For the Rest of My Life

by Harry Kraus

  Margo leaned over and whispered her good-bye. “Just don’t let this news get out. You’re just as much a target for this rapist as your patients were now. And for pity sakes, just to be safe, don’t call John Cerelli to tell him you had surgery.”

  Thanks for the vote of confidence, sis. Claire nodded her assent.

  “And call the deputy!” she whispered. Then, standing and extending her hand, Margo added, “Mr. Sugimoto, so nice to meet you.”

  Mr. Sugimoto bowed slightly. “My pleasure.”

  Claire watched her sister wag her index finger at her once more in a silent warning before slipping away. Then she turned her attention to her unexpected guest. “Mr. Sugimoto, what a pleasant surprise. The flowers are wonderful!”

  The noise of clinking silverware and the muffled talk of business discussed above and below the table provided the atmosphere Leon McCall enjoyed. Cellular phones chirped, deals were discussed, and waitresses with short skirts offered fine Cuban cigars to the patrons. The music was classical. He was okay with that, but preferred something with a little more contemporary appeal; at least that was the image he tried to leave with the pretty young things who took his order.

  He touched the top of his balding head and looked at Alfred Pitting-ton. “Harvard, my boy, did I ever tell you bald men have more testosterone?”

  His attorney rolled his eyes. “I told you that. Remember?”

  “Just look at her.” Leon was nearly drooling. “If she knew how much I was worth she’d be falling all over me.”

  Alfred straightened his tie and glanced at the young waitress. “You’re a fool. She’s young enough to be your daughter.”

  “Love knows no age limit.”

  “Neither does foolishness or the love of money.”

  “Careful, Harvard. I can hire new attorneys.”

  “I know too much about you, Leon.” He pushed his chair away from the remains of a double-martini, four-course lunch. “How’d your wife ever put up with you for thirty years?”

  “My soon-to-be ex-wife.”

  “Whatever.”

  “My father didn’t believe in divorce.”

  “Ahh. And your father was in control of McCall Shoes.”

  Leon took a deep breath. “Let’s grab a cigar on the veranda. Sugimoto isn’t due for another two hours.”

  “I thought you were worried about Wally’s family getting wind of this, trying to interfere.” He made a slurping noise as he sucked at a piece of filet mignon in between his front teeth. “But you haven’t even mentioned them.”

  “Providence is caring for Leon McCall, Harvard. Wally went into a nursing home, so I sent Della on a vacation to Hawaii. Claire’s too busy to know or care. Margo has essentially nothing to do with the McCalls, and Elizabeth is summering at Martha’s Vineyard.” He smiled. “That just leaves little ol’ Leon at home by himself to run things as best as he can.”

  “Poor little Leon.” Pittington smiled and sampled the space between his front teeth with his tongue. Evidently pleased that he’d extracted the filet, he continued. “They have a special place in hell for people like you, Leon.”

  “Don’t tell me you believe in hell.”

  He chuckled. “No. You know that.”

  “If there is, you’ll be right beside me.”

  “Knowing you, you’ll try to fool the devil into buying McCall Shoes for all the demons.”

  “I’ll let you work the contract, my boy.” Leon stood up and patted his belly. “I’ve got to stop celebrating this deal.”

  “Especially before the contract is signed.”

  “Sugimoto is already here. This is a formality.” He laid a twenty-dollar tip on the table. “I’ll bet the gorgeous redhead fights to serve me the next time. Let’s get a smoke.”

  Randy Jensen set down the phone and shook his head before opening the lid to a pizza box sitting on his desk.

  His superior, Police Chief Manny Morton, came in sniffing the air. “Ah, I thought I smelled pepperoni.”

  “You can identify a pepperoni from a thousand yards, can’t you, Chief?” He motioned to the box. “Have a slice. I’ll never eat it all.”

  “Thanks. Who was on the phone?”

  “Dr. McCall.” He sighed. “She’s giving me her latest theories on the rape cases.”

  “New leads?”

  “She looked up Billy Ray Chisholm’s chart. The guy is azoospermic.”

