by Fran Rizer
"No, as a matter of fact, I’m with the gentleman showing this Corvette," I motioned toward Chuck’s car.
"Nice paint job, but I prefer to have everything original." He was always a stroke-slap person. When we were married, he’d ruin every compliment with a follow-up statement like, "That’s a really pretty dress, but it does make you look about ten pounds heavier."
For perhaps the millionth time in the past few years, I wondered what on earth made me ever think I was in love with this jerk. Good-looking? Yes. Worth a darn? Financially, yes. Character-wise, no!
Now I wondered if my two brothers who were engaged might someday experience the same attitude toward the women they now thought they couldn’t live without. Was Jane already doubting her devotion to Frankie? Something sure seemed wrong between the two of them.
Immediately, Donnie went into a lecture about why his car was superior to Chuck’s. He used lots of car words I’d heard from him before—original, authentic, restored, kit cars. I didn’t pay much attention to them when we were married, and I didn’t pay any attention to them now. I already knew that Donnie thought whatever he had was better than anybody else’s anyway. Too bad he hadn’t thought that about his wife when we were together.
"I noticed your sign with the newsprint background like my old bulletin boards," I interrupted the car lecture.
"Isn’t that clever? The newspaper is actually from 1980, the year of my Corvette. I lucked up on the paper at an antique mall and decided to use it behind my signs.
"You? In an antique mall?" I couldn’t help gasping.
"Well, it happens a beautiful young girl invited me to go there with her."
Like that was going to make me jealous!
"Girl?" I glared at him. "Don’t you think you’re old enough to date women now?"
"You know perfectly well that I refer to any lady under forty as a girl. In my book, you’re still a girl."
"Well, frankly, I don’t want to be anywhere in your book."
I realized my voice was rising as Jane tugged on my sleeve.
"Callie, Callie, I need to pee."
My face turned red. Yes, I’d been married to the man. Yes, I’d slept with him. But did Jane have to say "pee"?
"Okay," I said, "I’ll take you."
"Now!" Jane insisted.
I can’t deny that I almost jerked her away, which is not something I normally do. Okay, so she didn’t say, ‘I need to be excused,’ as I’d taught my kindergarten students, but my anger was really at Donnie, not Jane. I guess some of the irritation was also at myself for letting him get under my skin.
We were barely into the restroom before Jane pulled me over close to her face and whispered, "I don’t really have to go. I can tell you’re letting him get to you, and he’s not worth it. Let’s go stand by Chuck or go for another walk."
"Can’t stand by Chuck. He’s not by his car. I don’t know where he is." I paused.
"Besides, I wanted to read Donnie’s sign," I added.
"It’s not worth it. You should see the way he’s looking at you."
"What?" I almost screamed the word. "How do you know how he’s looking at me?"
"I can hear it in his voice. He’s the big, bad wolf, and you’re the innocent little lamb. You hang around him long enough, the little lamb is going to get slaughtered."
"He just makes me so mad." I guided Jane to a stall and stepped into the one beside it. No point in wasting the opportunity. As we washed our hands afterward, I agreed with her. "Okay, when we go out, we’ll go straight to Chuck’s spot, and if Donnie follows, we’ll just walk off into the crowd."
"Or shoot him!" Jane said, but we couldn’t do that.
We didn’t have a gun.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Forget about hanging out with Chuck to escape Donnie. The two of them were standing by the red ’Vette, heads together over the engine, under the hood, engaged in animated conversation. Chuck had changed clothes. He wore white slacks with a shirt imprinted with an American flag. Now I understood Donnie’s red necktie. Apparently, some drivers and owners dressed to coordinate with their cars.
Chuck looked up and winked at me. "Hi, Callie, Dr. Kelly here tells me you two know each other—well."
I laughed. Jane guffawed like a hyena.
"So you’ve met my ex-husband. I thought you two were talking cars over there, not gossiping about me."
Chuck smirked. "So, do you go by the name Callie Kelly?"
