Mrs. Izato looked me up and down for a second. “No.” she responded flatly.
	“And why not?” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.
	“Because I don’t want to be labeled a dottering old fool, that’s why not. Oh there goes ol crazy Izato making up stories about old men running around the retirement home knocking people to the floor. They’ll say I’m delirious.” she narrowed her eyes at me. “They’ll say I have Rapidly progressive dementia. Don’t believe me? Ask Odell Martin over in Meadow Side. Two months ago they took away her power of attorney and gave it to her daughter. Want to know why?” Mrs. Izato was clearly agitated. “Because she saw a man come out of Jeremy Macleve’s room at ten fifteen at night. Jeremy Macleve flat lined at ten twenty that night. She insisted, time and time again, she saw a man come out of the room. She described him and everything.”
	I was taken aback by news, it’s not shocking many understaffed places will overlook patients. They just don’t want to have to deal with it.
	“The night I was bumped into, Gertrude told me Gus Whiticar died. They found him unresponsive later that night. Who knows how long he had been in there dead, everyone was focused on my drama.” she turned back to the television. Muttering under her breath, “A perfect way to cover your tracks.”
	“Do you think they were murdered?”
	“I don’t think anything.” Dorthy said. “It’s just a coincidence, until it isn’t. I live with the door unlocked.”
	“You want me to take a key and keep it locked?”
	She looked up at me with hopeful eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind. I can get from the bed to the bathroom, but I can’t do much more than that.”
	“It’s no worries.”  I shrugged. “In fact I can go lock the door now.”
	However the second I reached it, the door slowly began to open. A sing song female voice cried out from the hallway, “Knock Knock!”
	I took a step back to look at the audacity of whomever this is just walking in here.
	And there she was in all her silver haired glory. Not a single hair was out of place, her eyelids and lips had just the lightest hint of old mauve. She had a few light eye creases on the side, other than that her skin seemed smooth and young. She was dressed elegant casual. Maroon polyester slacks that quite possibly came from the 1970s. Her sweater was a size too big. It had a collar so high it hid her neck completely, and was just long enough to protect her modesty. A single but trendy 20 inch gold necklace swooped down with a bird pendant. She wore rings on almost every finger, and they all had very visible gems.
	I crossed my arms and waited for an explanation. Of course I didn’t have to wait long.
	“I thought I saw you signing in this morning at the desk. I was chatting with Martha over near the mailboxes about when the Halloween decorations were going to put up,” her hand reached out and lightly rested on my wrist. “She’s the receptionist you know. I was thinking to myself, as I watched you signing in, you can tell a lot about a person by how they act when someone has abandoned their post. Take you for example.”, she withdrew her hand. “You signed in and off you went. Did not even look around to see if anything is out of place. Of course how would you know if anything is out of place, this is your first day here.” she waved her hand in the air. Flashes of topaz and emerald emitted from her rings for a brief second demanding attention. Then her sharp voice brought the attention back to the matter at hand. “Other caregivers do tend to look around, to see if any other residents need assistance since no one is around. Not you though. Strictly business. You’re here for one person only. It really is just a job to you, isn’t it?” She asked the question but brushed past me to the bedroom. She didn’t want an answer.
 	“Gertrude!” Mrs. Izato exclaimed.
	I locked the door after it closed and went to sit in the living room.
	Gertrude looked over her shoulder at me and decided she didn’t want the intrusion. She shut the door and continued talking to Dorthy. She was in there talking a good thirty minutes before the door opened up.
	Gertrude was talking as the door opened, “Well it’s good to see you back here safe, and you have a caregiver now. Stay in bed, let that heal, do your PT exercises.”
	“Thanks Mom!” Dorthy shot her a look. “You know if I could throw a pillow, I’d aim it right at your head right now. I’m older than you, now git. I really do need to rest.”
	Gertrude’s smile faded the second her back was to Mrs. Izato. She briskly walked past me, unlocked the door and walked out.
	I got up and glanced at Dorthy, the woman who had just been laughing not even five seconds ago. She stared up at the television. Motionless, expressionless, color gone from her face. I locked the front door and sat back down.