Gore in the Garden

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  Gracie waved politely as he drove off. Zoey and Frank continued to stare at the screen door for about five minutes, hoping the nice smelling man would return. When he didn’t, they decided it had been a strenuous day already and another nap was in order.

  ***

  Her name would be Marcia, Anderson thought disgustedly as he read the nametag of the cashier at the Hardware store. But she did smell good. He searched his memory for the scent. She smelled like rose water.

  Marcia covered her mouth and giggled. She looked one way and then the other.

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I actually detest cats.” She started to blush and giggled again.

  Relieved at finding a kindred spirit, Anderson began to tell her about the horrors of finding the cats at the pond’s edge.

  “My females,” he whined, “Are so stressed that they bleed from their gills.”

  Marcia felt like gagging, but instead simpered, “Oh the poor little fishies. Do you mind terribly if I ask their names?”

  Anderson was elated and immediately opened his phone and showed Marcia photos of his Koi. “This big one is Greg, this is Cindy, the spot on her head is just a little irregular and extends to her nostrils, so not really a show fish. This is Bobby and here is the jewel of the bunch, Jan. Just look at perfectly centered red mark. It doesn’t touch Jan’s eyes, nor the scales at her shoulders.”

  Marcia tittered again. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about fish. Are they terribly expensive?” Her voice got a little flatter. “What about this Jan, how much would she go for?”

  “Oh I would never sell my Koi, but I suppose she would be worth around a grand. Her scalation and the brightness of her Tancho mark, well, her value could be even more!”

  Marcia’s eyes glittered. She used her high school girl voice again. “Oh how exciting. They must be so pretty to see in person.”

  ***

  Gracie had gone to the Hospice to snoop. She got a lot more than she bargained for. It seems everyone on staff had a horror story to tell about the missing Nurse, Emma Bartlett.

  “Do you know, her narcotic count never balanced?” The RN, Jasmine Summan told Gracie. “Now, I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but you’re here so often, you’re practically on staff, but Emma always had some excuse about the drugs always coming up short.”

  “Don’t you have protocols in place for that sort of thing?” Gracie asked. Even though she was wearing her flats, she towered over the little strawberry blonde Jasmine. Now there was a gal worthy of her name.

  “Oh we have the ‘two staff to sign out narcotics’ rule, but she just ignored it. I even tried to get a camera put in the medication room, but, apparently it contravened privacy laws.” Jasmine continued writing in the chart as she talked.

  Gracie was always amazed at how Nurses could multi-task.

  Jasmine continued, “She worked nights, you know, and had ever so many patients ‘fall back asleep so they didn’t need the shot after all’. The RN looked angry. “I haven’t been able to pin anything on her yet. She says she just discards the needles in the sharps container and forgets to record everything.”

  “So do you think she is taking these ampoules of pain medications for her own personal use? I mean, could she be telling the truth about forgetting?” Gracie asked.

  Jasmine stopped writing in the chart she was working on and looked heartbroken.

  “The sad truth, Gracie, is I don’t think she is telling the truth. I believe she is stealing from the patients. I’ve cross-checked the charts and do you know that every time Emma is on duty, there are notes from the Care Aides indicating uncontrolled pain for a lot of the patients. Families have gone to their Doctors to complain ‘that the pain medicine isn’t working anymore’ and of course, the Doctor obliges and increases the dose.”

  The tall sliver haired lady covered her mouth with her hands. She looked horrified and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “I’ve been here over night volunteering to keep a patient company and I’ve seen her be rude and neglectful to her patients…”

  “Which you’ve reported and thank you for that,” Jasmine said.

  Gracie continued, “But I didn’t know how bad it was. How low do you have to be to steal pain medication from dying people?”

  The two women said at the same time, “Pretty damn low.”

  Gracie stood up, smoothed out imaginary creases in her slacks and thanked Jasmine for the talk and encouraged her to keep up the good work compiling evidence.

  She needed some fresh air, so she headed out to the garden.

