by E J Kindred
One of the nurses came into the room to check on its occupants. She rolled her eyes as if to say, “What am I supposed to do?”
“Natalie,” the nurse said, “have you been out for a walk yet this morning?”
“Not yet. Liz and I are planning to do that in a little bit.”
“You’re going to walk, right? That’s all?” The nurse gave her a warning look.
“Sure, you bet.” Her attempt to sound innocent failed.
“As opposed to what?” I was almost afraid to ask.
The nurse was exasperated and amused at the same time. “Honestly, I wish I’d had a camera. These two”—she gave them a stern glare that fooled no one—“went out to take a walk, like they’re supposed to. But they went into other rooms and recruited other patients, and before we knew it, we had a conga line going down the hall, IV poles and all. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I had to laugh. “You’ve never met my grandma before, either.”
This was Natalie Lindberg at her finest. She was almost killed in a wreck, and the next thing she did was befriend everyone in the hospital and get them dancing. And to think I’d soon be living with her. Never a dull moment.
“What do you have there?” Grandma Natalie pointed to the brown bag I held.
“I thought you’d need something to take your mind off being in the hospital. I should have known you’d find plenty of ways to entertain yourself.” I handed her the flat brown bag. “Maybe this will keep you from causing trouble.”
She gave me a sly look as if to say “Yeah, right,” and tilted the bag so the contents spilled out onto her lap.
“Oh,” she said in a near whisper. “Perfect.” She caressed the stack for a moment. “Thank you.”
“I thought you might like to go shopping now.”
I’d gone to the Harley Davidson dealership and picked up flyers and catalogs for all of the available models. She was still mourning the loss of her beloved bike, but immediately declared that she’d buy another one as soon as she could take a test ride. I appointed myself her enabler and brought her a stack of eye candy to peruse.
I said, “Maybe this will keep you from causing chaos in the hospital.”
“Not likely,” Liz said with a laugh. “We have too much fun.”
Grandma Natalie handed me a few of the flyers to pass to Liz. “I need help shopping,” she said. “Liz wants to go for a ride after she’s all healed up.” She grabbed my hand. “Sit down for a minute and tell me what’s new with you.”
I pulled a chair over next to her bed. “The biggest news is that you’re getting your wish.” At her upraised eyebrow, I continued. “I’ve moved all of my stuff to your house. Shadow is shedding black fur all over your white sofa as we speak.”
She gave me the sweetest, most contented expression I’d ever seen. “Good. And it’s now our house, not mine. Heck, it’s not mine at all. The deed has your name on it, and Joe’s. But I’m happy to have you there. Best get well gift ever.” She lifted my hand and planted a kiss on it. “Now, go away so Liz and I can shop for my new bike.”
Once I knew that Grandma Natalie was recovering, I could get back to a more normal life. Other than driving out to Charbonneau twice a week to help Ada and Hal, I kept busy in Portland. I unpacked my clothes and other essentials, reminding myself that this was my home as well as hers. Shadow took over as if he’d lived there for years.
I was also able to spend more time with my friends. Rachel and Sally came to the house several times to make sure I went out and about, probably more frequently than was prudent since more often than not, their evenings out included significant quantities of alcohol. They introduced me around, so before I knew it, I was surrounded by friends and acquaintances who seemed determined that I’d never spend an evening alone. I loved it.
The nights were a different story. Insomnia set in, a new experience for me. I’d always slept like the proverbial log, out like a light at night and awake in the morning with no interruptions save the occasional bathroom break. At first, I was puzzled by it. My grandmother was healing well and would be coming home before much longer. Joe was his normal annoyingly sunny self and insisted on getting me out for long rides on my bicycle. I wasn’t even angry with Patrick any longer. Ada was regaining her mobility and Hal kept us both laughing when I saw them. Sharon and Lupe kept me informed about the news in Charbonneau, and Freddy still refused to disclose the secrets to her famous pastrami.