  “She looked “What?”

  “That’s what I said. She said it’s a rare cause of male infertility. He doesn’t have any sperm in his semen.”

  “Shoots blanks, huh?” Manny shoved the tip of the pizza into his mouth.

  “We need to take a close look at the forensic evidence the SANE nurse provided. If any of the samples contained actual sperm, it would appear we can take old Billy off our suspect list.”

  Manny chewed slowly. “I thought you told me Billy’s wife was in the hospital with some problems with a pregnancy. That would mean—”

  “Exactly,” Jensen interrupted. “Lovely little Lena has a boyfriend other than Billy Ray.”

  “Hmm.” The chief wiped his chin.

  “But Claire is questioning another theory that Billy Ray himself is promoting. Billy Ray thinks that maybe Lena is telling the truth, and that she hasn’t been fooling around, that her pregnancy wasn’t from an affair, but from a rape.”

  “She didn’t report any rape.”

  “Not to us, but evidently, Dr. McCall says that Lena told her about it. She said Billy Ray was wearing a surgical mask and attacked her.”

  “I see.” The chief started eyeing a second piece of pizza.

  Jensen waved his hand toward the box. “Go ahead.”

  The chief helped himself. “My take? The girl is lying.”

  “Exactly. She’s been running around on her husband.”

  “But she must not have known about her husband’s azoo-whatever.”

  “Azoospermia.”

  “Or she would have known her denial of an affair would never have been believed.”

  “But why would she make up the story about Billy Ray attacking her?”

  Manny pulled a slice of pizza away from his mouth, trailing a cheese tail like a comet. He snapped the cheese with his other hand and responded. “Maybe she didn’t make it up. Maybe Billy Ray is still our rapist. The only lie we know Lena has told is the fact that she hasn’t been running around on Billy Ray.”

  “I’d like to confront her with the lie. Tell her about Billy Ray’s little problem.”

  “Careful,” the chief warned. “I wouldn’t do that. You could get Dr. McCall into some trouble. I’d doubt she released that medical information about Billy Ray with his permission.” He pushed the pizza box toward Jensen, a sign that Manny was done mooching. “Besides, what difference does it make to us now? We know she hasn’t been on the up and up. For now that may be enough.”

  “Dr. McCall also said Lena was wearing a diamond ring that Lena told the doc Billy Ray’s dog brought her.”

  “What?”

  “She claims the dog carried up an old felt ring box, and get this, Dr. McCall says it is the exact ring owned by John Cerelli, her former fiancé. Dr. McCall said the inscription proves it is the ring she used to wear, the same ring she gave back to John Cerelli.”

  “So what’s the doc implying?”

  Jensen shook his head. “She is hesitant to implicate Cerelli, but she knows he had the ring in his pocket right before the night Lena claims that Billy Ray attacked her.”

  “She thinks John Cerelli is the rapist?”

  The deputy raised his hands, palms up. “She won’t come right out and say it, but she wanted me to know just in case it is important to the investigation.”

  “You want to know what I think?”

  “Sure.”

  Manny pointed his finger at Jensen. “Lena is lying again. John Cerelli and Lena must be catchin’ a little action together on the side. He gives her the ring, and Lena has to make up some c
ockamamie story to cover for John.” He laughed. “A dog brought the ring to her! That’s too crazy.”

  “I talked to Cerelli outside Fisher’s Cafe one day. He told me a ring flew out of his car when he was passing Lena’s place.”

  “That makes little sense. How likely is it that a ring would just fly out of his car?”

  Jensen shuffled through a file on his desk. “Well, that’s what he said. When I questioned him about it, he got real defensive and asked me why I wanted to know.”

  “He’s hiding something. No doubt.”

  “Maybe we should get forensics to look at Lena’s baby.”

  “So what if we can prove it’s John Cerelli’s child? That evidence gets us nowhere in this case. It only proves something which isn’t a crime in this state. Adultery.”

