Double Threat

by F. Paul Wilson

  I ate too much.

  Pard slouched across from her, his belly distended to an absurd degree. (“Me too. If you’re stuffed, I’m stuffed.”)

  Well, I don’t look like that.

  (“Maybe not, but this is what it feels like. You really went to town on the meat, and finished the salad too.”)

  Well, no one else was too interested in it.

  “I hope you left room for afters,” Gram called from the kitchen.

  (“Dessert…?”)

  “I don’t think I can eat another bite,” Daley called back.

  “I made burnt orrrrranges.” She said it in a singsong tone because she knew Daley loved burnt oranges.

  (“Burnt oranges?”)

  A Gram special. It’s 327 percent sugar. Maybe more. Besides the sugar there’s butter and baked oranges in a combination of orange juice and sweet white wine boiled down to a syrup. And of course, a little Irish whisky.

  (“All their desserts, it seems, contain a little Irish whisky.”)

  Pretty much.

  “Okay” Daley called. “Just a taste.”

  (“I abdicate all responsibility here.”)

  Back at the table, Daley was very proud she limited herself to one serving. And only one cup of coffee.

  (“She’s pouring whisky into it!”)

  Of course. You can’t get coffee in Gram’s without a little Jameson or Baileys along for the ride.

  (“Good thing you had no plans to drive tonight. If you were stopped for a bad taillight or something, it might be hard to explain why the inside of your car smelled like a distillery.”)

  She pushed the coffee aside, untouched.

  I want you to run a diagnostic on Gram.

  (“Ooh, is that a good idea? You may not like what I find.”)

  But you may find something you can fix.

  (“And I may find something I can’t. I have my limits, you know.”)

  She knew but …

  I have to know.

  (“Okay. Find a way to make contact.”)

  I’ll try the palm reading approach again. Worked in that doctor’s office.

  Gram was seated across the small kitchen table, reaching for her cigarette pack. Daley grabbed her hand.

  “How about I read your palm?”

  “No! That’s witchcraft! It’s a sin!”

  Gram tried to pull away but Daley held on.

  “Not if you don’t believe in it, and I don’t. It’s just a parlor game. Let me have a look.”

  Gram relaxed and opened her palm. “Okay. But quick now.”

  “Let’s see,” she said as she cradled Gram’s hand in her own and tried to remember what she’d been force-fed at thirteen. She touched the eminence at the base of the thumb. “This is the Mount of Venus…”

  (“Okay, she’s open. I’m going in.”) Pard faded out.

  She moved her finger across the palm. “And this is the Mount of the Moon.”

  “There’s a life line, isn’t there?” Gram said. “Where would you be finding that?”

  Daley knew it ran along the inside of the Mount of Venus but she needed to drag this out.

  “Let’s see if I remember. Somewhere along here, I think.”

  “Is it long?”

  “Well, I threw you a party for your seventieth birthday last year, so, yeah, it’s long. Probably be longer if you didn’t smoke.”

  Gram started to drag her hand away. “Is that what this is about? An excuse to tell me to quit smoking?”

  Daley held fast. “Have I ever needed an excuse to tell you to quit?”

  “Well, no.”

  “I do it every time I see you.” She pulled hand closer. “There’s a heart line here somewhere…”

  How we doing, Pard?

  (“Almost finished.”)

  Finished? Finished with what?

  (“Gimme a sec … there. Okay. Done.”)

  What did you do?

  (“She has a lung tumor—bigger than Lynn’s—but I choked it off. Strangled it. It’s dead. I couldn’t find any spread but we should recheck her in a month just to be sure. That’s the good news.”)

  Lung cancer is the good news? What’s the bad?

  (“Heart disease. Her coronary arteries are caked with plaque. She’s a heart attack waiting to happen.”)

  Well, fix it.

  (“Sorry. Nothing I can do to remove plaque.”)

  “Crap,” she said aloud before she could catch herself.

