The Haunting of Sunshine House

3. Grief

3

Grief

DAY 1

Diane Lawrence dreamed of the mid-century modern Vladimir Kagan floating curve sofa for the house she’d selected for purchase after she got her promotion. The sofa’s sleek boomerang form fit perfectly into the formal living room with the stunning views of the Pacific Ocean. Matt’s tongue traced a wet path along her collarbone and brought her back to her present. He pulled her blouse open.

“I love these girls,” he moaned and ducked his head back down. He reminded her of an eager puppy, and she worked hard not to roll her eyes at him. He was a far cry from the producers she’d had to contend with not too long ago. Those assholes were the real predators. She pulled his head out of her chest and gave him a long, hard kiss.

“Matty honey.” She put on her sultry voice. “You told me I’d be promoted by now. Can you imagine the fun we’d be having in the same building?” She traced kisses across his cheek and bit his ear lobe playfully.

Matty, or Matt Lacready as he was known at McGregor Holdings, the parent company who owned the Sunshine House, was her direct supervisor. After many months of effort, she’d extricated him away from his wife at the last Christmas party and gave him the ride of his life. He’d been hers ever since. Matty never stood a chance once she'd focused on him. She'd starred in Melrose Place after all.

“Baby, it’s not so easy. I have to work through HR. Get support from them and my bosses.”

“I’ve shown a profit for the last couple years, and the company never compensated me for it,” she said, pushing him away and buttoning up her blouse.

“Let’s not talk business,” he said and checked his watch. “I only have another fifteen minutes.” He held out his arms, but Diane turned away, disgusted with him. She needed that raise to convince the bank she could afford a 2.4 million dollar home in the Palisades. Between the inheritance she got from her deceased mother and her substantial savings, she had the down-payment, just not the paycheck to make the monthly payment.

“My mind is on business. Maybe we should do this another time,” she said and watched Matty’s face droop. She wasn't free. He needed to pay for this. She smoothed her shirt and straightened her skirt.

“C’mon, don’t be that way.” He stepped closer, but she put up her arm to hold him back. He gave her his pouty face, and her demeanor towards him melted just a touch.

Until her eyes wandered around the shabbily furnished office. The Ikea shelves sagged with the weight of patient files, and the two chairs in front of her own desk needed new upholstery. She frowned at all its ugliness and stiffened. This plan needed to move forward and now.

If they found out about the unusual number of deaths, she’d be on the hook. But was it so unusual though? Everyone who lived at the Sunshine was old, and death was an old friend in an assisted living facility.

“Diane, hello? Are you there?” Matty’s voice broke through her dark thoughts and she found herself in his arms. She broke away from him as a knocking sounded on her door. Matt’s face froze in terror. “I can’t be here.”

Diane smoothed her long blond hair and took a deep breath. “Pull yourself together and have a seat. You’re my supervisor, and you have every right to be here.” She knew who it was. Sure enough, Lou stuck her head into the room.

“You have a sec...” Lou trailed off when she saw Matt.

He stood up and shook Diane’s hand. “We’ll talk more. Call me in a couple of days.” Diane pursed her lips as she watched him scurry past Lou and out of the room. Matt was proving more trouble than he was worth. She might need to move to Plan B.

She sat behind her desk. “What can I do for you, Lou?” Diane said as she waved the other woman to the chair Matt just vacated. The residents liked Lou, but Diane found the woman difficult to read. She only offered Lou the job because of how cheap her salary was. Even giving her and her father free accommodations, she still saved at least twenty percent in wages for a nurse with similar experience.

Lou’s ministrations toward her father bordered on the saintly but that didn’t prevent Lou from also being a massive pain in the ass. Lou’s current demeanor foreshadowed a migraine inducing visit. Her patience for these middling complaints was gone.

“Someone is disturbing the residents,” Lou said and waited for Diane's response. “I don’t want to point fingers...”

Diane frowned. “But you're going to anyway?”

“The patients are my responsibility,” Lou said and shifted forward in her chair. Diane frowned. Nothing she said deterred Lou from going after Barney.

“This isn’t a hospice, Lou, and every resident takes care of themselves,” Diane said. She glowered at the other woman but Lou plunged ahead.

“Barney Leonard is frightening the residents.” Lou said.

“Again with Barney Leonard,” Diane snapped. “What is it with you two?” She picked up a Home Decor magazine from her desk in exasperation. They had this conversation every week. “Leave Barney Leonard alone. I’ve gotten no complaints from anyone else. Everyone loves his stories. Whatever keeps their blood pumping, am I right?” Diane flipped through the magazine, working hard to ignore the fuming woman seated in front of her.

“You’re unqualified to say that. Two patients this morning displayed higher than normal blood pressure and no one is sleeping through the night. At their age, that’s a serious problem.”

