Chapter 8

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Ushering the two into his office, Nelson bent to shake Earl’s hand. “I’m Ed Nelson.”

Earl gauged the man’s handshake. It was firm. “Earl Walker.”

He nodded to College. “This is Miss Jenny Hutton.”

“Sit right there.” Nelson motioned to a chair, then he seemed to notice Earl’s wheelchair and switched his focus to Jenny. Turning back to Earl, he smiled awkwardly and went around behind the desk.

Earl used the few seconds to take in the surroundings. A futon couch was folded against the wall, its bright throw pillows bringing a splash of brilliance to an otherwise drab room. The wood-paneled walls were adorned with framed certificates and plaques. Earl could not read any of them from his vantage point, but he could not imagine it mattered. None of Nelson’s credentials seemed to make a difference when the state inspected Candlewick Retirement Community and decided to shut it down.

Jenny jerked forward in her chair. “Mr. Nelson, we came to complain.”

“If this is about the ruling of the state—”

“Actually,” Earl cut him off, “we wanted to discuss a matter of some delicacy.” He heard an odd clicking and glanced at the fancy clock on the wall. The second hand seemed caught on the minute hand, doing its best to push through and tell the correct time.

Nelson settled in his chair. The man’s desk was mostly neat, except for the sandwich leaking on the blotter. There was the greasy smell of corned beef. “So, what can I do for you?”

Earl forced himself not to fidget. “We are here to discuss the incident last night.”

Jenny sat forward. “How do you come off firing that—”

Earl gripped her arm, and she stopped. He turned to Nelson. “What did the sheriff find?”

The man frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Earl cleared his throat, wondering how dry the air in the office was. “Surely the sheriff came last night. Or sent somebody out.”

The man started rocking his chair. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Everything was quiet out here last night.” Nelson stopped rocking his chair. His weak grin wobbled and disappeared. “Maybe you better state your real business here.”

Earl, undeterred, gripped the wheels of his chair and began flexing his fingers. “You have to know—the kid called you. I was there.”

“This must be some mistake. You could—” The man stopped. “Wait. How are you involved?”

Jenny sighed and stood. “Maybe we should take our story to someone else. The newspeople, maybe?” She turned to Earl. “Come on, Mr. Walker.”

Earl nodded and started to turn his wheelchair.

“Wait.” Nelson pressed on the arms of his swivel chair and pushed himself up. “Please.”

Jenny and Earl shared a look. Jenny took her chair again.

“Well.” Nelson flashed a tired version of his earlier used-car-salesman smile. Made eye contact with each of them. Took to his fancy swivel chair again. “Now, Mr.—”

“Walker. Earl.”

“Yes. Mr. Walker. Please tell me your story.”

Earl tilted his head. “Last night there was a secret visitor making a racket in Kent’s apartment. I was in the hall.”

“So you saw someone?”

“Um—no. But I heard someone.” Earl nodded. “So I went to the front desk, and I found that boy.”

Jenny piped in, “Grant Caine.”

“Yes,” Earl agreed, “Mr. Caine.” He sighed and clasped his hands. “I told him what I heard, and he made a call.” He looked at Nelson and smiled. “He called you.”

Jenny jumped in again. “And somehow that sweet boy got fired!”

Earl grumbled, “Well, I don’t know that I would call him ‘sweet.’ ”

“Caine? We had to let him go. I don’t know what business it is of yours.” Nelson leaned forward, taking a big stapler off his desk. He leaned back in the chair again, clicking the stapler needlessly. “It is management’s job to make these decisions.”

“But why was he fired?”

Nelson pushed himself up again and walked to the framed certificates and plaques on the wall. He looked at them for a few moments. Without turning around, Nelson spoke. “The state comes down here; they don’t know anything. They aren’t here for the day to day. They just swoop in and make their snap judgments.”

His shoulders slumped, and he turned to the window behind his desk. Out in the common garden, an old woman with clippers pruned a tree. Nelson turned back to Earl and Jenny and let out a deep breath. “Candlewick is having enough trouble. We do not need to file any false police reports.”

Nelson sat back down in his chair. He tried to smile. “Besides, I’m sure that you mean well, but this so-called intruder was a figment of your imagination, Mr.—”

“Walker. Earl.” He coughed. “I was there.”

The man shrugged. “There was no evidence of a break-in.”

“When we got there, the door was open.” Earl frowned and looked down, trying to remember. The door was open, right?

He looked to Jenny for some sort of reassurance, but she was no help—all she had was his word for it.

“No, Caine opened the door with the key,” Nelson said. “As the man on duty last night, he had the passkey in case of emergencies.”

Earl pressed ahead but felt his resolution melting. “But the place was a mess.”

“I’m afraid that, in his excitement, the young man did that.”