  It was spectacular.

  Over the years, families of patients and patients themselves, had contributed to the beauty of the Hospice garden, which was in reality, several gardens. A large tiled patio was safely under cover and hosted myriads of little bistro sets. From this starting point, several tiled paths, wide enough for wheelchairs, were lined by large hedges of Hansa roses. Each path led to a themed garden.

  The largest by far was the vegetable garden. Gracie loved this area. It was made up of dozens of raised beds, built high enough for a person using a wheelchair to roll right up to the gardens’ edge and begin cultivating. This garden was one of the more popular spots visited by patients and families alike. During a time in their lives when permanent change was encroaching, it gave each a sense of purpose and accomplishment.

  As Gracie was fond of saying, “Hope is a seed planted.” Hope that the loved one’s passing would be peaceful and those left behind would eventually be able to find a new kind of normal.

  Gracie returned to the patio which of course was adorned with flowers. Massive terracotta pots of red and white cascading petunias bejeweled the area along with hanging pots of ivy geraniums. Their trailing blossoms met the petunias and created stunning floral pillars.

  As Gracie stood and admired the view, a robust voice to her right offered her a diversion.

  “Want to run up those mountains with me? Bet I could beat you to the top!”

  Gracie sat down beside the young woman with a patient wristband and introduced herself.

  “Hi. I’m Gracie Noseworthy and I’m sure I would win. Let’s do this thing!”

  The young woman broke into hearty laughter.

  “Most excellent! I’m Petra Kennedy. I’m an inmate, um patient of this institution but you could probably tell by my buddy here.” She pointed to the oxygen cylinder resting in her walker.

  Gracie shrugged. “Many people carry oxygen. I’m sorry, I’m not buying your claim.”

  “Stage four melanoma and counting. Probably won’t last the week.”

  “You’re pretty chipper for someone who’s going to be dead in a week. No, I’m sorry, you must be a visitor. Now about this race; when are we going to do it? I have openings in my schedule next week.”

  Petra Kennedy started to laugh again. “Finally, someone with a sense of humor! My entire family is all doom and gloom. I know they love me, but I want to live while I can!”

  Gracie put her hand on Petra’s. “So next week then? For our race?”

  Petra gave her a hug, then started to laugh and cry at the same time.

  “You know, the Doctor bumped up my meds after Nurse Bartlett did her usual trick, so I’ve feeling all sorts of wonderful one minute and then weepy the next. It’s weird.”

  Gracie smiled tenderly. “It’s normal in a weird situation. We’re not given an instruction manual on how to act when we’re dying. You’re doing just fine. Now what is this trick that Nurse Bartlett does?”

  “She claims she gives you the hydromorphone, but she doesn’t. I would know if she gave me a shot in my arm. I’m a lepidopterist; I collect all sorts of butterflies.” Petra scrunched up her shirt sleeve and showed Gracie the permanent port, called a butterfly, in her bicep for pain medicine.

  “They change this every seven days. I guess they won’t have to worry about next week,” Petra said.

  “Okay,” Gracie said evenly. “What do you ha
ve planned for this week?”

  “Besides training for our race?”

  Both women laughed.

  “I’m going to gather my family and tell each one of them the secrets I’ve kept from them my entire twenty-six years. Then I’m going to tell them all the secrets they’ve told me over the years about one another.”

  Gracie shifted in her chair and leaned towards her new friend. “Do you suppose I could come by and watch the fireworks?”

  “Of course,” Petra said as she lifted up the throw that covered her lower body. She was a double amputee. “But be sure to bring me a pair of running shoes. Pink ones!”

  Gracie laughed. “You bet!”

  ***

  No one but Anderson had lived in his home for over a year, yet it was surprisingly quiet when he returned with his trap. That woman, Marcia, had the most delightful tinkling laugh.

  Plus, she wanted to see his fish. She asked to see his fish. This was remarkable. He brought the carton containing the feral cat trap out to his pond.

