by Paula Boyd
As soon as we were out of the office and into the hallway, Lucille started wagging her finger. “Now, Christine, I know we’ve had our differences.”
“Differences?” The therapist’s voice raised an octave. “That’s what you’re going to call it?”
“Okay, well…” Lucille said, sounding slightly contrite. “I suppose I was a bit of a stinker at times, and I am sorry about all that. But I had my reasons and they seemed like real good ones at the time. But, well, now I’d like to start over. If you’ll give me another chance, I think you’ll be surprised at all the things I can do, just real surprised.”
Yes, I feared we all would. And why was Lucille buddying up to Christine? Seemed to me the woman was as likely to be part of the problem as not. And for sure she was not happy to have Lucille back on her list of things to deal with. Then again, who amongst us ever was?
“You can fool the director,” Christine said. “But you can’t fool me. I don’t know what you’re up to yet, but I will. We’re going down to the therapy room and you better be showing me that you’re serious about this.”
“Well, I am serious,” Lucille said as the therapist wheeled her back into her old room. “I want out of this place for good.”
“That makes two of us,” the therapist said. “Now put your personal items away and I’ll be back in a few minutes to get started.” She walked over to the corner, picked up a walker and set it beside Lucille. “And you are not to be going anywhere without this until you’re told. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Christine it is perfectly clear,” Lucille said, crossing her arms. “But I want something clear with you too. I am not some imbecile and I’m not senile, and I will not be treated like a child. This time, you’re going to be explaining why you’re making me do things so I understand. And if somebody tries to shove pills down my throat you’re going to be explaining that too. You understand me?”
Christine narrowed her eyes again. If she was part of the drug testing, Lucille had just thrown down the gauntlet. “You are, without a doubt, the most difficult patient I have ever had in my entire career, and that is saying something.” She propped her hands on her hips. “If you want explanations then you better be listening. And don’t you even think about arguing with me.”
“You don’t have to be so hateful,” Lucille said.
“Neither do you,” Christine said, then turned and walked toward the door.
“Thank you.” The words had just popped out and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe considering the exchange that had just occurred, I was just grateful we weren’t being escorted back to the director’s office for expulsion or execution or whatever. “I really do appreciate you being willing to work with her again.”
The therapist turned around and stared at me. “I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet.” She continued to hold eye contact, her deliberate gaze burning through me. “Everybody around here better be thinking twice before they do something else they’re going to regret.”
Chapter 24
As the door closed behind the physical therapist, Lucille frowned and unzipped her jacket. “Wonder what she meant by that?”
“You wonder? You wonder?” I said, my voice raising an octave. “It was a threat, Mother. Did you forget about the surveillance videos? She knows. They all know.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that could be a problem.”
“It’s a problem.” I glared at her. “Big one.”
Lucille tapped her nails on the arm of the chair. “Well, then, it’s probably best if you go on home now. Perez will be here anytime and we’re going to meet up at dinner. I’ll let him know what’s going on and make sure he keeps an eye out on Christine and the director. I’ll take care of it. There’s no need for you to hang around. Besides, you might do something else that looks suspicious.”
“Yeah, that’s my biggest worry.” I paced the small area from the chair to the window. Stopping, I stared at her. “Everybody in this place knows I’m the one who took stuff from the lab, deliberately and on purpose. And by everybody, I mean the fine folks behind the killer pills—all of them, up and down the money chain. There’s a lot at stake here and I just can’t see them laughing off my little activities as a silly prank. No, I’m pretty sure they’re going to want to kill me. Now, you may not care if I’m at the top of their to-do list, but I assure you, I do.”
“You don’t have to get snippy about it.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Then do tell, Mother, when it is okay for me to get snippy? Is it when somebody tries to kill one of us? Or do you prefer I wait until after they’ve succeeded, because getting snippy then could be problematic.”
“You need some rest.” Lucille eyed me suspiciously. One would hope she was also doing so out of care and concern, but one would generally be wrong. “You just go on home now. There’s no need in you staying here. Nobody’s going to bother me because I haven’t given them any reason to.”
“Are you sure about that? Because it sounded like Christine would be very happy to have you out of her misery. The director too.” Granted, their annoyances and frustrations were no different than anyone else who’d had to deal with Lucille, but it still concerned me. “I just don’t like this.”
“Oh, I can handle them,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course, I could understand why you might worry, thinking I’m at risk and all like before.” Her voice dripped with haughtiness and condescension. “But there’s no need to get your tail in a twist about it. Things are different this time.”
I did not ask why, because I knew I would not like the answer. “Look, Mother, I know you think you can take on the world, but you really could be in danger.”
“I’m not, but it wouldn’t matter anyway,” she said, patting her chest. “Nobody’s going to get the drop on me this time.”
“Say what?”
Lucille squared her shoulders and sat up taller in the chair. “I came back prepared,” she said, an unpleasantly familiar twinkle in her eyes. “I will admit I could use some practice, but it will have to wait until I can be sure nobody’s going to catch me at it. Still, I’m plenty good anyway.”
