The Icing on the Corpse Read Online Free PDF Page B

direction. She felt like she’d been wandering for hours when she heard Char’s voice. Relieved, she hurried toward it just as Char stepped out of the room and yanked the curtain behind her.
    â€œOf course you should come! I’m happy to bring her home, but I think she’d like to see her husband, don’t you?” She saw Stan and rolled her eyes, shaking her fist at the phone. “Why don’t y’all go on in and see her while I finish arguing with her good-for-nothing husband,” she said to Stan, not even bothering to cover the mouthpiece. At an indignant response from the other end of the line, she turned her attention back to the phone. “Well, I don’t care, Burt. That’s how y’all are acting!”
    Stan slipped into Betty’s room and pulled the curtain shut behind her. Betty lifted a hand in greeting. An IV was taped to the back of it. She looked pale, but alert.
    â€œHow’re you doing?” Stan leaned over and brushed Betty’s cheek with her lips.
    â€œOh, fine. I didn’t mean to cause such a commotion. I got a little unsteady on my feet after . . .” She trailed off and blinked. Swiped at her eyes and sighed. “I take it Burt doesn’t want to come down.”
    Lord. What was she supposed to say to that? “Char’s talking to him. She didn’t mention that.”
    Betty smiled. “Honey, these aren’t soundproof doors. I can hear Char yelling at him. As I’m sure the rest of the unit can, too. It’s okay. Burt is who he is. I’m not ready to see him anyway.” She patted the edge of the bed, inviting Stan to sit. “Tell me what’s going on. Was I right? Is Helga gone?”
    Stan nodded and squeezed Betty’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
    Betty’s eyes misted over. “I am, too.” She motioned Stan to lean in closer. When she did, she whispered, “But it wasn’t an accident.”
    Stan’s eyes widened. She sat back. “What are you talking about, Betty? Of course it was. She was eighty-seven, for goodness’ sake! I imagine it’s very easy to fall at that age. Especially when you’re going down stairs as steep as the ones going into that basement.”
    Betty grimaced and shook her head. Her hair had lost its sassy spikes and drooped into her eyes. She impatiently shoved it away with the hand not hooked up to a machine and struggled to sit up. Stan reached out and pulled her up higher on her pillows.
    â€œThat’s the thing,” Betty said urgently. “She never would’ve been going down those stairs. She didn’t go into the basement. It was a rule, for precisely that reason. She had a bad hip already and didn’t want to injure it further. She said that was the way to die a slow and painful death—break a hip first and everything else goes downhill.”
    Stan glanced at the bottle dripping into the IV. What were they giving her? Was she on some medication that was making her loopy? This was crazy talk. Helga had been alone in the museum . . . at least until Betty and Sarah had gone to look for her. Hadn’t she?
    Betty followed her gaze. “I’m not crazy. And I’m telling you the truth. I have proof!” She sounded immensely proud of herself.
    Char chose that moment to burst back into the room, a fiery ball of red dress and matching hair. “They made me leave the area because I was too loud. But I couldn’t help it. He is so infuriating. I’m sorry. I know y’all are married to him. But man oh man, if that was my husband—” She shook her fist. “He’s on his way. I guilted him into it.”
    Betty didn’t look thrilled, and she refused to meet Stan’s eye. Clearly she didn’t want to continue her conversation in front of Char. “You didn’t need to do that, Char. I’m happy having you or Stan take me home.”
    â€œI know that, honey, but I