Board Stiff (Mattie Winston Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF

solidify body fluids that are being disposed of. The thought of someone ingesting or inhaling the stuff as it appeared Bernie had done, made my skin crawl, though the sensation might have also been my muscles staging a mini coup. I imagined how it must have felt for him, as all the fluid in his mouth, throat, lungs, and stomach expanded into a hard solid mass, making it impossible for him to breathe, compressing the blood supply in his neck. I prayed that the latter caused a quick loss of consciousness for him, because it was simply too horrifying to imagine anyone dying slowly that way.
    “We need to call the police,” I told Irene.
    “Not yet. Something isn’t right here and I don’t want Bjorn getting into trouble for something he didn’t do.”
    “Why do you think Bjorn had anything to do with this?”
    “Because he was in here with Bernard. He came in after lunch to empty his catheter bag and he had that powder stuff with him. Even with those newfangled bags you got him, he often has trouble emptying them, so he carries that powder with him all the time, ever since you showed him how well it cleans up urine spills.”
    I grimaced, recalling how I’d done just that the first time Bjorn taxied me. His leg bag was bulging with urine and while he was showing me how hard it was for him to manage the drainage valve, he emptied the bag all over the floor of his cab. Since we were at the hospital at the time, I ran inside and grabbed some of the isolyser powder to help me clean up the urine.
    “Even if Bjorn had the powder, why would he kill Bernard? Or anyone, for that matter?”
    “Because he wanted him dead,” Irene said matter-of-factly. “Everyone here wanted Bernard dead. And frankly, no one will be sorry he is.”
    I felt like I’d just walked into the Twilight Zone and just when I thought the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre, Irene delivered her coup de grâce.
    “Bernard Chase needed to die. He’s been killing off patients ever since he bought the place.”

Chapter 4

    T hat’s how I came to be squatting in a men’s room with a dead guy who has just been declared a serial killer. I stare at Irene, completely at a loss for words.
    “It’s true,” she says. “At first we thought we were imagining things, but once we started watching more closely, it became clear. When someone here has a setback and becomes bedbound, they die within weeks. Their daily cost of upkeep erodes Bernie’s bottom line, so he gets rid of them. Didn’t you notice how many of the patients here are up and about? The wing he has reserved for the bedridden patients only has twenty beds in it and there are sixty beds in the whole place. Those twenty beds are his breaking point to make money.”
    Now that she is pointing it out to me, it does strike me as odd. Most nursing homes are filled with bedridden patients. Still, murder is a big leap from manipulating a patient population. “What evidence do you have that he’s been killing people?” I ask her.
    “Unfortunately it’s just a gut feeling at this point. I’ve had my boys look for clues when patients from here come to our funeral home, but short of doing a full autopsy, we haven’t been able to come up with anything. Bernard probably changed his methods each time to keep anyone from getting suspicious. You know, smother one person with a pillow, poison someone else . . . that sort of thing.”
    I’m starting to think Irene might need Dr. Maggie’s services for her paranoid delusions. It’s not that unusual for people to die from one or more of the many complications that can come from being immobile or bedbound, not to mention the effects of whatever accident or illness got them that way in the first place. “Have you told anyone?”
    “I told the police chief, Greg Hanson. I thought I had him convinced at one point, but he was only humoring me. He thinks I’m some dotty old lady like his alcoholic grandmother. I may have myself a tiny tipple now and