  Bobby and Greg had already swam up to the edge, but it was Greg who ate out of Anderson’s hand. A harbinger of good things to come no doubt.

  In no time at all he had the cage built, which really made sense as he wrote instruction manuals for do-it-yourselfers to put furniture together. In fact, he had been honored at a recent convention hosted by the multi-national parent company.

  He didn’t go.

  After the water heater incident with Cynthia, he vowed he would never leave his home again, no matter how prestigious the award or how tempting the all-expenses paid international convention appeared.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  “I’ll tell you what else is not going to happen,” Anderson said aloud. “I am not going to bait this with fish. Oh no.” He hung a large ball of catnip inside the cage after he had sprinkled some in a trail leading from the fence.

  He carefully measured his fish, tested the pH and temperature and did all the checks that made him and the fishies, quite comfortable. The duckweed even looked healthy and although the dye in the pond was dissipating, Anderson wasn’t worried. He had the cage now. He went back inside his home and straight to his office. After checking the live feed monitoring his Koi, he settled down at his computer to work. The advantages of working from home were expensive but worth it. Every now and again, Anderson would look up from his screen and watch the fish undulating in their home.

  The cage looked vulgar on the otherwise serene scene, but he hoped it would only be temporary.

  ***

  Marcia knew her new romance would only be temporary. She liked temporary liaisons. Working at the hardware store was a great way to meet men.

  She normally went after married men, but this fish man, what was his name again? Marcia checked the receipts. Right. Anderson Payne on Landsbury Lane. Okay, she had it locked in. All she had to do was drop by, scoop up a fish and make a couple hundred bucks or more. It depended how fast her fence could move a fish.

  And speaking of fish, Anderson had been easy to reel in.

  Behind Marcia’s contrived vacant stare lurked a cunning brain. When Anderson started nattering on about his Koi, Marcia correctly assumed that he was a fan of Japanese culture and quickly adopted a flirtatious but modest manner. Of course it was stereo-typical, but she figured he would fall for her act. He did. The more she was self-effacing, the more Anderson went on about his fish.

  She remembered a particularly nauseating phrase he had uttered.

  “When you come over to see my Koi, the whole bunch will be at my home with the exception of one. I’ll have Greg, Marcia, Jan, Bobby and Cindy. The only one I’ll need is, dare I say it, Peter.”

  At the time, Marcia felt her lip curling. How dare he compare her to a fish! She pushed down her anger, covered her mouth again and giggled. She had her routine down pat. Gain the mark’s confidence, strike, then blackmail.

  This Anderson she wouldn’t even have to sleep with.

  Marcia had made that particular maneuver not a few times in the past. A calculated ploy to entrap married men. Sure, they still shopped at Huckleberry Hardware, but studiously avoided her checkout. Marcia went out of her way, though, to make eye contact with them. Her raised eyebrow ensured the next month’s blackmail payment would definitely arrive.

  On her break, she phoned her fence. He said it would be tricky, but he would buy the fish for three hundred. She countered with eight; they settled on five.

  Marcia already had enough money for the trip of her dreams. She mentally reviewed her itinerary as she watched the clock, waiting for her boring shift to end. First to Madrid to loiter in the 1960’s Futurism airport then out to the street to view the murals and eat oxtail stew in phyllo pastry. Then on to Morocco to the Dar Menebhi Palace in Marrakech to wander in the art museum located there.

  A customer interrupted her musings. After he left, Marcia slowly closed the cash drawer. Yes, she had enough money for her travels, she just wanted more. She planned to stay in the swankiest hotels.

  “Enough of this noise!” she said, taking off her apron and dumping it on the counter. She grabbed her purse and walked out of the store. At this point, she didn’t care about burning bridges.

  Getting into Anderson Payne’s backyard was easier than she had anticipated. She merely reached over, lifted the latch and walked in. She failed to see the numerous cameras set up.

  A lovely orange tabby followed her in.

