BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6

by John W. Mefford

  “Go on,” I said, enjoying the brief respite from grilling myself to recall every facet of my life.

  “Abdominal fold cheese that’s been brewing a long time. A man rolled in here with all sorts of issues. For starters, he topped five hundred pounds. He couldn’t even wipe his own ass,” she said, starting to snicker. “And apparently he’d given up trying.”

  “Oh gross.”

  “Valerie’s my name, in case you’re searching for my name tag. I refuse to wear one. Patients never forget a nurse’s name. They’ve chased me down in the parking lot before,” she said, walking to the end of the bed.

  “What about that man who had the underactive thyroid?”

  Her brow furrowed like crumpled bacon. “He didn’t have any thyroid issues. He had a Big Mac issue. Ate every meal at McDonald’s. In fact, we found a cheeseburger under his left boob. I kid you not.”

  I snorted through my fingers. “What did that smell like?”

  “Crotch rot and swamp butt, all wrapped up in soiled clothing for a year. That’s the best description I can give. Want to hear more?”

  I could feel this morning’s eggs rumbling a bit.

  “That’s okay. I don’t want to be hugging a toilet when I’m reintroduced to my kids.”

  “I understand your memory loss must be a bit frustrating. Good news is you should be out of here by tomorrow, as long as you have the proper supervision.”

  I wondered if Mark would be willing to care for me until I could care for myself. I didn’t want to stay another night in this rancid place, but spending a night in a bed next to a guy I didn’t know might be worse.

  “I’m sure we’ll work out something.”

  “With your kids coming, you might want to cover up your v-jay-jay.”

  My jaw opened as she tossed the sheet over my lap just as I unfolded my legs.

  “And let me tie the back of your gown. You may have small breasts, but that’s nothing for a kid to see.”

  I looked down at my chest, taken aback by her comment. Was I that unfamiliar with my own body? Geez.

  “Thank you” was all I could think of saying as she finished up.

  Suddenly, a rumble of noise approached my room.

  “But I don’t know why you think I care about who the Celtics trade. That’s boy stuff. I’m a young woman.” A teenage girl marched into my hospital room, followed by a young boy almost half her height.

  My kids.

  “Oh yeah, well, people actually want to know if the Celtics have a chance to upgrade their starting five before the trading deadline. It matters, unlike what you talk about with all your prissy girlfriends.”

  The boy, Luke, turned his head as he dragged his coat on the floor behind him. “Oh, hey, Mom.” He gave me a quick wrist wave, then walked to the couch on the opposite wall and pulled out an electronic device that was twice as big as his hands.

  Erin had both thumbs moving at the speed of light over her cell phone. Then she holstered it in the back pocket of a tight pair of jeans, folded her arms, and tapped her foot. Her eyes met mine. “Can you tell your son that he’s a dork and he needs to grow up? Sheesh.”

  Nurse Valerie gave me a quick wink as she quietly shuffled out of the room.

  “Hi, Erin,” I said with less than great confidence.

  “Yeah, hey. You doing okay and everything?” Her blue eyes inspected the room, then I saw her nose twitch. She had a cute nose.

  “I had the same reaction when I woke up. Kind of smells bad, doesn’t it?” I said, waving a hand in front of my nose.

  Her flawless face scrunched up into a prune. “‘Bad’ isn’t the word I’d use,” she said, her arms still hugging her chest. She was wrapped in a colorful denim jacket that was two sizes too big.

  “Are you still cold? I can warm up your hands.” I paused for a second, shocked that those words had crossed my lips.

  “I’m good,” she said, not looking me in the eye.

  “I suppose your father told you about my condition?”

  “He just said something about you having a tough time remembering things, kind of like Grampy.”

  I almost laughed, but I couldn’t have picked Grampy out of a lineup. So, I guess the joke was on me…again. Still, something ate at me, maybe Mark’s representation of what I was going through. Then again, teenagers weren’t exactly reliable sources.

