I wished I could get that memory erased from my brain. I shuddered and shook the vision away. “Who should Ray talk to about the legal stuff?”
“Tyler Rigby specializes in family law, and a lot of people use Hank Warrens,” Marabel said.
“Thanks.” I pulled my phone out. “I’ll let him know.” Not wanting to hear any background noises on his end, I texted Ray. Call me! It’s about your Mom and Tyler Rigby!!! I figured the exclamation points would spur him to answer.
I stared at the phone and waited for the “Ray is typing” bubble to appear. Nothing. I charted and looked at Violet’s notes about a dietary change for Mrs. Almond.
My phone rang. I jumped, grabbed my phone, waved to Marabel and walked toward the linen closet.
“What’s going on?” Ray asked.
I closed the closet door behind me. “The short version is your mom may have planted drugs in Evie’s room. The cops are searching Jenny’s room while your dad is distracting her. And did you know your dad wants to marry Evie? And someone in your family needs to get a power of attorney for your mom before she…before her illness degenerates further. And maybe you could talk to Tyler Rigby about it because he handles family law.”
Ray cursed. It was low, slow, and mournful. “I’m sorry, Ray. That’s a lot to handle. Maybe your sister, Amanda, wants to get involved?”
He snorted. “Probably not. What do I need to do right now?” His voice rumbled, sounding sleepy. I could hear him turning on water.
“If you could come over and maybe calm your mom?”
“Yeah.” Ray paused. “Dad promised he wouldn’t announce his engagement until after he moved out of rehab, so keep that a secret for me.”
“I will. Marabel told me, but only because Carl told her. I think he wanted Marabel to know in case your mom doesn’t handle the news well.”
“Nice understatement. About Tyler and family law, is he any good?” Ray asked. I could hear the sounds of a coffee pot hissing.
“Ingrid loves him. Oscar never mentioned anything bad about him.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. If you can, stall the cops. I want to talk to them before they leave.”
“You got it.”
I opened the linen closet door and bumped into Nora. “Really?” I stepped around her walker.
Nora raised a brash eyebrow. “I couldn’t hear anything you said. Who were you talking to? Was there someone in there with you?” She peered over my shoulder, rolling up on her toes, proof that her physical therapy was working.
“No.” I opened the door wide. “I was on the phone for a private conversation. Private. As in I don’t care to discuss it with you.”
Nora clucked her tongue. “Fine. Be that way. See if I share any of my great gossip with you.”
I hugged her shoulders. “How would you feel if a nurse talked about your condition to someone else?”
Nora narrowed her eyes like she was measuring my words for truth. “Fine.” Her face softened into its usual pleasant expression. “But you’ll tell me what you can?”
“You’ll be the first to know.” I closed the door and walked with Nora back to the nurses’ station. She continued on toward her room.
I needed caffeine, and an ice-cold Diet Dr. Pepper sounded really good. I nodded to the ward clerk, Eric. The scrawny twenty-something must have slipped in late, again. “I’m going to grab a soda. You want anything?”
He lifted his water bottle. “I’m good.”
I speed-walked toward the machine straightening the dollar bills between my fingers. A man hunched in front of the vending machine and restocked the bottles. Slowly.
I bounced on my toes.
He looked at me.
I recognized him, more the sparse growth of hair pretending to be a mustache under his nose. I was remembering him from somewhere else.
“What do you want?” Impatience laced his tone. He wiped his hands down a faded t-shirt that may have been navy blue or black when first purchased, but now it had a gray cast to it. His dark pants were frayed at the cuffs that rested over his dark shoes covered in gray dust.
“Diet Dr. Pepper.” I held out my two dollars and eyed his shoes. The gray dust… from the Salty Pickle parking lot.
He pulled a cold bottle from the machine and two quarters from his pocket. “Here.” He handed the soda and change to me and then snatched my money.
“Thank you.”
He turned back to the machine. Surly and rude. Definitely the guy Ray and I saw in front of the Salty Pickle.
Marabel motioned me into her office and closed the door behind me. She sat and pointed to a chair in her office. “The police didn’t find anything in Jenny’s room, thank God. And the stuff in Evie’s room wasn’t medical marijuana. They were Percocet and Fentanyl pills and the cops said they were packaged for resale.”
“That’s not good. That’s also a whole different situation than Nora’s suggestion that Johnny’s kid was selling medical marijuana. Have his kids been around?” I asked.
“They both were here last night. I checked the guest log.” Marabel’s lips tightened. “But I can’t picture either one of them doing that. I mean, I’ve seen them selling sunglasses and purses, but Percocet?” She rubbed her temples again. “I told the police, though, just in case.” She met my gaze. “And why would the kids leave drugs in Evie’s room? Do you think it’s possible Jenny planted the drugs?”
“It’s possible,” I admitted. I decided not to mention Jenny’s death-by-Burking plot. “But where would Jenny get the drugs?”
Marabel raised an eyebrow. “Would Ray have access?”
“Absolutely not.” I sat stunned at her accusation and then a little embarrassed because really, how much did I know about Ray? “Maybe Jenny found the drugs and decided to plant them
