Snow Blind-J Collins 4
Read Snow Blind-J Collins 4 Online
Authors: Lori G. Armstrong
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Women private investigators
| Snow Blind-J Collins 4 | |
| J Collins 4 [4] | |
| Lori G. Armstrong | |
| Medallion Press, Inc. (2008) | |
| Rating: | ★★★★★ |
| Tags: | Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Mystery fiction, Women Sleuths, Women private investigators |
The frigid winter months are mighty slow in the PI biz for Julie Collins and her partner, Kevin Wells—until the duo is hired by a young woman to investigate problems at her grandfather’s assisted living facility, where they encounter lax security, unqualified healthcare personnel, and a shady senior volunteer organization.
Julie barely has time to delve deeper into the puzzling case before she reluctantly finds herself in an isolated cattle shelter on the Collins ranch with her father during a raging blizzard. There is no escape from her father or from the biting cold and bitter memories.
A missing hired ranch hand found dead on the ranch only complicates matters further. In trying to uncover the truth about the man'’s death, Julie is forced to wrestle with issues that make her question old wounds and new family loyalties.
Kevin'’s reckless involvement with their new client tests the bounds of professionalism, and Julie’'s relationship with Tony Martinez is strained, as he deals with power struggles within the Hombres organization, putting them both in jeopardy.
When the bodies and the snow pile up, Julie seems at odds with everyone, leaving her to wonder if she’s being blinded to the cold, hard truths in her life by love . . . or by hate.
Lori G. Armstrong
is the author of
Blood Ties
,
Hallowed Ground
, and
Shallow Grave.
She lives in Rapid City, South Dakota.
Medallion Press, Inc.
Printed in USA
Published 2008 by Medallion Press, Inc.
Th
e MEDALLION PRESS LOGO
is a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment from this “stripped book.”
Copyright © 2008 by Lori G. Armstrong
Cover Illustration by Adam Mock
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fi ctionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Typeset in Adobe Caslon Pro
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 9781933836591
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
My family complains I usually thank them last, so I’m thanking them fi rst: Lauren, Haley, Tessa— every damn day I’m so proud to be your mom. Mr. LGA—thanks for letting me live my dream; you’re the biggest part of it.
For my Grandma, Mary Maxine Austin Knickrehm: yes, I believed you when you swore interesting things do happen at old folks’ homes, and thank you for planting the germ of an idea in my head. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.
Th
anks to Kerry Estevez of Medallion Press for bringing another Julie Collins book to the lineup; to my editor, Helen Rosburg, for ‘getting’ Julie’s voice and letting me stay true to it; and to Adam Mock for another brilliant cover.
Again, a huge debt of gratitude to my invaluable crit partner, Mary LaHood, who’s been with me on Julie’s journey since day one, who never balks at my tight deadlines and keeps me honest.
Gracias to my fellow author and friend Mario Acevedo for the help with Spanish language phrases. Errors in translation belong to me.
I bow to the expertise of Jane Wipf Pfeifl e—friend, attorney, judge, voracious reader, supermom, Jane-of-all-trades—my inside source on legal matters in the state of South Dakota: once again you rocked me with your generosity. Ditto to my buddy and author JD “Dusty” Rhoades for answering other lawyerly questions with good humor. Any mistakes are mine to bear.
A million thanks to Montana rancher Sarpy Sam (www.sarpysam.
com) for helping with this greenhorn’s questions. Your insight and knowledge of cattle and ranching in the modern day Wild West were amazingly helpful. Any inaccuracies fall squarely on my shoulders.
Dr. Doug Lyle, who never bats an eye when I pose very bizarre questions and is eager and prompt in his responses. Th ank you, doc.
My fellow First Off enders, Alison Gaylin, Jeff Shelby and Karen Olson; for friendship above and beyond what we ever envisioned. Other writer friends who keep me sane, make me laugh, are great for a good cry or a good drunk, my biggest cheerleaders: Cat Cody, Toni McGee Causey, Mary Stella, Karen Hall.
Readers, fans, librarians, bookclubs, bookstores…thanks for the support; I am humbled and deeply grateful.
Table of Contents
Found in the classified ads:
WANTED
: Elderly Caretaker/Health-
care Worker
HOURS
: Variable, prefer full-time
DUTIES
: All—from fixing meals to
fixing the TV remote
QUALIFICATIONS:
1) Must be able to follow a strict medi-
cation schedule
2) Must be good at locating lost objects
3) Must listen without complaint
4) Must provide assistance with personal
hygiene
PAY RATE
: Volunteer
“Didja ever notice old folks’ homes smell exactly like funeral homes?”
