Simple Genius

Horatio held up a cautionary hand. “But then she’d have to spend the rest of her life in prison for murder and armed robbery. In fact, in good old Tennessee that might just get you the death penalty. And that might apply to accessories before the fact. I hope you recognize your role.”

Daryl simply stared at him, his mind unable to form a response.

Horatio turned to Linda Sue. “Make sure you don’t shoot yourself.”

“I’ve got the damn safety thingy on,” she snapped.

“That’d be quite a feat, since revolvers don’t have safeties.”

“Oh,” Linda Sue said.

“Yeah, oh.”

CHAPTER 32

THE NURSING HOME was about an hour’s drive away. When he walked into the facility, the odor of human urine and feces hit Horatio like a sledgehammer. He’d been in these state-run places before treating people for depression. Hell, who wouldn’t be depressed having to spend their Golden Years in a festering dump like this? Old folks were stacked like packing crates in their wheelchairs and walkers up against the wall. From down the hall the sounds of canned laughter from a TV floated to Horatio and Linda Sue as they headed to the reception area. The laugh track was insufficient to cover the moans and groans coming from the Greatest Generation abandoned in this stench-filled pile of concrete and crushed hopes.

Linda Sue moved steadfastly ahead, somehow ignoring the human misery on all sides of her.

Two minutes later they were in Granny’s room, a semiprivate ten-by-ten with its own TV that didn’t appear to be working. Granny’s roommate was out but Granny herself was sitting in a chair in a checkered housecoat, red, swollen feet bursting forth from her tattered slippers. Her gray hair, what was left of it, was flattened under a net. Her face was saggy and lined, her teeth yellowed and worn down in many places. Yet her eyes were clear and steady. They moved from Linda Sue to Horatio and then back to her granddaughter.

“Haven’t seen you for a while, Lindy,” Granny said in a mellow southern accent.

Lindy Sue looked extremely put out by this comment. “Been busy, got kids to raise and a man to keep happy.”

“Which man might that be? The one just out

of prison or the one headed to prison?”

Horatio had to stifle a chuckle. Old Granny was clearly not suffering from dementia.

“This here feller,” Lindy said, pointing at Horatio. “He wants to know some stuff ’bout folks that used to live in the neighborhood while you were still there.”

Granny’s gaze swiveled around to rest on Horatio. There was intrigue in those old eyes, he could see. Probably she would welcome anything to get her mind off this place.

“I’m Horatio Barnes,” he began, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for your time.”

“Hazel Rose,” she replied. “Time is the only thing I got plenty of in this place. Now who do you want to know about?”

He told her about the Maxwells.

She nodded. “I remember them, sure. Frank Maxwell cut quite a figure in his uniform. And those boys they had; big, good-looking fellows they all were.”

“And the daughter, Michelle? Do you remember her?”

“I do. Now why don’t you tell me why you want to know all this?”

“You’ll probably find it very boring.”

“I doubt it could compete with this place in the boredom department, so please go ahead and humor an old woman.”

“I’ve been engaged by the family to find out something. Something that happened when Michelle was around six. That would have been about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago.”

“Happened? Like what?”

“Like something that would have made Michelle’s personality change.”

Linda Sue snorted. “Hell, a six-year-old ain’t got no personality.”

“On the contrary,” Horatio said. “A child’s permanent personality is substantially formed by age six.” Linda Sue snorted again and started fiddling with her purse clasp while Horatio turned his attention back to Hazel. “Did you notice anything like that? I know it was a long time ago but it would really be a big help if you could remember.”

Hazel seemed to reflect on this for a bit, pursing her lips as she did so.

Linda Sue finally broke the silence. “I’m going out for a smoke.” She rose and then wagged a finger at Horatio. “And there’s only one way in and out of this place, so don’t you even think about trying to scoot off without you know what.” She flicked what she probably assumed was a sincere smile in her granny’s direction and left.

“How much did you promise to pay her?” Hazel asked as soon as her granddaughter was out of earshot.

Horatio smiled, pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “A hundred bucks. I’d much rather give it to you.”

Hazel waved this gesture off. “I don’t have anything to spend money on in this place. Just give it to Lindy. Way the girl goes through deadbeat men, she’ll need it. Four babies by four different sperm donors, excuse my French, and she’ll probably have four more before she’s done.” She sat quiet for a few moments and Horatio decided to ride it out.

“How is Michelle?” Hazel asked.

“She’s been better,” Horatio said frankly.