Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [106]
“Vernon Sloane.”
Luella deflected her gaze to the door.
“Did you have anything to do with that poor old man getting left out in the cold and freezing to death like an unwanted dog?”
No response.
“I found him, remember? Stiff as a board. His eyes were open, like he knew what was going on, not like he’d laid down to take a short ice nap.” I paused for effect. “But know the worst thing, Luella?”
“Stop.”
“That final, permanent look of sadness and horror on his face.”
“Please don’t.”
“Freezing to death is not peaceful like drowning. It’s incredibly painful. The brain is aware of everything since it’s the last organ to cease functioning. Have you ever seen anyone who’s frozen to death?”
“Stop it. Please.”
“Only if you talk.”
377
She nodded.
I pointed to the dining table. “Make yourself comfortable. We aren’t leaving until I’m satisfied with your answers.”
Luella poured herself tea. Drained the cup—as if in fortification—and poured more.
“Was your relationship with Sloane strictly professional?”
“What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing.” I jabbed my finger in the air at her.
“And you don’t get to be snappy and indignant with me. I just don’t get why you spent so much time with him. From what I saw of Vernon, he was old. And cranky. And confused. Surely there had to be easier seniors to blow your monthly quota on?”
“No one else wanted him as a client.”
“He was just so glad to have a companion that he wrote you checks for thousands of dollars?”
She flushed. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I switched jobs after the property changed hands and Bradley Boner started the Friends program. I hired the workers. We divided up the residents. From the get-go I knew Vernon teetered on the edge of needing full-time care. We’re supposed to report those cases to management.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a significant increase in the monthly payment to the facility.”
378
“So it’d be financially beneficial for Prairie Gardens to change his status?”
“Yes. In his moments of lucidity Vernon was adamant he didn’t want to move from his apartment because he’d lose even more control.”
“Of what?”
“Of everything. His freedom, his environment, his choices. He’d already lost his daughter and his car.”
“So instead of reporting him . . .”
Luella’s neck turned as bright red as her lipstick.
“Instead of reporting him to Admin, I agreed to keep his condition a secret if he offered me a financial incentive to do so.”
Jesus. “Do you have agreements like this with other residents?”
“No. And I was helping him. Within a month, I had Vernon seeing a new doctor and he was in much better shape, mentally and physically. I believed he’d be okay living on his own.”
“Then why didn’t you stop spending so much time with him? Because of the money?”
“I didn’t only do it for the money.”
What a load of shit. “If you were trying to hide the fact Vernon needed full-time care, then you should’ve tried harder to cover your tracks.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I got a hold of the ‘volunteer’ schedule, it showed you devoting more hours per week to Vernon Sloane than to any other resident. Wouldn’t that tip 379
off the front office he needed extra care?”
“It might have if the general manager didn’t just sign off on the schedule on a biweekly basis.” She sniffed. “The office staff is so overworked they don’t care. The senior program is under the direct supervision of the GM. He pays us from a different account than the other employees.”
Which rang true with what Bud Linderman had
told me. “How well do you know Amery Grayson?
Because I distinctly remember, during our first conversation at the doctor’s office, you said Vernon didn’t have any family.”
“She isn’t family. She’s a vulture. And I tried my best to keep her talons out of him.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make. Because, like it or not, Amery is Vernon’s granddaughter.”
Luella glared at me. “I was the one who’d taken care of him. She moves here and decides she cares about poor old Granddad? Baloney.”
“Were you jealous of her?”
“No, infuriated by