"No! I went back to my maiden name when we divorced. Being called Callie Kelly was almost as bad as being named Calamine Lotion."
"I resent that!" Donnie snapped, but playfully.
"When the doctor came over and started questioning me about you, I thought he was quizzing me so he could hit on you," Chuck said as he winked again. "He didn’t tell me he was your ex until after I’d told him that we’re in a permanent relationship."
The winks made sense. Chuck had led Donnie to believe our relationship was dating rather than kinship.
I moved closer and put my arm around Chuck. "Well, darling," I said with enough sugar in my voice to sweeten a pitcher of iced tea, "I’m sure that Donnie has his own ladies now."
"He sure didn’t have any trouble getting ladies when you were married," Jane interrupted, then added, "not that I’m sure they were all ladies."
"Let’s not go there," Donnie replied.
"What time’s the judging?" I asked, but no one answered. They were back under the hood talking about car engines. Chuck’s cell phone sounded a country song. He stepped back and answered it. I started reading Donnie’s sign again aloud to Jane. The information was printed on a sheet that was posted against the newspaper background. It made a big deal out of his profession. Owner was shown as "Dr. Donald Gregory Kelly, M.D., Cardiologist, Columbia, S.C."
"Does it say, ‘Accepting new patients’?" Jane asked.
"No," I answered, but before I could continue, Chuck rushed over and grabbed me. He hugged me tightly, and he stuttered. When we were children, I hurled if I was upset and scared; Chuck stuttered.
"C-C-Callie, somebody named Odell wants to t-t-talk to you." He handed me his phone.
"Callie, this is Odell," he growled in that gravely voice, like I wouldn’t recognize him." He paused. "I’ve got some bad news."
"Who’s dead?" I figured he was going to tell me to get back to St. Mary.
"What?" Jane squealed.
"Nobody’s dead," Odell said. "Your father and brother are in the hospital. I think you need to be there."
"Which brother? What happened?" I asked, thinking some kind of accident.
"Frank."
I repeated the name, and Jane broke into wild screaming. "No, no, not Frankie!"
"We’ve been trying to call you, but you must have forgotten your cell again." I made no reply. "Bill had your cousin’s number. I’m here in Charlestown at the main entrance of the expo center. Come on out and I’ll take you to the hospital in Beaufort."
"But what happened?" I barely had breath enough to speak.
"Frank went to Jane’s apartment to pick up something. Your father had a heart attack when he went by there and found Frank collapsed on the floor. The doctors think Frank might have been poisoned. Get on out here. We need to hurry!"
The word "confusion" doesn’t do justice to the scene that followed. When I explained what had happened, Jane continued even louder screams and moans. Chuck offered to take me back to St. Mary, but I explained that Odell was here in Charleston, waiting for us. Donnie said nothing.
We were trying to figure out the direction to the "main" entrance when Chuck waved down a security guard in a golf cart. He agreed to take Jane and me. He didn’t exceed any speed limits, but I was sure it was faster than walking or running. Besides, the rent-a-cop knew the way. I looked down at Jane’s hand. She was holding Donnie’s car sign and the newspaper matting.
"How’d you get that?" I asked.
"You tried to read it and never got to, so I brought it
for you," she managed to say between her sobs. "How could Frankie have been poisoned?" she questioned without giving me a chance to scold her for taking the sign. I folded the papers and put them in my pocket, but I didn’t say anything.
I didn’t have any answers.
There was no problem locating Odell at the main entrance. He was parked smack at the door—in our newest hearse, a 2009 Cadillac he’d bought from a Charleston funeral home that folded. I sat in the front seat, the only seat. At least it was wide enough that Jane didn’t have to sit on my lap. We sat scrunched together with her between Odell and me.
Even as distressed as she was about Frankie, Jane was as upset about riding in the hearse as she’d been when she’d ridden with me to bring a body to Charleston.
"Is there a dead person in here?" she asked.
