Grammie clapped her hands. “Eleanor is going to be so happy to hear this news. What a relief. Not that I ever thought Claudia was guilty.”
I hadn’t either, though I was very glad we had conclusive proof she wasn’t. “There is one thing, though.” I hopped down from the stool, too excited to sit. “We never told Eleanor that her grandfather was murdered. So it’s more of a good news, bad news scenario.”
“It also means that Claudia was the legal owner of the jewelry,” Madison pointed out. “Since the robbery happened after she left the country, she didn’t run away with stolen jewels.”
“True. That is very good news.” I picked up my cell phone and called Eleanor. “I hope it’s not too late to call.” Her phone, a landline, rang and rang. “Voice mail’s not picking up.”
“Her power is probably out,” Grammie said. “It happens a lot on that side of town.” She gave us a mischievous grin. “Who wants to take a ride?”
We drove out to Eleanor’s in Grammie’s Jeep Grand Wagoneer Woody, the biggest, safest vehicle we had. But still, gusts buffeted the heavy SUV and rain lashed the windshield, the wipers on full speed to keep up. Thunder crashed and lightning forked across the sky. Hardly anyone was on the road, only the occasional pair of headlights coming our way, tires splashing as they passed.
Grammie was intent at the wheel, watching the road. “I love thunderstorms. Nothing like a good one to clear the air.”
“Me too,” I said. Watching the lightning circle the hills was thrilling. Down on the shore, the surf must be incredible. But it was a typical summer storm, nothing that was going to uproot trees or demolish homes. Most power outages were due to a branch resting on a line. That happened frequently since the area was so wooded.
As we got closer to Cliff Road, I saw that all the houses were dark, confirming our theory that Eleanor’s electricity was out. Grammie slowed when we turned onto the side road, which, with very few streetlights, was dark even under the best of conditions. Tonight only the Jeep’s headlights and occasional lightning lit the gloom. Leaves and small branches patterned the gleaming black asphalt, but we didn’t encounter any real obstacles.
The stone posts marking the drive loomed out of the dark, caught by our headlights. Grammie turned in and we slowly crept down toward the house, which was in almost complete darkness. A lone light shone in the upper stories, where someone must have either lit candles or turned on battery-operated lamps.
Grammie parked near the fence, the lot empty of vehicles. The members of the seaweed project must be out, and Eleanor kept her car in the garage. Using the flashlight on my phone, we skirted the rain-dimpled pool and rapped on the French doors.
No answer. Although we were somewhat sheltered by the porch roof, the water-laden wind slapped us, sending droplets down our necks.
Two choices: go home or take a more assertive approach. Since our news was vitally important and I wanted to make sure Eleanor was all right, I chose the second. I boldly opened the French door and called, “Eleanor? Eleanor, are you home?”
Only a couple of thunder booms answered me as lightning flashed over the bay, which meant the storm was circling back around. I stepped into the house, the dark room briefly visible when another flash came. “Eleanor?” I called again, my voice louder. “Are you here?” Followed by Grammie and Madison, I walked through the sitting room and out into the hallway. She was probably upstairs, where I’d seen the light.
“Eleanor?” I called again. In response, a light shone and bobbed, as if someone was carrying it along the upstairs corridor. “I think she’s coming.”
We waited where we were, at the foot of the stairs. The lantern light grew stronger and soon we saw Eleanor on the landing. She wore a long white nightgown and in her hand, held high, was a battery lantern, the type I used while camping.
“Who’s there?” she called from the top of the stairs. She must not be able to see us from that vantage point.
I moved closer, to stand right below her. “It’s me, Iris. I’m here with Anne and Madison. We have news for you.”
“Iris?” To my dismay, Eleanor sounded doubtful, as if she didn’t know an Iris. She swung the lantern out over the railing, peering down. In the light’s eerie white glow, she looked gaunt, almost skeletal. “Who’s that with you?”
Grammie came up beside me. “Eleanor, dear, it’s Anne. And Madison. We’re here to see you. May we come up?”
Eleanor wavered, the lantern beam swinging wildly around the hall, and then she collapsed into a heap onto the floor. The lantern fell, bounced, and rolled.