  Randy Jensen started pacing around his small office. He held up one finger. “Lies.” He held up a second finger. “Defensiveness.” He nodded. “I’d better keep a close eye on Cerelli. Things aren’t adding up.”

  Della was already beginning to understand America’s love affair with Hawaii. She lifted the flower lei to her face again and inhaled the delightful fragrance. She’d been on the ground for only a few minutes when the stress from a thousand nights with Wally began to melt from her like snow on a warm spring day. She walked up a stone path bordered by flowers of such brilliant color she wanted to stop and photograph each one. Under a broad front porch, she accepted a tropical punch from a hostess, and was ushered to a desk where she could register.

  “I’m Della McCall.”

  The young woman smiled. “McCall? Yes, we’re expecting you. You have a phone message waiting.”

  “A message for me?” Thoughts of disaster at the Pleasant View Nursing Home accompanied a lump in her throat.

  “You may receive it at our courtesy phone on the lobby wall by entering your suite number, or wait to use the phone in your room.”

  Wally won’t cooperate without me. Or he’s choked. They didn’t thicken his liquids like Dr. Vinstructed.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Oh, I’ll take it here.”

  The woman handed her a small folder. “Here are your suite keys. Just enter the room number after pressing the button marked ‘messages.’” She smiled. “Would you like to leave your room charges on the credit card which secured the reservation?”

  “Credit card?”

  “Yes, let’s see. Mr. Leon McCall. Your husband?”

  “No. I mean yes. Oh, I mean no, he’s not my husband, and yes, leave the bill on his card.” Della shuffled off toward the phone on the wall. She pressed the message button and followed the instructions. After a moment, she heard Margo’s voice.

  “Mom, this is Margo. I hope you had a wonderful flight. I just wanted to let you know about Claire. She came down with appendicitis and had an appendectomy this morning, probably just after you’d left Dulles. Anyway, she’s fine. Wally’s fine. There is absolutely no reason to come home. Enjoy your vacation. I just wanted you to know. I knew you would want to know. Bye.”

  Della walked back outside where a bellman assisted her to her room. She tipped him with five dollars. Tipping generously was easy since Leon had paid for everything else.

  She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and shook her head. “Wally’s fine. There is absolutely no reason to come home.” As if Margo would ever check on Wally. If Claire’s in the hospital, no one will be checking in on him.

  She started to pace. What to do? It was near insanity to turn around and fly back to Virginia, but what joy could there be here, if she knew Wally was alone?

  She sat on the side of her king-sized bed and pulled out a small book from her purse. Then she carefully dialed the number she had written there. She got voice-mail.

  “John. This is Della. I wanted to be sure you heard about Claire. She had surgery this morning for appendicitis.” She hesitated. “Look, I shouldn’t pry, but I know how you two have struggled lately. I can’t pretend to know what’s in my daughter’s mind, but maybe it’s because she’s made some bad decisions to trust in the past that makes it so hard for her to trust now. I know you wanted some time away from her to think, but, well, I’m sure a visit from you and a little help might just convince her that you are ready to love her through thick and thin.”

  Next, she made a series of calls, finding out first the number to the hospital in Carlisle, then calling to be connected to Claire’s room.

  Claire lifted the chirping phone from its cradle in the bed railing. “Mom? How’d you find me?” Margo, I’m going to kill you.

  “Your sister left a message. How are you?”

  “Mom, I’m fine. I’m going to be released today.”

  “Today? You just had surgery! What kind of—”

  “Mom, I had appendicitis. But it wasn’t ruptured. And Dr. Branum used a laparoscope, so I just have a few Band-Aids on my stomach.”

  “I’m coming home. I can catch a return flight and be there by tomorrow evening.”

  “Don’t be insane! I’m fine!”

  “But Wally will—”

  “I’m going by to see him as soon as I’m discharged. Don’t ruin your vacation. Stay and enjoy yourself.”

  Silence hung between them for a moment before Della’s voice returned. It was soft and pleading, like a child. “Are you sure? I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I should have never let Leon talk me into such foolishness.”

