Complicated Care

by Denise M. Hartman

  Antonio grabbed her arm and pulled her close. He hissed, “Señor Rafael is a killer.” He looked into her eyes for her assent or belief then pretend spat at the floor.

  She thought that wasn’t the name the reporter had said. It didn’t ring the same. She’d have to go look at her notes. Spanish didn’t really stick in her head.

  Tonio said,“He’s been running the cruelest political prisoner camp in Cuba for 40 years. He has killed more men than Che, but they don’t know about him outside. Most die after his torture. He’s a cousin to the Castros and well protected.” He said a few choice words in Spanish; at least that’s how it seemed to Blanche. “We cannot allow him to get away with this. He kills his own people. My people. Mi familia. Mi tio, mi tia...” He seemed to float away to a distant memory.

  Blanche felt sure in his stupor Antoinio believed this to be true that Señor whats-his-face lurked in another wing of this building. You had to base these accusations on proof before you go around crying “political assassin” though. One angry Cuban retiree would have a tough sell to the cops.

  “What phone number are you looking for?” Blanche figured that was something tangible she could do. Sheriff’s office or something?

  “My brother’s.”

  “Wait, you don’t have your own brother’s number?”

  Antonio looked out the window, “Ostras.” He finally met her eye and said, “My brother put me here to get me out of the way, and he doesn’t want me to contact him.”

  “So who does this place call when you’re all zonked out?” Blanche pointed at the door in the direction of the nurse’s station.

  “Probably his wife who never liked me and would be happy if they called to say I was muerto.” He looked glum.

  Practical secretary Blanche said, “Get a copy of your medical records. It’s bound to have some numbers in it. Shouldn’t we just call immigration or something? Your, uh, Señor killer guy can’t be legal.”

  Both of Antonio’s wiry hands clenched her arm. He almost touched his nose to her and hissed. “No, not that. The government does not care.” He swore, “They will create paperwork while he gets away.”

  She looked into his dark droopy eyes. “Uhm, I can try to call someone I know at the police department and see if they can get the number for your brother?”

  He shouted, “No policia!” She jumped and he released her arm. She shifted away. “He will kill me.”

  “Your brother or the other guy?”

  “No. My brother, he should not have dealings with the police. He would not...like it.” He shook his head.

  “So, how do you know this Señor of the Cuba camp is really here?”

  “Shhhh. Madre mia. Mira, the night before last, I heard Lolita from your friend’s room. She was crying out in Spanish. I went to my door to see what was happening. I thought maybe I would find out why she is so angry. I looked into the hall and I saw a young man related to Señor Rafael coming out of her room. He must have a reason to be here. You see?” He glanced around the empty room, leaned close and whispered, “I also have sources in Cuba who say Rafael was preparing to leave. I think he was bad to poor Lolita. She just disappeared, pobrecita. Edna and I were drugged because we noticed and asked questions about what happened to Lolita. Also so we cannot hear the helicopter and be nosey again. It adds up.”

  Not enough, Blanche thought. Antonio’s intense earnestness couldn’t be disregarded. How does one handle it if indeed a vicious torturer flies into a luxurious island in Florida for a facelift, Blanche wondered. Stranger things than that did occur in Florida everyday. What could the care center have done with the poor Cuban singer Lolita? Could she have moved to another center that quickly? Or was Edna right and they’d killed her in the night?

  “What will he do if he changes his face? Where can evil despots really go?” She asked Tonio.

  “With a new face, he could move into your condo. He could move onto 8th street in Miami next house over to someone he raped and killed their sister. He can do whatever he wants here,” Antonio pointed to his face, “but he will kill again.” Antonio pointed to his heart. “Señor is vicious and enjoys the killing.”

  “Why would he leave it then?”

  “That’s part of what I must find out. A strange thing and it’s not good. Things are changing in Cuba. A power play or he killed the wrong person?”

  “Retirement?” Blanche suggested a more innocent idea.