After a frozen second or two, we launched into action and pounded up the staircase to her side. By the time we got there, Eleanor was sitting up, knees bent and a hand to her head. “What happened?” she asked, her voice groggy.
“You fell,” Grammie said gently. She knelt down beside Eleanor. “Does anything hurt?” She mimicked using a phone then pointed at me. I pulled out my cell to call 911.
“No, nothing hurts,” Eleanor said, looking up at us with dilated eyes. She patted her legs and hips. “All good.” She cracked an odd, crooked smile. Had she been drinking? I didn’t smell alcohol on her breath.
But at least she hadn’t broken a bone, it seemed. That was such a worry with the elderly and frail. The dispatcher answered, and I asked for an ambulance, explaining that we were concerned about an older woman’s condition.
Eleanor stared up into my grandmother’s face. “Anne. What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded slightly slurred.
Hoo-boy. I was glad she seemed to be thinking a little more clearly. But what had caused this episode? The dispatcher assured me the ambulance would be right there and I hung up.
“We came by to make sure you were all right,” Grammie said. “The storm had us concerned, with all the power outages.” She didn’t mention Claudia, and I thought I understood why. In Eleanor’s condition, she might not comprehend what we were talking about. The news could wait.
“The electricity went out,” Eleanor gestured vaguely. “It was dark.”
“Iris?” Grammie gestured to me. “Do you think you and Madison could help Eleanor back to her bedroom?”
Between the two of us, we carefully maneuvered Eleanor onto her feet and helped her down the hall. She leaned heavily on us, gripping us hard with her thin, bony fingers, and stumbled along. But she was putting weight on her legs and didn’t seem to be in any pain.
Grammie grabbed the lantern to light our journey and, once we entered the bedroom, she set it on the nightstand. We helped Eleanor climb into the high bed, which smelled of lavender and was made up with a set of those gorgeous sheets. A quilted satin coverlet lay folded at the foot, like something a movie star would use, and we pulled that up to cover her to the waist.
“Would you get me a glass of water?” Eleanor tugged at Madison’s arm then pointed to the adjacent bathroom. Madison picked up the empty water glass and hurried off.
Grammie fussed with the sheets, smoothing them. “Are you on any medications, Eleanor? Sometimes they can cause all kinds of funny symptoms.” This was a roundabout way to ask whether Eleanor might have taken too much of something.
Eleanor held up a forefinger with a laugh. “I’m on one medication. One. That isn’t bad for an old bird like me, is it?” She pointed to the bedside table drawer. “My pills are in there.”
I opened the drawer, but instead of a medication bottle, I found one of those plastic days-of-the-week containers. Each compartment held rattling objects but I couldn’t identify them through the opaque plastic.
“The rest of those are my herbs and vitamins,” she said before I could ask. “I take them faithfully, every day, and they’ve done wonders for my health.”
That was great, but two days were open, not one. Had she taken an overdose of something? Or just left a lid open? I pried open another compartment and studied the contents.
Eleanor’s face screwed up in distress. “I can’t imagine what’s wrong with me lately. I keep leaving things where they don’t belong.”
Like putting her eyeglasses in the refrigerator the other day. That had been strange, although I’d put cold milk into the cereal cupboard once. Maybe Eleanor was merely absentminded. We all were at times.
Madison returned with the water and handed the glass to Eleanor. After taking a few thirsty swallows, she went on. “And I’m so confused sometimes. I thought Craig was an intruder one morning when I walked into my office and saw him at the file cabinet.”
Doing what? I glanced at Madison and Grammie, who both looked concerned.
“Let’s tell the doctor all this,” Anne said, patting Eleanor’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “Maybe they need to change your medicine. Or the dosage.”
“Maybe,” Eleanor said. “Although it’s only medicine for my tummy. I have reflux sometimes.”
Madison drew me aside while Grammie settled Eleanor comfortably back on the pillows. “Something doesn’t sound right to me,” she whispered. “I’m not a doctor, but I’ve never heard of reflux medicine affecting people’s minds. Or making their voices slur.”
“Me neither.” I studied Eleanor, who was lying back against the pillows, eyes closed. “But I pray it’s not dementia,” I said. Sometimes those symptoms could come and go, I’d heard. How tragic it would be for this bright, interesting woman to lose her mental faculties.