“But I heard noises. I found Grant and he called you—then he ran to the apartment. I followed. I got back there not long after him.”

Nelson smiled slyly, taking note of the wheelchair. “Seriously. How fast could you have possibly gotten there?”

Jenny leaned forward. “Why, you—”

Earl cut her off. “I know what I saw.”

Nelson leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and locked his hands together. He looked at Jenny and flashed the salesman smile. “Miss, have you looked into new living arrangements for your grandfather?”

Earl grouched. “She’s not my granddaughter!”

Nelson, undeterred, kept his eyes on the young woman. “There are only a matter of days left before he is out on the street. As bad as it is for all of us, the stress is worst of all on the residents. When the mind is under so much pressure, it tends to invent things.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy.”

Earl leaned forward in his wheelchair. He gritted his dentures. “I was a witness. That counts for something.”

“But what did you actually witness?” Nelson smiled grimly. “Do you know what it was that you heard? Do you know what it was that you saw?”

“I—um—” Earl looked at Jenny. She couldn’t help. She hadn’t been there.

Nelson clapped his hands together. “Well, I can see this was all a big misunderstanding.” He stood and went around the desk, leading them to the door. “But I’ve wasted enough time. I have to ask you to leave.”

Jenny huffed. “But what about Grant’s job?”

The man grimaced. He stood for a moment then began to straighten his tie. “I have a job to do. And I cannot do my job with a hotheaded kid running in and ransacking residents’ apartments and then trying to bring in the authorities unnecessarily.”

Earl snorted.

Nelson looked down at him with cold eyes. “There are more than one hundred residents here at Candlewick. There are official procedures to file a grievance. I suggest you follow the rules like everyone else, and we can assess your situation accordingly.”

Jenny stuttered, “B–but—”

“Come on, College,” Earl said in a low, gurgling voice. He wheeled himself out to the front office. Jenny followed.

“Good day.” Behind them Nelson sneered, “My door is always open.” The phone on his desk started ringing, and he turned his attention away from them.

Outside the office, Jenny leaned close to Earl. “What are we going to do now?” Her voice was low, quivering.

Earl gripped her elbow and squeezed, tried to give her a consoling smile. “Not much we can do. We tried.” He glanced back through the open door. Nelson was pacing as far as the telephone cord would let him, fidgeting with his tie with his free hand.

Jenny was still talking. “Mr. Walker?”

Earl looked at her. “What?”

“He knew more than he was telling. If he’s trying to cover this up, do we call the county sheriff ourselves?”

Earl was straining to hear Nelson’s side of the phone call. The man was growing increasingly agitated.

“Mr. Walker? Mr. Walker?”

Earl gave Jenny a look and turned his chair back toward the man’s office door. Nelson caught sight of him and, with a disgusted look on his face, walked over and slammed the door closed.

With a grunt, Earl turned his chair, and wheeled toward the exit. “Well, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Nothing? But what about Grant?” Jenny’s voice betrayed her sharp disappointment.

Earl didn’t answer because he was painfully aware that he was again at Gloria’s desk. The woman, busily adding folders to a long filing cabinet drawer, pushed the drawer closed. “Well, hello!” She smiled awkwardly at Earl and patted her hair. “So, um, did y’all work your problem out?”

The younger girl got as far as “We didn’t even—”

Earl cut her off, “Mr. Nelson suggested we pursue, um, other avenues of redress.”

“Ooh.” Gloria gave him a playful smile. “You sound like Matlock!”

“Is that good?”

“Oh, it’s adorable.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Gloria blushed.

Earl pretended he didn’t notice. “Well, the experience has helped me understand how little I know about Candlewick. I can’t find where anything is around here.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. It was always such a nice place.”

“Say, I have an idea.” A smile curved Jenny’s lips. “You’re familiar with Candlewick—maybe you could show Mr. Walker around.”

Earl squirmed. “I’m sure the lady is too busy for—”

Gloria beamed. “I finish my shift at four, if you want to do something after that.”

Earl grumbled. “That seems kind of soon for—”

“Sure,” Jenny said. “He would be thrilled. Right after your shift?”

Gloria patted her curls. “Well, give me a chance to go home and freshen up. Maybe five o’clock?”

The ladies finished making arrangements, and Jenny and Earl excused themselves. Earl could barely contain himself until he and Jenny reached the hall. “I cannot believe that! I do not need a social secretary.”

Jenny, trying to steer Earl’s wheelchair back to his home, chuckled. “Apparently you do.”

Earl stopped the chair. “We’re going the wrong way.”

Jenny squinted down the hall. “No, I think this is the way to your apartment. We need to get you ready for your date.”

“That’s not for a couple of hours yet. Besides, we need to go to Kent’s apartment.”

“Oh?”

“And it’s not a date.”

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