  “What?” Gram said. “What’s wrong?”

  Damn, what do I tell her?

  (“Tell her the truth. She needs to know.”)

  Yeah, she did.

  Daley cleared her throat and said, “Trouble with your heart line.”

  Gram snatched her hand away and pressed it against her chest. “Me heart? What are you finding wrong with me heart?”

  “The arteries are clogged. Do you get chest pains?”

  “No. I get out of breath easy but I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  Daley leaned forward and fixed her with the most intense stare she could muster. “You must see a cardiologist—a heart doctor.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Please? If not for yourself, for me?”

  “Well…”

  “Promise me you’ll call a heart doctor tomorrow and make an appointment. Promise?”

  “Oh, all right. Seamus sees one.”

  “Seamus sees what?” Seamus said as he wandered back in from wherever he’d wandered off to.

  “You see a heart doctor?” Daley said. “Will you call and make an appointment for Gram?”

  He frowned and stared at his sister. “You’re having chest pains?”

  Gram rose and headed for her room, waving her hands in the air. “I’ll not be feeling anything but worried right now. Make the appointment and I’ll go. I don’t want to be hearing any more of this. I’m going to bed.”

  Daley pointed a finger at Seamus. “Make sure she goes. I’m counting on you, Unk.”

  “Oh, don’t you be worrying, dearie. I’ll get her there.”

  “And while you’re at it, she needs to quit smoking. Now. And she can’t quit while you’re puffing away in front of her. I know you love her, so you know what you’ve got to do.”

  He sighed, then nodded. “The heart doctor has been after me forever about that. I guess we’re both overdue.”

  He left Daley alone in the kitchen. Well, not alone. Alone was a thing of the past.

  Thanks for handling the tumor.

  (“She means a lot to you, and you mean a lot to me.”)

  Aw, I didn’t know you cared.

  (“Why are you so uncomfortable with gestures of affection, or someone simply saying something nice to you?”)

  Daley’s throat tightened at the thought of Gram dropping dead from a heart attack.

  Because nothing lasts. Not even Gram, apparently.

  (“I’m the exception. I’m forever.”)

  Daley grabbed her cooling coffee and gulped, very glad for the stiff shot of Jameson in it.

  TUESDAY—MARCH 3

  1

  “We discussed bringing in a mobile substation,” Dad was saying as he paced Rhys’s office, “but Tadhak says the capacity won’t be enough. So we’re bringing in a high-capacity model to Tadhak’s specs that will—” He stopped and pointed to Rhys’s computer. “What are you waiting for? Shouldn’t you be running last night’s scans?”

  “Sorry. Just listening.”

  “Well, can’t you listen while the computer’s crunching the numbers?”

  “Of course.”

  Rhys had the scans all loaded and ready for analysis, but he’d been waiting for his father to leave. Dad, however, seemed to think Rhys needed a rundown—the second, counting dinnertime last night—of how he’d spent yesterday. He held his breath as he pressed ENTER and waited.

  The solid state drive didn’t whir as it ran the numbers, so the only sound was Dad’s voice. But that stopped wi
th a gasp when THE DUAD MUST GO popped onto the bottom of the report.

  Shit.

  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he said in a hushed tone.

  “It’s kind of hard to miss.”

  His father stared at the screen in silence for a seemingly interminable moment, then straightened.

  “In a way, this makes perfect sense.”

  “How so?”

  “We’re approaching a critical juncture in the history of the clan and this woman, this Duad, is ready to threaten everything. And so she must go.”

  “What are you talking about when you say ‘go’?”

  “I mean out of town, gone. What did you think I meant? She’s trouble and she needs to be sent packing.”

  “I think you’re operating on some shaky assumptions there, Dad. First off, you don’t know if she’s really this mysterious Duad. And second—”

  “The real problem, Rhys, is that you’ve let the clan down. You were supposed to find out about her, but what have you learned? Nothing. You took her to the test Thursday night and what did you learn? Nothing.”