  “Oh hello darling,” she said as she scratched it’s head. She actually loved cats. The cat began purring mightily but suddenly took off like a shot. Marcia shrugged. I’ve got work to do, she thought. I’ll buy a dozen cats later if I want to.

  She placed the large duffel bag she had brought on the ground and pulled out an industrial strength plastic bag. Her plan was simple. Catch the fish, put it in the bag with some water and phone Terry, her fence, to pick up the goods. She might even catch two fish as long as she was here.

  Marcia figured Anderson would have a net handy and found it easily. For the first time, she looked in the pond. Despite the elaborate schemes she had hatched in the past, she really didn’t research this one. Her greed for a quick buck made her careless.

  “Crap,” Marcia said. The fish were a lot bigger than she had anticipated. Perhaps she would just take one then. There were a couple of basic brown ones that had come right up to the edge of the pond; but not the one she was looking for. She needed a white one, with a red mark on its head.

  Marcia inched forward, searching for her prey, while both toes of her sneakers soaked up water. She saw a shimmer of white in the water and stretched out her hand holding the net.

  The clang of the cat trap door as it slammed shut startled her. She lost her balance and fell in the pond. The long handle of the net wedged into the underwater alcove Anderson had built for his Koi, (so they could have a little shade in the hot summer months) and effectively trapped the con artist.

  All Marcia had to do was to let go of the pole, but she was determined to get that fish. She tried to pull the handle from the rock while the mesh of the net was ensnared on her cutesy flower barrettes.

  As Marcia twisted in the water the net tightened around her head. After a while, she stopped twisting. The Koi inspected her for protein pellets, but finding none, moved to the opposite side of the pond. They wanted nothing to do with this stranger that had barged into their home and interrupted their peaceful gliding.

  ***

  Anderson was more productive that afternoon then he had been for a long time. His mind was no longer burdened by the threat to his Koi. He had acted! He even had a date planned, which he really didn’t want to think about. Too messy.

  He wrote on, adding diagrams and explanations to the instruction sheets. Several completed sheets later, Anderson did something very uncharacteristic. He took a nap. Before he went to lay down on his couch, Anderson checked his live feed on the pond including the underwater camera. Everything was in order. The males were swimm
ing faster than the graceful females, but that was normal. The cat trap was still empty, but it was early days yet.

  He slept. He had many dreams that afternoon. At one point, a jail cell clanged shut on the boys who had tormented him in school. He partially woke up, said ‘it’s okay, Mother, they can’t hurt me now’ and rolled over. He dreamt of ribbons and gold stars and hang-gliding over rivers of molten lava.

  As he was to tell the police later, it wasn’t until his alarm went off on his watch that he woke up. It was time to feed his fish, so he went out to the pond without checking the monitors.

  The first thing he noticed was the tabby caught in the cage. It sat up when it saw Anderson and began purring and rubbing it’s body against the bars.

  He was overjoyed! He’d drop this cat off at the pound and hopefully catch the little grey one next.

  Anderson raised his eyes to the pond and couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. It was a pair of sneakers, but the soles of the sneakers. And there seemed to be legs underneath them.

  He called 911.

  Anderson was very panicky when Constable Pauline had to climb in the water to release the handle of the net that was holding the body down. The two officers wouldn’t let him go near the pond despite his protestations that he had to keep his fish calm.

  In fact, Anderson was so discombobulated that he dropped down beside the cage and aimlessly patted the cat.

  Pauline cut the net from Marcia’s head and with Constable Dave’s help, dragged the body out of the pond.

  “She’s only been in there, what, three hours, but she sure is white!” Dave said.

  Pauline couldn’t help herself. “Fish belly white,” she snickered.

  ***

  Anderson made several solemn vows that evening after he brought the cat to the pound.

  One, no napping in the afternoon. Two, no females at his house, ever, unless they were Gracie Noseworthy.

  He had revised his opinion of her when he saw her at the pound, looking over the latest batch of rescued animals. Anderson was ready to go and triumphantly announce he had caught one of her cats, when a worker pointed out Gracie.