Mother-Daughter Murder Night(69)

Beth used her foot to gently prompt the porch swing into motion. Lana blinked out at the dead-end street, rewrapping the fleece blanket around her shoulders.

“You know, I’m glad you started this investigation,” Beth said.

Lana looked at her curiously.

“You needed a project,” Beth continued. “Something more useful than redecorating the house. And you’ve clearly lit a fire in Jack . . .”

“She should never have gone out this morning without telling anyone. Completely unacceptable.” Lana abruptly stopped the swing with her foot and the hedgehog bounced to the ground.

Beth bent, smiling, and scooped it back up. “Sounds like something you would do.”

Lana still looked uncertain.

“Ma, if it’s possible Mr. Rhoads was murdered, I want to know too.”

“There is something I wanted to ask you about Hal Rhoads,” Lana said. “About his medical care.”

Without meaning to, Beth stiffened. “The nurses at Bayshore Oaks are very good—”

Lana waved her off. “Of course you are. But listen. I found a notation in Ricardo Cruz’s appointment book about a doctor Ricardo was taking Mr. Rhoads to on Wednesdays.”

“Okay . . .”

“It started once a month. Then every other week. At first I assumed the appointments were just until he moved into Bayshore Oaks. But the dates kept going, almost every Wednesday, all the way until he died. So I wondered—”

“Almost every Wednesday?” Beth’s forehead scrunched into a question mark. “That can’t be right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Rhoads had strokes. Three of them. His rehab, all his appointments, happened on-site at Bayshore Oaks. It was one of the reasons his daughter brought him to us. So she wouldn’t have to cart him to occupational therapists multiple times per week.”

“When he moved into Bayshore Oaks, he didn’t go off premises to appointments anymore?”

“Maybe once or twice for neurological exams. But nothing regular. Nothing I knew about. And besides, if Ricardo Cruz was coming to Bayshore Oaks most Wednesdays, I would have recognized him.”

“And you didn’t.”

Beth shook her head.

Lana considered what Beth was telling her. If Ricardo wasn’t taking Hal Rhoads to doctor appointments, what was he doing?

“Do you know of any doctors who practice down here in Elkhorn?” Lana asked.

“Practice what? Kayaking?”

“I’m wondering if maybe the appointments were for Ricardo, not Hal.”

“There’s a shrink with an office near the marina. A dental clinic, the kind you go to if you don’t have insurance. And a couple veterinarians who work with farm animals. But that’s it.”

Beth felt a buzz in her pocket. She pulled out her phone. “It’s Martin.”

Lana leaned forward eagerly. “Put it on speaker.”

Beth stared at her.

“Fine. I’ll give you some privacy. But ask him about his father’s doctors, okay?”

Lana lifted herself from the porch swing and turned to head back into the house. As she passed, she put a hand to Beth’s shoulder. Beth reached up and held it, just for a moment. Then she answered the phone.

“Did you find her?”

“Martin, hello. Yes. Thank you. She’s fine. She’s safe.”

“Thank God.” His voice slowed. “I was out all morning with Di at Dad’s lawyer’s office. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help. Where was she?”

“Oh, she just . . . lost track of time in the slough.” Beth wasn’t ready to give words to the fleeting terror of the morning.

But he must have heard a kernel of it in her voice. “It must be scary to have your child go missing. Unless you’re one of those tough guys like my dad. He’d probably say it builds character.”

“In that case, we’re building a whole lot of character around here these days.”

“What do you mean?”

Before she realized what she was saying, the whole story tumbled out. “Last week, my mom had to go to the hospital, and—”

“Did she have another collapse?”

“Sort of. She was up in Santa Cruz, hunting through papers at the land trust offices, when the building caught on fire. She had to escape through a window.” Beth had to admit it sounded pretty hard-core saying it out loud.

“That’s horrible! Did she break something in the fall?”

“No, it’s a one-story building. She just . . .” Beth swallowed, shoving down another memory of fear. “We got lucky. I think it was more shock than anything. And I don’t think anyone else got hurt.”

“Do you know how the fire started?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. She talked with the police on Monday, but I don’t think they had clear answers yet. I’m just glad she’s okay. That they both are.”

There was a pause, and Martin’s voice dropped lower. “Are you okay, Beth?”

She considered what he was asking, and what he might be offering. Friendship. Escape. A fast car and a cold beer. It was tempting, but she didn’t need any complications in her life right now. Ricardo Cruz had been dead almost three weeks, and the sheriffs still didn’t have anyone in custody. Which meant Lana had the capacity to get into more trouble.