  Tonio looked distant. “Now is our chance. If we don’t do something more people will die, por cierto.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Blanche retrieved her purse from behind the TV in Edna’s room and booked it out of the care center. The health wing assured Blanche, Edna should be back in her own room tomorrow after the tests came back. Blanche wished she could ask them to test for potentially illegal drugs in Edna’s system, but then they’d think Edna was using. She didn’t know who was giving the drugs, so it was hard to know who to trust.

  She’d just have to tote the package for Antonio back to Greg’s house with her and smuggle it back tomorrow. She couldn’t risk leaving it in sticky fingers land. Nor was she willing to risk the walk back after sunset by taking it up to Antonio now.

  The sun glowed pink behind the horizon of jungle trees. No time was left to dally or run errands back up to the health wing.

  She walked down the hall holding her purse casually by one hand at her side recalling Frank’s advice about the purse making her look like a visitor. She followed an exit sign until she realized it directed her to the main entrance. The chemical cleaning products and body smells suffocated her. It wasn’t a dirty place, but it didn’t smell like a house either. She back tracked feeling sweat creep around the base of her bouffant hair-do. She needed out of elder jail.

  She needed to escape the sensation she could be spotted any minute as an interloper. She needed to get inside Greg’s house before total darkness. Her anxiety clamped down on her tightening her chest.

  When Harry, the bald cheapskate, had died after they’d moved to Florida 13 years ago leaving her a widow, she’d developed what must be anxiety attacks according to all she’d read. She’d never told her doctor or her kids that darkness suddenly became strangely incapacitating. It was a real let down to have this problem at her age, and she didn’t need the humiliation. Nor the concern for her mind that would follow.

  She’d worked really hard after some recent incidents involving darkness and the trunk of a car. She’d been doing much better until tonight. Too much tension maybe.

  Finally, she found the secret exit where Frank had brought her in. She looked around before letting herself out. Thankfully no alarms sounded despite the placards on the door that said they would. Good ole Frank.

  She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and reassured herself as she walked through the grounds. She’d worked hard at overcoming anxiety and succeeded if somewhat moderately. She’d started working the evening volunteer shift at the police kiosk. She’d gone to dinner when friends were in town instead of just lunch. The added stress of an old folks home and the need for stealth ate at her. Surely that was all that made her body quiver.

  This was not regression in anxiety. She repeated this in rhythm with her heartbeat as she plunged into the nearly complete darkness of the tiny foot path that led through the foliage back to the main road. She had to go this way to keep from showing herself at the front entrance.

  When she broke out on the tarmac road, it seemed lighter and she could still see the sliver of pink at the base of the darkening sky. She took a deep breath and double timed her steps toward the Dragon’s ex husband’s mansion. This was much better. She told herself she was fine.

  Blanche managed the keys for the outside gate in the near darkness. She tiptoed through the yard. A few landscaping lights under lit the flower beds and trees surrounding the Colonial Spanish mansion.

  She made her way around back as instructed and slipped the key into the kitchen door. She started to push
when she heard a man scream, “Who’s there?” Not shout, but scream.

  She pushed the door open a crack to peek. A man in Bermuda shorts and an expensive looking plaid dress shirt pointed a taser at the door. She put her head in and said, “I’m, uh, Edna’s, uh cousin.”

  Something brushed against her leg, and it was her turn to scream and do a little dance. So much for stately dignity at her age.

  Greg swore, “Now, you’ve let the cat out.”

  Blanche eased her way inside further as Greg put the taser on the cabinet and wiped his face with both hands. She noticed his hands shook. Stress oozed off the guy. It made her own anxiety shrink plus indoor lights helped too.

  Blanche said, “It’s an island. How far can a cat go?”

  Greg gave a brittle laugh. “It’s an island full of alligators. My girls love that cat.” He shook his head. “Their mom won’t let them have one at her house.”

  Blanche opened the back door again and peered into the shadowy landscaping.

