Page 73 of A Rose of Steel
Mrs. Dorsch nodded. “Told us that there was a new insurance for Medicare Part D. If we paid $500, we’d get our prescriptions for free from now on and no more co-pays for doctor visits.”
“I spend that much in one month for co-pays and prescriptions,” Miriam Colter said. “Sounded real good to me.”
“But it turned out not to be good,” Mrs. Dorsch said. “We gave them our credit card information, they processed it and we never heard from them again.”
“A scam,” Mrs. Colter said. “Who would scam old people?” She shook her head. “We’re just trying to live out our last days in peace. Not bothering anyone.”
“Scammers target the elderly,” I said, “because they think they are easy prey.”
“Easy prey, my butt.” She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “Well, you better believe, in this case,” Mrs. Colter said, “the hunter is going to be captured by his game.”
I raised my eyebrows. I didn’t want to chuckle because this was very serious. But she acted as if she was ready to kill.
“Did you speak to the authorities?” I asked.
“I already told you,” she said, “Doc Westin was supposed to do it. Promised me he’d take care of it. But he didn’t.”
“How many times we got to tell you,” Mrs. Dorsch shifted in her seat to face her friend, “the man died. He couldn’t do anything.”
“It doesn’t matter because I took care of it myself,” she said. “They won’t be doing it to nobody else.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Auntie was always up and into her shenanigans early.
By the time I left Angel’s Grace it was just past noon. Plenty of day left, and I figured I’d do a little investigating of my own. I decided that I needed to go and see Mrs. Westin.
After going through his boxes, I wanted to know just what Doc Westin had been up to. I had shoved my thoughts about him somehow being involved in Bumper Hackett’s murder down deep in the back of my brain. But if I was going to solve this murder, I figured I’d better find out why he wrote prescriptions for Bumper, and if it was possible that he had ricin stashed that someone could get their hands on.
I swung by the ME’s office and picked up a couple of Doc Westin’s personal boxes. I needed a pretense for going to see his wife. Auntie had done the funeral for the good doctor, but as usual, I stayed pretty much out of sight. I didn’t want his wife thinking I was just coming by to be nosy, even though I was.
The Westin’s lived in a ranch house in a rural community right outside of Roble. Long and low, their yellow house had green shutters around its large windows. A big porch was bordered by white spindles, a banister and two rocking chairs painted green sat on the gray wooden floor.
Mrs. Lillian Westin was in her late sixties, she was short and squat, with long hair that was still mostly black. She had it pulled back in a bun, tiny gold hoops adorned her ears, and the only other jewelry she wore was a wedding band.
“Hi Mrs. Westin,” I said. She had answered the door in her house slippers, a screen door between us.
“Hi Romaine,” she said.
“You remember me?” I said. “I hoped you would.”
“Everyone knows Babet’s girl, the doctor. She’s not going to let anyone forget you. She’s so proud of you.”
“That’s my auntie,” I said. “I wanted to bring you some boxes Doc Westin left at his old office.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said and pushed open the screen. “Just set them right inside the door. I was just getting ready to come out and sit on the porch. Enjoy me a little fresh air. You want to sit with me?”
“Sure,” I said. “That’ll be nice.”
“You want some sweet tea?” she asked.
“No thank you,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“I’m glad you brought by those boxes,” she said stepping outside, “because otherwise you might not have stopped by and I might not have seen nary a hide of any living soul today. I get so lonely around here these days and I’ll take any excuse to get some company.
“I’m happy to keep you company,” I said.
We sat in the rockers, and Mrs. Westin started a slow steady rock.
