She frowned. “Ms. Farrow can’t get away from her desk. She barely has time to go over the financials. In fact, she’s currently on a call.”
“That’s okay,” Noah said, giving her a warm smile. “Maddie took the tour yesterday, so she can show me around.”
The receptionist’s expression wavered. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We like visitors to have a chaperone.”
“But you said Ms. Farrow is busy,” Noah pressed, then leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And if it makes a difference, I’m a detective with the Cockamamie Police Department. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”
So much for not mentioning he was a police officer. I had no problem with it, but did he? The confident look on his face suggested he didn’t.
Her eyes flew wide. “You’re the officer who got shot yesterday.”
Noah stiffened, probably waiting for her disdain, but instead she fawned over him. “Are you okay? That had to be so scary. My friend knows Jeremy, the guy the robber shot at, and he said you saved his life. You’re a hero.”
Noah’s cheeks flushed, and he patted his left elbow. “I’m no hero, and I wasn’t hurt that badly.”
“Thank goodness,” she breathed in relief, then glanced at the double doors. “Of courseyou can go back, Noah.”
She pulled a flat card with a lanyard out of a drawer and handed it to him, then pointed to the doors. “Just use the key card to go through. I trust Maddie remembers the way.”
“I do,” I said. “And if I get lost, it will be good practice for if Aunt Deidre moves in here.”
Her face brightened. “We’ll be glad to have you as part of our family.”
I led Noah toward the communal living room for the nursing home and started toward the hallway that led to the memory care unit.
“Wait,” he said, “give me the tour.”
“We’re here to see Detective Bergan.”
“I suspect he’ll still be there in ten minutes. You still need to make a decision about your aunt, so give me the tour I would have gotten if I’d made it yesterday.”
I shook my head. “Even if I wanted to put her here, I’m not sure I can. Not with Bergan here. It might set her off. I could never forgive myself if it did.”
His eyes widened slightly. “So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. More in-home help? Look for a residential center somewhere else?” I sighed. “One issue at a time.”
I pointed out features the director had shown me while we headed to the memory care center, but I was too nervous to tell him much. As we got closer to Bergan’s room, my stomach started to churn.
“I think you should be the one who asks questions,” he said in a hushed tone as we walked down Bergan’s hallway. “Lance said Bergan’s not very receptive to men.”
“The nurse who helped him yesterday was a man, so I’m not sure if that’s true.”
“Still, let’s try it this way.”
While that was what I’d thought I wanted, I was suddenly consumed with doubt. The pressure of getting it right felt crushing. “Are you sure? I barely got anything out of him yesterday.”
“You did better than you realize. But keep in mind that he’s not well. It might not have meant anything. He could say even less today or contradict himself. I don’t want you to be too disappointed if we get nothing because I plan to investigate your mother’s murder no matter what he tells us. Okay?”
A lump filled my throat. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “I’m just sorry I haven’t done this sooner. So let’s start with Bergan. You take the lead, and I’ll hang back and feed you questions to ask if you get stuck.”
I drew a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
When we reached Detective Bergan’s door, it was closed.
“Now what do we do?” I asked, worry creeping into my voice. “His door was open yesterday.”