Stepford USA

by Lada Ray

  “But...” The woman seemed completely baffled.

  “If I stay here,” I went on slowly, as if explaining the obvious to a child, “the next thing you will do is let in another criminal who had tried to drown me, all because he is a prominent lawyer and is running for State Senate!”

  In response to this new revelation, the nurse's mouth fell open and her eyes blinked.

  I sighed. Boy, but she was slow! I continued with my tedious lecture: “I need to go home, where I know I can be safe, because I have proper locks on my doors. Do you understand?”

  “But this is a hospital. You are perfectly safe here!” My four-year-old nurse finally reacquired her ability to speak.

  “Look,” I said, resigning to the fact that it was impossible to get through that wall, “I don't know what world you live in, but in my world, I protect myself when there is danger. Someone just tried to kill me and he, or one of his cronies, may try it again. Do – you – get – it?”

  “But... but,” the nurse was babbling, “that's why you should stay here, where it's safe and where you can get some rest. I do understand that you had a terrible scare and so I... I guess, I can see how you may be... um... paranoid at this point, but I can assure you, Chief Nordini is an upstanding citizen.”

  She pronounced all that with a comforting smile on her face.

  “Look,” I said, feeling awfully tired. “I must talk to the doctor right now.”

  “Unfortunately, Doctor Sorensen is not available. He'll be in at nine thirty and I'll make sure he sees you as soon as possible after his morning appointments.”

  “And when would that be?”

  “About eleven thirty,” she said with the same nonchalant smile. The triumphant look on her face announced that she knew, she was winning this battle.

  “That's too late,” I tried again. “I need to go home now! If you can't arrange that, I need to see a doctor right away.”

  “That's not possible.”

  I gazed at her in silence, assessing this new complication. Clearly, there was no one here to reason with. “All right,” I conceded. “In that case, I need to make a call. Please give me the phone and the local phone book.”

  “This can be arranged,” she said, nodding regally. Then, she hastily left the room, apparently relieved, that I finally got off her back. She brought in the phone and the phone book and promptly disappeared, before I could start pestering her again.

  First I dialed Rachel and explained the situation. She told me to be ready with my stuff in forty five minutes. If Rachel says to be ready, I could trust her. She had tremendous connections in the medical world and all she needed was one or two strategically placed calls.

  Then I dialed Maria, whose phone was, thankfully, in the phone book and asked her to pick me up from the hospital.

  Right on cue, the nurse and a doctor came into my room, my clothes on hand, astonished looks on their faces. I dressed as quickly as I could, signed release forms and rushed to get out of that place. Hospitals were never on my favorites list.

  I was relieved to see that Maria was waiting for me in the lobby. On the way home, we stopped at Dan and James's house to pick up Princess Lily, who, according to Dan, had been waiting for my return next to the front door, refusing to leave her vigil even for a minute. James, to keep her company, spent most of his time next to her. I hugged Lily, scratched James behind the ears to his heart's content and gave Dan a long, grateful kiss, which brought a smile to his face.

  When we got home, Maria made me some soothing tea with lemon and honey and volunteered to stay for the day. She made my bed and tucked me in with care, one normally affords a fragile piece of crystal. I accepted her ministering, but made her promise that she'll wake me up the moment the investigator from Boston shows up.

  Then, cracking the bedroom door - in case I called for her - she settled down on my living room sofa and pulled out her knitting, which she sensibly remembered to bring along. Lily stealthily appeared on my bed and immediately curled into a cozy ball of fluff next to my stomach. I listened to the comforting clicking of Maria's knitting needles and to Lily's soothing purr, my eyelids getting heavy. Then, they closed of their own accord and I fell sleep.

  “Jade, Jade, the investigator is here,” I heard a soft voice. Maria stood next to my bed, gently shaking my shoulder. “Senior Inspector Delgado from Boston wants to talk to you.”

  “What time is it?” I said sleepily, getting out of bed and pulling on a robe.

  “Half past two.”

