by Gin Jones
"I'm not ready to hire an attorney yet," Helen said. "I'm just at the point of interviewing candidates."
"One surprise after another." Tate folded his arms over his chest. "Twenty years in practice, and I've never had a client interview me before."
"Who would make an important decision like hiring a lawyer without first getting some background information?"
"Pretty much everyone," Tate said. "They just pick a name at random from the phone book."
"Not terribly businesslike." But, she had to admit, probably no worse than choosing a lawyer based on a stranger's recommendation.
"You're a businesswoman, then?" he said. "And you need a business lawyer?"
"More a general practitioner, I think."
"My nephew's the right person for that. He does corporate, real estate, and probate work." Tate reached behind him to grab a sticky note and pen, clearly no longer intrigued by her situation. "Want me to leave him a message to call you?"
"It really isn't that important."
"At least tell me your name."
Helen opened her mouth to snap at him, to let him know she didn't think that was funny. And then she realized he wasn't joking. For the last twenty years, it had seemed as if everyone had known, if not her first name, at least her last name and her status as first lady of the state. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had to introduce herself to someone who didn't already know who she was, at least in relation to her husband and his political status.
She'd wanted to stand on her own, and now she could. If a prominent local attorney didn't recognize her face, her newly official name wasn't likely to enlighten him, since only the most avid state-politics junkie would connect her maiden name with that of the governor's ex-wife.
"I'm Helen Binney."
She watched him carefully, but Tate wrote down her name with no indication he considered her anything other than the average woman on the street. It was just what she'd wanted, but not as satisfying as she'd expected it would be.
Helen checked her watch. She'd been gone less than thirty minutes so far, probably not long enough for her babysitter to run out of soda. Besides, Helen had already paid for the next ninety minutes of limousine rental. Might as well get her money's worth. "You said business law is your nephew's specialty. What's yours?"
"These days, it's woodworking," Tate said, reaching for another box and throwing things into it at random. "Before I retired, I did criminal defense work and general litigation."
"I don't need a criminal defense lawyer, and I can't imagine I ever will."
"You never know," Tate didn't pause in his packing. "I'm the best around here."
"You might have been once," Helen said. "But you're retired now."
He spared her a glance. "I'd be willing to come out of retirement for an interesting case."
"Like what?"
"The right homicide might do it." Tate closed the box and gave it a push toward the doorway. "There hasn't been an interesting murder around here in decades."
"I'll keep that in mind. If I decide to kill someone, I'll make sure it's an interesting kind of murder." Curious despite herself, Helen asked, "What is a boring murder, anyway?"
"The usual," Tate said, starting to fill another box. "Someone loses his temper over something trivial, bashes a spouse or significant other over the head, and regrets it right away, but then panics and runs away while the victim bleeds to death."
"If I killed someone, it would definitely be an interesting case," Helen said. "I don't have much of a temper, and even if I lost it, I can think of lots of other people I'd rather bash over the head than my ex-husband. At the top of the list right now is my visiting nurse."
"Let me give you some free legal advice, then." Tate turned to face her, abandoning his packing for the moment. "If you've got a hit list, don't write it down. And don't tell me your plans ahead of time. I'm still an officer of the court, and I'd be obliged to turn you in."
"You're just like everyone else I know." She shook her head in fake disappointment. "Always warning me against every little plan I make, never letting me do anything fun."
"Yeah," Tate said with as much sincerity as she'd shown. "Life's unfair like that. I'd never have gone to law school if it weren't for family pressure. I could have been a homeless drifter for the past twenty years, and instead I wasted them practicing law."
"I won't waste any more of your time, then." Helen turned to leave. "I've got a visiting nurse to dispose of. In an interesting manner."
"I appreciate the thought," he said, "but I'm still obliged to advise you not to kill anyone."
Helen retraced her steps to the front door, vaguely disappointed that she couldn't hire Tate. He wasn't like any of the lawyers at her husband's beck and call, but he seemed every bit as competent as they were. If she had him on her side, Melissa would be gone before she could drink another can of soda, and her nieces would be too amused by him to be upset. If Melissa continued to be a problem, Helen would just have to convince Tate to come out of retirement. Preferably without having to kill anyone.
* * *
Over the course of the next two weeks, Helen tried scrapbooking, like she'd told her nieces she'd planned to do. Melissa, a political junkie, helped sort the hundreds of pictures, fascinated by the candid shots of famous politicians.
Helen found them depressing, a reminder that she had nothing to show for twenty years of hard work except a box full of pictures of people she no longer cared about. Thinking she might find scrapbooking more interesting if she actually took the pictures instead of just organizing and embellishing them, she purchased a camera and figured out the basics for using it before her nieces made their regular Saturday lunchtime visit.
Helen had opened the front door to let them in, noticing that her cane wasn't hanging on the doorknob. She must have left it in Jack's Town Car when he'd taken her to the camera shop. She'd have to ask him about it later.
