by Jeff Vrolyks
“I didn’t say I never had a fracture, I said that I don’t have a fracture now.”
I stared at her, waited for more.
“The night I was admitted to the hospital the x-rays showed a fracture about two or three inches long at the back of my skull. Yesterday’s x-rays showed no fracture at all. So they think it was some kind of blemish on the original x-ray, that I never had the injury.”
“I don’t know about that. The sound I heard was unmistakable, it was bone cracking.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you. Guess what Holly thinks it is.”
“Uh, I’d guess she thinks the wolves healed it.”
Alison’s smile said I was right.
“Is that what you think?” I said.
“I know it sounds like science-fiction, but I don’t know… from what Holly told me of them pulling down the head-dressing and licking the wound, it makes me wonder. The facts are I had a crack in my skull the night of the accident and don’t have one now.”
“God, Ali, it scared the hell out of me, really. When I checked your pulse I couldn’t feel it for the longest time, and it was so very weak. I cannot believe you survived.”
I reflected upon that night, carrying her (seemingly) lifeless body to the truck, carefully situating her in the cab and then checking her pulse again. “It is interesting now that I think about it,” I said. “I checked your pulse again in the truck and yeah it was weak, but it was more than it had been in Holly’s office.”
“As if I were improving already?” Ali said. “As if what the wolves did in the office helped? There’s something else. Kloss said that one of the boys up at Cattlemen Ranch had shot a wolf to death and shot another, but didn’t think he mortally wounded it. Did you notice any of the wolves bleeding? Hurt by a bullet?”
“No, they were fine.”
“That’s what Holly said. Maybe the one who was shot wasn’t one of the five wolves in the house, but maybe it was. And if it was, there may be something about their ability to heal wounds.”
* * *
We switched seats when we neared the estate. At the end of the cul-de-sac was our destination. I was impressed that only three addresses comprised Hanging Gardens Court. I drove between colonnades of cypress-pines on a gray-blue slate driveway to the wrought-iron property gate. Before I could press the intercom button the gate opened. I parked in the courtyard in front of a six car garage with two doors open, revealing a BMW and a white Four Runner. Holly rushed to us with an enormous smile.
“Hi, guys!” Holly said and hugged Ali before kissing me. “So, Kevin, how far did you get before you told Ali it was her car?”
When I was a kid, my mother would know when I was guilty when she asked me a question and I answered with a time-buying huh? or what?
“Huh? What?”
Holly asked Alison if I even make it out of the parking lot. Alison cracked up and gave me an oh well shrug. The cat was out of the bag, if it was ever in it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had every intention of saying nothing.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I knew you would tell her; you’re too sweet to let her suffer. How far did you get before you told her?”
“I didn’t even start the engine,” I said, shamefaced. They both laughed.
“I can’t believe you bought me this car!” said Ali. “How did you know I wanted one?”
Holly laughed harder.
Chapter 34
The estate was as large as I had imagined, but never would I have guessed it would have a Tuscan flavor and be a cornucopia of all things green and living. The soft oranges and reds became black, white, and burgundy inside the house. The foyer was cruel to my memory, having the familiar veined white-marble slabs. The ceiling was twice my height. Past the foyer was a formal dining room with bloodwood floors and a ridiculously long table with high-backed chairs, chandelier hanging over its center. Kloss had an affinity for the color burgundy, as indicated by the furniture. The place smelled of Pine Sol.
Holly gave us the grand tour. Through the west corridor we went; the first bedroom door was open. Next to the bed was a night stand with a vase of flowers; there was a Welcome Home balloon with Alison’s name hand-written under the printed words. We continued down the hall, both girls smiling. We passed Holly’s room and two guest rooms. When we reached the back of the house she was effervescing with excitement.
