Nursing a Grudge: An Earl Walker Mystery

Chapter 8

Ushering the two into his office, Nelson bent to shake Earl’s hand. “I’m Ed Nelson.”

Earl gauged the man’s handshake. It was firm. “Earl Walker.”

He nodded to College. “This is Miss Jenny Hutton.”

“Sit right there.” Nelson motioned to a chair, then he seemed to notice Earl’s wheelchair and switched his focus to Jenny. Turning back to Earl, he smiled awkwardly and went around behind the desk.

Earl used the few seconds to take in the surroundings. A futon couch was folded against the wall, its bright throw pillows bringing a splash of brilliance to an otherwise drab room. The wood-paneled walls were adorned with framed certificates and plaques. Earl could not read any of them from his vantage point, but he could not imagine it mattered. None of Nelson’s credentials seemed to make a difference when the state inspected Candlewick Retirement Community and decided to shut it down.

Jenny jerked forward in her chair. “Mr. Nelson, we came to complain.”

“If this is about the ruling of the state—”

“Actually,” Earl cut him off, “we wanted to discuss a matter of some delicacy.” He heard an odd clicking and glanced at the fancy clock on the wall. The second hand seemed caught on the minute hand, doing its best to push through and tell the correct time.

Nelson settled in his chair. The man’s desk was mostly neat, except for the sandwich leaking on the blotter. There was the greasy smell of corned beef. “So, what can I do for you?”

Earl forced himself not to fidget. “We are here to discuss the incident last night.”

Jenny sat forward. “How do you come off firing that—”

Earl gripped her arm, and she stopped. He turned to Nelson. “What did the sheriff find?”

The man frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Earl cleared his throat, wondering how dry the air in the office was. “Surely the sheriff came last night. Or sent somebody out.”

The man started rocking his chair. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Everything was quiet out here last night.” Nelson stopped rocking his chair. His weak grin wobbled and disappeared. “Maybe you better state your real business here.”

Earl, undeterred, gripped the wheels of his chair and began flexing his fingers. “You have to know—the kid called you. I was there.”

“This must be some mistake. You could—” The man stopped. “Wait. How are you involved?”

Jenny sighed and stood. “Maybe we should take our story to someone else. The newspeople, maybe?” She turned to Earl. “Come on, Mr. Walker.”

Earl nodded and started to turn his wheelchair.

“Wait.” Nelson pressed on the arms of his swivel chair and pushed himself up. “Please.”

Jenny and Earl shared a look. Jenny took her chair again.

“Well.” Nelson flashed a tired version of his earlier used-car-salesman smile. Made eye contact with each of them. Took to his fancy swivel chair again. “Now, Mr.—”

“Walker. Earl.”

“Yes. Mr. Walker. Please tell me your story.”

Earl tilted his head. “Last night there was a secret visitor making a racket in Kent’s apartment. I was in the hall.”

“So you saw someone?”

“Um—no. But I heard someone.” Earl nodded. “So I went to the front desk, and I found that boy.”