  “Doctor said it’s good if I hear you tell me stories. I’m sure this brain of mine just needs a jump-start.” I kept the tone positive, thinking that teens can provide a thirty-minute soliloquy on a topic, or a one-word response.

  “Uh, do I have to do this by myself?” Erin said, taking a step closer, her arms still locked together. “Doesn’t Luke have to do this too? It’s just not fair.”

  I raised a finger, my mouth half open.

  “Oh. My. God. Can you believe that biyatch? She frickin’ slipped him a roofie just so he’d sleep with her,” said a girl waltzing into my room, a cell phone to her ear. She gave me a quick finger-roll hello. “I’m so going to be watching the next Bachelor. Wanna make it a face-painting party and binge drink some peppermint schnapps?”

  I mouthed to Erin, Who is that? She said something in return, but I couldn’t understand, though it was becoming clear this was Sydney, our nanny.

  Just then, I watched the bubbly girl, who looked to be close to twenty, slide off her scarf and toss her pink jacket next to Luke on the couch. She plopped down.

  “I know, right? Well, given what I’ve seen so far, I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing. I mean, we can’t all rely on our amazing brains. We girls do have other needs. What? I can’t really say exactly. I’m kind of in mixed company.”

  While her words were enough to have me question her role in my kids’ lives, I couldn’t get past what she was wearing. A cropped shirt with slinky spaghetti straps. A tight stomach, including her pierced belly button, were visible for the world to see. In the winter. In Boston.

  She must have noticed my gaze.

  “Oh, sorry to kill the buzz, Demi, but I gotta run. I’ll text you later, girl. Ciao.” She blew a kiss into the phone, then tossed it onto her jacket and bounced back up.

  “Oh my,” I said without thinking.

  “What? What’s wrong, Mrs. G?” She bounced again.

  I wanted to grab her coat and wrap her up to hide her lack of modesty, and maybe protect mine. Instead, I just stared at her boobs. Each were the size of both of mine combined—multiplied by five. Were they being lifted by some type of hidden pulley system? More than that, it was rather obvious to anyone who wasn’t blind that it was cold. For some reason, I could recall a person from my past or present say, “It’s a tit bit nippley outside,” joking about someone flashing her headlights.

  Damn, who’d said that? Must have been on the work side of my life. Yeah, it sounded like a typical sexist comment in a law enforcement setting.

  I curled my greasy locks around my ear, then situated Bert and Ernie in their most prominent positions. Not that I felt deficient. Not me. “You must be Sydney,” I said with little enthusiasm.

  “That’s me,” she cooed, clapping her hands together and jiggling her water balloons.

  I quickly shifted my eyes to the two people who were the most impressionable. Luke was going to town on a video game, it appeared. His face changed expressions every few seconds in dramatic fashion, as if it were made of rubber. I had to remind myself that he was eleven. Probably not very interested in girls.

  Then I glanced at Erin. I assumed boys were her main interest. She coiled her lips while she tapped her foot like a rabbit. And her arms were still firmly pressed against her chest.

  “You feeling okay, Erin?” I asked. She seemed uptight.

  “I’m fine. I just can’t…you know.”

  I glanced at Sydney, who gave me a simple nod. I figured that was a signal for something.

  “What am I missing here, girls?”

  Sydney raised her hand as if I were a middle-aged teacher wh
o needed to be connected to the real world. “Mark…I mean, Mr. G asked Erin not to spend her entire visit with you texting on her phone.”

  Mark. How old was this girl? Lord, please tell me I didn’t hire her.

  “Can you believe it, Mom? It’s so, like, unfair. Again and again, I’m asked to do things that the little runt never has to do. Just look at him over there, grunting while he’s playing that silly video game. It’s really kind of gross.”

  “Screw you, Erin,” Luke said, his eyes never leaving his game.

  Sydney walked over to Luke and held out her hand.

  “Okayyy,” he groaned, then grudgingly plopped his oversized phone in her hand.

  Flipping on her heels, Sydney gave me an approving wink, as if we’d just shared some type of motherly bond.

