Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [6]
“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
Those bug eyes blinked at me for a second before she sent me a sly smile. “Fine. I’m Betty Grable.”
“And I’m Lauren Becall. Try again, Betty.”
She smiled broadly—the grin of a woman proud to have all her own teeth. “Okay, I’m Reva Peterson.”
“Nice to meet you, Reva. I’m Julie Collins.”
The grip of her withered hand was surprisingly strong. “That isn’t the name you gave to Dee.”
Double crap. “You been spying on me, Reva?”
17
“Yep.”
“Why? You the head of Security around here?”
“You’re a real laugh riot. No, I’m keeping an eye on things because I have nothing better to do.”
Great. Just my luck Prairie Gardens had their very own Miss Marple.
“So, unless you want me to turn you in, you’d better tell me exactly what you’re up to.” The wheels squeaked as she backed up. “Come on, I know a place where we can talk in private.”
I was glad she hadn’t ratted me out, so I followed her. We ended up in a bare bones employee break room consisting of a card table circa 1970, two dilapidated chairs, a microwave, and a Coke machine. The angle of the room was cockeyed and doorless, providing an unobstructed view of the entire reception area. No wonder Reva knew what I’d been doing.
I flopped on a rickety folding chair.
Reva said, “Out with it.”
“Why don’t you get right to the point?”
“Don’t see why I shouldn’t. I’m old. I could die at any time.”
“Well, there’s that saying about curiosity . . .” My gaze landed on her Sex Kitten tattoo. Made me think of Martinez. Was I the only person in the world who wasn’t inked?
“You’re stalling.”
“You weren’t by chance a drill sergeant in your former life?”
18
“Nope. I spent forty-seven years as head librarian in the Gillette Public Library.”
That explained it. “I’m assuming this will stay between us?”
She nodded.
“The truth is, I’m a private investigator.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Are you undercover? Like that woman on Alias?”
“Sort of, but without the cool clothes and awesome wigs.”
“Do you have a hot partner like that Vaughn guy?”
“Yep.” I grinned when her blue eyes widened behind her thick lenses. “My partner and I are checking out a couple of concerns a client has about a relative living here.”
“Which resident?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Shoot. That’s no fun.”
“Sorry. But you can answer a few general questions, right?”
“Be happy to.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Five years.”
“Yeah? Been big changes since the new owners took over?”
Reva scowled. “Yes. They’re bombarding us with people and visits and activities. Something going on all the time. They claim we need the mental stimulus.”
19
She snorted. “Half the people in here only have half a working brain anyway, and that isn’t because they’re old in body.”
“Meaning?”
“Who likes change? We’re set in our ways. What’s wrong with the way things were? Some of us like hiding out in our apartments entertaining ourselves.”
“Then again, Reva, some of you skulk around the hallways making your own entertainment.”
“True. But you wouldn’t believe the shenanigans going on in the utility closet right after shift change.”
She offered me an impish smile. “Something to be said for access to unlimited Viagra.”
“You talking about the employees?”
She shook her head. “The residents.”
I did not want to think about prunish bodies slapping together. “I thought you were gonna say the volunteers. But I guess they gotta get their perks where they can since they’re not getting paid.”
“Who told you the volunteers weren’t paid?”
That jarred me. “Doesn’t the word volunteer mean
‘work without compensation’?”
“You, me, and Webster’s Dictionary are the only ones who seem to know that.” Reva adjusted the gold chain holding her glasses. “These new owners started a senior group called Prime Time Friends. Notice I didn’t say volunteer group. Their organization is run more like a hospice than Meals On Wheels.”
“Hospice services aren’t free.”
20
“Neither are the visits from Prime Time Friends.”
“So who’s paying for the visits?”
“We all are.”
“Individually? Like if