Death in Lovers' Lane by Carolyn G. Hart

Author:Carolyn G. Hart [Hart, Carolyn G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Fantasy, Women Sleuths, Contemporary Women, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Henrie O (Fictitious Character), Women Journalists, Mystery Fiction, Missouri
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.

Her face might once have been plump. Her skin had the alabaster fairness of a strawberry blonde. Her hair now was a shining white. A pink sateen headband sat very precisely amid soft silvery curls. I had good thoughts about the staff at Falcon’s Retreat.

“Yes. Mrs. Collins?” Her breathy voice had no resonance, no depth. It was as light and insubstantial as discarded paper rattled by the wind.

“Yes. I’m Henrietta Collins. From the University.” I could still say that. For now.

Maude Galloway’s lips curved into a welcoming smile. Her face was lovely, radiating kindness and warmth and a gentle serenity. “Please, come sit down.”

I slipped out of my coat, settled in the uncomfortable brocaded chair close to her. “I appreciate your willingness to visit with me.”

Her chuckle was lively. “Oh, my dear, to be honest, most of us would welcome a visit from a tax collector. Or a taxidermist. Or a taxi driver. Anyone but a doctor, though it’s a very nice young woman, who takes good care of me. To break the routine, you know.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.