by Ian Fox
After lying down on his bed that evening, he thought: Christine is obviously extremely lucky.
Chapter 111
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A week later, Edna was sitting in the garden when her eyes stopped on a patch of grass. In an irregular circle, about fifteen inches in diameter, the grass had turned a light brown and it was obviously dead. How can that be possible? she wondered.
Then she remembered that that was where she’d poured the remainder of the spray, like Simon had told her to do. She got up and walked over to the patch. Maybe I didn’t add enough water. She shook her head. No, no, I did exactly what Simon told me to.
She kept staring at the patch. Poor Simon. Maybe he figured the amount of vitamins wrong. Who knows?
Edna went to get the water hose and turned it on. She stood there aiming it at the patch for more than ten minutes, washing the ground. I won’t mention this. It would just worry him for no reason.
Chapter 112
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Time flew by. Simon Patterson had been in prison for nearly three years. During this time, he’d talked to many prisoners and realized that many of them weren’t bad people at all. He’d heard many life stories and had been astonished by how far some of them had fallen. “It’s all society’s fault,” he often said.
“There are more and more criminals on television and people don’t know how to enjoy life.”
“What about you, Simon? Did society make you cut your wife’s throat?” one of the prisoners asked him.
Hesitantly, Simon answered, “My story … is too complicated.”
“All our stories are complicated. No one planned to end up in prison. It just happened.”
Dr. Patterson found it interesting how some of the prisoners socialized with each other according to what crime they had committed. For instance, there was a mainly African American group who had been involved in minor thefts. The prisoners who had been drug dealers also hung out together. Two arsonists stuck together all the time. And so Simon Patterson had to put up with prisoners who had also been accused of murdering their wives. They wouldn’t leave him alone.
Since Simon Patterson spent a lot of his time in the library, Paul Tuttle once had suggested, “We could organize book meetings. We could talk about individual books or authors.”
At first, Simon didn’t like the idea. He had never run any kind of club. But some days he got fed up with reading books and wished for proper company. He submitted to the prison administration a proposal for book meetings, which would take place twice a week in the library. At these meetings, prisoners could exchange views on various books and authors.
The administration was glad to accept his suggestion. They called him in and explained to him exactly what he could and couldn’t say at these meetings. Any kind of gathering in prison was dangerous. It could present the prisoners with an opportunity to plan a mass breakout.
They placed a round table in the library, under which they fixed microphones. All the meetings were recorded.
After being shut out from the rest of the world for so long, Simon started thinking differently than before. It seemed to him that there wasn’t such a big difference between his life before and now. Now, the prison walls were restricting him from going anywhere, whereas before he didn’t do anything but go to work and do research in his basement. So in a way, he had been the prisoner of his ambitions.
When I get out, it will be different, he thought. Since research interests me far more than surgery, I’ll find a hospital or a research center where they will take me on. I’ll be able to spend the whole day doing research and then get home and be in a good mood. After work, I’ll have some me time. I’ll read books, leaf through magazines, go for walks ….
He also established something else. He had more friends in prison than before. Because of his research, he hadn’t had the time or the will to socialize with others. And then there was Helen, who had driven away all their friends with her impossible behavior. That’s how they had ended up with only the Meltons, who were just as odd as them. No one else ever came to visit.
“You look good,” Edna once said to Simon. “You did before, but now I see a change in you. You smile a lot and make fun of yourself. You didn’t use to do that.”
And she was right. He wasn’t left with anything but to cheer up himself and others.
Chapter 113
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Simon didn’t like reading the newspapers after having seen Christine in the Mail. Even though reading the paper had been his only connection with the real world apart from Edna, he had stopped doing it for one reason only. It made him want freedom. If, for instance, he read an article about a wonderful getaway in Tunisia, he wanted it. Looking at photos with cars always made him think how nice it would be to drive along a road. If there was a description of a shopping center, he wanted to be there. He decided it was easier for him not to know anything. If there was anything important, he found it out from Warden Tuttle.
And so one afternoon, Paul Tuttle said to him, “Yesterday I read a very unusual article.”
“Really?” Simon kept his head in his book.
“Yes, I’ll show you. Look, it’s on the first page of the Mail. You have to read it.”
Reluctantly, Simon lifted his head. Tuttle had interrupted him in the middle of an interesting crime novel. “And what’s so odd about it?”
“It’s about Carlo Vucci’s widow …”
Simon felt as if a pair of strong hands was gripping his throat. He stopped breathing and turned around slightly, making the chair legs screech along the parquet. “What did you say?”
“The poor woman seems to be suffering from some kind of aging illness. Look at her, she looks about sixty.”
Astonished, Simon got up and walked toward him. “Show me the article! I must see this.” After taking a good look at the front page, he recognized her. It was Christine, but the skin on her face was so wrinkled it was almost impossible to recognize her. Her lips were cracked, her eyes had lost their shine and had large, dark bags under them. She looked awful.
He flicked through the newspaper, glancing at articles, looking for the one about her. She was covering her face with her hands on some pictures. The press were attacking her from all sides like hyenas. The article said that in the last twelve months she must have aged by at least forty years.
She had squandered her entire fortune on doctors all over the world, but no one could help her. They were all of the opinion that she was suffering from Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome, like some children do. It’s known that in rare cases children are born with this syndrome and within a short period they grow old and die. It was thought that she must have had the syndrome all along but somehow it had not affected her earlier, until something set it off at the age of twenty-three. There was no known cure.
Because of the lack of information about this rare condition, she demanded that the doctors find a cure in the shortest possible time. She offered them large amounts of money, which they gladly took. The promised results, however, had so far not materialized.
