I wipe my wet palms against my damp jeans and hold out my hand. “I’m Tristan Everett. I’m looking for someone named Trudy? I’m sorry, I don’t know her surname.”
“Oh well, you found her.” She shakes my hand, then reaches out and plucks a wet leaf from my jacket, dropping it to the ground.
“Trudy?”
“Wells.” She fluffs her perfectly coiffed grey hair, more from a nervous habit, I suspect, than from any concerns about her pristine appearance.
“Excuse me?”
“Trudy Wells. Now, what is it I can do for you, Mr Everett?”
“Tristan, please,” I reply. “I knew Delores Abernathy. Her niece Larry told me I could find her friend Trudy here.”
“You knew Delores?” She tilts her head as she studies me.
“I knew her from Sunrise,” I clarify.
Her eyes narrow. “You work at the care home? I haven’t seen you there before.”
“No, I don’t work there.” I shake my head. “My father, Martin Everett, is a resident.”
“Ah, Martin.” She nods, her expression softening a little at the edges. “Delores was fond of him in her own way.”
“She was,” I murmur as I watch Mrs Abernathy stand next to Trudy and stare at her. Despite the poor woman being trapped in a death cycle, struggling in death with the same disease that took so much from her in life, I wonder how much of her mind is trying to break through and remember.
“I’m sorry, Mr Everett–”
“Tristan,” I correct again.
“Tristan,” she concedes. “What exactly is it that you want from me? Delores is gone now and as much as I’m relieved she’s no longer suffering, the grief is still very new.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “I just… I wondered if I could ask you some questions about her… about when she was younger.”
“Why?”
“Ooh, she’s a tough nut to crack.” Dusty smirks.
“I… uh–”
Boy, this is going to be a tough one to explain. It’s not like I can exactly tell her that her dead bestie is eyeballing her from two feet away and I need to figure out her unfinished business so I can pack her off into the light. I feel a sudden gust of wind and rain as the door opens behind me and someone else is blown in.
“Tristan.” A familiar voice trickles down my spine, causing me to smile and turn.
“Danny,” I greet him as he steps up beside me. “Mrs Wells, this is–”
“Tristan’s boyfriend, Danny.” He offers his hand, and I notice he deliberately omitted the part about him being a detective.
I glance up at him, tilting my head slightly, and his eyes widen a fraction in warning. I can only assume it’s because he doesn’t want it to be public knowledge that Mrs Abernathy’s death was under suspicious circumstances. I guess it stands to reason that, if she hadn’t been poisoned at the home, it had to be someone else she knew, possibly even one of her friends.
“Trudy.” She reaches out and shakes Danny’s hand, studying him suspiciously before turning her attention back to me.
“As I was saying,” I continue, picking up on Danny’s cue and trying not to give too much away, “we both knew Delores.” I switch to her first name and soften my tone. “She was very fond of my dad, and we often saw her when we visited him. Unfortunately, due to her illness, we didn’t know her as well as we would’ve liked, and I know it sounds strange, but I suppose I just want to know her a little better… know the woman she was. Larry told me she was a code-breaker during the war, and it fascinates me, I guess.”
“She was a fascinating woman.” Trudy sighs.
“Perhaps you could tell us a little about her,” Danny says smoothly. “We’d love to meet her friends and hear their stories about her.”
“I suppose so.” She glances down at her watch. “Come on, Bingo Bonanza is starting in ten minutes.”