Another shiver rippled through my body, then settled in my stomach as a big fat ball of dread. “Please tell me you did not bring your Little Lady.”
“Of course not, Jolene.” She scoffed and waved her hand to emphasize the ridiculousness of my suggestion. “That would be silly. It’s way too big. They’d find that in no time.”
The fact that she hadn’t brought her favorite gun should have made feel better. It didn’t. So, with deep trepidation, I asked, “What have you done?”
Lucille flipped aside the edges of her track suit jacket, then grabbed the bottom of her shirt and whipped it up to her chin. “Isn’t it something!”
“What the hell!” The fact that she’d just deliberately exposed herself was shocking enough, but what else she’d revealed was even worse. In the center of her bra was a snap looking thing with a gun holster behind it. “Oh, my God…”
“I know!” Lucille beamed. “It’s a nice little holster and works much better than I thought it would, just buying it off the Internet and all. This pistol fits perfectly in it.” She pulled her shirt down and patted it into place. “I played around with it a little bit last night. I’m faster standing up, of course, but I still think I can have three rounds out in under five seconds, even from the bed. I’ll do better eventually, of course, but that should be good enough for now. You should get you one.”
I stumbled to a chair and sat down.
Now, I really don’t know why I was shocked at my mother’s latest stunt, but I was. I suppose part of it was my foolish delusion that because she’d almost been killed and was recovering from major surgery that she would have other things on her mind—or at least not have access to her arsenal. Obviously, I was wrong on both counts. So, I just sat there in stunned silence as she continued to chatter on about the details of her new acquisition.
“It came in the mail right after I got blown up,” she said, oblivious to my distress. “Agnes opened it for me and put it in a drawer with my other things, just like I told her. Your man Clove brought it to me since it was in the drawer. I’d told him to bring everything, but I was still real surprised that he brought the guns and the holster. I’m sure glad he did, because it’s coming in handy, don’t you think?”
It wasn’t really a question. She didn’t care what I thought, that fact was well established. Another indisputable fact was that we were once again in a place where things had nowhere to go except horribly wrong. Asking her to give me the gun was a waste of good air, and only a fool would try to take it from her—one of us would get shot, and by one of us I meant me.
I truly hadn’t see the bra-gun thing coming. And how could I? I didn’t even know such contraptions existed. What I did know—and should have remembered—was that my mother would not willingly step out the door without her makeup done, hair fixed and weapon of choice concealed. Perez should have known it too. But, I knew he hadn’t, and he was headed for his own rude awakening. This last big reveal had kicked me over some invisible edge. And, unlike Mother Mayhem, I didn’t have a plan for shooting my way out of my problems. So, I pushed myself up out of the chair and said, “Well, it sure does looks like you have everything under control here. Like you said, no need for me to hang around, messing things up for you. I’ll just mosey on and give you a call in a day or two.”
“What?” Lucille said, sounding a bit stricken. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave? You’re not even going to talk about anything?”
I shrugged. “What’s to say?”
“Well, you could praise me for my quick thinking and foresight to come prepared.” She immediately saw the flaw in the approach, which flipped the switch on another potential problem area. “Now, you’re not going to go telling Jerry Don about this, are you?”
“Of course I am. But first, I’m going to tell Perez. He should know he’s more likely to get shot here than poisoned.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Jolene, that’s just silly. I’m not going to shoot him. We’re partners.” Lucille frowned. “But you’re right. He does need to know he’s got backup now.”
“Indeed he does.” I grabbed my phone, queued up a text message to the lieutenant, pushed the little microphone button and started dictating: “Your partner is in 216. She has a gun. In a holster. In her bra. It’s loaded. Probability of a positive outcome for anyone is zero. You asked for this and have been warned.”
“Now, that was just plain hateful, and downright unnecessary,” Lucille said, glaring at me. “Unlike you, missy, I’m prepared. I’m an asset to the cause and the Lieutenant’s going to tell you so once he gets here. Then you’re going to be real sorry you made fun of me. Just real sorry.”
There were many things I would no doubt be sorry for, but allowing my mother to keep her loaded bra was not one of them. I was, however, exceptionally sorry I hadn’t thrown Lieutenant Daniel Perez and his dumbass plan out of my house. The grand scheme had been doomed to fail, but it had fallen apart even sooner than I’d predicted—like before it even got off the ground. And while the willful unleashing of Mother Mercenary was a big problem, it was only one of a list of problems waiting for him when he arrived. So, being the helpful soul I am, I sent him another friendly text. “They have security cameras and know I helped Doris. Ditto on the lab. Between Big Brother and Big Mamma you are pretty screwed. Have a nice day.”
“I never saw a single one of those stupid cameras,” Lucille said, pressing her lips together and ignoring a prime opportunity to chastise me for my hatefulness. “Of course, I wasn’t looking for them then, but I surely will be from now on. There’s no telling where all they’ve got them hidden.” Her head snapped up and her eyes popped open wide. “Oh, my Lord, they’re probably spying on me right now, right here in this room!”