  “I told you, I had to attend—”

  “And what have you learned since then?”

  “I’ve learned that she’s out of town.”

  That seemed to give him pause. “Where is she?”

  “I’ve been looking for her but can’t find her. Maybe she skipped. Who knows? Maybe that message should read, ‘The Duad has up and gone.’”

  “Only one way to be sure. Drive me down there.”

  He didn’t mean in a while, he meant now. So a few minutes later they were both in the Land Rover.

  “This will save me a lot of trouble if she really is gone,” his father said as Rhys coasted them down the hill.

  “What sort of trouble?”

  His father stared straight ahead. “Let’s leave that on a need-to-know basis.”

  Rhys knew his father wouldn’t elaborate so he didn’t bother asking. What a drama queen.

  He slowed as they passed Healerina. The CLOSED sign was still up

  “Well, that’s a good sign,” Dad said.

  “It’s still a bit early. Let’s check for her car. She parks around back.”

  “Well, at least you’ve learned something about her.”

  Rhys bit his tongue and steered around to the rear. And still no car.

  “Not here,” Rhys said, and turned back to the street. “The mystery is: Where did she go and why?”

  “I don’t care, as long as she’s gone.”

  Just as he reached the street, Daley’s Subaru, stuffed with furniture and personal belongings, turned in. She gave a quick wave as she passed and kept going.

  “Mystery solved,” his father said. “Time for the old man to take over, I guess.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He paused, chewing his inner cheek. Finally he seemed to reach a decision.

  “You rolled your eyes the other day when I mentioned the porthors.”

  Of course he did. They were the equivalent of green men from Mars.

  “Well, my boy, tonight you’re going to see them. I don’t think your introduction to the inner secrets can wait till you’re thirty. With things coming to a head as they are, I see no choice but to start your education a little early.”

  2

  Estelle returned to Healerina around midday on Tuesday.

  Daley had conked out early at Gram’s last night. The wine and the booze-infused dessert and coffee had played a big part in that, but it turned out to be a good thing because she had to be up and out extra early to make that endless trek through the desert to Nespodee Springs in time to open the shop at ten.

  “It worked!” Estelle cried as she ran into the shop, arms open wide.

  An instant later Daley found herself wrapped in those arms as Estelle began sobbing on her shoulder.

  “Wh-what worked, Estelle?”

  (“I think you have a pretty good idea.”)

  Of course I do, but gotta play it cool.

  Estelle backed off to arm’s length and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “The ulcer … it’s healed!”

  Yes!

  Daley noticed how a pair of local women who’d wandered in were staring with wondering looks. They’d heard. Not necessarily a bad thing.

  “Are you sure? How do you know?”

  “I went to my gastro and told him all about you and how you were helping to heal my ulcer so I wouldn’t need surgery.”

  (“Yikes. No wonder he called Consumer Affairs.”)

  “That’s not quite—”

  She waved Daley off. “Or I said something like that. Anyway, the thing is, I demanded that he scope me again to see what the ulcer looked like. He was against it as a waste of time but I can be very persistent where my health is concerned. Well, he didn’t have an opening until yesterday so he finally agreed to fit me in.”

  “And?”

  “Just wait now. I had my healing stone and I kept it with me day and night over the weekend. And when he finished the endoscope he said the ulcer was healed!” She squealed. “He couldn’t find a trace of it! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “It’s fabulous.”

  “No, wait—I should say you’re wonderful!”

  (“Actually, I’m wonderful.”)

  “I can’t say—”

  “You healed me!”

  “No-no. I didn’t do it—you did it. You healed yourself. Never forget that. I simply put you and your stone together to focus your own healing powers on the ulcer.”

  “Well, whatever. The upshot is the ulcer’s gone and I don’t need to lose part of my stomach. And to show my appreciation…” She reached into her shoulder bag.

  (“Let’s hope she’s very appreciative.”)

