Previously:

With Hattie being alone and her children living out of state, the older daughter placed her in a home for the elderly. Unfortunately, she finds herself even more lonely surrounded by people. When Hattie learns of the mysterious death of Mr. Howell up on the fourth floor, she decides to look into it. The ladies create the Senior Sleuth Society.

New:

Joy came and sat next to Hattie and Nellie in the reading room. She looked about, and seeing that they were alone, whispered, “I learned that Nurse Debbie was working overtime the night Mr. Howell died.”

“Oh my. How did you find that out?” Hattie liked the young, high-energy nurse.

“Chatty Cathy. She talks everyone’s ears off and she was told by Grumpy Gus that he had a bad migraine that night and had gotten some motrin from Debbie just before midnight.”

“Nice work, Joy. So that means we just need to find out who the attendants were working the second, third, and fourth floors that night,” Hattie advised her companions. 

“Oh, don’t forget the night maintenance man.” Nelly reminded her. “We still need to figure out who that was too.”

“Oh yes. So any ideas, ladies?”

“I do.” Nelly smiled mischievously. “Follow me.”

Joy shrugged at Hattie as they rose. The confused pair followed Nelly to the main lobby of The Berkshire. Mrs. Cooley was sitting at the front desk reading a book called ‘The Cypress Hill Killings’, quite intently. 

Nelly pulled her two friends into a huddle and whispered, “Okay, you two distract Cooley while I sneak into the Administration Office behind her. They keep the employee work records there.”

Hattie grabbed Nelly’s arm as she turned to go. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to be the one to go into the office . . . alone?”

“Why not?” Nelly looked perplexed. 

“What if you . . . ya know . . . fall asleep?”

“Oh, right.” 

Hattie patted her arm. “You two handle Cooley. I’ll sneak into the office.”

“Just play dumb and confused if you get caught in there. The attendants expect that from us old people.” Joy nodded reassuringly. 

Her two friends walked towards the front desk when Hattie heard Jubilee Joy exclaim, “Mrs. Cooley, help me. Nelly has fallen asleep on her feet!”

The large black woman scrambled from her chair and rushed around the desk to help Joy. Hattie used the opportunity to slip around the opposite side of the main desk, away from the commotion, and snuck into the door positioned behind. There was no doubt it was the correct room as it had ‘Administration’ stenciled on the frosted glass window of the door. 

Once inside, Hattie noticed there was a large desk, two file cabinets, and a wall rack full of manilla folders, marked with the various months. Easier than I thought. She grabbed the one that said August. Inside, there were two sheets. One was marked day shift and the other night shift. 

Oh no! Hattie had a senior moment when she could not remember what day Mr. Howell had died. You old fuddy-duddy. Oh bother. She folded up the night shift schedule and shoved it into her bra. Hattie quickly made her exit, seeing Mrs. Cooley snapping her fingers in front of Nelly’s face, the feigning woman’s eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Absolutely amazing! She’s sleeping right on her feet.” The attendant looked shocked, and couldn’t stop snapping her fingers. 

“This should work.” Hattie came over and poked Nelly on the nose with her pointer-finger. 

Nelly’s eyes popped open, and she broke into a wide grin. “Oh, was I napping, again?”

“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Mrs. Cooley shook her head and waddled back to her desk.  

The three ladies interlocked their arms and headed to Hattie’s room on the Third Floor. Once her door was closed, they quickly took down the vase picture. Hattie pulled the folded paper from her brazier and after studying it, added three names to the suspect list. 

The Second Floor Attendant had been Harvey Marsh. He was a skinny black man, in his mid-twenties, that everyone seemed to be fond of. The third floor aid had been Becky Hazel. She was a motherly white woman in her late fifties. She often brought snacks and sweet treats for the ladies on the floor.  

The name for the Fourth Floor, Jimmy Williams, had a black line through it and the sheet annotated that he had called in sick the night. His replacement was not listed. Plus, there was no slot for the maintenance man.

“The schedule for the maintenance men is kept in their office at the far west end of the First Floor. But, they keep the door locked. I don’t think we’ll be able to pilfer that list, Hattie.” Joy frowned. “What do we do?”

Hattie replaced the vase picture and came over to the two ladies and grabbed their hands. “We figure it out. That’s all part of solving a mystery. We don’t give up until we’ve figured it out.”

Her two new friends nodded at her with a quiet resolve.