“Isn’t it terrible?” Paul asked. “The poor woman has aged a lifetime in just a year. And that it should happen after she inherited all that money from her husband.”
Simon wasn’t listening. He was completely breathless and unable to tear his eyes away from her face. He stared at her, unbelieving.
“Edna lied to me!” he said to himself, but aloud.
“What was that, Doctor?” the guard said, bewildered.
Simon laid down the newspaper. “Oh, nothing, nothing. Something occurred to me that has nothing to do with this,” he said. “Yes, it really is horrible. The poor woman is certain to snuff it very soon.”
Paul Tuttle was shocked. Simon Patterson was usually a sensitive and compassionate man, but now his face radiated a “you had it coming” sort of expression.
“Doctor,” Paul said, “what do you mean ‘snuff it’?”
> “The situation is quite clear. If she is indeed suffering from Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome and she only has a few more months to live.”
“How awful! It says this syndrome is usually associated with young children, not people her age. Imagine if the syndrome was contagious. Then no one would know if they are a carrier or when it would be activated.”
“Come on, Paul. Quit fantasizing. That’s impossible,” Simon said, waving his hand toward him.
Simon remained silent, merely nodding here and there, and let Tuttle ramble on.
Simon’s thoughts were with her, as they lay side by side and held each other, making love …. You were so beautiful, Christine. Why did you have to be so greedy?
Chapter 114
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His eyes rested on the shining semicircle slowly slipping below the horizon. He stood there, still feeling the last warm sun rays on his face. A light breeze carried the scent of the pine trees his way.
“Nature is miraculous. I love the smell of spring,” he said out loud.
Edna Weiss, who was making tea in the kitchen, asked, “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”
“I said it’s wonderful.” He lowered his gaze to the roses and enjoyed their beauty.
“They are truly beautiful,” she said as she came into the garden with two tea cups in her hands. “And you know what’s most fascinating?”
Simon sat down on a bamboo chair, which creaked under his weight. “What?”
“They have not been fertilized for more than five years, but they are still flourishing and as beautiful as they were. All the neighbors are still jealous of them.”
His smile exposed his shining teeth. “I can’t help them being jealous.”
After that they spent some time sipping tea and looking at the flowers.
Edna broke the silence. “I still can’t believe they let you out yesterday.”
“Me neither. Imagine, my sentence being reduced on account of good behavior. Still, ten years was more than enough.”
“I really can’t believe it. Do you know what you’ll do now?”
“I think that for a while I won’t do anything much. I want to get used to my freedom.” Simon Patterson thought about the bail money that Christine had sent to a special court account via Edna Weiss and which the court later wanted to return. Christine didn’t dare come for the money and so Simon, through his lawyer Leonard Hopkins, had invested it into different funds. A few months ago, their value reached seven hundred thousand dollars.
At least I’ve got something from Christine, he thought.
“I’m so happy for you.” After a short while, Edna’s expression turned serious. “Of course I’ll move out. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
“Don’t be silly, Edna,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here, with me. The house is big and there is enough space for both of us—unless I’m in your way.”
“Oh no, Simon, quite the opposite.” A tear slid from her right eye. “I don’t even know how to say this, but I’ve gotten used to the house and besides …” She wanted to tell him that she had gotten used to him as well, and could barely wait for Thursdays when she could visit him, but it was hard to say out loud.
He put his hand on top of hers and squeezed it gently. “Don’t say anything, Edna, you’re staying and that’s that.”
She sobbed and then nodded. “Thank you, Simon. A thousand thanks.”
He gazed at the flowers again. “I’ve always said that the most beautiful time of the year is—”
“When the roses bloom.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
* * * * *
About the Author
Ian Fox was born in Slovenia (EU), and has also lived in the U.S.A., France, and Germany. He is fluent in English, French, and German. Because of his extensive international experience, his books are set in the U.S.A. or Europe. Ian’s books have enjoyed great success in Europe. He has published three crime (mystery) novels that have sold very well and been ranked among the top 100 most borrowed library books in Slovenia. He is currently working on two new novels. Enthusiastic readers write to him, saying they can’t put his books down and read them in a few days. Individual libraries have ranked his works among the top ten, sometimes even the top five most-borrowed books.
Connect with me online:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ianfoxwriter
My blog: http://ianfoxwriter.blogspot.com/
About other books:
Only the Strongest Survive
(Will be published in December 2011.)
The novel opens with a hair-tingling scene, as two men kidnap Emely Donnovan, one of the wealthiest women in America, and bury her alive. What is behind this horrific crime?
Raised in a strict religious institution, Emely never knew her parents. Fearing a life of poverty, she starts up a small business that deals mainly with buying and selling stocks. Thanks to her extreme dedication and knowledge, the company grows over time into a major conglomerate. In her desire for ever greater financial security, this beautiful, ambitious CEO has accumulated a number of enemies.
But now she finds herself locked in the basement of a remote house in the middle of a forest, watched over by one of her captors who makes her buy and sell stocks for him so he can get rich. Her challenge to survive becomes even more complicated when Emely’s captor falls in love with her. …
Forget About the Past
(Will be published after February 2012.)
Reporter Anya Horvat, who works at Clarice, a weekly women’s magazine, has relationship problems with men. She is thirty-five years old, yet has never had a single relationship that lasted more than two months. This reality prompts her to consult the well-known and successful psychiatrist, Patricia Bellows, who is later found horribly murdered. Anya has never dealt with a murder investigation before, but when her boss literally forces her to take the assignment, she begins to uncover the murdered psychiatrist’s intriguing past—and at the same time, the source of her own problems. …
