Bitter Sweet by Connie Shelton

USDA.
    “So, what do you want to do?” His polite way
of saying why are you calling?
    “I have a strange feeling about
this. Can you do that thing you did before and check on Sadie Gray’s bank
accounts? I just can’t let go of the feeling that he’s done the same thing Ted
O’Malley did and cleaned out everything.”
    “If you get any answers right
away, you can call my cell. I’ll be at the Gray house a little longer.”
    She made sure the phone was set
to vibrate and slipped it into her pocket, then retrieved her vacuum cleaner
from the truck and started to work making the carpets and window sills neat.
One thing about an empty house—it took a lot less time to clean than one filled
with furniture and the clutter of a lifetime. When Beau called back, nearly an
hour later, she was giving the kitchen counters a final swipe with disinfectant
spray.
    “Same thing,” he began. “Mrs.
Gray’s bank accounts were closed on Friday. The husband, whose name was jointly
on everything told the banker that they were moving out of state.”
    “Really. Four days before his
wife died. As if he knew she would soon be gone.”
    “Exactly.”
    “The manager at the nursing home
told me Sadie Gray was in good health, physically. Her problems were mental. I
witnessed it when I visited her. She moved around well, seemed pretty
energetic.”
    “I better go make a few official
inquiries. Starting with the nursing home,” he said.
    “I want to go with you. I’m
finished here at the house. I could meet you at Casa Serenita in fifteen
minutes.”
    “Give me thirty. There’s some
other paperwork on my desk that I have to get assigned out to a deputy.”
    Sam made a final pass through the
house, checking that it would be up to Delbert Crow’s “picture perfect”
standards, then stowed her cleaning supplies in the truck. She placed the house
key in an official USDA lockbox and surveyed the yard. Most of the plantings
looked all right. She took clippers to a couple of the junipers that bore some
residual winter frost damage, decided everything else could stand as it was.
She ended up arriving at Casa Serenita ahead of Beau but decided to wait in the
truck until he came.
    Martha Preston was her usual
courteous self when they had seated themselves in her office.
    “I’m sorry to say that death in a
nursing home is not an unusual occurrence,” she said. “I’m sure you understand
that.”
    “But Sadie was physically
healthy,” Sam said.
    Preston gave a sympathetic look.
“There can be hidden conditions. At that age you really never know.”
    Beau spoke up. “Can you tell us
about Mrs. Gray’s death? The certificate says natural causes but can you fill
us in on the circumstances?”
    “It was late afternoon. She’d
been napping after her husband’s visit earlier in the day. A staff member went
to see if she wanted to come to the dining room for dinner. It’s not
mandatory—residents can have a tray sent to their rooms if they’d prefer.” She
ran her hands over the cover of the folder sitting in front of her on the desk.
“The orderly discovered Mrs. Gray had passed away in her bed, as if she were
sleeping peacefully.”
    “You said that her husband had
been to visit that day,” Sam said.
    “Yes, around lunch time. He often
brought flowers and came to eat with her. They would chat and sometimes he
brought outside food, just to give her some variety. As long as the doctor
doesn’t have the patient on a restricted diet, that’s allowed.”
    “Did he bring food yesterday?”
    “No, I don’t think so. They ate
in the dining room and I seem to remember that they went through the normal
buffet line.”
    Sam searched Beau’s face to see
if this meant anything.
    “Did anyone else visit Mrs. Gray
yesterday?” he asked.
    “I don’t recall any visitors,”
she said, “but I could check the sign-in page. I left for about an hour to run
a few errands.”
    “Please.” Beau turned to Sam
while Martha was out of the