“I mentioned that I had a surprise,” Holly said. “You ready?” She opened the burgundy velvet drapes, unveiling French doors and the backyard. It might have been a park. On the sport’s-field-sized lawn was a nearly completed gazebo-bandstand that two men were putting the finishing touches on—a likely place for Kloss to entertain. In front of it a stand of canopies shaded maybe a hundred chairs. There was a line of linen-covered collapsible tables in front of the pool-house which would display the smorgasbord tomorrow. The pool was a tropical oasis, complete with lava rock, waterfalls, palm trees, and a bar. The distant perimeter of the backyard was lined with cedar and cypress trees and served as the estate’s observable boundary—behind the trees stood a brick wall with barbed wire.
Holly’s big surprise wasn’t the landscaping but what was on it. Sitting in the shade of the terrace and staring curiously at us were two wolves. “The one on the left is Jack, Kloss’s buddy.” She opened the door and coaxed them with baby talk to come inside: they dutifully obeyed.
“And the one with a pink collar,” I surmised, “is your buddy?”
She dropped to her knees and caressed and praised the animal. “Her name is Peaches. Say hi to Kevin and Alison, Peaches.” Peaches woofed.
Alison petted her. “How precious!”
“You’re extremely busy with work,” I said mockingly, “but you have time to go shopping for a collar for Peaches? And how about those?” I pointed to two stainless steel water dishes that read Jack and Peaches. “Custom made water dishes already? How did you pull that off?”
“Tammy, a friend of mine, owns a shop downtown—Personalized Products. They do this kind of stuff. Aren’t they wonderful?”
“They are,” Alison said, “I can’t believe it, they’re your pets now?”
“No, they’re our pets. You live here, too.”
Jack and Peaches met eyes.
“I thought we talked about this,” I said. “You said you wouldn’t do this to a wild animal. They’re not people pets, and what if they turn on you? And where the heck did you find them, anyway?”
Holly consoled Peaches. “Don’t you worry about him, he isn’t going to take you away. Give him a chance, he’ll love you too.” She turned to me with a scowl and said, “Could you be a little nicer? This isn’t the first impression that I imagined. They can understand everything we say, you know.”
“Yeah, that’s what they say,” I muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m not saying your brother made that stuff up about the writing, but there has to be more to it. These animals can be trained. Saint Bernards save lives with that barrel thing around their neck, right? I just don’t think we should jump to conclusions. And there’s a reason why it’s illegal to own wolves. They’re unstable.” The girls looked disapprovingly at me. The wolves looked away from me.
“You’re a party pooper,” Alison said. “Lighten up.”
“Yeah!” Holly chimed in.
“Don’t take the mystery and fun out of it,” Ali said, “if for no other reason than it makes your girlfriend happy.”
“Thanks, Ali. Hear that, Kevin? Make your girlfriend happy. Not that I’m your girlfriend: I don’t date guys who abuse animals, even if it’s verbal abuse.”
I sighed. “I’m not saying they aren’t furry miracles, I’m just leaving it open for debate. Where did you get them?”
“They were here when we arrived from the hospital. Poor things were bleeding on the pads of their paws. They traveled a long way in less than a day, just for us.” She kissed and dandled Peaches. �
�You two are furry miracles, straight from the horse’s mouth.” She muttered, “Straight from the horse’s ass.”
“They came here? On their own?”
“See, Kevin?” said Ali haughtily. “Not everything can be explained away by rationale. There are things we’ll never understand. Like Jack and Peaches.”
Kloss called my name energetically from behind, startling me. I offered a hand-shake: he hugged me instead. Then Alison. He thought she looked great. She thanked him for allowing her to live there until she found a place of her own.
“Stay here forever,” he offered. “Mi casa es su casa.” Kloss ruffled Jack’s coat and patted his back; his tail whipped in a blur. “Thanks for leaving the collar off of him, Holl.”
“You had one for him, too?” Alison said it, but I was thinking it.
Kloss grinned crookedly. “Yeah, she put a blue one on him. Poor Jack.” Jack nodded pitifully. “See? I told you he didn’t like it.”
I thanked Kloss for inviting me to the barbecue and allowing me to invite Mike. He said the barbecue was for Pea Willy, Sue Ellen, and me, for helping his sister and Alison the other night. I apologized for the harsh things I said in the hospital, and he apologized for questioning my intentions with Holly. He offered me a beer that I accepted.