Sure, I still had other problems. The investigation into Nicky’s death was ongoing, and the shell of my dad’s shop still stared me down whenever I went there.
All in all, though, wasn’t my life good? And yet, most nights, I was awake for hours, my brain refusing to be quiet.
Of course, after a time I realized I knew why. Now that I was no longer consumed with worry about Grandma Natalie, my thoughts returned to the murder of Doctor Wentworth and the disappearance of my friend. I lay awake at night, staring at the darkness, wondering who would kill such a nice man and what unspeakable acts could have befallen Mo.
I tried texting Dean to see if he had any new information, but he didn’t respond. I didn’t expect a reply, but I hoped for one. I was still concerned that he thought Mo killed the doc, but my faith in her hadn’t changed. On the other hand, I couldn’t think why anyone would want to kill Doctor Wentworth. He’d never been anything but kind to me and the other people who worked in his home. The only show of temper he’d displayed that I knew of was his argument with Elise about Eric.
My inability to make sense of the Charbonneau events kept me awake.
One evening, when I was at a local bar with Rachel and Sally, I yawned.
“Jeez, Velasquez,” Rachel said. “It’s only nine-thirty. What’s with you?”
I told them about my insomnia and the reasons behind it. “I can’t let it go. I know the police are investigating, but I’m worried they’re focused too much on Mo and may not be considering other possibilities.”
By then, we’d each had a couple of drinks with dinner. I was feeling a pleasant buzz. Not drunk, but I figured I’d better wait before driving home. My friends were in a similar state. We ordered another round.
Sometimes alcohol can be inspiring.
“I know what we need to do,” Sally said. “We should stake her out.”
I thought for a moment. “Hey, great idea. If you guys know where there’s a good anthill, I’ll get the ropes. I think there’s an old tent in the garage, and we can use the stakes from that. The way she treats people, she deserves it.” The mental image of Elise Wentworth squirming as she tried in vain to escape crawling insects was satisfying. “Do ants bite?”
Both of them stared at me as if I’d suddenly started speaking Swahili, and then Sally laughed.
“No, you idiot. Stake her out, as in watch and see what she’s doing. Like cops on TV.”
“Oh.” I came back to reality a little bit. “But why? I saw no indication she had anything to do with the doctor’s murder. She fainted dead away when she saw his body.”
“Like nobody’s ever faked that before,” Rachel said in a sarcastic tone. “From what you told us, she hasn’t exactly been suffering. What’s it been, about six weeks?”
“Mm hm.”
“And what has she done? Bought herself a shiny new car to zoom around in. Does that sound like a grieving widow to you?”
She had a point that even my alcohol-impaired brain could appreciate. Still, the anthill held a certain appeal, and I gave up the idea only reluctantly.
The rest of our evening was consumed by idle chatter. I enjoyed catching up with them and wished my life was more normal. Sally told us about a woman she’d met who was interesting but a little intimidated about dating a firefighter. Rachel asked about Patrick again, so I suggested, not for the first time, that she quit waffling and ask him out.
“He’s totally oblivious,” I said, “so you’ll have to the make the first move.”
We ordered dessert an
d substituted coffee and soft drinks for alcohol. By the time we were ready to head home, driving was no longer a concern.
We said goodbye outside the restaurant¸ but before I could get to my car, Sally grabbed my arm.
“I meant what I said, Velasquez. We need to keep an eye on Number Four.”
I laughed and waved her off. “I’m already in enough trouble with the cops. The last thing I need is an arrest for stalking.” I gave her a hug. “Drive safe.”
Two days later, the phone rang while I was making coffee. My hair was still wet from the shower, and I wore only a heavy robe and my grandma’s slippers. Shadow was munching his breakfast while I watched coffee drip far too slowly into the pot. A watched pot will eventually boil, but watched coffee can drip forever.
“Annie, my dear, they’re cutting me loose this afternoon.” Grandma Natalie sounded as if she’d won the lottery, and perhaps she had.
