“What do you think she heard?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s none of her business. I just thought you should be aware of it in case we run into her.”
We took a left, passing the staff lounge, central supply, and then a series of residential rooms. Many doors were closed, the exteriors decorated with greeting cards or wreaths of dried flowers. Sometimes the names of the occupants were spelled out in foil letters hanging jauntily from a miniclothesline of ribbon or string. Through the doors that remained open, I caught glimpses of twin-sized beds with floral spreads, photographs of family members lined up on the chests of drawers. Each room had a different color scheme and each looked out onto a narrow garden where flowering shrubs trembled with the first drops of a pattering rain. We passed an old woman, stumping down the hall with her walker. Her pace was rapid and when she reached the corner, she turned with such vigor she threatened to topple sideways. Merry reached out a hand and steadied her. The woman banked, swerving wide, and then tottered on.
Ruby Curtsinger was sitting in an upholstered chair beside a set of sliding glass doors, one of which was pushed back to admit a breath of damp, fresh air. Her feet were propped on a stool. Just outside, a bird feeder was suspended from the eaves. Small brown birds were perched on the feeder’s edge. A line of birds, like clothespins, extended from the hanging support. Ruby was a tiny, shrunken woman with a small bony face and arms as thin as sticks. Hef white hair was sparse, but it looked as if she’d recently had it washed and set. She turned a pair of bright blue eyes toward us and smiled, showing the many gaps in her lower teeth. Merry introduced us and explained what I wanted before she withdrew.
Ruby said, “You should talk to Charles. He saw Dr. Purcell after I said good-night to him.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of Charles.”
“He’s an orderly on the night staff. He’s probably here somewhere. He likes to come into work early so he can visit with Mrs. Thornton and some of the other girls. They play gin rummy for pennies and you should hear them hoot. When I have trouble sleeping, I ring for him and he’ll put me in my chair and push me up and down the halls.
Sometimes I sit in the staff lounge and play euchre with him. The man does love to play cards. I take my meals here in my room. There are folks in the dining room I don’t much care for. One woman chews with her mouth open. I don’t want to look at that when I’m eating. It’s disgusting.
“The night you’re asking about-when I last saw the doctor-I took my usual pills, but nothing seemed to help. I rang for Charles, and he said he’d take me on Toad’s Wild Ride. That’s what he calls it. In truth, he wanted to smoke so he parked me in the lobby and went outside. That’s why I was sitting there, so Charles could sneak a cigarette. He’s trying to quit and I guess he thinks if no one knows what he’s doing, it won’t count. Dr. Purcell doesn’t allow anyone to smoke in here. He says too many people have problems breathing as it is. That’s one thing we talked about that night.”
“What time was this?”
“Five minutes to nine or so. We didn’t chat long.”
“Can you remember anything else?”
“He told me I was beautiful. He always says that to me, though I sometimes think he’s fibbing just a tiny bit. I asked about his boy. I forget what his name is,”
“Griffith.”
“That’s it. Doctor used to have his wife bring the little boy in to see us every week or so. Of course, she hasn’t brought him even once since his daddy disappeared. I notice the child’s feet scarcely ever touched the floor. They carried him every place and anything he wanted, he pointed to and grunted. I told the doctor, ‘He’s never going to learn to talk as long as you treat him that way,’ and he heartily agreed. And then we talked about the weather. It was a lovely night outside. Felt just like spring and I believe the moon was almost full. He went through the door and that’s the last I saw of him.”
“Could you tell what kind of mood he was in? Mad? Sad?” She put an index finger against her cheek and gave that some thought. Arthritis had bent the thumb on that hand until it formed a painful-looking angle perpendicular to her hand. “Absentminded, I’d say. I had to ask him twice if he could arrange an outing for us. The food here is good. I don’t mean to complain, but eating out is fun and gives us all a lift. Any little change makes such a difference.”
A Hispanic woman in scrubs appeared at the door. “I have your dinner tray, Miss Curtsinger. You want to eat in front of the TV so you can watch your show? It’s coming on in five minutes and you don’t want to miss the opening. That’s the best part you said.” She crossed to Ruby’s chair and set the dinner tray on a small rolling table that she pulled in close. She removed the aluminum lid, revealing the barbecued riblet laid out with all its accompaniments. The Jell-0 was green with a smattering of fruit cocktail submerged in its glowing depths. “Thank you,” Ruby said, and then she smiled at me. “Will you come back and see me, dear? I like talking to you.”
“I’ll do what I can. Tell you what-next time, I’ll bring you a Quarter Pounder with Cheese.”
“And a Big Mac. I see those ads on television and they always look so good.”
“Believe me, they are. I’ll bring you one of those, too.” I walked down the hall as far as the staff lounge, where I stuck my head in and said, “I’m looking for Charles.”
The man I saw sitting at the table with the evening paper was in his fifties and was dressed in scrubs, like the woman bringing out the trays. He was a mild nut brown, and narrow through the shoulders, his arms hairless and scrawny. He set his paper aside and got to his feet politely to identify himself. “Charles Biedler,” he said. “How may I help you, Miss?”
I explained who I was and what I wanted, repeating the gist of what Ruby Curtsinger had told me. “I know you’ve answered these questions before, but it would really be a help if you’d tell me what you remember.”
“I could show you where he was parked and where I stood that night.”
“I’d love that,” I said. He picked up a folded section of the paper and carried it with him as we moved toward the entrance. I paused to retrieve my umbrella and my slicker, which I held over my head like a yellow plastic tent. Charles used his newspaper as a rain hat and we hurried outside, hunched against the rain, which was blowing against us in gusts. Charles paused at the end of the walkway, pointing toward the cars. “See where that little blue VW’s parked? Doctor’s space was right there. I saw him crossing the lot and then he got in his car and pulled out right around to here.”
“You didn’t see anyone else?”
“No, but now that corner of the parking lot was darker at nine o’clock than it is right now. Warm that night. I was in my shirt sleeves like this only without the gooseflesh. I spoke to him like always, you know, calling out a word and he said something back, kind of bantering like.”
“There was nothing unusual?”
“Not as I recall.”
“I’m trying to see this as you did. Ruby says he had his suit jacket over his arm. Did he carry anything else?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t picture it if he did.”
“What about his car keys?”
“I guess he must have had those in hand. I don’t remember him reaching in his pocket.”
“So he unlocked the car door and then what?”
“I don’t remember nothing about that.”
“Did the interior light go on?”
“Might have. After he got in, he sat a while and then he started up the engine and swung around this way so he could drive out the front.”
“Was that his pattern?”
Charles blinked, shaking his head. “Most times.”
His newspaper was getting soaked and I knew it was time to retreat to the overhang.
“Let’s get out of this rain,” I said.
We headed back to the entrance, pausing again just outside the front door.
I said, “Was there anything else? Anything at all, even if it seems trivial.”
“He didn’t call out good-night like he usually did when he drove past. Last thing he’d do, he used to wave and shake a finger, kind of teasing me like, because I told him I quit smoking.”