"No, I’ve already dropped off the John Doe for his second post mortem," Odell said. "I was on my way to Charleston when Otis called to tell me what happened."
"What did happen?" I asked, hoping Jane would hush and listen.
"Frank went back to the apartment this morning after Jane left with you and Chuck. Your father was supposed to pick him up later to buy parts for some truck they’re rebuilding. When your dad got there, he couldn’t get Frank to come to the door, so he broke the door open. When he found Frank unconscious on the floor with vomit around him, Mr. Parrish called 911. Frank went into convulsions right as the paramedics arrived, your father had a heart attack. Paramedics carried both of ’em to the hospital. So far, it looks like Frank’s ingested some kind of poison. They’re running tests now to identify what kind."
"Poison!" Jane howled. "Why on earth could anyone poison Frankie?" She sobbed a few more minutes. "I know we haven’t been getting along so well, but he’d never commit suicide." She sobbed, then added, "Would he, Callie"
"I don’t think so," I answered, then turned back to Odell. "What kind of poison do they suspect? Is it something he could have gotten from farm chemicals? Daddy’s always been really careful about pesticides and stuff like that."
"They don’t know yet, but the doctors say he has signs of poisoning," Odell answered.
"What signs?"
"Throwing up, difficulty breathing, low blood pressure, convulsions—those symptoms point to poisoning. I’m just telling you and Callie what Bill said the doctors told him. John’s on the way from Atlanta, too."
A conversation with Odell was difficult with Jane sobbing and crying out, "Oh, no. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to Frankie!"
My prayers were silent and included Daddy as well as Frankie. I remembered to add a word for Otis.
When Jane finally quieted, I asked Odell, "Who’d you bring for an autopsy?"
"I told you. The John Doe, the one you found in the car outside the bookstore. They’re doing further testing and gonna have some special FBI medical examiner repeat the post mortem."
"The sheriff told me they think they know who he is. I was supposed to call, but I was too upset when I left the shower."
"I heard the party kind of got out of hand," Odell growled.
"Is it okay if I call him now?" I asked, not wanting to tell my boss that the shower wasn’t what upset me the most. It was the cow patty I’d stepped in on the way back to my car.
"Sure. You can probably hear now." Jane had settled down to just sniffling.
"I mean may I use your phone. You were right. I forgot mine again."
Odell handed me his cell, and I started to punch in the number. He stopped me. "The sheriff is on speed dial," Odell said.
"Sheriff Wayne Harmon," he answered.
"This is Callie. You said call you and you’d tell me about the man in the Jaguar," I said.
"We’re not sure, but we’ve learned that our Jaguar man never played golf with Mr. Johnson, or Joyner if you prefer. They didn’t associate often and were seldom seen with one another, but one employee remembers seeing them together occasionally. He said they were usually riding together in a golf cart, but not playing."
"That would be a good place to talk without worrying about people hearing you," I said.
"Yes, and it makes us wonder if they had secret business together. Maybe they were old friends, really old friends, from back in the eighties."
I could almost feel the spark in my brain. "Do you think Jaguar John Doe may have been involved with Johnny Johnson’s armored car heist?"
"That’s exactly what I think, and I want you to help me by talking more to the Joyner woman. Maybe see if she’s holding out on us."
"When will you let her bury Mr. Joyner?" I asked.
"Georgette thinks holding off will encourage her to talk more. Mrs. Joyner is very eager to get that man in the ground."
"Who?"
"Agent Georgette Randolph with the FBI."
Suddenly, I realized that Harmon hadn’t said a word about my father or brother. "You do know about Frankie and Daddy, don’t you?" I asked.
"What about them?"
"They’re in the hospital. The doctors think Frankie’s been poisoned, and Daddy had a heart attack when he found him."
The sheriff’s words went above college level cussing. "I’ve had a call that there is a suspected poison case at the hospital, but no one said it was a Parrish."
"I’m headed there now with Odell."
"I’ll see you there."
