The Death at Yew Corner Read Online Free Page A

and then turned away to walk toward Bea and Kim.
    While watching the large man approach, Bea marveled, as she often did, at the close relationship between her husband and this massive police officer. They were such divergent individuals. Her husband was a quixotic and often dreamy man, while his friend, Rocco, was a pragmatic policeman who seemed constantly saddened by his perspective of the foibles of the human condition. Bea knew that the relationship had begun years ago when Rocco had served with Lyon in Korea. Her husband was a junior intelligence officer attached to Division G-2, while Rocco’s Ranger company had been the eyes and ears that Lyon had so effectively utilized in his intelligence operations. The relationship had continued over the years, both men comfortable in each other’s company, perhaps because their personalities complemented each other.
    â€œMorning, Bea, Kim.” Rocco touched the brim of his hat.
    Bea took Rocco’s arm and led him up the walk toward the main entrance of the nursing home. “Thanks for coming.”
    â€œYou know how this is going to read out, Bea. The management is going to call you a troublemaker trying to make political points with the workers.”
    â€œWhen it comes to the murder of one of my friends, I’d like to make a hell of a lot of trouble.”
    â€œIt’s well known that Kim worked with you for years, and that now she’s an organizer for the service workers. The allegation of impropriety by the home is going to seem like …”
    â€œI don’t operate that way, Rocco.”
    â€œI know. But I wonder if they do.”
    Gustav Tanner stood in the reception area nervously awaiting their arrival. His fingers moved with a life of their own, and his facial features seemed possessed by a slight tremor.
    â€œI want those idiots moved away from here, Chief Herbert.”
    â€œWho might that be, Mr. Tanner?”
    An extended finger pointed to the strikers clustered near the door. “Out there! That scum!”
    â€œHave they broken the law?”
    â€œThey’re disrupting routine.”
    â€œI believe that’s their legal intention,” Bea said.
    â€œI’m here about the death of Dr. Bunting,” Rocco said. “Can we talk in your office?”
    In twenty minutes Rocco had examined the death certificate and inspected the physical therapy room, where he paid close attention to the lethal tub. He requested Fabian Bunting’s chart. The chart now lay open on the administrator’s desk as his finger moved slowly down the entries. He read aloud: “Six-thirty, Patient awake. Seven, Breakfast. Seven-thirty, Meds. Nine-forty-five, Physical therapy. Ten-fifteen, Patient expired.”
    Bea gave a start and sat on the edge of her chair. “Read that again.”
    Rocco repeated the entries and then looked at her expectantly. “Well? Nothing unusual about the chart.”
    â€œThat PT notation wasn’t there when I looked at it earlier.”
    Tanner snapped the chart’s metal cover shut and pulled it back across the desk. “Only authorized personnel are allowed to see a patient’s medical records.”
    â€œThat PT entry was not there when I left here.”
    â€œThat’s impossible.”
    â€œDo you know who made those last entries?” Rocco asked.
    Tanner opened the chart and examined the handwriting carefully. “Miss Williams made the first three. I made the final notation. I can’t tell who made the PT note. We’re all off schedule here because of the strike.”
    â€œAll right,” Rocco said. “Let’s find out who took Fabian Bunting to the tub room and made that entry.”
    There were ten employees assigned to the second floor during the time span when Dr. Bunting died. They were a mixed group of administrative personnel, supervisors, two R.N.s, and an aide or two who chose to ignore the picket line and come to work. Most were