Evil At Shore Haven. Alice Zogg
her.”
“Mrs. Huber is retired and only occasionally acts as my consultant. I’m Antoinette LeJeune, qualifyin’ with a private investigator license; gun permit and all. How may I help you folks?”
They gave the young woman with the Southern drawl a skeptical look, and the man said, “I doubt that you can.”
There was a long pause and then he said, “My name is Kirk Ralph, and this is my wife, Carla. The Huber lady came highly recommended, but since she is not available, we might as well tell you our plight. My mother was a resident at Shore Haven and drowned in the ocean. The authorities concluded that it was an accidental drowning, but we think that she was murdered.”
“Where and what is Shore Haven?” Andi asked.
“It’s a retirement community about a mile north of the Ventura pier. The place is located right by the ocean.”
“Go on.”
Kirk continued, “The idea is that Mom did not remember that she couldn’t swim, took a dip in the ocean one evening last month, and drowned.”
“That’s absurd,” Andi said. “How could she forget such a thing? Oh, I get it. Was she mentally disabled?”
“She had been recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, but the illness was in its early stage. There is no way on earth that she thought she could swim. Mom was afraid of water and never went near the pool, let alone put as much as her little toe into the ocean. She didn’t even own a bathing suit; someone must have given her the one she was wearing when they found her.”
“Hold on,” Andi interjected. “Tell me everything you know about the drowning in chronological order, please.”
“There isn’t much to tell. Mom was missed at dinner and when she was nowhere to be found on the premises, Mr. Beaulieu - - that’s the man who runs Shore Haven - - organized a search party around the neighborhood and along the beach. Mom did not sign herself out at the front desk, and her car was still parked in the parking structure. The idea was that she wandered off on foot. We were not there but learned about it after the fact. Anyway, the search was useless and the authorities got involved, treating it as a missing person case. Three days later, someone found her washed up near the pier.”
Carla shuddered and said, “It was horrible. We had to identify her body at the morgue. She was grotesque, all bloated.”
Her husband patted her shoulder and said, “Try not to dwell on that.” And turning back to
Andi, he stated, “I want justice for Mom, but we can’t go to the police since we have no evidence of foul play.”
“Who do you think murdered her?”
“We have no idea.”
“Did your mama make enemies?”
“Certainly not!” he shot back. “She was a gentle soul; everyone liked her.”
Andi scratched her head and said, “You can’t have it both ways, sir. Either someone had a reason to kill your mama, or else she drowned by accident.”
“Maybe she found out what’s going on at Shore Haven and needed to be silenced,” Carla suggested.
Andi’s radar was on alert now and she prompted, “Say what?”
“About two weeks before she passed, Mom told us that residents were dying at a rapid rate. In her own words, ‘People are dropping dead right and left around here.’”
“Isn’t that normal at an old folks home?”
“That’s what we thought at the time she made the comment. Now we feel differently.”
“Y’all think there’s a mercy killer on the loose?”
“Not really. Some of these people were not all that old and in relatively good health.”
“If you worried about her safety, how come you didn’t take her out of there?” Andi wanted to know.
Kirk replied, “First off, I’d like to point out that Shore Haven is a top notch facility and Mom was happy there. Until her drowning, we didn’t put much importance to her remark. To be fair, she did tend to get things mixed up. After she passed, we talked to a resident she had befriended and learned of the recent deaths at the facility. Granted, some of these people most likely died from natural causes, but others did not, in our opinion. The fatalities seem natural or accidental at first glance, but something fishy is going on below the surface.”
Andi grabbed her notepad and pen, inquiring “What is the friend’s name?”
“We only know her first name, Cheryl.”
“Do you suspect that management or staff members are involved in any wrong doing, or is it other old folks you’re concerned about?”
“We haven’t got a clue.”
Whenever Andi got excited, frustrated, angry, or didn’t know what to say, her southern drawl became acute. She was clearly at a loss for words when she probed, “What’d y’all have me doin’?”
“Investigate the place, of course,” Kirk said.
Andi mulled things over. She was by no means convinced that there was something to investigate. After all, the old woman was going off her rocker and most likely had forgotten that she could not swim and ambled into the ocean of her own free will.
She finally said, “If I show up at the community’s doorstep asking questions, I’ll be thrown out like a common beggar, for sure. You reckon I apply for a job at the place? I doubt that I’d come up with proper qualifications.”
“That is exactly why we wanted to hire the older lady. She could check in as a resident.”
Andi raised an eyebrow and asked, “You would pay for her stay?”
“Naturally.”
Andi looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’re sure your mama’s drowning was not an accident?”
“Positive.”
His wife remarked, “Who in their right mind would even want to venture into the freezing ocean at the beginning of March?”
Andi thought, that’s just it, the woman was not in her right mind. And as far as venturing into the ocean in March, surfers, divers, and gung-ho swimmers did it all the time, even in the midst of winter. She kept those thoughts to herself, however.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said and took down data, such as their phone number, address, and other personal information.
“And now,” she stated, “I need to know lots more about Shore Haven before we can go on.”
CHAPTER 2
Peter Huber shut his laptop with a bang and cried out, “It’s no use. I give up!”
R. A. Huber looked up from the Far East travel brochure she had been studying and said, “What’s eating you?”
“I’ve revised this damned paragraph for the hundredth time and it still doesn’t read right. That’s what.”
“Maybe if I had a look at the entire chapter, I could help.”
His good humor restored, he laughed and said, “Regula, I can’t believe that you’re still determined to get a peek at my manuscripts after all these years of my writing career.”
“You can’t blame a gal for trying.”
They were seated on the living room recliners at their home in the town of Merida, located in the San Fernando Valley at the foot of the Angeles National Forest Mountains. The pair carried their age well. New silver strands showed on the woman’s salt-and-pepper hair, pulled away from her brow in a becoming style, and a few more laugh lines adorned her face. These signs were evidence of a life