by Ann Warner
A couple of Ambien here, a Vicodan there, but it was taking time to accumulate enough. And in the meantime, I discovered I wasn’t sure I’d have the guts to go through with it. It’s one thing to know you’re so old you probably have less than five years to live; it’s a cat of a different color contemplating doing something to hasten your demise.
The day I decided that not only would I be unable to take the pills after all, but that it wasn’t the only solution to my problem, was the day I was visiting the Todhoffers, and Herman showed me his stamp collection. That visit changed my perspective and my thinking 180 degrees. You see, I discovered I didn’t need to die to free up resources. There were resources going to waste sitting right under my nose in the apartments of other residents.
On the fateful day when Herman invited me into his study to see his stamps, I almost said I wasn’t interested. But Dot insisted I go with him. We left her watching, well, not watching, listening to something on the television.
The star of Herman’s collection was a stamp with an old-fashioned airplane on it. What made it valuable was that the airplane had been printed upside down. An inverted Jenny, I think he called it. He claimed it was worth $40,000. I didn’t believe him, but when I checked on it using the computer in the community room, I discovered he was right.
When he died suddenly a couple of weeks later, I visited Dot and helped myself to the stamp. I simply asked to use her bathroom and then took a quick detour into the study where Herman kept his stamps, right there in a drawer that he didn’t even bother to lock.
I slipped it between the pages of the book I’d brought for that express purpose, then I made sure I wiped my fingerprints off the desk, just in case. But I really wasn’t expecting Dot to miss the stamp anytime soon, if ever. She’s nearly blind, you see, and Herman told me she’d always found his stamps boring.
I waited several months to see if it would be missed, but it seemed I’d got clean away. Until recently, that is, when it came to light the stamp was missing. By then I’d given it to Baxter to sell. I told him the stamp originally belonged to his grandfather and that it was only by chance I’d checked and discovered it was worth a good deal of money. I requested he sell it anonymously because I didn’t want to deal with any publicity.
The fact it’s now known to be missing is a bit concerning, although I do think I’ve covered my tracks.
I have several more items I plan to give Baxter to sell. I’ll tell him the baseball card belonged to his father and the necklace belonged to my mother, since Baxter might remember that Charles never gave me presents.
I do think it’s best that I wait, though, until the current fuss with the police dies down.
Chapter Thirty
Mac
The day after Eddie attacked Devi, our dispatcher had news for me when I arrived at the station mid-morning. I’d been delayed on the way in by a shoplifting incident at Kroger.
“You know that suspect you talked to yesterday?” she said.
“You don’t mean Eddie Colter, do you?”
“I do indeed. Mr. Colter is alleging entrapment, and he’s filed a complaint against you. He’s also filed one against someone named . . .” she looked down, obviously checking her notes, “Devi Subramanian for assaulting him.”
“I hope you’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Paperwork’s on your desk, and the chief wants to talk to you.”
The chief, who’s been in that position for over twenty years, takes citizen complaints very seriously. Feeling uneasy, I knocked on his door and was invited to come in and sit down—a good sign. Anyone not offered a seat knows they’re in serious difficulty.
“Just wanted to check on a couple of things about this kerfuffle at Brookside yesterday,” the chief said. “I had an Eddie Colter and his attorney in here first thing this morning, complaining. Saying you didn’t tell him you were recording the session, and you didn’t Mirandize him. He also claims you took advantage of him when he was in great pain from the attack and didn’t know what he was saying.”
“I didn’t Mirandize him since I wasn’t arresting him. I was simply trying to clarify his complaint.”
“I know. I’ve listened to the interviews, read the report. And I’ve seen the man. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s willing to admit that a woman managed to do that much damage.” He sighed. “I don’t think Judge Judy would give him ten seconds, but he’s got a lawyer, so we’ll have to be careful how we follow this up.”
“If you’ve listened to the recording, you know he has no basis for pressing charges against Ms. Subramanian.” I wasn’t worried about the other complaint since in Ohio it’s legal to record a conversation as long as one of the parties knows it’s being recorded.
Besides, not only did I inform Eddie I was recording, as an officer of the law, it’s standard procedure for me to record interactions with citizens. But the complaint against Devi could cause problems—for her.
“He’s the one who initiated their interaction by grabbing her and then shoving her.”
“That may well be,” the chief said, “but he’s alleging an overreaction on her part, and I have the impression he plans to push this thing all the way, although I expect him to drop the complaint against the department. I think that tactic was merely an attempt to get the recording thrown out. But even if his case is weak, he can force Ms. Subramanian into court, and that could cost her a considerable amount.”
“The man is delusional. She was defending herself.”
“Sure of that, are you?”
“I am.”
The chief sat back and gave me a long look. Then he sighed again. “You’re a good detective, Mac. And I happen to agree with your assessment of how this went down. But I’m not the judge here. You better let her know she needs to hire an attorney.”
