Read An Act of Deceit: Book 2 of the Sarah Woods Mysteries for Free Online Page B

purse then headed for my car. As I started the engine, I swore I wouldn’t waste another minute thinking about Max or what could have been.
     
    * * *
        
         Andover Estates was a bland statement in brick, the circa 1970s edifice reminding me more of my old high school than a retirement community. I encountered an elderly woman behind an imposing brown desk as I entered. The black, horn-rimmed, cat’s eye spectacles perched on her narrow nose seemed too big for her face. The nametag pinned to her flower print blouse told me her name was Ruth.
         “May I help you, my dear?” she asked. Ruth’s wide smile revealed red lipstick smeared over ill-fitting dentures.  
         “Yes. I’m here to see Ted Wilcox. I was told to meet him in the common area.”
         “Oh, how nice. He’ll be so happy to have a visitor. How do you know Ted?”
         I patted my bag as if to suggest that the contents were of significance. “I’m writing an article and Mr. Wilcox has agreed to an interview.”
         “An interview?” Her eyes lit up as if I were Barbara Walters. “How exciting. What’s it about?”
         “I love your necklace,” I said, skirting the question. “Are they freshwater pearls?”
         “Why yes … how sweet of you to notice. My son gave them to me.” Her bony fingers caressed the decorative string. “But you didn’t come here to talk about my jewelry. What’s your name, dear? I’ll ring Ted’s room and let him know you’re here.”
         “My name is Sarah … Sarah Woods.”
         “Sarah? What a pretty name. I had a friend named Sarah. She loved cats so much, she had fifteen at one time. Her house smelled like a big litter box.”
         “I’m allergic to cats,” I said, hoping to end the conversation.
         “That’s too bad. You know, my son used to be allergic to milk when he was young. His ears would turn bright red. I took him to a specialist, but it didn’t help. Then, when he turned twelve, it simply went away.”
         “Really,” I said, trying to conceal my growing impatience.
         “Well”—she lifted the handset—“I’m sure you’re anxious to see Ted.”
          I looked around at the tacky artwork hanging on the mauve walls as I waited.
         “Mr. Wilcox asked if you’d mind meeting him in his room. He’s feeling too weak to walk down to the common area. Please sign your name and jot down your phone number here in our guest book, if you would.”
         I took her pen and scratched my name and cell number in the book.
         “Thank you,” she said as she popped up out of her chair. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”
         Before I could object, she’d grabbed her fancy walking stick and was heading down the hall. “My goodness,” I said, trying to keep up with her, “you must do a lot of walking to get around so well. Why do you need a walking stick?”
         “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said with a wink. “I only carry this stick as a prop. It works wonders for getting all the good-looking, younger men to take my arm and walk with me. However, someone stole my last one, so I don’t let this one out of my sight.”
         I broke into laughter; my view of her changed in that instant. We arrived at the elevator.
    “Once you get upstairs, just follow the signs down the hall to room three thirteen,” she said.
         “Okay, thanks.” I waved and stepped inside the elevator, still smiling about her spunk. I followed her instructions to the room. As I knocked on the door, I remembered Carter’s advice about not meeting people in a private setting. Yet, I figured if this guy couldn’t make it downstairs, he was probably safe enough. The door slowly opened and there stood a short, portly man who looked to be about seventy. His wispy white hair reminded me of a dandelion gone to seed.
         “Hi,” I said, raising my hand in a