  “In the morning?” I asked stupidly.

  “No, in the afternoon,” said Maria and smiled, noticing my worried glance at the clock. “Relax, you haven't overslept anything, the world is still intact and it's still the same day.”

  “How long have I slept?”

  “Something like six or seven hours. I wouldn't let him wake you up earlier. Told him, you would be no good to him if he didn't let you recover a little.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully, accepting a cup of jasmine green from her and making myself comfortable on the sofa.

  Inspector Delgado turned out to be a serious, olive skinned, bespectacled man in his forties, who took some lined paper out of his bag and immediately got down to business. I liked his detached professionalism. It certainly made a welcome change from the cronyism I've observed in these parts.

  I told him about my secret investigation, my suspicions and findings and about what happened to me last night. As I talked, the investigator kept writing, tight, straight lines appearing quickly from under his pen. When I finished my story, he asked me to read and sign the paper. I liked that, too. No games here, everything’s straight and above board. He seemed okay, but in case he wasn't, I thought, still unable to shake off my suspicions of anyone who could conceivably belong to the “good old boys club,” Maria would be my witness that I told him the whole story. And if necessary, I could always call on Rachel and the others to confirm my findings. But my hunch was that in this particular case that wouldn't be necessary.

  “Thank you, Ms. Snow, “said Senior Inspector Delgado, shaking my hand. He stood up to leave. “You have been most helpful to our investigation.”

  “Just a minute, Inspector,” I said. “I have a couple of questions of my own.”

  “Sure.”

  “I need to know if you've arrested the criminals.”

  “And by criminals you mean?”

  “Obviously, I mean those who raped Rebbecca, who killed Adelaide and who tried to kill me,” I said impatiently.

  “At this time, we asked Mr. Jack Maloof not to leave town, pending our investigation.”

  “What! Only Jack? That's it?” I said, jumping to my feet. “What about the others? Catcham! Nordini! The Ring Leader and the Chief Liar! What about those two? What, you are just going to let them go? Just like that? Are you telling me that you are a part of the same gang? Are you planning on protecting these killers?” I was almost yelling now.

  Inspector Delgado winced and tried to say something, but I wouldn't let him. Maria hugged me around the shoulders, stroking my hand soothingly. My breathing was heavy as I tried to calm down.

  The Inspector spoke softly, avoiding my blazing gaze. “Ms. Snow, you have every right to be angry. I perfectly understand, after what you've been through. But please, understand my position. I just arrived here. I don't know anything, nor anyone in these parts. I need time to...”

  “To adjust,” I finished for him sarcastically, my temper flaring up again. “And till then, you need to tread softly, right?”

  “Not exactly, but generally speaking...”

  “And while you are treading softly, these criminals may kill someone else!”

  “As to that, I can assure you, it won't happen,” he said dryly.

  “Oh yeah, and how do you know? Are you psychic or something?”

  “No,” his mouth curved into a thin smile, as he looked at me with interest. “I'm not. But... I didn't want to tell you this. However, und
er the circumstances, I guess I'll have to.”

  “You better,” I countered in a combative voice.

  “Yes, I better,” he nodded. “Otherwise, I'm afraid, you'll tie me up and hold me prisoner until I confess.” His mouth again curved into a smile, apparently intended to diffuse tension in the room. But for once in my life, I wasn't in a mood for any jokes.

  “This isn't funny.” I looked at him reproachfully. “I don't tie up people! It's your friends Catcham and Nordini who are famous for that.”

  “They are not my friends,” he said, frowning. Then he continued, this time entirely seriously.

  “The reason I didn't want to say anything is because I wanted to spare you another shock. But if you insist. The thing is that Nick Nordini shot himself early this morning. He had reportedly kissed his wife and two children goodbye and gone to work. Then, he locked himself up in his office, telling the dispatcher on duty that he should not be disturbed and wrote a full confession, implicating himself, Jack Maloof and Marc Catcham. After that, he pulled the trigger.”