While I was glad to have another excuse to see Devi, I was also frustrated, on her behalf, that Colter wouldn’t just quietly accept defeat and go away.
~ ~ ~
I called Devi, and she agreed to a meeting at a café near Brookside. When she arrived, the sight of her made my heart lift, and the otherwise dull day seemed suddenly brighter.
Despite my determination to avoid a relationship with her, I was beginning to wonder if the universe might have other ideas, the way we kept being forced into each other’s company.
Once we had cups of coffee and tea respectively, we chose a table in the corner by the window.
“How’s your arm?”
She pushed up her sleeve. A bracelet of dark finger marks on her upper arm was turning shades of purple, green, and yellow.
“Sore?”
She nodded.
“And your head?”
“It hurts, and I have a headache.”
I sighed, knowing I’d be making the headache worse. “Colter has decided to press charges of assault against you.”
She set her tea down and swallowed, then she bent her head. I reached out and tipped her face up. She wasn’t crying, but I judged it a near thing. Had Colter walked in at that moment, it would have been a struggle not to throttle the man.
I took my hand back. “The good news is that I recorded him admitting he’d shorted people on their change. He’s also on the record saying he initiated the interaction with you, contradicting his first version.”
“Why is he doing this?”
“Revenge, I expect. You made him look weak. He’s also going to claim I recorded him without his knowledge in an attempt to get my recording thrown out. It’s unlikely to be successful, but if it is . . . well, he did look a lot worse for the encounter than you did.”
“What am I going to do?”
“You need to hire a good lawyer.”
She shook her head. “I can’t afford it.”
“You can’t afford not to.” I wanted to add that I’d help, but that was so highly inappropriate, I clamped my mouth shut.
Her hands restlessly pleated her napkin. Without thinking, I took those hands between mine, hoping
to provide warmth and comfort. Wishing it could be more.
But I was involved with her case as the investigating officer. Holding hands in a public place like this was not a good idea.
I let go.
Chapter Thirty-One
Devi
After telling me Eddie was planning to sue me, Mac walked me to my car. I drove back to Brookside and knocked on Josephine’s door.
Josephine opened the door wide, gesturing for me to come in. “I’m so glad you’ve come directly here, dear. Mac just called and told me what’s going on with Eddie. We need to talk about finding you an attorney. Do you prefer a man or a woman? My treat, of course.”
“It’s sweet of you to offer, Josephine. But I can’t possibly accept.”
“Why not? You’ve been falsely accused. And the incident happened here, where I’m living. I consider it my duty as a resident to see that justice is done. Besides, you do realize I have an awful lot of money and not many places to spend it. Please don’t deny me this opportunity to ensure that Eddie Colter gets everything he so richly deserves.”
I glanced at the Hopper on Josephine’s wall. “An awful lot of money” barely scratched the surface of Josephine’s resources.
“As your friend, Devi? Please let me do this.”
Although I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, I agreed, relieved to know I would have competent legal help with which to face Eddie’s accusations.
~ ~ ~
I had barely gotten back to my office after talking to Mac and then Josephine when Candace came marching in. “I want to know what’s going on with you and Eddie, and I want a straight answer, right now.”
“Eddie, umm.”
“He’s claiming you attacked him, and it sure looks like someone did. And he’s suing you? What’s it all about? Come on, I’m waiting.”
I pulled in a breath, waiting for Candace to stop ranting so I could speak. “You know yesterday, when you sent me to LarkTulip to answer a potential resident’s questions?”
“Yes, yes. Go on.”
“Was it Eddie who called to ask you to send me?”
Candace was fidgeting and pacing, and that stopped both. “Eddie? I . . . I. Why? What difference does it make?”
“Because he says I was there waiting for him. But you were the one who told me to go there.”
“But you hit him.” Her tone was flat and unfriendly.
“Only after he grabbed me and bounced me off the wall.”
“Prove it.”
I pulled up my sleeve.
“You do know he’s claiming you made a pass and he rejected you, and then you hit him.”
“Yes, I know.”
“This is a fine mess. You say one thing; he says another. Hard to know who’s telling the truth here.” Candace narrowed her eyes and glared, and it suddenly occurred to me that maybe there was something else going on here. Did she, like most of Brookside’s residents, have a crush on Eddie?
“Calvin says I’m to tell you to stay strictly away from Eddie until this thing is settled.”
I lifted my chin. “I’d like nothing better than to never have anything to do with Eddie Colter again for the rest of my life.”
Candace scoffed. “Just see that you stay away from him here at Brookside.” She turned and marched out.
Funny, I thought I knew Candace. Although she’d never been warm, she’d always been pleasant. It made me shiver to know she wouldn’t accept my version of what happened.
~ ~ ~
The lawyer Josephine found for me, one Abigail Nathouser, “call me Abby,” was a tall, angular woman with sharp features and intelligent eyes. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine ever calling her Abby, but then, I never expected to call Josephine anything other than Mrs. Bartlett.
