Lisa Djahed - Bee Stanis 01- The Foolish Stepmom

by Lisa Djahed

  “Ben, Ben” I said nudging him by the shoulders. I checked for breath and heard and saw his chest going up and down but my head was having such a hard time working. What do you do when the strongest person you know is out cold? I felt his head and there by his left ear was a little trickle of blood.I gasped and ran next door to call an ambulance, I must have been screaming because both Julie and Yaz saw me as I entered the house, panic on their face. I grabbed the phone and dialed 9-1-1and was muttering and talking fast to the operator to get her there. After giving the address I gave the girls some instructions to calm them down.

  “Yaz go get a pillow, Jules get a towel, come and bring it next door.” And I had said it so authoritatively they both jumped into action. By the time I reached Ben he was moaning. Thank god for moaning I thought. It means he’s conscious.

  “Ben, Ben can you hear me? Are you ok? Baby?” I was nearly crying I was so upset. So much for keeping your cool in the face of crises. The girls showed up and both gasped when they saw their father, I probably should not of had them see this, but the truth was, I needed them there, needed something other than my big strong husband lying prostrate on the floor to focus on. I put the pillow gently under his head and put the towel over and around his neck.

  “Daddy, daddy,” said both girls.

  “Girls, touch his legs, touch his legs to let him know we are all here.”

  “Honey, can you hear me?” l said looking down closely at his face.

  Just then he moaned loudly and opened his eyes. “What happened?” he said.

  “I don’t know honey, I think you were hit, didn’t you see who was in here?”

  “No, no” and he mumbled and closed his eyes. I heard the sirens and knew the ambulance and fire trucks would be here soon.

  “Girls, go wave the firemen and paramedics in here,” I had mistakenly given our address since I knew it so well and wasn’t exactly sure of Drew’s address, was it two digit is less than ours, I didn’t know and so gave the 9-1-1operator ours for expediency sake.

  The paramedics and firemen came in and took care of my husband who was by now awake and not happy to be taken care of. At least he was getting back to normal, I thought. They’d have to take him to the hospital to run some tests, especially since it seemed to be a head injury of some sort.

  I had both girls come with us, they were just too upset by the whole thing to stay on their own. Ben and I didn’t like them to be on their own too much anyhow, one of us always tried to be home with them. Sure Julie was 14 but was 14 going on 10 and Yaz was ten going on eleven but in reality was more like an eight year old. Maturity level rarely matches actual age, you just have to look at me for an example of that (I was forty going on 30 at least).

  The police followed us to the hospital to get a statement from Ben on what happened. We were certainly getting quite a tour of duty of all the cops in Palm Bay, this was now our 4th cop in so many days. None of them as good as Officer Krumpke, I kept expecting to see him again and was wondering where he was in the midst of all this. Even the policeman that was there commented, “didn’t you just file a report this morning.” God was that this morning. What a day this had turned into. I was certainly ready for some serious down time.

  Turns out Ben was just fine. Got a good knock on the noggin, but nothing was broke, he might have a slight concussion but that was it, thank goodness. All of his girls stood around his hospital bed and just poured love and affection on to him, in a way, I knew, he was loving the attention and we were loving giving it. Sometimes it takes a little bit of a crisis to be thankful for the small family moments you do have.

  Chapter Eleven

  I love calling in sick. Don’t ever tell my bosses. But I’m sure they know anyway. I have the highest sick leave count of the whole office. Between the girls, things the girls need, the girls getting sick, Ben, what Ben needs, when Ben is sick, me, what I sometimes need, when I’m sometimes sick, well then, see, it just adds up. lots and lots of sick days is the only way I know to navigate this crazy life of mine.

  Not Ben though. He could be in an iron lung and he’d still drive himself to work. I got him to agree to mostly call in sick, stay in bed this morning, I would drive him for a few hours and then drive him home. Technically, because of the crack to the head, he wasn’t supposed to drive for three days, but there was no way that was going stick. I knew if I could get him to stay home this morning there might be a chance he’d not go in this afternoon.

