Page 111 of The Only One Left
It’s all I can spare. I couldn’t get away until Archie brought dinner up to Lenora’s room. I asked him to stay with her while I ran into town to run an important errand. I told him I’d be gone for thirty minutes. Since the drive here took fifteen minutes and the drive back will take the same, I figure I can spend only five minutes with Berniece Mayhew before he starts to get suspicious.
I smile at the receptionist. “Depending on Mrs. Mayhew, it might only take four.”
“She’s in the Dunes wing,” the receptionist says as she takes a drag on her cigarette. “Room 113.”
I follow the burgundy carpet deeper into Ocean View. A directory just inside the door helps me get my bearings. Waves wing on the left, Dunes wing on the right, common area straight ahead. I go right, moving down a hallway that smells like bleach, lemon air freshener, and just a hint of urine.
At Room 111, I slow my pace. At Room 112, I adjust my nurse’s cap and smooth the skirt of my uniform. I then plaster a smile on my face and step into Room 113.
The room is small but tidy. Decent enough to visit, but not a place you want to spend much time in. Berniece Mayhew, though, has spent years here. And it shows. Propped up by pillows and wearing a terrycloth robe, she has the look of someone who doesn’t get out much. Her hair is a shock of white, which stands in contrast to a face darkened by age spots. She’s got a flat nose, chubby cheeks, and a chin that’s nonexistent. In its place is a flap of loose skin that droops like a wet rag on a hook. It sways when she turns to glare at me.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Kit.” The time for lying ended in the hallway. Now I have no choice but to tell her the truth. “I work for Lenora Hope.”
“Are you her nurse?”
“Something like that, yes.”
Berniece turns back to the small TV sitting opposite the bed.Wheel of Fortuneis on. My mother loved that show. “How’s Lenora doing?” she says.
“Fine, all things considered.”
She huffs with disappointment. “That’s a damn shame.”
“Would it make you happy to know her whole body’s paralyzed except for her left hand?”
Berniece Mayhew looks my way again, delight dancing in her eyes. “Is she suffering?”
“I don’t think so,” I say.
“I’d be happier if she was.”
A wooden chair sits just inside the door. I drop onto it and place my medical bag on the floor. “That’s an interesting thing to say about the woman whose generosity keeps you here.”
“Is that what you think it is?” Berniece says bitterly. “Generosity?”
“The only other thing I can think of is hush money. My best guess is it’s so you wouldn’t tell anyone Lenora Hope was having an affairwith your husband. Or is it because you saw something you weren’t supposed to see the night most of the Hope family was murdered?”
Berniece Mayhew gives me a squinty-eyed look, as if seeing me for the very first time. “You’re a shrewd one, I’ll give you that. Bold, too. Just waltzing in here and saying something like that.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Berniece snaps.
“Which one do you want to tell me about first?”
“I’ve stayed silent since 1929. What makes you think I’m going to start blabbing now?”
“Because someone else is dead.”
Berniece’s eyes narrow. “Who?”
“Lenora’s previous nurse,” I say. “A worker. Just like me. Just like you. I think she was murdered. And I think it has something to do with what happened that night in 1929.”
I pause, waiting to see what kind of response I get. My hope is that the mention of Mary will play to her sympathies. If she has any. I’m about to see if Berniece Mayhew is as nasty as Lenora says she is.
The old woman turns back to the television, where Vanna White, pert and perky in a sparkly dress, turns letters. But Berniece doesn’t seem to be looking at the TV at all. Her gaze is fixed somewhere else, somewhere distant. A moment in the past only she can see.