  I said, “Guys, do you mind coming over here? You can sit on these chairs or the edge of my bed. I want to ask you some questions.” I really wanted to get to know them better, although I was already feeling that pull of familiarity.

  Their sassy attitudes seemed authentic. I wondered how much of that I used to tolerate before I came down on them. Another dozen questions smacked me like a brick, including: What kind of Mom was I? What kind of punishment did I dish out? What did I tend to ignore, and where did I draw the line? Did the kids just walk all over me? Didn’t seem likely, given how Jerry and Nick had described my work personality. How much different at home could I be?

  “Anyone want anything from the cafeteria?” Sydney asked as she walked over and picked up her phone. “I’m sure they must have something close to a Starbucks downstairs, right? A snack, a late breakfast, Mrs. G?”

  A pang of hunger washed over me, my mouth salivating for something spicy. But I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what, and I didn’t feel like asking the present company what my favorite breakfast food was.

  “I’m good, thanks. Kids, you want anything?”

  “A candy bar?” Luke asked.

  “A double espresso with whipped cream,” Erin said with a hint of attitude.

  “You think that’s the healthiest thing a fourteen-year-old should have?” I asked.

  “Mother,” she said, as if I’d just outed her in front of her best friend.

  I decided not to give in, and I pressed my lips shut as something of a test.

  “Uh, I get it,” Sydney said, exchanging glances with Erin and me. “I’ll just see what they have, Erin. Maybe they’ll have some of those cool health juices you and your friends were talking about the other day.”

  “Sounds good, Syd. Thanks.”

  Syd disappeared through the door, and I instantly felt like a ten-foot wall—actually more like a see-through stocking—had just been removed from the room. I took in a breath and patted the bed.

  Erin rolled her eyes, and Luke trudged over. Just before he sat on the lone chair, his big sister scooted into the chair first, and he sat on her lap.

  “Get off me, dork,” she said, shoving him upward like he weighed five pounds.

  “Screw you. This was my seat. I was sitting in it, Mom,” he said, now stiff as a board, leaning back as his sister used her feet to keep him at bay.

  This was motherhood? I wondered if I’d been gone for longer than just a few days. They seemed oblivious to any type of parental oversight. With a near mutiny on my hands, I had a couple of options. I chose the calmer path.

  “Luke, you get first chair next to me. Come on up.”

  He looked at me, then all the tubes connected to me. I patted the mattress and scooted a little to my right.

  “Plenty of room. Just hop on up.”

  He seemed apprehensive, which was natural, given the circumstances. But it also seemed like his trepidation involved more than just the hospital setting.

  “So, Erin, how’s the cheerleading going?” I asked.

  “What do you mean, Mother?” She crossed her legs and started a rapid kick routine with her one leg. Her arms remained folded in front of her.

  “Are you—”

  She twisted her head, her face a hairball of torment. “What are you trying to say?”

  I think I’d just stepped in it. “Well, with your arms crossed in front of you like that, I just wondered if you felt okay.”

  “I’m fine. No worries over here.” She looked toward the window. Maybe she was thinking about her escape route.

  “Luke, so tell me what position you’re playing on your team.”

  A strange look crossed his face as he stepped onto the metal guardrail and plopped onto the mattress. It shook the bed, and I could feel the jarring in my head.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” He touched my forearm, but accidentally brushed my IV tube extending out of my arm. He flinched. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Luke. I’m not made of glass. I just had a car wreck. Your dad did tell you that, right?”

  “I think so,” he said. His eyes made a trail toward the beeping sound of the heart monitor, then he looked into my eyes. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

  “Oh shit. That’s just great.” I turned and saw Erin’s face glowing red against her dirty-blond hair, the same color as mine. I made a mental checkmark that we had one thing in common. I just prayed that, even at my worst, I wasn’t nearly as dramatic.

  “What’s wrong, Erin?”

  “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Boy problems. Right, big sister?” Luke snickered.

  She scooted down in her chair and tried to kick Luke. “Shut up, you brat.”

