And There He Kept Her (Ben Packard #1)(61)
“Used to live here,” Mrs. McDonald corrected. “They moved her to memory care about three months ago. She was in our bridge club, but I’d say she doesn’t know trump from Go Fish at this point. We were partners a lot. She started bidding nonsense about a year ago. That’s when we knew she was declining.”
“Did she get Meals on Wheels?”
“She did.”
“Would she have let Sam into her apartment?”
“Elizabeth would have let the devil himself inside if he asked nicely. The woman didn’t know the word no. Forty years of marriage to a sonofabitch makes you agreeable to just about anything, pardon my language.”
Packard picked up his phone and stood up. “Mrs. McDonald, I think I have the information I need. Thank you for meeting with me.”
She followed him to the door. “Now don’t forget you promised me a ride in your police car.”
“Did I?”
“If you didn’t, you meant to. And I accept. Just don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Packard had to laugh at how easily he was being manipulated by this little old lady. She could talk him out of his wallet and car keys if she had a mind to. “It’s a date. We’ll do it in the next couple of weeks.”
Mrs. McDonald touched her cheek. “Really? Well, I better get a hair appointment, a new frock—”
“I wouldn’t go to all that trouble.”
“Now hush. Don’t tell a woman that making herself look nice is trouble. Come by and see me again soon. I’ll be here.”
***
He called Thielen from the Lakeside Manor parking lot. “I’m done here. Sam used to volunteer for Meals on Wheels. That’s how he had access to these people’s homes.”
“I found out the same thing. I’m just leaving Martin Hughes’s house on my way to Emmett Burr’s. I ate two doughnuts and drank more coffee than is sensible this late in the day. Martin tried to get me to stay for dinner. He remembers Sam all right. Said he called the Meals on Wheels program and complained about the kid being too pushy. Always wanting to come in for one reason or another.”
“Mrs. McDonald said the exact same thing.”
“Martin said he thought there were times when his pills were going faster than he thought they should have and was pretty sure someone was going in his home when he wasn’t there. He hadn’t put that together with Sam but he said it made perfect sense. He doesn’t get meals anymore. He quit when he got a new lady friend who cooks for both of them most days.”
“What do you know about the program?”
“My husband volunteers with them. They do the cooking out of the kitchen at the senior center. The funding and volunteers are arranged by Lutheran Social Services. The director’s name is Kate Freeman.”
“We should talk to her. Sounds like Sam quit volunteering with them a while ago, but I still want to know what other houses he used to visit. How many were there? He couldn’t keep hitting the same handful of seniors again and again. They’d notice. He had to have another source for the pills he was selling.”
“I can get Kate’s number.”
“Call her. Find out the soonest she can meet us. By the way, Susan Wheeler offered to pay for dinner if we stopped by the restaurant tonight.”
“She offered to pay for both of us?”
“Well, no, but I’m not going to let her buy us dinner regardless.”
“That place is kind of pricey.”
“I’ll pay. Are you in?”
“Sure. I’ll get Kate’s number from my husband and let him know he’s on his own for dinner. Meet you there.”
Chapter Twenty
Emmett gave the garage a nervous glance as he gunned his Cadillac across the yard. It wouldn’t have surprised him a bit to see the dead boy’s pale face staring out from the broken window. Telling Carl he was going to repaint the car before they hauled it to the quarry had been a lie. He wasn’t going in that garage for the same reason he never followed the trail through the trees and down to the water where they’d buried the women.
Ghosts.
Some nights, paralyzed by pills, he’d hear them down in the basement—a woman crying, or a heavy chain sliding through a metal ring. In bed, he’d lie frozen with terror at the sound of dripping water and the thump of bloated footsteps coming up the stairs, and he’d wait for Wanda or the jogger to come through the door, glowing like old lanterns and smelling of the swamp. He couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. He had a scream stuck in his throat like a fist.
In town he stopped at Alco and got a motorized cart from where they were charging near the front. He pushed up both of the arms, arranged himself in the seat, and thumbed the button that made it go. He bought frozen meals and packaged cookies and potato chips and a case of beer. It took him forever to find the girl’s food. The prices were shocking. Six dollars for Greek yogurt. Eight dollars for frozen blueberries. Raw sweet potatoes were a dollar sixty-nine a pound. At least the oatmeal was cheap, and a pound of carrots was only ninety-nine cents.
He rolled slowly past the section of women’s clothing. A tall woman in cutoff shorts that showed the backs of her veiny legs was looking at flannel shirts on the clearance rack. Emmett wondered if buying the girl new clothes was a step too far. The thought of trying to decide what she might like out of all the T-shirts and pink shorts made him thumb the button and keep scooting.