by Adam Zorzi
“I don't want you wasting minutes when there's a landline. I think it's more secure anyway. I don't like the sound of this. Maybe you should hire a private investigator to see if this man is stalking you.”
“I think he's at least aware of my favorite places. More importantly, I forgot to ask him to keep the adoption a secret. His brother saw me at Petersburg and thought he was seeing Bella's ghost, I look so much like her. I'm sure Dan told him.
“Dr. Youzny said adoption experts encourage parents not to keep it a secret. Dan has a child from his marriage. He may have told that child and everyone he knows. The fact that he and Bella had a love child sent him into orbit.”
“Darling, would it be so terrible if people knew that you were adopted?”
LouLou started to cry. “Yes. You and Dad are my parents. I don't want some college kid and his girlfriend claiming any hold on me. I love you. No one else.”
“What matters is who you consider to be family, but if this investigation into your father's death drags on, we won't have a shred of privacy left. The authorities may be looking at the same DNA database that revealed your biological parents. It may not stay secret.”
She hadn't thought of that. Tante Deirdre thought she got her blonde hair and blue eyes from her dad. She'd be heartbroken to know that wasn't true.
“Should we tell the family now to prevent them from hearing about it some other way?”
“No. The family has had enough. Canadian investigators interviewed Deirdre and her family. Collin and Liz and their kids have been interviewed and researched. Truly, it makes me want to run away to Iceland or Lapland or the Faroe Islands, away from this intrusiveness.”
“I'd no idea they were looking so widely. It's ridiculous. My concern is you. Are you really okay in Middleburg?”
“Yes, I am. It's quiet and peaceful. Even though my friends are in Washington, I don't want to go back there. I went to DC for lunch with close friends one day and had a terrible time staying at the table. I wanted to jump and run out of the restaurant. They were being kind and wonderful and protective, but I couldn't wait to leave. Everything reminds me of your father.”
“Your times were good there, though. Did you close on the house?”
“That was the easiest thing I've done. The bidding war tripled the price. The buyer paid cash, and it closed last month. I'm free of it. Like you, I have the memories of our time there in my heart. I'd love to see you. Come stay here. You might be smart to stay out of Dan's town for a bit. He sounds a bit desperate and possibly unstable.”
“Mom, he was at Petersburg for two years. He is desperate and unstable. I don't even know his diagnosis beyond what Dr. Youzny told us. Whatever it is, Dan may not be as diligent as I am about continuing treatment and medication. I don't know, but I think I need to find out.”
“Be careful.”
“I will, Mom. It's getting dark. I need to head home. I'm going to splurge and take a taxi.
“That's my sensible girl.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
“Here, let me help you.” Roy helped LouLou out of the taxi. “Cabs are a rare treat for you. Everything okay?”
“I think so, Roy. It was getting dark, and I didn't want to walk home. I'm fine.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
LouLou nodded and headed to her loft. She could feel Roy's eyes watching until she was in the elevator and lights came on in her unit.
Gregg was standing at the door. “Are you okay? You tore out of Vinyl.”
LouLou put her tote down, unlaced her sandals, and poured herself a glass of iced water. She'd kept eight crystal high ball glasses from the DC house.
She went to Gregg and kissed him. He responded ardently. “I need you,” she said. “Now.”
Their clothes were off in seconds, and they were in bed. LouLou needed the feel of his skin, his probing kisses, and his deep thrusts. She needed his tenderness too. Afterward, she lay spent as he kissed her softly in all the right places. He knew instinctively where they were. He was the most generous lover she'd ever had.
“Want to talk?”
“Dan at Vinyl? That was High Life.”
Gregg sat up immediately. “Do you think he followed you there?”
“That was my thought. Who needs Vinyl to find some easy Dylan and Seeger? He could find it on YouTube if he wanted to learn chords. And that wasn't even the most upsetting part. He saw you, Gregg. He shook hands with you. Does that mean he's a Sensitive like Skylar? “
“Definitely. Do you think he's stalking you?”