  “Kitty?”

  “His name is Potter.”

  Without turning back around to look at Greg, Blanche called out the name to the darkness. She felt terrible the cat might get eaten but did not intend to go poke around in the dark bushes. Potter could surely climb a tree a lot faster than Blanche could. He probably wasn’t afraid of the dark either.

  “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize there was a cat in the house.”

  Greg turned back to the granite counter top where he fixed a big Dagwood style sandwich.

  “I didn’t think Edna had any cousins.” He leaned his back against the counter and took a big bite out of the sandwich raising a blond eyebrow.

  Blanche hesitated not knowing how much Diane might have told or what advantages she might have putting ex-husband Greg in the loop or keeping him out of it.

  Evasion seemed the best route. She plopped her big white pocketbook on a bar chair and pointed to the fridge. “Do you mind?”

  He chewed and shook his head.

  She found the tuna salad in a glass container with a lid and some nice bakery bread. Bless Ester the housekeeper. Blanche scanned the counters for a toaster. Greg seemed to read her thoughts and pointed to a corner cabinet that met the counter.

  She opened it and discovered a host of appliances hunched inside and corresponding outlets to service them. Nice set up. She turned her back to organize the toast. It certainly wasn’t going to be easy to be Greg’s house guest. “Had you forgotten I was coming? You seem nervous.”

  She turned around to face him and he gave her a harsh blue eyed stare. He shrugged not taking his eyes away from her.

  “Is the island dangerous?” She didn’t want to seem like she was mocking the nervous Greg, but it seemed too tricky to get here to be riddled with robbers and thieves in Blanche’s experience so far. Diane must have some reason for, well worry wasn’t the right word, suspicions.

  He avoided her eye and said, “I suppose it depends on what you mean by danger.”

  “Home invasions?” She shimmied up on to one of the bar stools next to her purse and picked up her sandwich.

  He squinted hard at her again. “How’s an old lady like you know a phrase like that? Who sent you really?” He leaned his tall body across the counter and poked her in the shoulder. “Did they send you to spy on me?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Blanche pushed a lump of tuna salad sandwich down her dry throat with a hard swallow.

  “What do you mean? Who send me where? Who are you expecting? Didn’t Diane call you?”

  Greg rolled his eyes and turned to put his plate in the sink. Blanche disapproved of that. The dishwasher sat empty and ready to fill.

  “Diane hasn’t shot straight with me for years. I have no reason to believe any story she tells me. Is she the one trying to spy on me? Or are you working for someone else?” He brushed crumbs from his fingers. He came over and leaned toward her perch on the bar stool across the marble counter again.

  Blanche decided for now she should not reveal all. “Look, call her and talk to her. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here to check on Edna. The Drag...” Blanche stopped herself.

  Greg smirked. “You really do know Edna!”

  “I told you but...”

  “I found out her pet name for her daughter when Diane and I were married. I actually liked Edna all the better for it. Somehow she knew she’d created a monster.” He shook his head again, “She’s a real piece of work, the Dragon.”

  “She’s wondering if the Royale Cove Care Center is a good place for Edna.” Blanche ate her sandwich with deliberate slowness despite her hunger and watched Greg’s face.

  “After all the bullying she did to me to get Edna in there, she’s worried? No, no, I don’t buy that. It’s gotta be something else. She threatened to go to court again over the kids’ custody, so I’d help get Edna in there. She knows the girls are my weak spot. She threw a serious fit to get Edna accepted. I’m not buying you’re out here because she’s worried.” Now he sounded disgusted.

  Blanche drank some of her milk to wash the sandwich down her nervous dry throat. “That’s what she said when she came to see me.” The first time anyway, Blanche thought.

  “And you just rushed right out here?”

  Blanche flushed a little. “Not immediately.”

  “Ah, so the Dragon got to you too?”

  “Well, I had a call from Edna. She said some weird things happened to her. So I came for Edna’s sake.” That bit was true. “I’m sorry if I’m an inconvenience.”