  “Mom, stop it. I’m not going to be working tomorrow. I can even spend the day with Daddy. Stay put.”

  She heard her mother sigh. “You’re a godsend, Claire.”

  Claire smiled. “Just bring me a pound of Kona. It’s the best java in the world.”

  She listened as Della began to sniff.

  “Don’t cry, Mom, it’s only coffee.”

  Della lobbed. That was a term she had coined herself during one of a multitude of frustrating moments with Wally when she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She would start to cry when somehow she found the strength to find humor in the craziness of it all . . . so she would begin a sob that gushed and ended in a laugh, in effect, combining the two into a laugh-sob or just “lob.” “You, my dear doctor-daughter, are too much!”

  “Good-bye, Mom. I love you.”

  After another wet sniff, Della responded, “You too. Bye.”

  Claire had done all the right things to qualify for early discharge. She’d walked. She’d urinated. And she’d tolerated a full liquid diet without nausea. So, even though she hadn’t officially been discharged, she didn’t feel it was too much of a stretch of truth to make a promise to her mother that she was leaving soon. What she didn’t anticipate was her surgeon’s reluctance.

  When Dr. Branum came in a few minutes later, Claire tried to look her best. “I’m ready to go, Doc.”

  He offered a Texas-sized smile. “I’m all for early discharges, Claire, but it’s not a crime to spend a night in the hospital.”

  “I know. But it’s, well . . .”

  “I know. No insurance. Listen, don’t worry about the hospital bills. You send this hospital enough business that I think I can twist an arm or two to give you a deal.”

  “It’s not just the money.”

  “Image? You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. We know you’re tough. I can get you out early in the morning and you’ll still be out in less than twenty-four hours. I thought that’s what we talked about.”

  “But I’m getting along fine. I’ve walked and I’m eating this cruel and unusual nourishment they call a full-liquid diet.” She paused and flashed her sweetest smile before resorting to pouting. “I want to sleep in my own bed.”

  “Look,” he started, the smile having melted from his face, “I’ll not stand in your way. There’s really no medical reason for you not to go, except . . .” He pushed a chair closer to the bed and sat down.

  “Except,” she prompted.

  “I’m sure you know the ‘except.’” His face was deadpan serious. “Our
surgical staff was briefed by the FBI this morning. All women who are post-surgery are to be warned about the rapes that have been going around Stoney Creek.”

  “The FBI? Really?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll take precautions.” She leaned forward. “Listen, if it’s of any help, I’ve been very involved with this case. The women involved were all my patients. As far as I know, that piece of information hasn’t gone public.”

  He shook his head. “All I’ve read in the local papers is that the assaults involved women who were recovering from recent surgery. And of course I knew Brittany Lewis because you sent her to me for her cholecystectomy.”

  “Believe me, I won’t take any chances. I’ll be sure the police are watching, too.”

  Dr. Branum stood up. “Okay, I give. At least stick around until after supper. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the vanilla pudding.” His smile returned. “I’ll fill out the paperwork to set you free.” He shook her hand gently before turning to leave. “I’ll leave a prescription on your chart for some pain medicine. Call my office in the morning. I’d like to see you in my office in two weeks.”

  With that, he was gone, and Claire picked up the phone to call Lucy. Hopefully, she would be willing to pick her up and take her by Pleasant View Home on the way back to Stoney Creek.

  Leon McCall pushed the stack of contracts across the walnut boardroom table. “I think you’ll find that Har—uh, Mr. Pittington has prepared the papers to your specifications.” He smiled broadly and stood up, motioning with his hand for Mr. Sugimoto to follow.

  He walked to the far wall and opened a curtain, revealing a row of windows looking out over the plant. “I knew you would be looking to increase productivity, and so we’ve already added the machinery for the expansion. As you can see, it’s ninety percent complete.”

  “You should not have proceeded without contacting us.”

  Leon gushed. “I know. But we copied the specifications of your plant in Tokyo. And although the new line came to us at considerable personal expense—”

  “One point two million dollars,” Pittington interrupted, clearing his throat.