Nursing a Grudge: An Earl Walker Mystery

Chapter 13

Conroy had his basket of supplies ready to go. “Wanna come back and talk at the apartment?”

***

Reaching his apartment, Conroy fumbled with his keys. “Look, I’m still thinking about what you said.” He held the door while Earl wheeled himself inside. Once they were in, he shut the door and continued. “If someone came into my home with the intention of harming one of my guests, I’m all for getting that person.” He carried the basket of groceries over to the counter. “But what if it was an accident? Maybe he drank something that reacted with his meds.”

Earl situated his wheelchair in the same corner as before. “Why would you say that?”

“One of the health newsletters reported a link between grapefruit juice and medication. The juice has an enzyme or creates an enzyme or blocks an enzyme or something.” Conroy took a seat on the couch. “Ol’ Kent always had juice. He hadn’t had a drink since the kidney operation. In fact, he bragged about it.”

“Sounds like he bragged about a lot of things.”

“Yeah, Kent rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Even back to when we were kids, he would get into fights about this or that.”

“You’ve known Kent that long?”

“Yeah. We grew up together.” Conroy nodded. “As we got older, Kent grew into a man with—appetites.”

Earl tilted his head. “How about you?”

“What, my appetites? I have dialysis three times a week. I can’t have much of anything.”

“At the party you had chili and rum.”

“Well, every once in a while you have to live, you know? Some folks jump out of planes. We do this.”

“Did you have a grudge against George Kent?”

“Did he rub me the wrong way every once in a while? Sure. Drink?”

Earl waved a hand. “I don’t drink.”

“Milk or something?”

“Sure, a glass of milk.”

Conroy got up and headed for the kitchenette. He called from the kitchen, “I got annoyed with Kent at times. But with a friend like him, you learn to roll with it. I never had any reason to see him come to harm.”

“No?”

Conroy returned with two glasses—milk for Earl, iced tea for himself. “Heck, when he needed a kidney, he got it from my own daughter.”

“Really? That’s really something.”

“Yeah, my daughter, Clara, is special.” He got quiet. “I don’t know what I would do without her and her family.”

“That’s nice.” Earl sipped his milk. “Let’s go through the whole evening, the whole chain of events. Who all had access to George Kent?”

Conroy picked a spot in the middle of the couch. “Well, he was sitting over here, I think.”

Earl pointed. “No, he was right over there.” Conroy scooted until Earl nodded. “Yeah, there.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Twenty-five years driving a bus, you remember people sitting down.”

“Oh. Okay.” Conroy, satisfied, looked around the room. “And —anyone at the party could have spoken to him or whatever. He was in the center of the room.”

Earl rubbed his chin. “Pretty much.”

The two men sat, their eyes analyzing the room, reconstructing the party. Finally, Conroy threw up his hands. “This is hopeless. If someone wanted to do in Kent, it could have happened at any point. I mean, this is a closed community. We eat together. We take our medicine together. We work out together. We spend all our free time together. Anyone, anyplace, could have done it. Not to mention we still haven’t ruled out natural causes.”