“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Go look over there by those wires,” she said, pointing toward the television on the wall near the ceiling. “Look all around. They could have a camera on me right now!” When I didn’t jump on command she added, “Well, go on, Jolene, look!”
First of all, if they’d had cameras in all the rooms from the beginning, which seemed both illegal and seriously creepy, they’d have known Lucille wasn’t taking her pills and that she was faking her recovery—or lack thereof—and would have done something about both. So, while we had a boatload of problems, a concealed Lucille-cam wasn’t one of them. “If they had cameras they’d have nabbed you long ago for your antics.”
Lucille frowned as the truth of that statement sunk in. “Well, maybe so.” She tapped her nails to her lips. “I suppose there really is no good reason to be snooping after me. I haven’t done anything wrong—you have.” Her head tipped up and shoulders went back. “You’re the one they’ll be watching, not me. If they’re going to try to whack somebody, it’ll be you.”
So much for maternal concern. It could be worse though, some mothers eat their young.
It did seem that the staff just considered Lucille a typical—if cantankerous and contentious—elderly patient there to recover from a broken hip. Her daughter, on the other hand, had become a troublemaker from the first moment she stepped foot in the door.
“You know, Jolene,” Lucille said, tapping and nodding. “It’s probably best if you just run along now.”
I wanted to leave, I assure you I did. But the fact that she wanted me to was a big red flag. “Why?”
“Well, I know you have other things to do,” Lucille said, almost as if she meant it. “There’s no point in you staying here, you’ll just draw attention to me.” She patted her chest. “I’m perfectly safe. I also have my exercise therapies to do and you’ll just slow me down.”
Uh huh. I didn’t know what she was plotting, but I was sure I wouldn’t like it. I liked that she had a gun strapped to her chest even less. But I had two choices. I could stay and continue to argue with her or I could leave—and I really needed to get away, at least for a while. “Okay, then. I turned and walked toward the door. “I’ll give you a call later.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, entirely too agreeably. “You just run along and do whatever it is you think you need to do. I’ll take care of things here.”
Uh huh. And of all the things I had to worry about, her taking care of things was the one that topped the list.
Chapter 25
When I got to Mother’s Buick—yes, her old one, because I haven’t come to terms with having a fleet, much less picking something from it—I immediately started the engine and the air conditioner. Then, I did what I really didn’t want to do—I called Jerry to inform him of the rapidly unraveling situation at the rehab center.
The unhappy sheriff breathed heavily several times during my exposition about the unsettling chat with the director, the surveillance camera footage, and the veiled threats from the physical therapist. I could almost hear him gritting his teeth through the phone, and it wasn’t because I was embellishing anything. No, to my credit, the telling was a dispassionate stating of facts, without even a single curse word or subjective commentary. Yes, it surprised me as much as it did him.
“I’ll call Perez,” Jerry said.
“Quite frankly, from the way the director acted, I don’t know why the police aren’t here arresting me as we speak.”
“Fear of a public relations nightmare would be my guess,” Jerry said, “The director, involved or not, has a job to do. Being in the news, along with having to file official reports that include runaway patients and stolen lab goods, would put the facility—and her—under the microscope.”
Indeed it would. “And if she’s in on it, she can’t very well report a theft of something they aren’t supposed to have—or admit losing blood samples that prove it.”
“I’ve got to talk to Perez,” Jerry said. “You’re headed home now, yes?”
“That was the plan when I got
in the car.”
“But?”
“As disgusted as I am with this whole mess, I just don’t think I can leave her there.”
“You’re probably more at risk than she is,” he said. “Perez is headed over there now. I’ll let him know what’s going on and to keep an eye on her. I’ll call you back with details.”
I sighed and hung up the phone. I felt a little better, but it still wasn’t okay. The back and forth volleys of go-stay thoughts were giving me a headache. On the one hand, the idea of my mother being in danger terrified me. On the other, the only person who’d actually been threatened was me.
The phone rang again. Another number I didn’t recognize, but also local. How were people getting my number? Was someone handing out cards at Walmart? Then, I remembered that I’d given my number to Finch, so I answered. “This is Jolene.”
“Misses Jackson,” a woman’s voice said. “This is Misses Waverman, Doctor Richard Waverman’s wife. Phillip gave me your number.”
“Oh, yes?”
“I just wanted to call and thank you for helping my husband this morning when he was sick.”
Tired of correcting every single person I met about my name, I let this one slide. “You’re welcome.” I also didn’t have time to chat. However, I did want an update on Waverman. “How is your husband doing?”
“Oh, he’s fine now,” she said offhandedly. “The nausea was just a reaction to a new medication, nothing serious.”
It had looked pretty damn serious to me when he was collapsed in the dirt not breathing. However, that image wouldn’t play well for Waverman’s ego—or potentially his bank account—so it made sense he’d have his wife call and minimize the whole thing. Bad news on that front though. His cash cow had been flirting with the chopping block long before I found him in the bushes “I’m glad to hear he’s okay.”
“He’s going to be just fine, although the doctors want him to take it easy for a week or so.” She paused. “He’ll still be running the business, of course, and available by phone at all times if you need anything.”