  “It’s not that. The housekeeper will take care of you, but I know Diane’s personality. She cares about her mother in her unique way, but this isn’t her way of showing it. This is her way of spying on people. She bullies people into doing dirty work for her. I should know.”

  “What would she be after?” Blanche felt curious about his take on it since he knew Diane so well.

  “It’s got to be one of her work projects or spying on me for some reason to get me out of the loop with the kids. She still wants this house for herself, but I owned it when we married. Unless...” his gaze zeroed in on Blanche again, “you’re feeding me crap and someone else sent you with her assistance. She would make a pack with the devil if she saw a personal benefit.”

  “Who else wants to know about you? Who is the devil?”

  “None of your business.” He picked up his phone and poked around on it. He cursed the signal. “You’d think with all these rich people out here someone would build a cell tower that works.”

  “Speaking of that, I need to get online and look up some codes for Medicare.” And a few other things like despots in Cuba she would keep to herself.

  “Well, take your phone out to the end of the patio or out by the dock and you should be all set.” He snorted while looking at his phone. “Once in a while it works elsewhere though.”

  “Don’t you have a computer I could use? I’m not real good with the phone. Diane just gave it to me.”

  The full attention of his blue gaze bored into her again. “What? Give me that.”

  Blanche fished it out of her bag suspicious of him as well. He snatched it from her.

  He pushed and poked at all the little pictures that didn’t mean anything to Blanche. He snapped off a rubber shell Blanche assumed was part of the phone.

  He grunted and held a tiny disk up to his eye.

  “What’s that?” Blanche was mesmerized by the doodads of technology but still a novice.

  “A tracker.” He studied the case he’d pulled off. “What’s the extra battery for?”

  “I didn’t know there was one. She wants me to record some conversations at the center. She showed me how to turn that record feature on, but I don’t know much else.”

  Blanche watched as he fiddled and grunted. She hoped he didn’t break anything.

  “Of course.” He blinked at her with his bright blue eyes. “Were you planning on receiving phone calls on this wh
ile you were here?”

  “Uhm,” Blanche didn’t know where this was going. “The Dragon told me to call her and I’ve not had a cell phone before, so no one calls me. I don’t think I actually know the number even if I wanted to give it out.” Blanche looked away. She didn’t like to admit ignorance to technology or anything else.

  “Well, Diane had this set up where she could listen to everything you say whenever she wants.”

  Blanche’s heart skipped a beat. “What? It wasn’t on though. I didn’t try to record.”

  “No, she had it set up where she could call it and hear everything in range.”

  Blanche thought of Antonio’s paranoid descriptions of his worries at the care center. She didn’t know if his concerns were legitimate, but it was not for Diane’s ears. She was way too interested in everyone else’s business.

  “Turn that off, so it can’t happen.” Blanche felt angry by the idea she’d been a victim of spying by the Dragon even if nothing had been said.

  “There’ll be hell to pay. She won’t like it.”

  Blanche knew where to go with this. “I’m an old lady and I’m sure I just pushed some buttons I didn’t understand.” She raised her eyebrows in a shrug.

  He explained, “It’s on auto answer and silent. I could put it to ring and whenever she tunes in you’d hear it ring.” He grinned, “You could yank her chain. I bet she’s using the GPS to see when you are in the center and listen in.” He got a sour look on his face. “Or she could have heard everything you just said to me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Greg finally handed the phone back to Blanche all rigged up so she’d know when Diane listened. She’d had him put the tracker back too. Blanche didn’t want Diane the Dragon to know Blanche knew her tricks just yet.

  He said, “Just go out on the end of the patio. You should be good.”

  No, it would not be good, but Blanche didn’t want to admit that his alligator comment had gotten to her or that she wasn’t thrilled with sitting in the darkness by a bit of landscaping light. Or that she didn’t actually know how to get online with the phone.