  And there was a lot for us to ponder. Now that the immediate crisis of Ben’s head was mostly out of the way, it left us with the question of who whacked him and knocked me down. Who was in Drew’s house and what were they looking for? And, who had the key, because as far as we knew we were the only ones with it. Also, I’m pretty sure the person who knocked me down was smaller, not big like Ray, I would have remembered that part of it. It could have been a female, based on the height, but not slight either. Neither Ben or I had gotten a close enough look at the person, me cause I was rushing, and Ben cause he was knocked out.

  Ben got out his cards and was pondering them as I proposed something.

  “Honey, I think we need help.” “What do you mean,” he said.

  “I said, I’m starting to get scared, yesterday with the fish and then last night, this is starting to get out of hand.” I let that sink in a bit.

  “I think we need to call Officer Krumpke, I mean Nunez.” I said slowly. The thing with my husband is that he is sometimes to proud to ask for help. But I was done, DONE, with trying to figure this thing out and was starting both get simultaneously scared and pissed that the mystery surrounding Drew’s death and our bumbled “investigation” was starting to threaten my family. Sneaking around following people is one thing, but having dead fishes and a knocked around husband was quite another.

  “What will we tell him?” Ben asked hesitantly.

  “We tell him everything, we get him to agree not to jump to conclusions, maybe we can even get him to agree to meet us on his time off, keep it casual and just simply ask for his advice. Whoever killed Drew thinks we know too, or we wouldn’t have been ‘sent’ that message with the fishes. Ben, I’m scared, we need to do this.” That was the best argument I could put forth and I hoped it work. The truth was, I wanted out, I wanted to stop what we were doing and have someone else take care of it. I wanted my simple little life back, dance lessons, what to make for dinner, no DUI’s or breaking and entering, no sneaking around and trying to “find out” who did what. I was done.

  “I’ll think about it” was the answer I got. And I did a little dance inside my head cause I knew what that meant. It meant a ‘yes, okay.’ I just needed to buy my time til my husband declared that we should go ahead and do it. AND that he would then take credit for having the idea, which was fine by me, as long as it got done.

  Turns out Ben both must have been feeling better and did something on it because he had called him and arranged to meet Mr. Nunez at our local pool hall, Crossroads at 8:15 that evening. He even gave me marching orders:

  “Let me do most of the talking, you tend to run out at the mouth sometimes, okay” and I bit my lip slightly in both annoyance and amusement. It was a good thing Ben couldn’t see inside my head cause wow, would he see me running my mouth. I thought I kept my “public” self rather well under control. I guess not. Oh well, I thought, pooey on you.

  “Officer Nunez, thank you for agreeing to meet us,” Ben said rather formerly upon seeing him. After we all settled down at one of the back tables and Ben and the officer had gotten drinks (water and lemon for me thank you very much), and the formalities were out of the way, Ben settled in to start our story of woe.

  Luckily, the bar wasn’t that busy, the owner had cancelled the Wednesday night karaoke and there was no pool league, only on Tuesday’s and Thursdays. The tin-walled sports bar was even bare of sports fans being that it was between seasons for football and baseball had just ended, with my Yankees again taking their rightful place
at the top.

  “Yesterday I was attacked and yesterday someone left 12 dead fish in our mailbox, we think both are connected to the murder of Drew,” Ben said dramatically. Well that was designed to get Officer Nunez’s attention and it certainly did.

  “What do you mean, you think it is related to Drew’s murder?” the Officer asked. You could tell he wanted to write things down cause he kept fidgeting but we had told him it was important to us that this stay off the official radar for a couple of reasons. One of which was Ben’s distrust of anyone in uniform.

  “Neither one of us believe the official line that Jesse killed his dad, he just didn’t, one, for all their differences, his dad was all he had, and two he’s just too dumb to pull it off, ” Ben clarified.