Lights flashing through the front windows announced the arrival of the ambulance. “I’ll go down and let them in,” I said, switching on my flashlight again. The electricity still wasn’t back on yet. And it was pouring again, judging by the rain lashing the windows.
When I opened the front door for the EMTs, I discovered that Anton was with them. The police often answered ambulance calls as extra support. “Thanks for getting here so fast,” I said, standing back to let them in.
“Hey,” a voice called from the front walk. “Wait for me.” Eleanor’s nephew, Craig, came splashing along carrying a big black umbrella.
“Excuse me, excuse me.” Craig pushed his way past Anton and the medical personnel and closed his wet umbrella with a snap, throwing drops everywhere. What an oaf. “What’s going on here? Is my aunt all right? I’d also like to know why I wasn’t informed.”
Since time was of the essence, I ignored Craig and turned to the EMTs. “Eleanor is upstairs, first bedroom on the right in front. When we got here, she was confused and then she collapsed. No broken bones, though, thankfully.”
“We’ll go check her over,” one EMT said. Shouldering past Craig, both EMTs flew up the stairs. Anton stayed with me, subtly blocking the way to the stairs.
“The reason I didn’t call you is I don’t have your number,” I told Craig. “I’m sorry about that.” And I was. Maybe his rude demeanor was a mask for worry. I held up my phone. “Why don’t you give it to me now?”
He stared at me, his bulldog jaw working. “I don’t see any reason why you should have it,” he said. “You and my aunt aren’t that close, are you?”
No, he was just plain rude, I decided. “Have it your way.” I waved the light beam at the stairs. “Anton? Want to go up?”
Although Anton had a flashlight on his duty belt and didn’t need my feeble beam, he nodded and gestured for me to precede him up the stairs. Behind me, I heard Craig give a huff and then his heavy breathing as he followed us, footsteps thumping.
In Eleanor’s bedroom, the medics were checking her vital signs and questioning her about her symptoms. When Madison saw us walk in, she detached herself from the group and came over. Craig went to the foot of the bed and listened, scowling, arms folded across his chest.
Madison and Anton stared at each other for a long moment before she looked away. “I’m glad you came along tonight,” she said in a low voice. “Iris and I are worried about Eleanor.”
“The EMTs will figure it out,” Anton said, his voice hearty with reassurance. “They’ll probably take her in for observation and tests. And her doctor will be informed.”
“My father is her physician, I think Eleanor said,” Madison said. “But I’m hoping you can help.”
Anton rested his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed. “I’m not following.”
“I’ve seen one of Eleanor’s spells before,” I said. “She’s confused, forgetful, in her own world. And then a while later, she snaps out of it and she’s normal again.” I thought of something. “But tonight her pupils were really dilated.” That might have been due to the dark, though. “And her voice was slurring.” That certainly wasn’t due to the dark.
Anton called one of the EMTs over, speaking softly so we couldn’t hear. The medic responded, nodding affirmatively, then went back to his patient.
“Okay,” Anton said. “There’s some … indication that other factors might be at play here.” Meaning the EMT thought there were possible symptoms of intoxication of some sort.
I exchanged glances with Madison. “You’ll want to check her bedside table drawer for a purple plastic container,” I said. “She keeps her medications in there.” Lowering my voice even further, I said, “Test them, will you? Something is definitely not right here.”
The EMTs unfolded a gurney and began to prepare Eleanor for transport. Craig hovered around them, getting in the way. “What are you doing? Where are you taking her?”
“Move aside, sir,” one of the EMTs said. “We’re taking your aunt to the hospital.”
“I’m all right, Craig,” Eleanor said in a weak voice. “They’ll take good care of me.”
The other EMT patted her shoulder. “We sure will, ma’am.”
Anton retrieved the pill container from the drawer while Craig, who was finally standing out of the way, watched the medical personnel wheel their patient from the room. “Maybe it’s for the best, Aunt Eleanor. Maybe you shouldn’t live alone anymore.”
Although his words were something anyone in the same situation might say, they didn’t sit right with me. Eleanor had told us that Craig wanted power of attorney. What if her illness had just provided him with the opportunity he’d been looking for to take control?