For now, she needed to convince her nieces that Melissa really wasn't working out. Helen snapped pictures of them while explaining how annoying the visiting nurse was. It turned out to be more difficult to put into words than she'd expected. She told them about how Melissa was showing up on days when she wasn't scheduled, letting herself into the cottage with the key that had been given to her only for emergencies. And then there was the blaring of the local talk radio station throughout her entire visit. Helen could have been lying on the floor, slowly dying from internal injuries, having fallen the night before, and she'd have been a goner before Melissa finished adjusting the radio and deigned to notice her patient. Helen had taken to hiding the radio after each visit, but the nurse managed to home in on it with the speed and precision of a GPS tracker.
Laura wavered, but Lily held fast, insisting that those were trivial nuisances, and any replacement would have similar foibles.
There was also the matter of Melissa's clumsiness, but Helen was reluctant to mention those incidents. She couldn't entirely blame the nurse for inadvertently drowning an entire bottle's worth of expensive pills. It had been an accident, after all, something that could have happened to anyone. Never mind that it had been the one drug Helen couldn't ever skip, not even a single dose, without the risk of a serious flare-up. Fortunately, she kept an extra two-week supply in an emergency bag, a habit she'd picked up from the time she'd had to evacuate the governor's mansion once, due to a bomb threat, and they hadn't been allowed back in for a week. And then there was also the time that Melissa had bumped into Helen, knocking her onto the floor. It wasn't exactly Melissa's fault, even if it had caused Helen some bruising and a strained muscle as she struggled to get back to her feet.
Melissa's clumsiness had had more serious consequences than the noisy radio, but Helen was reluctant to mention it. Her nieces might consider the fall, in particular, as proof that she needed round-the clock care. The only thing worse than Melissa's current visits was Melissa visiting even more often.
Laura and Lily had left after lu
nch, unconvinced of Melissa's evils, and Helen had braced herself for the next unscheduled visit from the nurse. Melissa apparently believed in a day of rest, and didn't show up at the cottage on Sunday, but by Monday morning, the return of the nurse and her soda supplies was inevitable.
Helen put her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and then puttered around the cottage, tidying it up. Not that there was any real cleaning to do. The place was small enough that it didn't require much maintenance, and a cleaning crew came in once a month to do the things that required mobility or strength.
Finally, Helen tossed aside the dusting cloth, and headed over to her computer to view the pictures she'd taken yesterday. She opened the pictures folder to the first shot: Lily glaring into the camera.
It made her smile, but it wasn't a great picture. It wasn't even a good one. She scrolled through the other shots, and they ranged from out-of-focus to mediocre. What was she doing wrong?
She was still mulling it over when she heard a car in the driveway. A moment later, Melissa was pounding on the front door and shouting, "It's me, Melissa. Come let me in. My hands are full."
Helen pushed herself onto her feet, only then realizing how long she'd been sitting there, poring over the photographs. Her joints had stiffened, and it took a few moments before she was ready to walk across the room. When she finally opened the door, Melissa brushed past her on the way to the refrigerator with the three six-packs she was carrying. The push sent Helen off-balance, and she grabbed the door, desperate to keep herself from falling over while Melissa was there to witness her weakness and make it more difficult to stand back up. Once she had her feet under her again, she considered heading on out the open door and down the front steps, but she still hadn't found her walking cane. Besides, it was a little too chilly to sit outside for the duration of Melissa's visit.
Helen closed the door and returned to her desk. She ignored Melissa's activities in the kitchen area, and tried to concentrate on the computer screen again. Maybe if Helen ignored her, she'd give up and go away.
"Nice pictures," Melissa said, pointing at the thumbnails on the monitor. "Your nieces are very pretty."
They were pretty, but that hadn't been what Helen wanted from the pictures. She'd wanted to capture the girls' personalities, not just their superficial appearance.
"We need to talk," Melissa said. "It took you a long time to answer the door just now. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Helen said, keeping her focus on the screen. "I took my time, because I was hoping you'd leave if I didn't answer you."
"You know I'd never leave you," Melissa said. "That's not the problem. No, I think you had trouble opening the door. I think you need someone here for you all the time, not just during my brief visits."
Helen shook her head. Twenty years of dealing with her husband's cronies had given her the ability to keep her voice calm, even when all she wanted to do was scream. The woman who was only doing her job, after all, not trying to make Helen angry. "That's not necessary."
"I'll make the arrangements with your nieces." Melissa retrieved the radio from under the kitchen sink, and carried it over to the desk. She plugged it in and tuned it to her usual talk station.
Helen turned it off. "I need silence."
"You need life." Melissa turned the radio back on.
Helen reached down to unplug it, her hip aching with the movement. She wrapped the cord around the radio and tossed it into a desk drawer. She braced her knee against it, daring Melissa to risk causing her patient physical harm to get at it.
"I just thought you'd enjoy a little entertainment," Melissa said defensively, sitting next to her at the desk again.
"I know what I want," Helen said, maintaining eye contact again in the somewhat futile hope that Melissa could see what she refused to hear. "Right now, I don't want the radio on. I want to work on my photographs. In silence. I'm not a child, and I'm not senile, and I do not need a guardian or a friend or anything else. You can either go somewhere else in the house and leave me alone, or you can just leave completely."
