Free Murder Under the Covered Bridge by Elizabeth Perona Page B

mood while she was fishing for clues. “The sheriff has to operate under that premise. I’m sure that’s what Jonathan was saying.” She flashed her eyes at him. “Just out of curiosity, do you still own the Buick? What was that, a light blue Lucerne?”
    Dolly focused back on William. She took hold of his hand and held it in hers. “Yes. We had OnStar too. It should be easy to track.”
    â€œDo you want us to help you with that?”
    â€œYou’re being a dear, Francine. I can’t concentrate on anything but William. Yes, it would help. What do you need?”
    â€œThe license plate number and the keys. If we can find the car, we should be able to retrieve it for you.”
    Dolly indicated a small table on the other side of William’s bed where a knock-off Vera Bradley purse tote lay open. “The keys are in my purse. Let me get it for you.”
    Francine was thinking that the bright orange and pink paisley pattern was one she would never be seen carrying when her eyes spotted something else inside the purse: a small vial, similar to the one Jonathan had pulled out of William’s pocket. This one, too, had a cork stopper on it. Francine couldn’t tell whether it was full or empty, not without picking it up.
    Dolly reached the purse and found the key to William’s car. “Here it is. I put a light blue dot on the key. It was easy to remember that way.” She looped the handles of the purse over each other so it was no longer easy to see inside.
    â€œThanks,” Francine said, taking the key from her. “Didn’t the Buick have a vanity license plate number?”
    â€œIt still does. ‘WRM MMIES.’ He thinks it advertises the retirement community, but I think it could also be ‘Worm Mummies’.” She smiled at Francine, but Francine could see the pain in it. “Everything closer to ‘Warm Memories’ was already taken.”
    Francine eased into a second visitor chair, identical to the one Jonathan was in. It was simple in design—a cube on legs—but upholstered in a rust pattern and comfortable to sit in. She noted how hospitals had changed over the years that she’d been a nurse. Rooms used to feel cold and sterile. Now hospitals tried for a hotel feel. She patted the other chair in the room, which was next to her. “Let’s sit for a while.” The gesture was genuine even if she felt a little strange doing it.
    Dolly left William’s side. She plopped into the chair by Francine, but she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees as though she would lurch out of the seat any moment. “Thanks. My sister is coming up from Memphis to stay with me, but she won’t be here for another couple of hours.”
    Francine couldn’t remember ever meeting Dolly’s sister, though it probably would have been at William’s wedding and that was decades ago. “I’m glad to know she’s coming. So, how are things going at the retirement homes? You and William are certainly the king and queen of the elderly set, at least in western Indiana.”
    She half shrugged. “Business is okay, although the rules change constantly. The government is giving a lot of financial support to encourage folks to stay in their homes and get end-of -life care. William says we have to adapt by offering different services. He’s so business savvy. I could never do this by myself. He’s got to recover.”
    â€œI’m sure he will.” Francine caught Jonathan’s eye and tried to implore him to help the conversation.
    Jonathan steepled his fingers. “What are you doing now, Dolly? Are you managing any of the properties?”
    â€œOne of the Terre Haute properties, and also the one in Clinton. They’re good, both profitable. I’m also responsible for all the memory care units. The one in Rockville is full and we have a waiting list.” Dolly concentrated on the