Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [3]
“In the far south wing are the full-time care units for residents with terminal problems, and those are a basic hospital room with round-the-clock care from a twenty-four-hour nursing staff. And lastly, we have a wing devoted to temporary care, such as recovery from strokes or accidents, where the spouse or caretaker may live on the premises with the recovering party if he or she chooses to, and work in conjunction with the healthcare professionals. Some folks stay as little as four days, some as long as four weeks, but beyond that, they’ll have to move to terminal care.”
“Are all these buildings connected?”
“Yes, but only for selected staff. Residents cannot freely float from one unit to the next.”
“And the ‘buy in’ factor? What exactly is that?”
7
Kevin asked.
“Somewhat like purchasing a house. The resident buys a unit, which includes all utilities and amenities of the facility—use of the pool, spa, weight room, activities, professional services, transportation, meals, medical staff—and they can live here in any of the three housing sections. Let’s say health circumstances change, requiring a move from a private residence unit to a general care unit, or even to the acute care unit. That resident can stay until he or she passes on. If there’s a surviving spouse, the same applies. Then the contract is fulfilled.”
“And in the case of the private residences? Is ownership passed on to the surviving secondary family members?”
“No. Then the residence reverts back to us.”
Whoa. That was just plain weird. I couldn’t imagine shelling out a hundred grand and ending up with . . . nothing. Then again, the tenants were dead, so what did they care? And probably if their surviving children shoved them in a place like this in the first place, they shouldn’t expect a windfall when Granny and Gramps kicked it anyway.
Cynical, Julie Ann.
“However, we understand that kind of cash outlay isn’t possible for everyone, so we do rent the general units by the year, or by the month, or in the case of the temporary wing, by the week.” Dee smiled at me. “Any idea of which type of unit your aunt would prefer?”
“Oh, our Aunt Rose is a social butterfly, so I imagine 8
she’d want an apartment right in the thick of things.”
Dee’s smile dimmed and the dollar signs in her eyes dulled. “Well, then, let’s head over to that section of the complex, known around here as ‘the hive.’” We exited the way we came in.
We hung a left at the front desk, passed through a set of double doors, and ended up at an unmanned kiosk. Eight long hallways spread out like a spider’s legs. My gaze swung to the end of the first corridor. A single glass door marked the exit. It appeared to be a barred door, but I’d have to double check it to see if it was attached to some kind of alarm system, or if it was even locked. If not, that might be the reason Mr. Sloane was sneaking out so easily.
I squinted at the ceiling. Plenty of sprinkler heads but not a single security camera. Odd. Why wouldn’t they monitor the hallways? Because people were paying to be here and didn’t want to escape? Well, with the exception of Vernon Sloane.
It bothered me that the higher priced living area had better security.
Dee chatted amiably at Kevin. “Here’s one of the efficiency units.” She slid off a stretchy fuchsia plastic armband from around her wrist and rammed a big silver key in the lock. The door swung inward. A Renuzit air freshener couldn’t mask the musty scent assaulting my nostrils.
The room was bare, save for the hideous orange plaid curtains covering the windows, and a frosted 9
light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The kitchen was galley-style, located in a tiny alcove off to the left. A miniature breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the miniscule living room.
“Most of our residents are singles, widows or widowers. The bedroom and bathroom are through here.”
Dee took three steps and we followed her.
With no windows in the bedroom, the heavy floral