"I'm only doing my job." Melissa's voice was whiney, but there was anger in her eyes.
"Not any longer," Helen said. "You're fired."
"You can't fire me," Melissa said, no longer pretending to care about her patient. "Only the person who hired me can, and that was your niece."
"They hired your agency, not you personally," Helen said. "I'll call your boss and ask for someone else."
"You didn't hire the agency, either," Melissa said smugly. "My boss won't do anything unless your nieces call him. And by then I'm sure you'll have realized that I'm only doing what's best for you."
"I can call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."
"You can try, sweetie," Melissa said, and the anger was gone from her face, replaced by the confidence that she was in control. "But the local cops all know me. Every single one of them has had a relative or two in my care. They know that sometimes patients resist their treatment. They won't get involved in a patient-caretaker dispute. Not without a court order."
Helen reached for the cell phone on the desktop, but Melissa was faster. The phone disappeared into the pocket of her unicorn-and-rainbow-printed smock. "Today isn't a good day for a car ride. Not the right weather at all."
Helen glanced at the sunshine streaming in the window. "What are you talking about? It's a lovely day."
"It's a bit chilly for someone in your condition," Melissa said. "Although, I would like to see you get more exercise. You know, the local hospital offers Tai Chi classes."
"Sounds good," Helen said. "It's got roots in the martial arts, doesn't it?"
"Don't worry, sweetie. They wouldn't expect you to fight anyone."
"That's too bad."
"I tell you what," Melissa said. "You can go outside, just a brief walk around the yard, right after your nap, sugar."
Helen was too stunned to move. Sure, her lupus caused a great deal of fatigue, but it was her choice, not someone else's, when she was tired enough to go to bed. The woman was insane, thinking she could keep Helen a captive in her own cottage. Although, she thought ruefully, it wouldn't be all that difficult to do. If Helen could have leaped out of her chair and run out of the house, she would have done it by now. With the inflammation in her joints particularly bothersome today, she couldn't outrun Melissa, and wrestling her for the phone was equally out of the question.
That didn't mean Helen had to give up. She just needed to make Melissa think she'd won, long enough to escape.
Helen got to her feet, hiding her rage and pretending to be cowed. "You may be right. I'll just go lie down for a while."
Helen was halfway across the living room, when Melissa said. "I almost forgot about your other cell phone. The one in your bedroom."
"It won't bother me while I'm resting," Helen said. "I'll turn off the ringer."
"I think it would be better if I held it for you," Melissa said.
"I don't." The phone was much more of a lifeline than the nurse was; it wouldn't drown her pills or knock her over. Helen glanced at the bedroom, considered making a run for it, or at least a fast hobble, but she was too far away. She'd never get all the way there, with the door slammed shut behind her before Melissa tackled her. Realistically speaking, she wouldn't even get halfway. At least the weakness of her body hadn't spread to her brain. She would bide her time, letting Melissa think she'd won again, until Helen had a real chance to escape.
With Melissa right behind her, Helen retrieved the back-up cell phone from her nightstand and handed it over.
Melissa pocketed it. "That's a good girl."
Now she was treating Helen like a dog, and that was exactly how Helen felt. Like a whipped dog, in fact. In her own home.
Melissa was going to regret ever taking on this assignment. Maybe even regret ever having become a visiting nurse. Helen would make sure of it. Just as soon as her "nap" was over.
Melissa left, pulling the door behind he
r, but leaving it slightly ajar. "I'll be right outside here if you need me."
Not in this lifetime.
Helen sat on her bed. She wasn't tired, and she didn't need a nap, and no one was going to make her take one.
Helen shook her head ruefully. She was thinking like the child Melissa thought she was.
But Helen wasn't a child. She had resources that a child didn't have.
She pushed up off the bed and crossed the room to slam the door shut and lock it. The cottage was older than it looked, with sturdy doors and locks. Melissa couldn't break in without a battering ram.
Of course, now Helen was effectively locked into her own bedroom, as unable to leave as Melissa was to enter. Once Helen got out of here, she was getting a spare phone, maybe two, to hide for emergencies like this. The basic one in her pocket at all times, another under her pillow, and perhaps one in the bathroom, hidden within the stack of towels in the linen closet. First, though, she needed to get out of here.
Melissa was between Helen and the two exterior doors of the cottage. That left the windows. Helen peered out the nearest one. Even though the bedroom was on the first floor, there was a substantial drop to the ground. Probably six feet. Not a lot, for someone who was physically fit. A few years ago, Helen wouldn't have hesitated before jumping that short distance, although, to be honest, she'd never been tempted to sneak out of her bedroom before. No one had ever dared to treat her like a child before.
Helen unlocked the window and gave the sash a tug.
"Are you all right?" Melissa said from just outside the door. "I thought I heard a noise."
"I'm fine," Helen said. "I just dropped a book."
"Put down the book and go to sleep," Melissa said.
Now wasn't the time to argue. She needed Melissa to think she'd won. "Whatever you say."