I scanned the kitchen and dining room in a panic. My grandmother was a meticulous housekeeper. I had my work cut out for me.
As if reading my mind, she said, “Don’t worry about the house.”
Did all grandmothers have psychic powers? “It’s okay, Grandma. Most of my stuff is still in boxes in the garage. All I’ve unpacked so far is my clothes and a few books, and some of Shadow’s toys.”
“Uh huh.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Can you pick me up around two?”
“Of course, I can. I’m so glad you’re coming home. I’ll call Joe and let him know.”
“And Patrick? Or are you still quarrelling?”
“We didn’t have an argument, Grandma. He lectured me as if I were five years old and had eaten an entire jar of peanut butter.” Though I’d gotten over being angry with him, Patrick’s words still stung. What could I say? He was right, and that’s what irritated me.
“From what I heard, you might have deserved it.” Her tone became happier again. “I’ll be so glad to be home. Liz went home two days ago and I don’t have a new roomie, so I’ve been bored. Besides, now that you’re there, we’ll have a great time.”
After we ended our call, I called Joe and Patrick and gave them the good news. I made a mad dash through the house. Quite without trying, I’d managed to leave clothes in almost every room, like a thoughtless overgrown teenager. I threw a pile of them into the washer and turned it on. While the machine did its magic, I cleaned up two spots where Shadow had deposited hairballs. Good thing Grandma Natalie had tile and wood floors and not carpet. I swept and dusted the house and straightened photographs that adorned almost every horizontal surface in the house. I paused for a moment at a photograph that I’d seen a million times. Framed in cheap ceramic, the photo showed a blonde woman, looking like a young Natalie Lindberg. She sat in a wicker chair, a dark-haired toddler at her knee. My mother and me. For a brief moment, I wished yet again that I could remember her. The chime from the dryer reminded me that I had work to do. I replaced the photo in its usual spot and got back to work.
Joe was standing in the driveway when I pulled in with Grandma Natalie. We’d had quite a ride from the hospital since she’d insisted on bringing her entire collection of balloons home with her. They bobbed against the inside roof of the car, blocking my view. There were so many that I was constantly pushing them away from the windshield or out of from my face. She thought they were delightful, which I put down to the residual effects of narcotic pain medications. I thought it was a miracle we made it home in one piece.
We’d almost finished unloading the car when Patrick showed up. Grandma Natalie was settled into her favorite recliner with a lap blanket, happy to be home, but tired. I stacked her Harley flyers where she could reach them and made her a cup of coffee. She looked as if she might fall asleep in her chair at any moment.
“Need any help?” Patrick stood in the doorway. He had to have come from work because he was dressed in an expensive suit and shiny black shoes. His hair, about which he was almost obsessed, was perfectly combed with nary a strand out of place.
So of course I sent him out to collect the balloons from the car.
“I saw that smirk,” Joe said after Patrick headed outside.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feigning innocence, and then I peered through a side window and watched Patrick try to wrestle two dozen helium balloons into submission. Other than bringing my grandmother home, seeing Patrick dirty his suit and make a mess of his hair while trying not to let a single balloon escape was the highlight of my day.
The days that followed saw Grandma Natalie continue to recover from the crash. As her strength returned, so did her sassy attitude.
“Go out and see your friends. Call Joe and go for a ride. Get out of my hair for a while,” she’d say. “You’re turning into an old mother hen.” She’d tell me that she was fine, thank you, and out I’d go.
On one of those occasions, I met Rachel and Sally at Mount Tabor park. I’d convinced them, to some small degree, that we spent too much time eating and drinking. Late February always seemed to be the coldest part of the year, so I bundled up against temperatures that refused to top the forty-degree mark. Regardless, the park was green and peaceful, and a walk to the top was definitely in order.
We caught up on each other’s news on the way. Rachel was still too shy to ask Patrick out, if only for coffee. Sally and I had no difficulty teasing her about it.