  “Oh, my God. I can't believe it,” I murmured. I felt dizzy and sat back down on the sofa. Maria rushed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water.

  I gulped down the entire contents of the glass and handed it back to her. A couple of minutes later, I recovered enough to continue my interrogation.

  “What about Catcham?”

  Inspector Delgado hesitated. “Marc Catcham is still at large.”

  “You mean, YOU LOST HIM?!”

  “I haven't lost anybody,” said Inspector Delgado defensively. “Remember, I just arrived two and a half hours ago. He might've skipped town well before I got here. It could've happened right after he tried to kill you.”

  “Or, more likely,” I offered, “Nordini tipped him off.”

  “Yes,” he murmured pensively. “That did occur to me. Anyway, a warrant for his arrest has been issued and a nationwide manhunt is underway. We think, we can catch him pretty soon.”

  “Catcham is the killer. You must catch him!” I said, cognizant of how ridiculous that sounded. Despite myself, I grinned. “Catcham – catch him. Couldn't invent such last name if I tried!”

  Inspector Delgado grinned back. “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Jade,” gasped Maria. “Looks like your sense of humor is returning. The old Jade's back! Thank God! I was starting to get really concerned.” And she enclosed me in a warm, protective embrace.

  I spent the rest of the day by the phone, hoping for news that they caught Marc Catcham. But Inspector Delgado was silent.

  Then, right before I was ready to curl up in bed again, Rachel called. After what happened to me, she was able to convince professor Strauss to get involved in Rebbecca's fate. He was now talking to his connections, pulling strings and it was possible that the American Psychiatric Association's Investigative Commission would be arriving shortly to look into irregularities at the clinic. Rebbecca's transfer to Professor Strauss's Westchester Clinic was also in the cards. It was truly good news and my mood substantially improved. At least, this part of my investigation was moving in the right direction.

  Chapter 29

  It seemed, the entire town came to say a final goodbye to Adelaide. I noticed Linda Morrow, editor-in-chief of the Stepford Post, surrounded by her staff. Further on in the crowd I saw Mr. Schwartz, the accountant I met at the Rotary Club meeting. Next to him was Peter Burns, openly holding hands with Marina Pelsidski; two librarians I knew from the Stepford library; Amy, the animal shelter director; George, the vet and a bunch of shelter volunteers. Our entire knitting club was there, all wiping their eyes with a tissue. I noticed a few people I recognized from the hospital, as well as several from Rebbecca's clinic, including Nurse Blake.

  I saw Dan, standing to one side with James, and gave him a friendly nod. There were also many people I've never known. Some had an expression of sorrow and loss on their faces and others looked incredulous, as if they couldn't believe that Adelaide was indeed dead.

  Even the wind seemed to die down and the birds stopped their relentless chirping. The silence was so profound that every sob and every sigh was magnified. I gazed at the mourning sea of faces and realized for the first time that Adelaide, this quiet, frail woman, wasn't just the soul of the knitting club - she was the soul of this entire town.

  Jason stood by her coffin for a long time all by himself. He was dressed in a somber black suit with white shirt and black tie, his hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Then, people formed a line. One after another, they approached him to say something respectful and supportive. The difference in how he was treated now was staggering. He was no longer a criminal, a despised rapist - he was an honorable member of the community. And it struck me as cruel irony that his mother had to pay with her life in order for people to change their attitude toward him.

  He shook people's hands, said a few quiet words to each and generally behaved with so much dignity that I was impressed and proud of him. But when it was my turn to approach, his unspoken sorrow struck me so profoundly that I caught my breath. I could feel his soul crying and his heart bleeding.

  I didn't shake his hand - that seemed too shallow for the overwhelming grief that enveloped us both. Instead, I hugged him and held close for as long as I could.

  “Thank you, Jade,” he whispered softly in my ear.