Diane slammed the magazine down. “Stop. Just stop talking. You are in here every week complaining about Barney. You need to understand, people moved to the Sunshine because it was the former Bockerman Hotel and they wanted this excitement. We’re in the middle of Hollywood. The stories are part of the charm of this place, and YOU need to get used to that,” Diane said and watched as Lou’s jaw clenched in anger.

They stared at each other across the desk without saying a word. Diane opened her mouth to break the standoff when the door was thrown open. Barney rushed into the room.

“She’s dead. Barbara’s dead.” He skidded to a halt when he saw Lou. “I called 911.”

Diane’s heart dropped at that. “What? That’s not the protocol, Mr. Leonard.”

“They should be here any minute,” he said through gasps of breath.

As if on cue, sirens sounded in the distance. “Oh, for God’s sake, Mr. Leonard. You know the procedure. We always go through Dr. Jerris,” Diane said, dread replacing her irritation. The holding company wanted no hiccups in the running of Sunshine. Barney’s call created a problem for her promotion, definitely. If any of these deaths turned out as suspicious, she’d have a much bigger problem than lack of advancement. A hundred blowjobs wouldn't fix that mess.

“Why did you do that?” she yelled at him, losing patience.

“Someone murdered her. Murdered!” he screamed, his spittle raining over Diane’s desk and magazine. She jumped up from her seat and stood in front of him. Compassion. She needed to show compassion to get control of the situation.

“Mr. Leonard, I’m so sorry for your loss. Barney, can I call you Barney?” She kept her voice soft but business-like. “You cared deeply for each other.” She touched his arm, and he jumped back several feet. She held up her hands to calm him and saw his eyes grow wide. He was in shock.

“May I?” She gestured towards him and when he stayed silent, she took him under the arm. “Let’s go meet the paramedics.” She steered him out the door and away from Lou. She didn't need a fight between them.

Once they were outside her office, she let go of him. “Her death is a shock for all the residents here. Please let me deal with the arrangements for you. I promise I’ll take good care of her.” Diane said in her most soothing voice. She worried he was about to drop from shock and led him to a sofa near the main elevators.

“Sit here and take deep breaths. If you feel like you will pass out…” she tapered off as Mary Ann materialized next to her.

“Go, I’ll take care of Barney,” Mary Ann said, sitting next to him.

“Thank you, Mary Ann,” Diane said with a grateful smile. She turned to the flashing lights coming in from the street. She steeled herself for the ordeal ahead.

A short time later, Diane stood on the curb of Ivar St. flanked by Lou and two LAPD detectives. She watched Babs and her promotion drive away in the back of an ambulance. The detective to her immediate left, Detective Murphy, was a woman far too young and too attractive to be a cop, but her partner Detective Larson fit everyone’s description of a cop: old, grizzled, and wearing a cheap, oversized suit. Detective Larson’s look of annoyance did, however, match her own.

“Don’t you follow a protocol when a resident dies?” Detective Larson snapped at them, and Diane noticed the female detective shoot him a warning glance.

“What my partner was trying to say was this death appears to be a product of natural causes. We’ll wait for the medical examiner to rule on official cause of death but from what the EMT’s said, she died of a heart attack. For her age, that isn’t surprising,” Detective Murphy said.

“We DO have a protocol in place, and I’m sorry for this inconvenience,” Diane said. “The resident who found her became distraught over her death and called 911 before contacting me.”

Detective Murphy flipped her notepad open. “Barney Leonard, correct? His claim her death was murder is a serious one. Why is he so positive it’s murder when the signs point to a heart attack? Did she have any enemies?” Diane felt the heat of the detective’s watchful eyes on her face.

“He mentioned other mysterious deaths?” Detective Murphy asked.

Damn Barney and his theories. He spouted off about the other deaths. She frowned and weighed her options. Did she need to start spinning a story? Casting doubt on Barney and the other residents would be easy by pointing out that dementia and paranoia run rampant in assisted living facilities. Who would argue with her? Dr. Jerris ruled the other deaths as due to natural causes resulting from old age, and she was sure the Medical Examiner, Coroner, or whoever examined Barbara’s body, would come to a similar conclusion. She was fine, she thought, and kept her mouth shut.

She shook her head in apparent confusion. “Which deaths?” Diane asked. “An assisted living facility has quite a number of passings each year. I’m sure you’ve seen the statistics on end of life diseases. We have a one in seven chance of dying of heart disease. Most of our residents are upwards of seventy. You both can do the math,” she said and paused for effect. “The last seven residents here died of heart failure, half from advanced heart disease. We do all die eventually,” she added.

“I see your point,” Detective Murphy said. “Did Barbara Monroe have heart disease?”

“I’ll ask Dr. Jerris to send you his files,” Diane said.

Detective Larson jerked his head towards their cruiser, and Diane caught Detective Murphy’s grimace. Apparently, Detective Larson was ready to leave. Good.

“Is there anything else we can help you with?” Diane said. She turned towards the door, hoping she gave them enough impetus to go.

