Page 60 of Pretty Poison

“Now, Nana. That’s no way to flirt with a man,” Rocky said, hoping to de-escalate the brewing fight.

Nana picked up the twenty-dollar bill from the table. “How’d you like to win your money back, Rocky?”

Eager to divert a disaster, Rocky said, “Sure.”

“I bet you twenty bucks Harvey shows up at my room to prove how wrong I was.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m guessing around eight o’clock.”

Rocky noted the twinkle in Harvey’s eyes as he stared at Nana. “No way in hell I’m taking that bet.”

“Double down?” she asked.

Rocky laughed. “If I don’t want to gamble on twenty bucks, then I’m certainly not eager to lose forty.”

Queen Bea shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

“I admire your effort,” Rocky said.

“Want us to deal you in?” one of the ladies asked Rocky.

“I can’t stay long, but thank you,” Rocky told her.

“You working a case?” Queen Bea asked. Then she looked at her friends. “My grandson is a private detective.” They all nodded because Queen Bea had most likely told them at least once a day. “I think I would’ve made a great lady detective.” She looked up at Rocky. “Do you think it’s too late for me to start a new career? Things go missing around here all the time.”

Rocky frowned. “What kind of things?” His mind automatically went to jewelry, cash, and prescription drugs.

“Dentures, eyeglasses, and canes,” Queen Bea said as she looked at her fresh hand.

Rocky bit back his laughter. Those items were most likely misplaced or forgotten rather than stolen. Queen Bea liked to keep her mind sharp, so he said, “I think it’s a good idea to help your friends.”

Queen Bea whooped, but it turned into a cough. The player beside her pushed Nana’s glass of water closer to her. She patted the woman on the shoulder, then took a drink. “I’m going to need a hat. I want one like Humphrey Bogart.”

“We can do that,” Rocky said.

He glanced up and spotted a familiar woman crossing the room at a brisk pace. She was tall and still had an athletic build, even though she had to be in her seventies. Like Grant Duncan, photos of this woman often accompanied articles about Tess, though her name was never provided. Grant and this lady always sat directly behind the defendant’s table, and the pair made an interesting contrast. The woman with her snowy white hair and cold blue eyes was the exact opposite of Grant’s dark good looks. Light and dark. Cold and hot.

“Is she a resident here?” Rocky asked, tipping his head in the woman’s direction.

“She’s too old for you, son,” one of the fellas playing cards said.

Queen Bea snorted. “She should be so lucky, Herb. Besides, he doesn’t swing that way.”

The man named Herb looked up from his cards and met Rocky’s gaze. “Really?” There was no judgment in the man’s scrutiny, only curiosity.

“Yep.”

“Her name is Helen Girard,” Harvey said. “She’s a physical therapist and mostly works in the rehab unit.”

“Is she part of your case?” Queen Bea asked.

“Nope,” Rocky lied. He smiled down at his grandmother, who squinted up at him. She didn’t believe him for a second.

“Full-time residents get to use her services too,” Herb added.

“You ought to know,” Queen Bea said. “You’re in there every week to work on one body part or another.”

“I’m eighty-nine years old,” Herb said. “Shit hurts.”

Rocky chuckled. “That would make a great T-shirt.” Herb held up a thumb, then took his turn.