  I watched with tears in my eyes as four men in black approached the coffin and carried it to the funeral carriage. Jason held the right front corner, George – the left. I knew that the man holding the rear corner behind Jason was Tom, the farmer he worked for. They carried the coffin to the car and when they turned, I saw with surprise that the rear left corner was carried by Peter Burns.

  A long and winding procession of cars followed the funeral carriage to the cemetery. When the coffin was lowered into the fresh grave, Jason, pale, but composed, threw the first handful of earth into it. I did the same and my lips trembled, as I was overrun with a fresh wave of grief. Jason, supporting me with an arm around my shoulders, led me aside. There, by an old, sprawling maple, we stood on the green grass of the old cemetery, trying to come to terms with our sorrow.

  “I feel so lost at times,” he finally said, “that I want to die.”

  I held his hand in mine. “I know.”

  “It's only you, Jade,” he went on, “who gives my life any meaning right now. You are my beacon, Jade, my one and only beacon. When I look at you, I see the light, that light in the end of the tunnel you promised me. Remember?”

  I nodded.

  “Too bad,” he said with a sad smile, “that in order to get to that light I have to do the worst thing I've ever done in my life - say final goodbye to Mom.”

  We stood in silence, drawing strength and at the same time, giving support to each other.

  “Jason,” I said. “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Anything, Jade, you know that.”

  “Listen, this is a big one. I know how much you love Lily, but you'll have a lot on your plate going forward, so would you consider... would you ever consider... um...” I stopped, not knowing how to continue. How could I ever ask him to part with someone as precious as Lily, especially, after he already lost his mother? Did I have any right to ask for such a thing?

  But he interrupted me. “Jade, I want you to keep Lily,” he said simply.

  “Really?” I couldn't believe it.

  “Yes, really,” he smiled at my almost childlike incredulity and delight.

  “I love her very much, but you have a special bond with her and I know, that's what Mom would've wanted.”

  “Jason, thank you so much!” I was overwhelmed.

  When I walked back to my car, I noticed Linda Morrow heading in my direction.

  “Hi Jade,” she said, shaking my hand. “I just wanted to tell you that you've done one heck of a job.”

  “Hi Linda,” I said. “And thank you. Sorry about not being able to complete my assignment. All my subjects are either dead,
on the run, or under investigation. I guess, my assignment is moot now.”

  “Don't worry about that,” said Linda. “You did something much more important. I wanted you to write about the movers and shakers of tomorrow, instead, you single-handedly shook up and awakened this sleepy town. And if you ask me, it needed a bit of shaking up. It was getting stagnant here. We need to reassess our priorities. Now, thanks to you, it's inevitable. As to the assignments, there are plenty of things to write about. I hope I can count on you in the future?”

  “Time will tell,” I responded. “Soon.”

  I turned to leave when I saw the approaching Peter Burns, with larger than life Marina Pelsidski on his arm.

  “I am very grateful to you, Jade,” he said.

  “What for?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

  “For helping me see the light, to understand that life is short and that I shouldn't waste it. Thank you for that.”

  “You're welcome,” I said. “But I still don't get it.”

  “I didn't want to end up like my father,” he explained. “He slaved like a pack horse all his life and what did he have to show for it in the end? All he could remember were the long hours he spent working. He never took a vacation, never paid any attention to his wife, who finally ran off with a painter. He neglected me. And on his death bed, all he could think of was the humiliation he – it was always about him – had to endure. See, at one point, our bank was on the verge of bankruptcy and we desperately needed a money infusion. A decision was made and I promptly proposed and married Sheila, because her family could provide said infusion, not because I loved her. We recovered, but my father died not too long after, unable to bear that someone else, who now owned a chunk of our bank, was telling him how to run it. He lived and died an angry, narrow minded, prideful man. He never got it. And I was stuck with the results of a bad decision. All my life I felt angry at him, angry and bitter. I thought I was confined in this pretty prison because of him. I blamed him, not myself, although marrying Sheila was my decision, as much as his. Thanks to you, I was finally able to release all that suppressed energy. Now I'm free.”