“It’s gone at the time they’re accepted in the home. The board of directors looks over the financial status of each applicant. We have a waiting list like you wouldn’t believe. The board goes on to determine the assets versus the liability. If they think the patient is a good risk, the home accepts the person’s entire worth in exchange for perennial board and care. Most of the time the board comes out the winner monetarily. But sometimes we get a few foolers—folks that hang on and on and on.”

L. smiled.

“I like them. Gives the old board what-for—always evaluating everything in dollars and cents.” He gently tugged on Marge’s arm. “This way.”

“So you’re a nurse?” Marge asked.

“An RN with a year to go for my master’s,” L. said. “Guess I should introduce myself. Lawrence McKay. Call me Leek.”

“Leek?”

“As in the vegetable, as opposed to a drippy faucet. You ever talk to Lita Bellson before? She’s quite a character. We call her Harriet Houdini.”

“Escapes a lot to make phone calls?”

Leek stopped walking. “You’ve done your homework.” He resumed his pace. “Lita is amazing. If I were the betting kind, I’d bet that the board is going to lose money on Lita. She’s gonna hang on for a long time despite the fact that she’s eighty and has got everything medically wrong with her.”

“She’s eighty?”

“Yep. I’m betting she’ll last another ten years. Too mean to die.”

“Wa…is Marie her only child?”

“Don’t know for sure. I think so. I’ve never seen anyone else visit her except Marie.”

“Marie seem like a devoted daughter?”

McKay shrugged. “She visits. That says something.”

He made a sharp turn into one of the rooms. Marge followed. It was a semiprivate that looked more like a hospital ward than a bedroom. It was filled with medical equipment and pharmaceuticals. At least the window was large and framed with pretty lace curtains. The shade was pulled down. In the bed closest to the window lay a woman sleeping with her glasses on. She had Coke-bottle lenses that made her eyelashes look like feather fans, white hair, and a tiny face. Leek went over to the woman and removed her spectacles.

“They’re like babies. One minute they’re sitting up smiling, the next minute they’re sound asleep.” He smiled. “’Course, you can’t treat them like babies, even the ones who lost it up here.” He pointed to his temple. “Gotta treat everyone with respect, that’s my motto.”

Marge studied Leek’s face. He seemed genuine enough, but there was something rehearsed about his speech. Maybe it was just a cop’s cynicism.

McKay said, “Lita isn’t in her bed. She must be in one of the dining rooms.”

“You have other dining rooms?”