“It's starting to feel that way.” She reached for her glass of water and sipped. “I called Mom immediately. I wanted to hear her voice. I told her about the magazines, and then I told her about Bella's duplicate letter and Dan showing up at Vinyl on a flimsy pretext.”
“What was her take?”
“He's unstable and desperate. I mean, I met him at a psych hospital. He spent a long time at Petersburg. Who knows how catatonia messed with his mind? I don't know that his depression or whatever else he may have is cured. He may no longer be in therapy or taking meds. He's a wild card.
“I also told her that he may be spreading news about the adoption. That didn't bother her. The investigation into Dad's death includes looking at every aspect of his life. She thinks the investigators already know whatever they need from the DNA database.”
Gregg turned on his side to face her. He cursed. “That isn't over yet?”
“The theory is there's a terrorist cell in France targeting US and EU diplomats. No reason given. She said she feels so hounded she wants to live off the grid in Iceland.”
Gregg shook his head. “That's a thought. What about you? Do you feel safe?”
“I'm edgy. Mom invited me to Middleburg, but that's a temporary solution. I think I'm going to hire a private investigator to get a read on Dan. If he's stalking me, I'll press charges. I may be unreliable due to my mental health history, but a report from a PI would be sufficient to get a restraining order and charge him with stalking. Even if it's cyberstalking.
“What did Skylar make of him?” She was curious.
“Do you have to ask? A man comes in and wants to talk Dylan? He thinks Dan's the angel Gabriel or Michael or whichever one is the top guy.”
“What about Robert?”
“Pissed he didn't get any attention from Dan. Hissed a couple of times.”
“I trust Robert. I'll call a PI tomorrow.”
“And tonight?” Gregg reached for her.
“Tonight is just for us. Just let me check messages.” She turned from Gregg, picked up her phone, and read texts.
“This may be the answer,” she said to Gregg.
“What is it?”
“A text from Dan Ramsay's mother asking to meet me. The text was from Dr. Baldwin's office, so Mrs. Ramsay doesn't know my phone number.”
“Do you think it's safe to meet her?” Gregg brushed a wayward strand of hair from her face.
“She's got to be eighty. She might tell me more than I can find out from a PI. I'll meet her.”
***
LouLou savored her big cup of Roy's chicory coffee. She'd treated herself to a second one after finishing the breakfast of egg whites, fruit, and whole wheat toast he'd presented her. Sipping it slowly gave her time to watch the deli/patisserie/bodega's breakfast crowd empty. Caesar was handling the few latecomers and ringing up sales of dishwashing liquid, deodorant, and diapers—the best-selling mid-morning items in the bodega.
Roy walked to where LouLou sat at the far end of the counter. “Busy morning. Unusual for mid-week.”
“The word is out, Roy. Best breakfast in town. You're going to have to name this place soon.”
“I'll get around to it.” He wiped his hands on his apron. “I've got a feeling you don't want to talk to me about names.”
LouLou could tease him, but she was serious. She didn't want to waste time.
“There's a guy who might
be following me. I don't think he knows where I live, but he may know I come here for breakfast if he's studying me.”
“A fan?”
“No. He's a man in his fifties. A psych patient I met first at Richmond Memorial Hospital and then at Petersburg.”
“Commonwealth Psychiatric? I don't like the sound of that. What was he in for?”
“Competency hearing like me, except he lapsed into catatonia after his first night there and ended up staying more than two years. He came out of it while I was there.”
“Why's he interested in you?”
She'd never lied to Roy and Sara. She'd fudged about Gregg, but that was different.
“There were some rumors an aide started. She was fired, but she told people he was my father. He believes them.”
Roy cocked his head. “Father.”
LouLou nodded.
“So he doesn't want to hurt you. Nothing romantic.”