  “It is true Officer, he’s just too sweet of a kid to kill his dad, especially that way,” I added. And got a glare from Ben, wow, when he said he wanted me to shut up, he really meant it.

  “I suppose you two have some idea of who might have killed Drew then, based on where I think this conversation is going.” asked the officer clearly trying to establish his own ownership of the discussion.

  “Yes!” I piped up just as Ben jabbed me to shut up.

  “Yes, we do, we have several theories. 1) we have reason to believe, strong reasons, that Ray, Bev’s boy toy boyfriend had something to do with it and that Bev, who has NOT gone to see her own son in jail, is somehow involved, they both had the most to gain from Drew’s death, meaning Drew’s money.”

  “Also, did you know that Drew and Taylor, Jesse’s girlfriend, hated each other, she’s a nasty little thing, that girl and she might have hated Drew enough to want him out of the way, plus we just found out she’s pregnant, so that’s another reason.”

  “Hmmm,” was all the officer said.

  There was so much more I wanted to add, but knew Ben wanted to keep certain information, like the pill bottle and how we found it, out of the officer’s knowledge and that if I spoke, I might run off at the mouth about it. He’s probably right I thought reluctantly.

  “What makes you think that the person who committed Drew’s murder is the same that put the fishes in your mailbox.” Well, officer, we’ve been tailing people badly and breaking and entering and spying when we could. See, there was a reason Ben was doing the talking.

  “We think that whoever did the murder is getting nervous about us because we’ve been kind of pressuring Pam and Bev and Ray and Taylor a little, just for information. But if they think, and they all do because we’ve told them, that we believe that Jesse is innocent it would seem to be that we think someone else did the murder. Plus, you need to check into Ray’s background, he’s got a history of burglary, Ray LaRosa,” and Ben handed Ray’s business card over to him.

  “And neither of you have done anything to warrant such a thing, meaning, have you directly pissed anyone off?”

  “No officer, we haven’t pissed anyone off, look at us, we’re a nice couple, there were twelve dead fishes in our mailbox and then the breakin at Drew’s and Ben getting clonked.” I couldn’t keep my mouth closed. Another nudge under the table from my attentive husband. Phooey this closed mouth thing.

  “It’s a bit of a leap, all of this. But it is odd that so much is happening so quickly around you two. If it is ok with you, I’d like to increase the patrol around your house, just have them drive by and maybe park down the road.”

  “That would be great officer,” I piped in. “But what about Jesse?”

  “Well that’s a bigger problem, why don’t you two let me handle things from here on out, I’ll check into Ray a little more and increase the pressure on Taylor’s house, there’s always something happening over there.”

  And with that we said our goodnights, we needed to get back to our girls who were supposed to be at home doing their homework. But turns out our night had only just begun.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bev. Lordy-loo on a stick squared. We had just pulled onto our street when we saw Ray’s red Nissan in our driveway. Our driveway. And sitting inside, sobbing was Bev. And not just a sniffle, sniffle, but an all out sob-snot fest.

  “Oh thank god, Ben, Bee, I need your help, I’m sorry to bust in on you like this, but it is Ray, he’s missing and I haven’t seen him for two days and he won’t return my calls or hasn’t shown up at work and what will I do, where will I go, without Ray, ” she said in one great big hysterical burst which was all followed by a great more hysterical sobbing. And much to my dismay, she leaned into Ben to literally sob on his shoulder.

  What? A woman touching my Ben? I don’t think so. If it is one thing I’ve drilled into Ben is that women, other women, like big strong men and he’s one and he needs to watch it cause women left and right will throw themselves at you and bam before you know it you are the object of their flirtation. If it was one thing Ben and I had was iron clad boundaries around the opposite sex. For him, it was a cultural thing, thank god, for me, it was the raging jealously that lives inside my ample bosom. I just would not stand a single stray from Ben towards another woman. Being on a pool team and hanging around bars a lot does that to you. “Things” can get over friendly, overly quickly. And women can misinterpret even the smallest act of kindness from a man. And so yes, in some ways, it was my duty to wave the flag from time to time and say HEY, step back, getting a little too close. And this flagrant disregard of personal space, Bev was lucky I didn’t deck her. I mean, when you see a couple, a married couple and you are sobbing, don’t you think you should seek solace from the woman, not latch onto the man like the hussy you are. Ben immediately saw my look of death and backed up, but she kept leaning into him like some bad magnet. Clearly I’d have to take things into my own hands. Literally.

