Free Death Falls by Todd Ritter Page A

agreed, adding, “Only if you do the same.”
    Arbor Shade wasn’t much nicer on the inside—more dentist office waiting area than living room. Gray walls. Mauve carpet. A meager array of magazines on a crooked coffee table. Next to a fake potted palm was a small receptionist’s window, where a matronly woman peeked out at them.
    “Are you here for a tour?”
    Nick hobbled up to the window. “We need to talk to one of your residents. Mr. Owen Peale.”
    “I’m afraid it’s too early for visiting hours. Most family members come on evenings or weekends.”
    Kat joined Nick at the window and flashed her badge. “I’m Chief Campbell of the Perry Hollow Police. We really need to speak with Mr. Peale.”
    The receptionist’s eyes widened and she put a hand to her chest. “Is he in trouble?”
    “No,” Kat said. “Should he be?”
    “Of course not.” The receptionist checked the area for prying coworkers before leaning forward and whispering, “But we’ve had some complaints.”
    “What did he do?” Nick asked.
    The woman at the window wouldn’t say, which made her the worst kind of gossip—a tease. Nick much preferred Lou van Sickle’s all-or-nothing approach.
    “I’ve already told you too much,” the receptionist said. “You can usually find Mr. Peale in the common room at this hour. And a word of warning: it would be wise to watch your wallets.”
    She gave them directions to the common room before pressing a black button on the wall. There was a low buzz, followed by a click as a door to Nick’s right unlocked.
    “Security,” the receptionist explained.
    Nick assumed the system was intended not to keep visitors out but to keep residents in. It was understandable. Thrown into a place like this, his first order of business would be to hatch an escape plan. But on the way to the common room, he saw that most of the residents seemed, if not content, then at least resigned to their fates. They roamed the halls aimlessly, using a wide array of mobility devices. Orthopedic canes. Walkers. Wheelchairs. Gripping the pit bull handle of his own cane, Nick realized it was all downhill from there. Soon he’d be making the same sad progression. At the entrance to the common room, he and Kat were cut off by a woman riding a motorized scooter. At least that was something to look forward to.
    The common room was nicer than Nick expected, and a far cry from the waiting area. There were real plants there, catching the sun from a row of windows along one wall. Plush armchairs ran the perimeter of the room, broken up by shelves loaded with books and board games.
    In the center of the room, a silver-haired cluster sat in front of a television, watching the news. Giving the TV a cursory glance, Nick saw yet another report about China’s trip to the moon. The mission had been in the news all summer, with so-called experts squawking nonstop about what it meant for the United States and the rest of the world.
    The attention had reached fever pitch now that the mission was finally under way. Nick couldn’t turn on the TV or open a newspaper without seeing something about it. He understood why it was big news, yet he just couldn’t bring himself to care. The moon had been there since the beginning of time and would exist until the end of time. It didn’t really matter who walked on it and what country they were from.
    Turning away from the TV, Nick asked an elderly woman sitting nearby to point out Owen Peale. She did, gesturing to a man in sweatpants and a plaid robe sitting alone with a deck of cards. Next to his elbow was a tattered shoe box.
    Nick approached the table. “Mr. Peale?”
    The man studied first Nick, then Kat. “That’s me.”
    “Do you have a minute to speak with us?”
    “Am I in trouble?”
    That question again. Hearing it a second time made Nick wonder just how much of a handful Owen Peale really was.
    “Of course not.”
    “I was just wondering,” Owen said, cocking his head in Kat’s