“We’ve gotten what we need. We’ll be in touch,” Detective Murphy said and shook Diane’s hand as her partner nodded and walked towards their cruiser.

“Thank you for being so thorough, Detective Murphy,” Diane said. Detective Murphy nodded and followed her partner without responding.

“Barney’s harmless, huh?” Diane jumped at the sound of Lou’s voice. She had forgotten about her. Diane turned on her heel without responding and hoped Lou wouldn’t follow her. The woman never got a goddamned clue, Diane thought, as Lou followed her inside the lobby, and down the hall to her office.

“I’ll talk to him, Lou,” Diane said without turning around, worried her professional demeanor would slip this time. She waited for her to leave, but Lou stayed put. She opened her office door and faced Lou, a scowl breaking over her face. “Don’t you have patients?”

Lou frowned, crossed her arms in front of her, and stood her ground. “What are you doing about Barney?”

Diane sighed. “Stay away from Barney. He’s hurting because he lost someone special to him. You must know how that feels?” Diane gave her a pointed look. “You engaging him in conversation at this moment is a terrible idea.”

She closed the door firmly on her without waiting for an answer. Locking the door crossed her mind, but she decided Lou wasn’t crazy enough to pursue it any further.

Anxiety rose in her chest. Diane quashed it. She wouldn’t let this derail her plans. This was a hiccup. She was fine. It would be fine. She settled in behind her desk to check her day’s schedule.

The phone rang and her heart sank. How could corporate know so quickly, she wondered? Her bravado melted away.

“Hello?”

“Matt, here. What’s this I hear about the police over there?”

Nurse Lou Fairbanks glowered at Diane’s nameplate. How dare she speak to her that way? Her anger turned to panic as her heart raced in her chest. Lou stumbled into the door, reaching her hand out to stop herself. As the heart palpitations and the shakes cascaded over her, she dragged herself towards the lobby. A sudden bout of vertigo made her stumble and clutch at the nearest column. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this. She focused on the elevator, her beacon. In her deteriorating state, the stairs were too far away.

After what felt like hours, she reached the elevator doors and burst into tears of relief when she found it already on the ground level. Lou jabbed the up button, and the doors opened with a familiar ding. A small laugh erupted out of her. You did it, she said to herself and slid down to the floor, regulating her breathing so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. The elevator lurched to life and rose with a creak.

Her brewing panic attack kept her claustrophobia at bay. As her vertigo subsided, Lou grabbed the handrail, and pulled herself back to standing, focusing her attention on the numbers of the floors flashing by.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight. The eighth floor flashed brighter than the rest and the elevator ground to a halt. Lou stood taller, clutching the handrail for support, and forced a smile. If any of her patients saw her like this, she would lose her job. Be normal, she hissed to the empty elevator as the doors squeaked open.

The hallway beyond stood empty.

A light flickered.

The elevator car trembled.

Lou staggered out keeping one hand on the door to keep it open. Footsteps sounded in the hall to her right.

Lou bolted back inside. A sob gurgled in her throat as she punched the button for the tenth floor.

The doors stayed open.

Weeping, she stabbed the button again. The elevator stayed still. The doors didn’t budge. She jabbed the Close Door button.

Ding, Ding.

The elevator protested but still didn’t move. The sound of the footsteps grew closer, and a sob choked out of her. This contraption had to move. Whatever was out there came closer.

Her heart palpations clawed inside her chest as she hit every button on the panel. Please God, take pity on me for once, she blubbered.

The doors whirred closed.

Lou flopped against the elevator wall, tears flowing down her cheeks.

Ding.

Ding.

The doors slid open.

"No! NO!" She screamed, punching buttons for every floor, the open and close buttons, even the emergency button.

The doors closed. Then opened.

Lou made a break for it, stumbling out of the elevator and sprinting down the hall, away from whatever was in that hall.

Her body hit the exit door hard. Grunting, she yanked the door open and threw herself into the stairwell, the darkness coming at her from the edges of her vision.

The blackout, she thought. It finally came for her. She'd been careful for so long and now, when her life depended on it, her mind handicapped her further. Lou pitched herself at the wall and hoped that she wouldn’t fall down the stairs to her death.

Barney opened his eyes to find his head in Mary Ann’s lap. He had no idea how long he’d been out for and didn’t even remember falling asleep. He sat up and gave her a crooked smile. “I didn’t expect to fall asleep like that,” he said.

Mary Ann patted his knee. “Grief hits us in different ways. Babs was an amazing spirit.”

He nodded. “I should have forced her to put on that lock. She laughed at me, but I should have made her.”

“It’s not your fault. The killer did this. Put the blame on him.”

“We need to stop this, and I need your help,” Barney said and took her hand. “Will you help me?”

She nodded. “Anything.” Mary Ann helped him get to his feet. “I’ll take you back to your room.”