The rest of the ride took forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Where to go first? Whose bedside? My daddy could be in a life-or-death situation. My brother could be dying from poison. Neither Odell nor I knew if Otis’s improvement continued or may have had a setback while Odell went to Charleston.
I wasn’t trying to be selfish or rude. I promise I wasn’t, but I asked Odell to take Jane, and I struck off by myself at the hospital entrance while they went to park the hearse in the truck area.
The dilemma was solved by the other Donnie in my life, Dr. Donald Walters.
"Callie," he called when he saw me. His step quickened as he approached. "Good news," he continued. "Your dad is doing much better. He did have a mild heart attack, but the cardiologist expects a full recovery. He’ll probably be moved to a regular room tomorrow."
"Where is he? Where’s my brother?"
"Your dad’s in the Coronary Intensive Care Unit and your brother’s in Medical Intensive Care."
"Is that where Otis is?"
"No, it’s where Otis was. He’s already been moved to a regular room."
"That means he’s better?" I’d forgotten how fast Donald walked. I almost had to run to keep up with him.
"Otis is definitely better."
"Have you seen Sheriff Harmon?" I asked.
"Yes, he’s in your brother’s room while Bill and Mike wait to see your father. Mr. Parrish has been given some sedation but he’s still very upset about your brother, and he’s asked for you and John. He needs to see that you’re here, and the nurses are going to let you in when you arrive, but you can only stay a few minutes."
"Then I should see Daddy first?"
"Absolutely your father. The procedure they’ve started on Frank has him sleeping. He’s not going to know if you’re there are not. Let your dad see you." He paused. "I’ll lead you."
We passed through the Coronary Intensive Care waiting room. Bill and Mike jumped up and hurried to Donald and me. "We’ve seen him," Bill said, "but he’s asking for you. Says he shouldn’t have let you go to Charleston."
"Come on," Donald said, "I’ll take you in just in case the nurses try to give you any trouble about visiting times."
My daddy has always been the strongest person in my life. I’d never seen him in the hospital before, hardly ever even seen him sick with a cold. When Donald led me past the nurses’ desk to the bed, Daddy looked old and weak. There were machines on each side of him with tubes and wires running to his body. My heart lurched in my chest. His eyes were closed, but they popped open when I stood by his side.
"Calamine?" His voice sounded hoa
rse and feeble.
"It’s me, Daddy," I said and reached over to hold his hand. I couldn’t take my eyes off the machines with their graphs tracing hills and valleys on the paper. The patterns looked regular to me, but I’m not familiar enough with them to interpret whether they were good or bad.
"Calamine?" Daddy said again.
"Yes, Daddy, I’m here and John’s on the way."
"How’s Frank?"
"He’s doing well, Mr. Parrish," Donald answered before I had a chance to confess that I didn’t know. "Your doctor wants you to rest, so Callie’s going to wait with her brothers. You try to sleep and perhaps when you wake up, your son John will be here."
Daddy’s lips curved into something that was almost a smile, and he closed his eyes. Donald led me back to the waiting room. He assured Bill and Mike that Daddy was doing as well as expected and explained that he was going to take me to see Frank.
"We’ll go with you," Mike said.
"Even with a doctor, they aren’t going to let three of you in at a time. You know the rules are no more than two visitors." Donald’s voice had gone from friend to doctor.
"I’ll wait outside then. Just want to know how he’s doing." Bill said.
When the four of us reached Medical Intensive Care, Donald had us all sit in that waiting room while he went in to clear bringing visitors in when it wasn’t visiting time, which was no more than two visitors at a time, for no more than a total of ten minutes, only on even hours.
The first thing I saw when Donald led me to my brother’s bedside was Sheriff Wayne Harmon in the corner of the tiny room. Wayne was my older brother John’s best friend all through high school and probably felt that the younger boys were like brothers to him. I know he’d always treated me like a little sister.
"Hi, Callie," he whispered. "The doctors haven’t learned what kind it was, but all the signs are that Frank’s ingested poison. The good news is that he’s responding to the treatment."