Abigail’s graying hair was pulled back and settled into an efficient bun at the nape of her neck, and her clothing, a severely styled gray suit and a plain white blouse, perfectly matched the hairstyle and demeanor.
She shook my hand firmly, eyeing me from head to toe. When men do that, it makes me squirm, but Abigail’s assessment, if anything, reassured me since she has the same aura of competence and of knowing her place in the world that Mac has.
“Well then,” Abigail said, gesturing for me to take a seat at the small table in her office. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what brings you here.”
Knowing that Josephine was going to be billed several hundred dollars an hour for the time I spent with Abigail, I’d organized my story accordingly, and I went through it quickly. Abigail recorded the interview, but she also took notes.
“This man who is suing you is over six feet tall and weighs nearly two hundred pounds. And you’re what? A hundred and ten pounds soaking wet? How did you manage to do so much damage?”
“I’m trained in tae kwon do.”
Abigail’s eyebrows shot up. “What level?”
“Black belt. But he didn’t know that. I don’t think he was expecting me to counterattack.”
“We’re not going to use that word,” Abigail said. “Counterattack. It’s much too aggressive for our purposes. Say instead he didn’t expect you to defend yourself.”
“Yes. Okay.”
Abigail then asked a series of specific questions about previous interactions with Eddie, and whether I had ever reported being harassed by him to my employer. She frowned when I said I hadn’t, but she was obviously pleased when I said a police officer did interview me about two of the incidents.
“It’s a good thing we’ll have police reports. And we’ll use Candace Bodman’s testimony she sent you to the apartment. That will undermine his claim you were lying in wait. All good.”
I also told Abigail about Josephine and Lillian discovering that Eddie had been stealing from residents, and that he’d lied about having a daughter with cancer.
“Hmm. Interesting. I may be able to use some of that, but likely most of it will be inadmissible.”
Abigail then went into my personal history, asking about relationships, where I’d lived, gone to college, worked. That made me want to squirm. I was honest, but I truncated the information to the bare minimum, which earned another frown.
“I think I have enough to go on for the moment,” Abigail said finally, much to my relief. “From what you’ve told me, this should be straightforward, but we’ll still need to be prepared.”
She stood, shook my hand, and escorted me to the door.
In the elevator, I glanced at my watch. Although it had felt like a long appointment, it had taken only forty minutes. That was good, since I’d been forced to fit this visit to downtown into a two-hour break from work.
Luckily traffic was light in both directions, and I managed to be back in my office at Brookside a full ten minutes before I was due to take a group out for a luncheon.
~ ~ ~
“I like to know as much as possible about my clients,” Abigail told me at our second meeting, four days after the first. “So I always order a thorough background check. That way I’m less likely to be blindsided in court.”
She gave me a stern look that reminded me of a teacher I still remembered vividly because she’d been so unpleasant.
“And you, my dear, Suranna Devi Subramanian, appear to have a number of secrets that I wouldn’t want our opponents to know about. If they were to discover, for example, that another man was injured so severely in an encounter with you that he later died, it would certainly strengthen their case.”
My heart sank even lower than it had when Mac told me Eddie was suing me. So low, I simply sat staring at Abigail.
“You do understand about attorney-client privilege, Suranna?”
I nodded, still not sure my voice would work. Not even to tell Abigail I’d become accustomed to being called by my middle name and now preferred it.
“It’s possible, you know, that I may be able to help you with both situations.” Abigail stopped speaking, obviously waiting for a response.
I cleared my throat. “I . .
.” Did I dare tell the truth?
Then I remembered a story I’d read recently about two lawyers who had kept secret the fact one of their clients admitted to a crime another man was serving a prison term for. The innocent man was released only after the guilty man died twenty years later, and his lawyers were able to come forward.
Abigail might very well be the only person I did dare tell the truth.
~ ~ ~
The shape and trajectory of my life changed forever the day I met William Garrison, although I didn’t know that until later, of course.
William was handsome, charming, intelligent, and he shared my passion for art. In fact, we met at an art institute fund-raiser. True, I was there as an employee while he was there as one of our major patrons—a man who at thirty-three had already made more money from an app he’d designed than he would ever need.
He quite literally swept me off my feet with expensive dinners in elegant settings; weekend trips to Reno, Aspen, or New York; and spontaneous purchases at Tiffany’s and Nordstrom. Caught up in the dizzying round of being William’s girlfriend, I was certain all my dreams were coming true.
“I want to wake up every morning to find you there,” William said on a flight back from Reno in the corporate jet on Valentine’s Day.
He’d pulled a small box out of his pocket, but there was nothing small about the diamond it contained. Although uncertain, I’d let him slip the ring on my finger.
“Take all the time you need to plan the wedding, but I want you to move in with me. Tomorrow would be good.”
“Umm . . . I’d rather wait.”
He’d reared back and looked at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted a horn in the middle of my forehead.
“For what?”
“U-until we’re married.”