  “Uhm, Bev,” I said grabbing her arm hard, probably harder than I needed to, “why don’t we go inside and get you some tissues and you can tell us what is going on.” All the while giving Ben my look of death, as in clear out buddy, I’m handling this one, you, you got the cop, I’ll take the hysterical hussy.

  I guided Bev into the house and out to the back porch just as

  Yaz yelled out, “I finished my book report, I need you to read it.”

  “Sorry honey, I’ll just be a minute and be right there.” I motioned to Ben to go see about his daughter while I took on Bev duty. “Bev, tell me from the beginning, what’s going on?”

  “Well, Ray and I have been in a bit of a fight lately, but I know what you are thinking, maybe he cleared out and is staying away from me, but that’s not it, I haven’t seen or heard from him since Sunday afternoon and he hasn’t shown up at work and his phone goes right to voice mail and his car was still at his apartment and the door to the apartment was open-that’s why I borrowed it, the car, see.”

  “Bev, tell me what’s been going on lately, has he seemed upset, what was your fight about?”

  “Well, we went on this cruise and he was flirting with all these women and I got upset and didn’t talk to him for almost half the cruise, it was the most awful trip and then we came back and I found out Drew was dead and Jesse in jail and I’ve been a bit of a wreck myself the truth was I was even reconsidering getting back with Drew before I found it he was dead, cause I was so sick of all the bullshit with Ray, but now I just want to know where he is and if he’s ok.” She said all of that without taking a single breath I swear.

  “And that’s why I’m here, I don’t want to be alone and I was at my house and Pam wasn’t there and hasn’t been there and I didn’t, I just couldn’t stand it being there not knowing where he was and so I thought I’d come over cause that’s what I’d do when Drew was around, whenever Ray wasn’t around or we were in a fight I’d go see Drew but

  now Drew’s dead and I don’t know who to talk to.” She just got more and more pathetic the more she talked.

  “And so I thought, maybe, you guys could help, you’ve been so helpful to poor Jess and I feel so bad about not being the kind of mother he needs and you are such a good mo
ther to these girls, what should I

  do?”

  It was too much to take in all at once. I needed to parse this all out. Ray was missing. Since Sunday (when we broke into his apartment by the by), Pam wasn’t around, Bev was hysterical. Lordy-loo.

  But I wasn’t having her stay here any longer than was necessary. There was really only one answer I could think of, and that was Officer Krumpke.

  “Well, you might want to think about reporting Ray as missing, does he have family?”

  “No, there’s just his mom and she’s in a nursing home upstate and is pretty out of it, I know he has a brother but I think his brother is in prison.”

  “Well that would be my advice, if you really are as worried as you say and it is really out of character for him not to show up like this than I’d report it, what’s the worst that could happen, he shows up, gets mad at you for filing a missing person’s report?”

  “Guess you are right, will you help me though, I hate to do this alone.”

  And reluctantly I agreed. I really was so through with all this drama. Where was my quiet little life now? And soon Bev and I piled into the Red Nissan and sped off to Palm Bay Police Headquarters on Malabar.

  After filing the report, with Bev batting her watery eyes at every male cop who came through the room, she drove me back to my house.

  I have to say I was certainly getting both physically tired from being up and emotionally tired from all her dramatics.

  “Can I ask a favor, I don’t want to stay at my house tonight, not with Ray missing and not with Pam not there, is there anyway” and before she could ask, I simply said: “We don’t have a spare bedroom”