Holly wanted to show Ali her bedroom and bathroom with more detail. “We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Holly promised.
Kloss and I struck up a conversation about our shared love of playing guitar. He noticed my guitar tattoo and smiled widely. He excused himself and came back with a ’58 model 6120 Gretsch guitar, sunburst with gold hardware. It was my tattoo come to life. My dream guitar. He handed it to me and coaxed me to play it. I was intimidated, to say the least. The guitar was worth thousands and the guy listening was worth millions. I strummed one of my songs while carrying on a conversation about how my love for playing came to be. He told me his version of the same story and it was delightfully similar to mine. I soon stopped seeing Kloss as a rock star and began seeing him as an ordinary guy, not unlike myself.
He served up another round of ice-cold Pacifico Claras and said, “What do you think of your guitar?”
I told him it was more enjoyable than my ink guitar, then grasped what he had said, particularly that possessive pronoun so delicious to the ear when it implies a bestowal of such a precious gift. I wondered if he misspoke, handed him the guitar back. When he refused it, it dawned on me that my dream of owning that very guitar had become actualized. He wouldn’t accept my refusal of the gift, so I graciously accepted. I said when I could afford it I’d buy him a replacement.
“Unless Chet Atkins gave George Harrison two of them,” he replied, “I don’t think you’ll be replacing it.” I gaped at Kloss. He gestured me to flip the guitar over. A personal note from Chet to George was written in black ink. I was stunned, speechless.
“A few of us are going fishing tonight,” Kloss said. “I invited Holly but she wasn’t interested. If you want to go, with or without her, you’re welcome to. But I’d appreciate it if you could talk her and Ali into coming along. We’re going around eight o’clock tonight.”
“I love fishing. I’ll see if I can talk her into it.”
“She hates fishing, but who knows? Maybe she’ll do it cause she likes you.”
“Where do you guys go and what do you catch?”
“There’s a little slough off the Sacramento River Delta that I like. It’s completely private. We’ll make a bonfire and drink beer while we fish for catfish and striper. I have extra poles and Pea Willy is coming along. He’s driving, we can all fit in his RV.”
“Sounds great! My friend Mike, you’ll meet him tomorrow, he and I go sturgeon fishing in the delta. He’ll be jealous I’m going fishing without him.”
“He can come along if you’d like. The more the merrier.”
Just what I hoped he would say.
Holly’s promise to return shortly wasn’t kept. Kloss and I were on our third beer and hitting it off famously. Occasionally I heard Ali and Holly laughing hysterically across the house. I wondered what cruel things they were doing to Jack and Peaches. Grooming and dressing them up seemed probable. Poor wolves. I decided to ask Kloss for some insight into what happened the other day at the hospital.
The day of Serena the Slayer’s attack, Kloss and Holly had arrived at this estate to find the two wolves waiting at the gate. Holly was surprised and elated—Kloss had expected them. He didn’t divulge the nurse’s assertion of the wolves’ relocation to his house for fear of disappointing Holly.
Though the nurse had Kloss’s attention at the mentioning of Anne, it was when she spoke of the wolves that he agreed to adhere to her directive. An important piece of the puzzle was about to be put in place for Kloss. Before, his theories of how Jack became exceptionally intelligent—as well as why he cared about Holly—were sensational and speculative. When he was able to link the wolves to Mrs. Wheels, he put together a theory: she is Holly’s guarding angel; the wolves are her helpers. It didn’t matter that Kloss was wrong because he was right in that they wanted to help Holly.