  She handed Daley a check, saying, “This is for you.”

  Daley gave it a quick glance and tried to appear nonchalant.

  Two thousand … that’ll help.

  “Very generous of you, Estelle,” Daley said, immediately folding it and stuffing it in her pocket. Who knew? The woman might change her mind. “I’m just glad I could help.”

  “I’m hoping you can help my sister as well. Her back pain makes her life miserable. I brought her along…”

  3

  Daley stood at the window and watched Estelle and her older sister Sharon drive away in Estelle’s big Lexus SUV.

  (“We won’t be getting any glowing reviews from Sharon, I’m afraid,”) Pard said from the window. (“Osteoarthritis is mostly wear and tear. I can’t turn back time.”)

  Estelle will make up for her sister.

  Daley had made sure to make a point of that to the sisters, but had “imprinted” a stone on Sharon anyway. If they all were lucky, she might benefit from some placebo effect.

  Estelle, on the other hand, said she’d already been on Facebook raving about Healerina. Who knew where that would lead?

  Maybe there’s a future in this after all.

  (“I’m sure there is.”)

  I’m going to have to open a bank account in El Centro and deposit this check.

  (“Wow. We’re putting down roots. I might go so far as to say—oh, dear.”)

  A Ford F-150 double-cab was nosing into the curb outside.

  Daley’s chest constricted. “That looks like…”

  (“It is: Deputy Alvarez.”)

  “Do you think she had the scan?”

  She watched Alvarez lift his daughter out of the rear compartment and carry her toward the shop.

  (“Look at him. Can there be any question?”)

  He looked terrible. His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes baggy, and he needed a shave.

  Yeah … she’d had the scan.

  Unlike her father, Araceli looked fine.

  Alvarez stopped just inside the doorway and stared at her.

  “How did you know?” he said. “How could you possibly have known?”

  “Like I said—it’s an instinct
.”

  That is what I told him, right?

  (“Right.”)

  “Whatever it is, I just want to say…” His voice choked off.

  “Here…” She pulled a chair over to the table where the quartz stones were displayed. “Araceli, why don’t you stand on this chair and look through the pretty stones and find one you like.”

  “Okay!” she said.

  Alvarez set his daughter on the chair and immediately she began sifting through the stones. Daley drew him aside. She noticed his eyes were red.

  “Tell me about it.”

  He took a deep breath. “Well, after we left here Saturday, her headache got worse. What you said about getting a scan kept going through my head, so I took her to the emergency room at the medical center. They know me there so they listened when I demanded they scan her head. The CT showed a growth in her brain. That’s what they called it—a ‘growth.’”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “But you knew … you knew. Anyway, they needed an MRI to get a better look and couldn’t schedule that till yesterday. And it showed…” He choked back a sob. “They’re pretty sure it’s something called a malignant glioblastoma.”

  Can you do something, Pard?

  (“It’s still small so, yes, I’m pretty sure. But I’ve got to get in first.”)

  I’ll find a way.

  (“You sound pretty sure.”)

  Like the song goes, I was raised on robbery.

  She cocked her head toward Araceli who was humming softly as she played with the stones.

  “She looks pretty good right now. Much better than on Saturday.”

  “They’ve got her on prednisone. It’s made a world of difference in her symptoms but it’s only temporary. We have an appointment at Children’s Hospital up in LA tomorrow.” Another deep breath. “I took the week off. They say they’re going to want to arrange a biopsy of the tumor because they need to know exactly what they’re treating.”

  “Does she know about it?”

  “All we’ve told her so far is that we’re getting her help for her headaches. I don’t think she’d understand brain tumor. I mean, she could grasp something bad growing inside her head, I guess, but we don’t want to go there. At least not yet.”

  “What’s the outlook?”

  He pressed his mouth into the crook of his arm as a sob broke free. A tear ran down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away and glanced at his daughter to check if she’d seen. But Araceli was engrossed in the stones.