  I leaned forward, but quickly felt the tug of the tubes tethering me to the bed. “Erin, don’t kick your brother.”

  “He just loves rubbing my face in it.” Her eyes appeared to have red spears shooting out from them.

  “I can’t see your face with all that crap makeup you put on. And it smells too.” He rolled his eyes like a seasoned pro.

  I wondered if someone was catching all of this on camera. This must be a test, maybe by Child Protective Services. If I could handle this nonstop squabbling, I could put up with just about anything.

  “Guys, I’ve missed both of you.” The words spilled out before I could stop myself. They weren’t completely true, but I felt something. This silenced the room so much that all I could hear over the beeps was a squeaking wheel motoring down the hallway.

  The kids looked at each other, then Erin glanced at me. “Sorry, Mom. I’ve missed you too.”

  I could feel my gut untwist just a tad.

  “Here’s what I need from each of you. I need you to pretend this is a movie, and I just reappeared in your life after being sent to another world. And you have ten minutes to tell me everything about your life in those ten minutes. If you don’t tell me everything, I disappear for another year. Ready?”

  I could see Erin debating her participation in such an immature game.

  Finally she said, “Okay, I’m game.”

  Luke nodded.

  “Cool. Each of you tell me something about your life, and then we’ll go back and forth for ten minutes. Go.”

  And go they did. My head swiveled back and forth between the two kids as I listened to their stories, and the rubber bullets of data began to penetrate my brain.

  Luke’s basketball career had yet to take off, I learned. Even though he was in Little League, he only played a few minutes a game. Coach said he needed more work on his dribbling and court awareness. I made a mental note to work with him on that.

  Erin said her boy troubles were about some nasty rumors floating around the Internet. She’d been accused of kissing some boy at a party—a party she hadn’t even attended. But someone had doctored a picture, and the rest was history. I told her we could fix it, and she believed me. At least I thought she did.

  School was a bore for both of them, but I actually heard Erin mention the word college. Luke was all about his online games, mostly involving sports. It seemed like he knew every player from every era who ever played any of the professional sports. He seemed like a brillia
nt young boy.

  Erin admitted she wasn’t all that fond of being ogled while she cheered. She did it to be around her friends. She said she’d much rather be involved in a competitive sport. I agreed that it might help her reduce some of her aggression toward her brother.

  They both laughed. And so did I. We finished the ten minutes with funny stories about Pumpkin, our orange tabby that sounded more like a dog than a round cat.

  “It was the funniest thing when Pumpkin saw a bird just outside the kitchen window,” Erin said. “He wound up those legs and scooted across the hardwood as fast he could go, then splat. He face-planted right into the window.”

  Their giggles were infectious. The next thing I knew, Luke had inched down the mattress to rest his head against my shoulder. I kissed the top of his head. I couldn’t say that a lot of memories were coming back, but I did feel something inside. A connection. A responsibility for their well-being. I wondered what I was like as a mother, but I knew I couldn’t straight-out ask them. Maybe I could get a straight answer from Mark later—if that would be possible.

  I watched them joke around with each other, and I couldn’t help but smile. While I felt bad they hadn’t had a mother with them in the last few days—and no, Sydney was not an adequate replacement—there was an opportunity here that most people never got. A clean slate. No baggage, at least not for now. A sense of relief permeated my core, and I suddenly didn’t feel the pressure to know everything, at least not with these two. They needed me—that much was obvious. I could sense a part of me in both of them, and the strings of attachment were already starting to reconnect.

  I knew I had a purpose in life.

  I asked Erin to help me to the bathroom, towing the portable IV bag with me. Just as I exited, Sydney bounced back into the room. I stood a few feet in front of the bathroom, watching her interact with the kids. She appeared to do her job decently, I supposed, although she seemed more like a big sister than a nanny. She didn’t have on a lick of makeup, and her hair was just there, yet naturally pretty. I wondered how a person could be so hard and soft in all the right places. She had the perfect figure.