Day Shift

“I’ll just come with you,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want to drag her away from whatever she’s doing.”

Bertha looked at her doubtfully but led Rebecca up the stairs and into the large room that was the second left after the landing. Yes, Manfred had been right. This was clearly the master bedroom. A woman who must be Annelle was standing in the doorway of a walk-in closet, looking tired and sad. She was short and plump, though not nearly as plump as her mother had been, and her hair was dark brown and graying just a bit.

Annelle was surprised to see someone she didn’t know, and not pleased. “Who is this, Bertha?” she said, making a visible effort to pull herself together.

“This is Miss Mansfield from Home Health,” Bertha said carefully. “Your mom must have filled out some forms?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Annelle said incredulously. “What else is going to happen? Why’d she do that?”

Bertha remained, looking curious, too. “I didn’t know anything about it, Miss Annelle,” she said rather smugly.

“Miss Mansfield?” Annelle was looking at her doubtfully. “I’m Annelle Kling, Mrs. Goldthorpe’s daughter. I’m afraid you didn’t get the news that my mom passed away very suddenly.”

“Bertha just told me. I’m so sorry for intruding on your grief,” Olivia lied. “We had an appointment set up with Mrs. Goldthorpe a few days ago, but when we rang the bell, no one answered, and when we left a phone message, we didn’t hear back. So my office sent me by to do a wellness check. We get worried when we don’t get a response from an elderly client.”

“Even when they haven’t signed up for your service? That’s real customer devotion,” Annelle said, an edge to her voice. “Or are you trying to tell me that my mom’s estate owes your company money? Because I’ve got to tell you, my dad’s will wasn’t even out of probate, and now my mom’s passed away, and there’s just no telling when this will all be settled.”

“Not at all,” Olivia said, emphatically. “She had signed a preliminary contract, but of course under the circumstances we wouldn’t dream of trying to enforce… That’s not how we do business. Her insurance policy was going to pay for it in full, anyway.”

Annelle looked relieved, though Olivia got the impression it wasn’t over the money situation, but all about not facing any more paperwork. “Oh, okay, good,” she said. She took a deep breath, preparatory to telling Olivia good-bye, so Olivia babbled on.

“It’s just that almost all of our clients are elderly — your mother was relatively young! — and so often at that age memory is not quite what it was. We worry when people that age don’t respond, to put it simply.”

Annelle seemed to be taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were being… overzealous. We’ve just had people coming out of the woodwork to try to claim my mother owed them money, and all those claims have been spurious. I apologize if I seem too suspicious.”

Not suspicious enough, Olivia thought. “No problem,” she said. “Your mother seemed to be such a sweet lady. I’m very sorry to hear of your loss. I don’t want to cause you any further trouble, but might I visit a ladies’ room before I go to my next appointment?”

Annelle did her best to hide her exasperation. She was clearly anxious to get back to the painful but necessary task of cleaning out her mother’s closet. “Sure,” she said. “Since you’re in here, you might as well use Mother’s, behind that door.” She pointed to a door in the north wall of the room.

“Thanks so much,” Olivia said, pushing open the indicated door. She closed it firmly behind her, dumped her bag and clipboard on the vanity, and looked around. Since there was no way she would get to search the bedroom, she would look around the bathroom as long as she dared. She actually sat on the toilet while she searched the area, and after as thorough an examination as she could assay in a believable length of time, she flushed the toilet and started the water in the sink, while giving the inside of the medicine cabinet and the storage cabinet quick but intensive scans.

Nothing. Not a crack or crevice that wasn’t normal building practice. No false back or revolving shelves or little holes in the floor. Though she didn’t have time to go through the lower cabinet, below the sink, she had a super-quick look to verify there was nothing suspicious.

Dammit.

When she came out of the bathroom, wiser only in a negative way — she was fairly sure nothing was hidden there, and she hadn’t learned anything more interesting besides the fact that Rachel Goldthorpe had had a great Mary Kay saleswoman in her neighborhood — Olivia made her good-byes and renewed her condolences to Annelle Goldthorpe Kling before going down the carpeted stairs and out to the front courtyard. She was not a hell of a lot wiser than she had been when she drove up. At least she felt more familiar with the layout. She’d confirmed that Manfred was a good observer, and she felt more comfortable with the plans he’d made of the house.