remaining women.
“You can ask what you want, but you won’t necessarily get any answers,” the grandmother of the M.I.T. student answered, not even bothering to look up.
“Ignore her,” said the woman with curls. “She’s suffering from low blood sugar. Her endocrinologist can’t seem to get her meds adjusted.”