Kevin’s blistering look singed my eyelashes.
“Maybe you could’ve said that a little louder, Julie.”
“What?” I gestured to the chess-playing octogenarians in the glass-walled room beyond us. “It’s not like anyone heard me. Most of them are deaf anyway.”
He sighed.
“I’m just saying . . .”
“Enough. Stay back and let me handle this.”
I hid my smile as he tromped to the receptionist’s desk. Despite a friendship spanning two decades I found it easy to play him.
My triumph faded when I remembered why we were undercover at Prairie Gardens Assisted Living Facility. My best pal and business partner did his 1
share of playing me, too.
Evidently my charm wasn’t as pervasive as I’d imagined since he’d taken this case even after I’d argued against it.
Two days ago we found Amery Grayson dithering in the hallway leading to the offices of Wells/Collins Investigations. The bitterly cold month of February drags along like a three-legged dog in the private eye business, which was why Kevin quickly ushered the lovely Ms. Grayson into the conference room before she bolted.
I’d always pooh-poohed the iconic PI yarn where a beautiful, mysterious moll sauntered in, reeking of sex and turmoil. At first glance Amery’s bloodshot eyes and trembling mouth evoked sympathy for whatever crisis marred her classic features. At second glance, Amery was all leg, all blonde, and all wet behind the ears.
Young and troubled. A bad combo.
A combo that kicked Kevin’s protective instincts and his hormones into high gear, because the next thing I knew, I was fetching Kleenex, water, and smelling salts for Miz Amery while Kevin patted her hand and encouraged her to pour out her tale of woe.
Amery tearfully confided she’d never done anything like hiring a PI—she didn’t know if we could help her,
blah blah blah
. Her spiel wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard a hundred times before. Somehow I managed to block out her simpering tone and focused on the issue: She feared someone was taking advantage 2
of her grandfather.
Vernon Sloane resided at Prairie Gardens, an assisted living/retirement facility. The biggest issue in his life, besides being afflicted with the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s disease, was the loss of his driver’s license after he’d wrecked his car. A combative Vernon kept trying to sneak out of Prairie Gardens at all hours of the day and night, and Amery had received four phone calls in the last four months after Gramps had been caught wandering around outside the facility looking for his beloved classic Buick.
Which led Amery to the first problem: her concerns about the management team running the facility and the apparent passing off of nursing and security issues to volunteers.
Prairie Gardens boasted a new “in-reach program,”
Prime Time Friends, where volunteers visited residents at least once a week. Amery wondered why volunteers from an
in
-reach program would take an elderly man
out
on supervised, unnsanctioned outings. Why they’d encourage him to cancel doctor’s appointments with the in-house physician and offer to drive Vernon to a specialist outside the facility.
The situation was getting progressively worse. The last time Amery visited her grandfather, he was more confused than usual, and he consistently called her by her dead mother’s name, Susan. Amery discovered another problem while looking for her grandfather’s missing medications. Crumpled up in his shaving kit 3
she’d found his quarterly bank statement. Vernon had withdrawn cash totaling more than thirty-five thousand dollars.
When Amery asked her grandfather about the missing money, he accused her—again referring to her as Susan—of stealing it from him.
Amery’s hands were tied when it came to Vernon Sloane’s financial affairs. Without guardianship she couldn’t do anything to ensure her grandfather wasn’t being bilked out of every penny of his meager retirement, or legally address his worsening health issues.
She’d attempted to talk to the in-house physician, but he refused to tell her anything for fear of violating doctor/patient confidentiality. She’d spoken with the finance office at the retirement center, hoping they’d shed light on whether Vernon used the money to pay in advance for his long-term care. But without power of attorney, she was stonewalled.
Poor Amery was beside herself with worry and guilt.
I let Kevin murmur soothing words that would’ve choked me. He promised we’d look into the situation as he escorted her to her car.
My opinion differed from Kevin’s. I figured Amery was jealous and angry her grandfather was spending her money and time with someone else, and therefore was trying to make problems. Kevin figured a couple of greedy people saw a confused old man and decided to take advantage, knowing Amery had no legal power to stop them.
4
So here we were trying to sort fact from fiction in an overheated, overdecorated reception area that reeked of sour unwashed bodies, tuna casserole, and Lysol antiseptic.
“Hey, sis.” Kevin waved me over. “Dee is ready to give us a tour.”