“Jeez, you’ve had a crush on the poor man for what? Two years? Seriously, what’s so hard about saying, hey, want to meet for coffee?”
“What if he says no?” Rachel sounded like a terror-stricken teenager. She confronted terrified cats, angry dogs, and demanding clients in her veterinary practice, and I thought it was funny she couldn’t ask a man out for coffee.
“Then you won’t have coffee with him,” I answered. “You’re not having coffee with him now. See, you have nothing to lose.”
She squinted in my direction, as if seeking a flaw in my logic. Instead, she decided to change the subject. “Sal, what about the chick with the firefighter phobia? She still on your radar?”
“Afraid not,” Sally said. “We went out to dinner last week. She’s nice enough, but her range of conversation seems to entail how much she hates her boss and what new makeup tips she read in a magazine somewhere. She kept trying to convince me that my life will change if I’d only try using eye liner.” She sighed. “I’ve never felt the need to paint my face, and I’m sure not going to start now.”
“Can’t you just see it?” I said. “The alarm goes off at the station, and you have to make the guys wait while you check your makeup?” I laughed at the mental image I had of Sally, six feet of muscle and courage, primping in front of a mirror.
They asked about Grandma Natalie as we walked. I told them she was doing well, and that we were still waiting to hear what charges might be filed against the man who had run the light and hit her and Ada.
At the top, we stopped to admire the Portland skyline.
“Hey,” Sally said, “any progress on the case in Charbonneau? Has the chef turned up?”
“No.” I gave them a quick update.
Sally said, “I still say someone needs to follow the wife. It’s hard to believe she doesn’t know something, given what you told us about her buying a car and all that.”
“Lupe told me she goes out all the time now, and she thinks Elise comes to Portland pretty often.” I looked out toward downtown Portland. Dark clouds were coming in from the west. “We should go before the rain starts.”
“Maybe Lupe could tell us when Number Four heads out and we can track her.” Sally wasn’t letting go of her idea.
“Didn’t I tell you how fast she drives? There’s no way I could keep up with her. I tried one time and she left me behind in a heartbeat.”
We strolled back down the hill as the breeze picked up and a few sprinkles fell.
“Yeah, but there’s three of us. Four, if you count Lupe. And I’ll bet your other friend, Sharon, would help, too
.”
“And then we’d do what? Park along where we think she’s going? Synchronize our watches?” I raised an eyebrow in Sally’s direction. “Did someone give you walkie-talkies for your birthday when you were a kid and then take them away?”
“Very funny, Velasquez.”
“We have cell phones,” Rachel said. “We could text when we see where she’s going.”
“Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea,” I said. “I think you’re both nuts.”
Just then, the rain came down hard. Laughing like lunatics, we ran the last hundred yards to our cars and went our separate ways.
That night, I lay awake again in my bed. Shadow was happy about that, purring and kneading the covers near my head. Nights like this were becoming too common. I hadn’t had to find a job yet, so I wasn’t concerned about my schedule. What annoyed me was that, in the dark, all I could think about was Doctor Wentworth and Mo. I couldn’t help the doc, but I was as sure as I’d ever been that Mo was out there somewhere. I couldn’t let myself believe she’d been killed any more than I could believe she’d killed the doctor. The darkness fed my imagination, convinced me that she was in peril.
I turned over and scrunched up my pillow. Shadow voiced his objections to being disturbed, but quickly resumed purring.
By morning, I’d made a decision. After breakfast, I texted Sally and Rachel: “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Almost immediately, I had a text back. “Park. Now.”
I laughed. Not only were we acting like amateur sleuths, but we were sending cryptic messages and setting up meetings in out of the way places like spies. The whole thing was weird, but funny, too.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the Mount Tabor parking lot. Sally and Rachel were already there. Even though a light drizzle was falling, we decided to walk up to the top of the park while we talked.
“What changed your mind?” Sally asked.
“It’s keeping me awake nights.”
