“Oh, look who’s got an attitude now, huh?”
He stepped back. “Get away from me.”
Natty closed the distance and put her arm around him again. Her face was only inches away from his, and her breath smelled like raw onions. “Gabe, sweetie—”
Gabriel jerked away and hobbled down the hall toward his room. He knew he was sealing his reputation as a troublemaker, a difficult resident, a demented fool who shouldn’t be left alone. The incident would definitely be noted in his behavior chart. He heard Natty stomping off behind him, wailing with self-pity as she loudly complained to the RN on duty.
“Did you hear the way that asshole was treating me?” Natty whined to the RN. “Can’t you just rub some ABH on his neck and calm him the hell down?”
ABH. Ativan, Benadryl, and Haldol. The staff considered that combination to be the perfect cocktail to calm down a problematic resident. The stuff would knock him off his feet, so a nurse could drag him back into bed and leave him there for the night.
“Well, he seems to have calmed down,” the RN replied. “He’s going to his room. See?”
Gabriel paused in the doorway of his room to listen in a bit longer.
“Yeah yeah, but that fucker is gonna get himself in big trouble.” Natty snorted. “I swear, if he keeps this bad behavior up, he’s gonna be stuck on Level Five in no time.”
“I heard that the administrator is trying to rename Level Five. He wants us to call it the Guggenheim unit now.”
“Googa-what? Ah, whatever. It’ll always be Level Five to me, and Level Five was made for dudes like Schist. Nobody ever pushes me around that way! I’m a damn good LNA. All the other residents love me.”
It took everything Gabriel had not to turn around, walk back, and spit in Natty’s face. At least Natty had a reputation for complaining, so it was highly unlikely that one bad report from her would get him moved to Level Five. He went into his room, sat on the bed, and put his head in his hands. He pictured Matthew’s inhuman eyes and the tears that had struggled to escape from them.
He looked up when someone knocked on the door. He expected Natty, Tanya, or maybe even the RN on duty coming to give him a warning. Instead, Victor stood in the doorway, wearing another tuxedo and an eye-crinkling smile.
“Good evening, my dear Gabriel. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Victor chuckled. “Most people sleep at this hour, but you don’t strike me as the sleeping type.”
Gabriel felt a strong temptation to confide in Victor, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. He barely knew the man. “Sleep does sound nice. But with all this horrible stuff happening, I don’t know.”
Victor leaned against the jamb, arms crossed in the posture of a younger, stronger man. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Victor, I have to ask, why the tuxedo? Every day, I mean. It looks like you’re going to a funeral.”
“Well, I’m at a funeral.” Victor shrugged. “We live in a nursing home, don’t we? This building is nothing more than a place for all of us to celebrate our long, hopelessly drawn-out funerals, isn’t it? So I say, if every day is a funeral, why run away from the inevitable? Why not have a good time?”
Gabriel nodded and suppressed a yawn. “Listen, I appreciate the company, but what made you decide to stop by?”
“Chess. Care for a game, Mr. Schist?”
Chapter 13:
Iconoclasm
The lights from the fish tank spread an ethereal blue glow throughout the lobby. Gabriel stared into Victor’s bulbous eyes as the man studied the chessboard.
Victor was a remarkably cautious player. Back in his pre-Alzheimer days, Gabriel rarely lost. But Victor possessed an intuitive understanding of the game’s mechanics that made Gabriel feel like a novice. After relying on nothing but his pawns for a length of time that Gabriel thought ludicrous, Victor finally brought one of his knights into action, ruthlessly murdering Gabriel’s black rook.
Gabriel peered at the board for a few minutes then moved his queen diagonally from the enemy knight. “It’s too bad that we didn’t get to finish our last game,” Gabriel said. “I was curious which one of us would win.”
Victor gave him a devious grin. “No worries, Mr. Schist. I’ll be answering that question for you soon enough.”
“Questions. Heh.” Gabriel smiled. “Last time, before the whole John Morris incident interrupted us, you left me with a lot of questions.”
“I do that sometimes.” Victor picked up his knight. His hand lingered on the piece after he set it down on a black square. He dusted his tuxedo, though it was so spotless that it put even James Bond’s outfits to shame.
“What did you say your last name was?” Gabriel had been certain Victor looked familiar and that he’d seen him before, though maybe not in person. Perhaps he’d seen him on television or something like that.
“I didn’t.”
Gabriel moved his queen’s pawn forward. “Oh?”
“Don’t be coy with me.” The dimple appeared in Victor’s cheek. “It won’t work. I used to be more open, but the nature of my work was such that… well, let’s just say that my line of work was always quite secretive. When a man keeps his secrets close to his chest for long enough, it eventually becomes a habit, one that’s hard to break.”
“So break it.”
“My last name begins with C.” Victor winked and positioned his bishop to protect his rook. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”
Gabriel liked Victor. He appreciated the man’s intelligence, his patience, and even his enigmatic refusal to reveal any personal information. And Gabriel had always liked solving mysteries. “So which wing are you staying on? I’m assuming it’s not South Wing, or I would have seen you before.”
“I’ve been on every wing in this entire building, Gabriel. Lately, however, I’ve occupied West Wing.”
“West? I hear—”
“Your move, Mr. Schist.”
“Sorry.” Gabriel captured a pawn with his queen.
“Actually, I should be the one to apologize for barging in on you at such an ungodly hour of the night,” Victor said, moving a pawn forward.