“Roy, I don't know what he thinks. Coming from me, this sounds weird, but he's a psych patient. That can mean anything. He may be cured. He may be sick. He may have a doctor or not. Not everyone is as diligent as I am about fighting the disease. Not everyone has a support system like you and Sara and Skylar. I don't know anything about him.”
Roy nodded his head. “No one takes better care of themselves than you do, LouLou. You're right. You're probably exceptional, but why now? Why are you telling me this now?”
LouLou inhaled the aroma of her coffee, took a last sip of coffee, and swallowed. She pushed the cup away. “He showed up at Vinyl yesterday at the same time I was there. The same time I'm always there.”
“Could it have been a coincidence?”
“No, Roy. He had some flimsy pretext about wanting to learn to play the guitar and getting some Dylan records. Beginners don't buy LPs; they download. Suburban guys like him buy CDs.”
“You're right. He could learn how to play basic chords from YouTube and buy or download songs from plenty of sites. He didn't need to go to a store for aficionados to get basic information. What did you do?”
“I hid in a listening booth until it looked like he was going to stay as long as I was there. He told Skylar he and I were friends. I headed out, but I corrected him and said we'd been patients at the same psych hospital and hoped we didn't do that again. I left and took a long route with a couple of stops getting home.”
“Ah, that's why you were in a cab.”
“Right.”
“What about Skylar?”
“I emailed Skylar and told him the guy was stalking me and to call the cops if he shows again. Skylar got it. After the euphoria about Dylan cleared, Skylar realized how weak the guy's pretext for being there sounded.”
LouLou reached in her tote and pulled out a sketch she'd made the night before of Dan as he'd been at Vinyl. Beckham haircut growing long, white hair, and gaunt. “I made a sketch. If you see this guy anywhere near here, lock your doors and call the cops.”
Roy shifted on his feet. “Are you sure? Do you think he's dangerous? Are Sara and the kids in danger?”
“I don't know. From what I saw yesterday, he's not as well-groomed as he once was. He might be going off his meds. He may not even have meds, but he's sniffing around me and that's unacceptable. I don't know anything about violence or weapons. I had to warn you. I hope it's a false alarm, but you need to know.”
“What about you? Have you been to the cops yet?”
“I'm meeting someone in a few minutes who knows him better than I do. I'll go to the cops after that. I may go stay with my uncle for a few days so I have all my meds with me. Nothing's in the apartment. I'll let you know if I'm not going to be home tonight. I don't want you to worry. In the meantime, I want you, Sara, and the kids to be safe.”
She leaned over the counter, held his head in both hands, and kissed the top of his bald head.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The elderly woman extended her hand when LouLou walked into the dim lounge of a suburban hotel. Her hair was short, silver, and stylish. She was seated in a club chair and had on a tailored pink dress and low-heeled pumps.
“I'm Selma Ramsay. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Fleming.”
LouLou shook her soft hand. She smelled of sandalwood and Iris. Shalimar, she guessed. “Please call me LouLou.”
“Then you must call me Selma.” She pointed to the chair next to her. “Please sit. I've ordered tea for myself. What would you like?” she asked in a soft, southern voice.
“Club soda with lime, please.” Selma discretely relayed the order and a glass was placed in front of LouLou. “LouLou, you're a beautiful young woman.”
“Thank you.” She sat silently. Selma would get around to asking her something eventually.
“I'm told you're an artist.”
LouLou nodded. “I draw. I drew all my tattoos. I like to capture moments on paper. I'm not a painter or sculptor.”
“I don't think that matters. You take pleasure in it.”
Sensible. Reassuring.
“My son told me how kind you were to him during his hospitalizations. He said you drew sketches so he could get a haircut that wasn't hideous.”
LouLou nodded. “Always best to take a picture to a hair stylist.”
More silence. LouLou waited her out.
“Please forgive me, but was there anything in particular that caused you to be kind to him?”
“I'm a kind person. I've lived with schizophrenia since I was sixteen. People who've had perfectly normal lives have no idea what it's like to live with a chronic illness, much less a chronic mental illness. I assume we're all doing the best we can until proven otherwise.”
