“Then you’d better be careful,” Mr. Thompson said, meeting my gaze with a clear-eyed look. “Because they’ll come looking for you, too.” And with that, he maneuvered his chair around me and headed down the hallway.
What if he’s not as befuddled as he wanted to seem? I wondered. It wouldn’t be difficult for someone clever to fake dementia. Get to a certain age, and even some medical people see what they expect to see. I wondered if Thompson had been wily enough to hide in plain sight, somewhere that might prompt his enemies to write him off as no longer important. And once again, as I watched him wheel away, I wondered whether old Mr. Thompson was friend or foe.
“Who said you could bring a dog in here?”
I looked up as a dark-haired young nurse I had never seen before made a bee-line over to us. “Baxter’s a certified therapy dog,” I said, taken-aback. I pointed to the little vest Bax wears that lets people know he’s a working dog. “We come here at least once a week.”
She scowled at me. “Nobody told me about it.”
“It’s all right, Becky,” Nurse Judy must have seen the confrontation from her desk. “Cassidy and Baxter have cleared all their paperwork.” Judy was smiling, but it was strained. I wondered if she had run into other problems with Becky. That was likely, given Becky’s attitude.
“If he bites anyone, I’m going on record that I objected,” Becky said sullenly.
“That won’t be necessary,” Judy replied. Her smile had slipped into a tight-lipped look that meant business. I felt a subtle shift in the energy around her, a reminder that Judy had some magic of her own. I didn’t pick up any sense of power from Becky, but there was a darkness to her I didn’t like. It surprised me the nursing home would hire someone who seemed like such a grouch.
Judy sighed as Becky walked away. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “She’s new, and I think she’s letting some personal issues affect her work.” She raised an eyebrow. “Boyfriend problems.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Well, maybe she’ll cheer up,” I said.
Judy rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Anyhow, she won’t bother you and Baxter anymore. I’ll make sure of it.”
I thanked Judy, and then looked around for Mrs. Butler. She hadn’t been in the activities room. I thought she might be napping in her room when I spotted her out in the walled garden. I watched her through the window for a moment. She moved haltingly with the use of a walker. Even though she was closing in on being a century old, it was easy to see the high cheekbones and regular features that must have been striking in her youth.
I led Baxter out into the garden. It was a beautiful place, circled by a high brick wall so residents couldn’t wander away. The garden enclosure also provided a lovely view for two of the big floor-to-ceiling windows in the activity room. Mrs. Butler turned at the sound. There was a momentary expression of expectation on her face, followed by confusion, and then resignation. “Hi Mrs. Butler!” I said cheerily. “I brought Baxter for an extra visit this week, and I wanted to make sure you got a chance to see him. You had company the last time we came.”
Mrs. Butler sat down shakily on the bench where I had seen her talking with Sorren. “Did I?” she asked, looking at me intently as she tried to place where she had seen me before. “Oh well. What a cute dog. What do you call him?”
“Baxter. He’s very friendly, if you want to pet him.” My heart broke a little. We go through this every week. She loves petting Baxter, but she just can’t remember his name. I sighed. On the bright side, that makes his visit a new discovery each time.
“Have you met my young man?” she asked, and looked around as if for someone who had just stepped away. “He was just here.”
“I don’t believe I’ve seen him. Does he visit often?”
“Often?” she said, frowning. “Oh, I don’t know. But he promised to take me dancing. Only, I can’t find my good shoes. Do you know where they went?”
I shook my head. “No. But someone will help you look for them,” I replied. I nodded toward Baxter, who was out-doing himself on cuteness. “I think Baxter really likes you.”
“Baxter? No, his name isn’t Baxter. It’s…” She frowned as memory eluded her. “Something