Holly withheld much of her excitement with the expectation of her brother disallowing ownership of the animals. But he didn’t disallow it. He explained:
“Holly, I know you think they’re cute and it’s going to be fun to have them stay here, but that’s not what this is about. The nurse, Mrs. Wheels as you call her, said that they would be here. And it’s a damn good thing you love them, because from now on they are going everywhere you go. Literally, every… where… you…go. If you need to go to the dentist, they will have leashes and seeing-eye-dog outfits on. For some reason, someone wishes you harm. Stop smiling, are you listening to me? If Mrs. Wheels is right, someone is heading to the hospital at this very moment to stab you in the fucking heart with a butcher knife. Do you understand me? Stop smiling! Listen to me! Holly, this isn’t a game, this is your life we’re talking about. Until we know what this is all about, things are going to change drastically, starting with you never being alone, ever.”
That evening, Kloss and Holly watched the news report of Serena the Slayer with great interest. They knew something that nobody else (except the nurse) knew: Holly was the intended target of the attack. Every reporter and pundit speculated wildly as to why a fifteen year old Catholic girl with a flawless background and no motive would commit such an unthinkable act. Lindsey died before she could tell detectives information that would aid their investigation. Kloss imagined what Lindsey would have said about Serena:
“She wanted to know what room Holly VonFuren was in, so I told her. When she came back and said nobody was in the room, she began threatening me. When I told her I didn’t know, she started stabbing me!”
Like every patient at Solano Memorial that day, Holly was questioned by a homicide detective. Holly endured the most questions, pointed questions, of the lot because of what Doctor Lee had said:
“Come to think of it, lieutenant, a patient and her brother, shortly before the tragedy, ran out of her room and left the hospital. She wasn’t released and didn’t say anything to anyone. They left in a bonafide hurry.”
The patient with the last name VonFuren was of note to the detective before the Doctor dropped that little nugget of intelligence on him. It was a massive red-flag after. That famous name was prefacing the news daily—this was the third tragedy attached to that name in a week!
Holly and Kloss rehearsed thoroughly prior to their interrogation, which the lieutenant called ‘questioning’. The fire having destroyed her files and the upcoming VonFurenz tour were logical explanations why she left the hospital prematurely. “I was going to be released that day anyway, I don’t see what the big deal is,” she said to an array of badged men and women. Not that she or Kloss had anything incriminating to hide, but Mrs. Wheels was perfectly clear that they not involve the police in any way. Knowing that they would take away her beloved wolves only added to her resolve to lie masterfully.
; The situation was now behind them and what remained were two pet wolves and a media frenzy that grew to a national level.
Chapter 35
At ten minutes past eight o’clock in the evening, Pea Willy pulled the RV off the paved road and followed a dirt road until it reached a dead end. I could see why Kloss liked this area, it was remote. It was a slough, which I had never heard of. It was a narrow branch of stagnant water diverging from the Sacramento river, and it dead-ended a few hundred yards from our spot.
We situated our folding chairs in a half circle around the fire-pit. At one end was Kloss, with Pea Willy and Sue Ellen closest to him. At the other end was Mike, me, Holly, and Alison, respectively. We had our lines cast out and our rods in pole-holders impaled in the silt of the embankment. Behind us were trees and underbrush, the rugged outdoors. There were four Duraflame logs burning in the pit, along with a few branches that we found in the area.
Mike had a sufficient angle to ogle Alison and wasted no time doing just that. Jack and Peaches chased each other around, occasionally blasting by us and then disappearing for minutes at a time.
Kloss elaborated briefly on the barbecue tomorrow. The highlight of the afternoon wouldn’t be the meat, unless you count the ham playing the guitar. He would be performing a three man acoustic set with his bassist Zach and friend Keith, who was the band’s equipment manager, for an audience of about a hundred.
“Nice!” blurted Mike. He apologized when he noticed all eyes were upon him. We all laughed.
“Mike is awesome,” Holly said. “I totally get why Kevin loves you.”
Kloss explained his reason for devising the acoustic performance. He organized with Dense Records—the record company he contracted with—to record the live performance. Later that year the album would be in stores.
With the advance he would receive after his lawyer finalized the contract, he would buy a beach house in Cabo San Lucas. Nothing over the top by his standards, but in Mexico a million dollars goes an awful long ways. He would fly down and look at houses upon returning from the tour and write a check if he found the right home.
