Julia Merchant swallowed the dregs of her Starbucks latte and massaged her neck where the healed fracture was aching again. Carlos and Susana would be in Park City again next week, but this time she wouldn’t be with them. She didn’t know where she would be. Nothing felt right anymore. There was no normal now. It was already two o’clock, and she hadn’t done anything. If this were an ordinary day, she would be walking to her physical therapy appointment right now, and from there she’d go straight to Park Manor and have dinner with her mother. But she would never do that again, and she hadn’t anticipated how untethered she would feel in the absence of that small daily ritual.
She stripped out of her T-shirt and pajama bottoms and got into the shower. Under the steaming water, she thought of Pamela’s unkind remark about her mother yesterday at lunch. You know what my therapist called her? A malignant narcissist. Maybe her mother had been a little narcissistic—most performers were—but that remark was awful and very poorly timed. Pamela had been jealous of her sister, Julia concluded.
When she finished showering, she got dressed and left the apartment, walked to the florist on Lexington Avenue, and had them construct a bouquet of pink orchids. Then she walked to Maison du Chocolat and charged a one-hundred-piece Boîte Maison to her father’s account. And then she walked up Madison to Park Manor.
Hodges was at her computer screen when Julia entered her office. The director stood and came around her desk immediately. “How are you doing, Julia?”
“I don’t know, Constance. I don’t know what to feel or think. I don’t know what’s happening. Do you?”
“The police are here, in the second floor library. They’re interviewing members of the staff.”
“Detective Codella?”
“No. A different detective. A man named Muñoz.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? They need to find out what happened.”
“Yes. Absolutely,” Hodges agreed, and for once Julia felt comforted by the woman’s presence.
“I brought some flowers and chocolates for the caregivers.” She shrugged. “I know I haven’t always been the nicest person here, but—”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Julia. And I know the staff will be very thankful. Everyone is feeling the loss. They’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”
“I’ll just go up then.” Julia backed out of the office. In the elevator, she impulsively pushed the second floor button instead of the third. When the doors opened, she stepped off and turned toward the library. The detective was sitting by himself at a table near the back of the room, in front of the window that faced the Park Manor courtyard below. He was writing in a small spiral notebook and didn’t look up until she was almost to his table. “I’m Julia Merchant.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Detective Muñoz.”
She shook it. He was handsome, she thought. Her kind of handsome. “You’re part of the team investigating my mother’s death?”
“That’s right,” he said.
“Are you making any progress?”
“These things take time.”
“But you’ll find out what happened?”
“That’s our goal,” he said, and she heard reassurance in his voice.
“Because it’s hard, you know, thinking that she was healthy one day and dead the next. It’s not easy to accept her death under those circumstances.”
Muñoz pulled out a chair for her. “Why don’t you sit for a moment?”
When she was seated, he said, “Do you mind if I ask you a question or two?”
“Of course not. Anything to help.”
“I understand you had dinner with your mother the night before she died.”
“That’s right. She was very happy. At least I have that memory.”
Muñoz returned to his seat and set a sketch in front of her. “There was an incident in the dining room that night. A woman fell. Do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember. I saw her go down. It was pretty bad. I heard a pop when she hit the floor.”
“Can you tell me what happened after that?”
“I called out. I don’t remember exactly what I said. We need help here, or something like that.”
“What happened next?”
“Baiba called the nurse—Lorena—and she came over. The resident who fell was crying and moaning. Lorena sat her up and looked at her arm. And then she told Baiba that the woman might have broken her arm and that Baiba needed to call the ambulance team.”
Julia watched Muñoz take notes in his spiral notebook.
“Then what happened?” he asked.
“Baiba made the call, and the ambulance guys were up there almost immediately.”
“Was the nurse with Mrs. Lautner the whole time this was happening?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“Were you there the whole time?”
“Except when I went to the restroom.”
“When was that?”
“While the ambulance crew was lifting her onto the stretcher. I asked my mother’s caregiver to sit with her while I took a quick break.”
She watched Muñoz take more notes. He was left handed, and he wrote in a jerky scrawl. He said, “The dispensary is next to Baiba Lielkaja’s office. Did you pass it on your way to the restroom?”
“No. I went through the kitchen so I wouldn’t get in the way of the ambulance guys. But I came back that way.”
“Did you happen to look in the dispensary?” he asked, and she felt his full attention on her now.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re thinking that’s when someone could have put something into my mother’s sedative, aren’t you?”
“Just answer the question, Ms. Merchant. Did you see anyone in the dispensary?”
“I saw Baiba, but—”
“You saw Baiba Lielkaja?”
Julia nodded.
“She was in the dispensary?”
“Yes.”
“Did you mention this to Detective Codella when you went to see her on Monday?”
Julia Merchant shook her head.
“Don’t you think you should have?”
Her hand went her mouth. “I didn’t think—I was so focused on the video. On the nurse and the caregiver in her room. It never occurred to me that—”
“What was Lielkaja doing in there?”
“She was at the counter, opening a bottle.”
“What bottle?”
“I don’t know. It was white. Tylenol, maybe.”
“And you’re absolutely sure it was Baiba? You could swear to that?”
“Of course I’m sure. I know Baiba well, Detective. I’ve seen her almost every day for the past eighteen months. I don’t think I’d confuse her with anyone else.”
Julia watched Muñoz sit back and nod. “Of course,” he said apologetically.
“Is there anything else I can tell you?”
He shook his head. His mind was somewhere else, she thought.
Julia pushed out her chair and stood. “Well, let me know if there is.”
Then she went upstairs and let herself into Nostalgia. Baiba was not in her office, but Melissa Posen was right outside it, standing on a stepstool in front of a framed cork bulletin board. Julia watched Melissa use blue pushpins to mount a long strip of text at the top of the board. Below the text, the young woman pinned a recent photo of Julia’s mother sitting in the Nostalgia dining room. Julia studied her mother’s vacant eyes. As Melissa mounted a second snapshot, Julia realized she wasn’t breathing and that she didn’t want to see any more images. She turned, walked into the kitchen, and set the flowers and chocolates on the counter. And then she let herself out of the Nostalgia Neighborhood as fast as she could.