Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_03 by Death in Lovers' Lane

Author:Death in Lovers' Lane
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Contemporary Women, Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Fantasy, Mystery Fiction, Women Sleuths, Henrie O (Fictitious Character), Missouri, Women Journalists, General
ISBN: 9781568954677
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1997-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

It was a bleak drive on Sunday to the outskirts of Saint Louis. An icy north wind buffeted winter-bare trees. Scudding clouds moved like ghostly pirate ships across the sullen pewter sky. I like my jaunty MG, but it is far from airtight and the heater is erratic. Even with gloves, my hands on the steering wheel were almost numb with cold.

Nothing lifted my spirits when I reached my destination. Oh, the retirement home was attractive enough, a low stucco structure with four wings radiating from a central entrance. But the cream walls and red-tiled roof damn sure didn’t look indigenous, and I doubted if the fake-southwest aura thrilled anybody but visitors who would see what they wanted to see before driving home and leaving whatever resident they knew waiting to die there in a boxlike room.

That’s the problem, of course, with any facility defined solely by age.

Welcome to the end of the line.

How about a game of canasta?

Oh yes, there’s beauty shop on the premises.

We have great Christmas parties, and the assistant director is the jolliest Santa Claus.

And it’s better than living alone and everybody means well and I still don’t want to end up in a dormitory for the ancient.

Call it a prejudice.

But Falcon’s Retreat was a nice place. It smelled good, like wood fire and popcorn. Smells tell you all you need to know about retirement homes.

Maude Galloway was waiting for me in an alcove off the library. She sat in a wheelchair, a pink afghan over her knees. Her white cotton blouse was fresh and crisp. Heavily veined hands rested loosely in her lap.

“Miss Galloway?” I’d done my homework. She’d never married. She’d moved to Derry Hills in her mid-fifties to live with her widowed brother. The brother died nine years ago. He’d had no children. Maude Galloway had outlived everyone in her family. She was about ten years older than I. Her head turned toward me.

I looked into sightless blue eyes.

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