“What a thoughtful way to live.” Selma smiled in appreciation.
“When I first saw him at Richmond Memorial Hospital, he was walking laps around the floor as part of his routine to stay healthy. He seemed determined to get well. I liked that. His clothes attracted me.”
Selma raised an eyebrow. The skin of her eyelids were wrinkled with powder.
“He seemed so out of place on a psych floor. He looked like a middle aged suburban guy, but he was wearing something like high school gym shorts and a tee shirt with a beer logo that read High Life. I'd only been on meds for a few days and that struck me as hysterical. He said his brother supplied his clothes and he wore them without looking at the slogans. When I arrived at Commonwealth Psychiatric he'd been there for about two years. I thought I could scare him out of his catatonia. I went over to him, intent on being naughty and then when I looked at him I realized I knew him. Like someone's father or a professor or neighbor. I finally realized he was the man I called High Life and reminded him I was Lou from Richmond Memorial Hospital. The next time he saw me, he indicated he understood what I'd said.”
Selma visibly relaxed. “So I have you to thank for getting him on the road to recovery. After he showed signs of awareness, we were able to retain a neurologist who specialized in the rare condition he had. Now, he's able to live a mostly normal life, but what's normal? He's alive and not behind bars. Thank you.”
LouLou sat straighter.
“Please don't thank me. As patients in psychiatric facilities in the region, we recognize familiar faces and bond for the duration of our stay. There's a man at Commonwealth Psych who always looks out for me. There's a woman I saw during two stays. We smoked cigarettes together, made jokes about the staff, and speculated about the first thing we'd do when released. We'd reconnect again if we were to be hospitalized at the same time. It's a way to get through the agony that is hospitalization, but it stops at the hospital door. I have a Sick life and a real life. I don't mix the two.”
Selma sipped her tea and refilled her cup from the small teapot on the table.
“Is that a polite way of saying you don't want anything to do with Dan or me?”
“I told Dan directly. I have two lives. I don't mix them. He's part of the Sick life no matter what biology we share.”
“I see.” Selma put her cup down. �
�Why did you agree to meet me?”
“To satisfy your curiosity.” She was matter of fact.
Selma looked taken aback, but LouLou continued. “It's natural that you'd want to know what your biological granddaughter looks like and get a sense of her. I don't have a cold heart. If I could meet you without harming myself, there's no reason not to do it.” LouLou took a sip of her club soda.
“You're forthright,” Selma said. “Not a lot of Southern charm.”
“No, but then I wasn't raised in the south. I lived in Europe.”
“What do you mean you'd meet me if it didn't mean harming yourself?”
“I protect myself from unnecessary stress. Adding Dan's family to my life and pretending there's a family connection would be extremely stressful. I won't do it. I spend all day every day checking the time for meds and injections and making sure my phone is charged. I have alarms set for times to eat and exercise. I keep the same doctor's appointments once a week. I take naps. I avoid stress. I have a rigid schedule.”
Selma seemed to be listening carefully.
“Selma, I've known since I was diagnosed at sixteen I would never have a normal life. I could never marry and inflict possible psychotic episodes on a man I loved. I certainly wouldn't have children. I'll die younger than most. Women with schizophrenia live abut twenty-five years less than women without it. Schizophrenia is one of the rare mental illnesses that can actually cause death and be considered a natural cause. It took me a long time to accept those facts. I've endured hospitalizations and experimental medications.
“Were I to include Dan's family in my life, I'd be a curiosity. I'd feel constantly compared to Bella and always falling short. I don't want to fill in gaps for Dan. I don't want to share my childhood memories with anyone other than my parents. I've no interest in Dan's life. All of it would be too stressful for me. I'm simply not going to jeopardize my health.”
Selma stretched her hand and rested it on top of LouLou's.
“Nor should you.” She kept her hand on LouLou's. “Your life sounds very complicated with a terrible illness.”
