Murder Takes Many Forms

By Jill Zeller

The Alzheimer's Book Club
Nursing home residents take things into their own hands when the staff forbids them from reading books.
Ahead with Wings
A woman who makes artificial limbs redesigns her lover.
Variety
In Variety, what Natasha wishes for is not what she expects.
A Clown in Hades
You have to get away, and when you do escape, you find that escape can be a new prison, worse than the one you left.
The Border Between Day and Night
What do we really know about our relatives - and what they might be capable of?
Heart of Iron
A soldier travels through the isles of Scotland, searching for the woman who stole his memories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Z Morrison Press
• Release date: Apr 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301536351

Jill Zeller

The author of numerous short stories and novels, Jill Zeller lives in Albany, Oregon with her patient husband, and a venerable cat and her thralls, two adult English Mastiffs. Her works explore the complex geology of reality. Some may call it fantasy but there are rarely swords and never elves.

Book preview

Murder Takes Many Forms

by

Jill Zeller

SMASHWORDS EDITION

******

PUBLISHED BY:

J Z Morrison Press on Smashwords

Murder Takes Many Forms

Copyright © 2013 by Jill Zeller

Cover art by http://depositphotos.com

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The Alzheimer's Book Club

Nursing home residents take things into their own hands when the staff forbids them from reading books.

Ahead with Wings

A woman who makes artificial limbs redesigns her lover.

Variety

In Variety, what Natasha wishes for is not what she expects.

A Clown in Hades

You have to get away, and when you do escape, you find that escape can be a new prison, worse than the one you left.

The Border Between Day and Night

What do we really know about our relatives - and what they might be capable of?

Heart of Iron

A soldier travels through the isles of Scotland, searching for the woman who stole his memories.

The Alzheimer's Book Club

When Irene died I found more than thirty paperback books in her bed. I wouldn't have noticed except I was removing what I thought was a foam triangle tucked under the head of her mattress, in preparation for stripping the bed. It was not a foam triangle at all but two pillowcases stuffed with books.

The funeral home had already removed the body. The family had gone home and the police had come and gone. For the police to be there was rather odd because we were a licensed adult family home and people died here all the time, but because Irene had fallen two weeks ago and the county had proclaimed a crackdown on elder abuse, the police were notified. I doubted their interest had anything to do with the increased number of deaths that occurred here the last several months. Aimee blamed the book club for that. And here was evidence that the book club was alive and well, despite our efforts to shut it down.

Holding the two pillowcases I stood still and listened for Aimee's footsteps. The hallway outside Irene's door was quiet. Putting one of the pillowcases on the floor, I stuck my hand in the other one.

Pulling out a large paperback I looked at the title. I disliked reading, found words confusing and irritating, especially long words. This title was easy to understand: Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I pondered whether this might be a children's book, although I had seen children's books before and they were larger with colorful pictures I particularly enjoyed. It was much easier looking at pictures than trying to figure out what the words were trying to say.

This book was small and thin. I flipped through the pages and saw that there weren't very many lines on each page; that would make it easier to read. I had to lift up my glasses to read small letters, so I put the pillowcase on the floor and squinted at the first line on the page.

Just then I heard the clack of Aimee's boots coming down the hall. Quick as lightening I shoved the book into the pillow case and kicked it under the bed, leaning over to make it look as if I was tucking in a clean sheet.

Later I wondered why I hid the books from her. Before, I would have proudly exhibited my finds, enjoyed the embarrassment of the unlucky resident who had tried to hide their books from me.

Aimee scowled at me as she always did. You need to finish in this room. Another resident will be moving in tomorrow. Aimee was a head shorter than me, wiry thin; she wore her hair piled on her head in complicated twists to make her look taller. She was a lot older than me but weighed a third as much. I was a big woman whose scrubs pulled tight against my hips; I was strong. No matter how much Aimee worked out I could lift her by the hair and swing her around the room, if I wanted.

But Aimee scared me. So I nodded and pulled the sheets toward me. Aimee picked up a tissue box and chucked it toward the garbage can, but it missed. Slowly I picked it up and put it in.

When you're done in here Sashi needs help with Mavis, she said before she left.

Aimee never called me by name. I wondered if she even remembered my name, even though I had been here five years. I had been here longer than anyone else. Staff didn't stay long at this place.

Stuffing the books in a garbage sack, along with other trash from the room, I left to help Sashi. Mavis needed to go back to bed; she had advanced dementia and never spoke and often tried to hit us, but we got her up every day to sit in the day room. Sashi had the wheelchair ready. Sashi was lazy and waited while I put Mavis in the chair.

This one had three books in her potted plant. Sashi walked behind me while I