The Opium Equation

by Lisa Wysocky

  I so hoped he was telling the truth. There was another awkward pause. “Okay, Robert. Now it’s my turn to level.” I told him the reason I asked about the opium equation, the laudanum––that it was a notation I found in Glenda’s notebook. “I didn’t know what it was,” I said. “Only I had a feeling it was important.”

  “And was it?” he asked, eyeing my mound of bandages.

  “I think so,” I said. “I think it was very important.”

  Later in the day, after yet another nap and yet another pill, I heard the phone ring. I debated letting the machine get it. I was still pretty drowsy, but, thinking it might be the deputy, I answered.

  “Cat, this is Opal Dupree.”

  I shifted a pillow to better balance my elbow and the phone. Which Opal was calling now, I wondered, the shrewd businesswoman or the rambling elderly octogenarian?

  It turned out it was the businesswoman, but instead of lambasting me, as this version of Opal had before, she commiserated with me about my injuries. I tried to figure out where she was going with all this concern, but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, I told her I had given up on finding Bubba. Dead or alive, for better or worse, that boy was now on his own.

  “Oh, no!” she cried, alarmed. Opal was wholly coherent and I prayed her condition would last at least until the conversation ended. I wasn’t up for another round of her ramblings. “You’ve been through a good deal on account of that Bubba boy, haven’t you?” she asked.

  Surprised at her perception, I agreed that I had.

  “And you care about him, too, I suppose. You must, to have gone through so much.”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I hate that I haven’t been able to find him,” I said. “He’s just a boy and I am convinced he is a victim in all this. He hasn’t had much of a life, but he deserves a fair chance at it, just as everyone does. It must look foolish to you, the way I’ve gotten so involved.”

  As I said the words, I finally realized why I was so concerned about Bubba. He was only a year older than I was when my dad had abandoned me for a whiskey bottle and just two years older than I was when my mother abandoned me in favor of death. And, while I knew the latter was not my mother’s choice, I felt abandoned all the same.

  Apparently my dad did, too. He was so devastated by her death that he eased the pain of her passing with alcohol, and ended up living on the street too drunk to realize he had a home, or a daughter who needed him. I clearly remembered the confusion of being alone at nine years old and my poor attempts at making survival choices. If Bubba was alive, he most likely also had survival decisions to make. I didn’t wish that situation on any child, Bubba included.

  Opal was silent while we each clarified our thoughts, but I was afraid her silence meant her mental capacity was draining away. “No,” she said finally and with clarity, “your involvement doesn’t look foolish and I think you’ll find that you have done some good. I think, in fact, that you will find him.”

  “But how? Miss Opal, I know you can’t see me, but I was beaten by someone so badly when I was over at Fairbanks that I have several broken bones. My upper body is covered in bandages, and I’m forbidden to get out of bed for the foreseeable future. Besides, I don’t know anything more now than I did yesterday. That knowledge wasn’t enough to find Bubba, but it was enough to practically get me killed. Not to mention poor Deputy Giles.

  “Probably,” I concluded, “Bubba is dead. Or maybe he just got tired of being ignored by that sack of garbage that calls himself ‘dad’––and I use that term loosely by the way––and took off on his own, like some people are saying.”

  “The boy,” she said strongly, “is not dead. I am certain of it. But he may soon be if he’s not found.”

  I tried to sit up and instead gasped in pain. “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “Now don’t worry, Cat,” she said, ignoring my words. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see to it. Just remember that in spite of everything that’s happened between us, I believe in you. Just think very carefully about the information you’ve learned in the past few days and you’ll find that Henley boy.”

  Then with out a ho-hum or a goodbye, she hung up.

  Before I could call Deputy Giles with a suggestion that he question Opal Dupree a little further, Darcy arrived with huge, mouthwatering helpings of baked chicken, green beans, macaroni and cheese, and fried apples from Verna Mae’s. We shared it along with most of Mrs. Berry’s cake. If my appetite was any indication of my health, I’d be jumping hurdles by morning. I couldn’t believe how hungry I was, then I remembered it had been a couple of days since I’d last seen a good meal.

  Darcy’s a sweet girl and I love her dearly. But her constant chatter was tiring, so I sent her with a leftover piece of cake out to Jon and the barn. I knew she’d end up spending an hour or so with Petey and I hoped by that time that I’d be fast asleep.

  After checking the security system and the locks, I wrapped up in my down quilt. I sat propped up in bed and gazed out the window, sleepily watching the fog roll up to the house.

  Although I should have been, I wasn’t worried that a hooded monster would jump out of nowhere to finish me off. In fact, I had no worries or fears at all, probably because I was still somewhat sedated. I wished I knew what was in the pills I was taking. I’d forgotten to ask Doc what they were. Maybe Jon knew. I tried to read the label, but the letters all looked like Greek to me. Probably, I thought, it wasn’t anything I’d heard of before anyway.

  The pills took care of the strong muscle cramps in my broken arm, but I didn’t like the lethargic feeling they gave me, or the distorted sense of vision, and I knew I wouldn’t be taking any more.

  As the evening wore on, my mind turned introspective, something it doesn’t often do. I thought if I had to live someplace, it was just as well that I lived in a place where I had lots of friends. If I didn’t realize it before, today I’d found that almost everyone I knew was full of unconditional kindness––the type that surfaces when one of your own is down.

  I’ve always thought of myself as an independent, self-supporting person, but my neighbors’ responses taught me otherwise. It was surprising to discover that although seven years was a short enough amount of time to qualify as a newcomer here, I had also been accepted as an honorary native. My friends and neighbors cared about me, and that was comforting knowledge.

  I never thought I’d subconsciously seek a place to live that was similar to my hometown of Bucksnort. But apparently I had. Both Bucksnort and my River Road neighborhood were filled with people who would band together to help others. But Bucksnort is so small; it is the kind of place that many young people run from as soon as they are able. Me included. It was reassuring to realize that even though I had voluntarily severed my ties with the little town, I had created similar roots right here on River Road.

  My butt was falling asleep so I shifted positions amid great protests from my arm. The pain was so great that despite my earlier vow to take no more medicine, I reached for the bottle on the nightstand.

  And then I stopped. The medicine. That was it. That’s what had been elusively pulling at me all the time I was in the hospital. That’s what I had forgotten. The basement medicine. And Opal said that Glenda knew about it.

  My mind was still slow and I wondered vaguely if the deputy had found his prey yet. Considering what had happened the last time I’d had an impulse, I supposed I ought to just stay put and wait for the officials. But suddenly I knew without a doubt where Bubba was. Opal’s veiled message had gotten through. Time was of the essence, and I hoped with everything that I had that it wasn’t too late.

  Cat’s Horse Tip #15

  “The horse population in the United States peaked before World War I at about 26 million. Currently, there are just over 9 million horses in the U.S.”

  28

  YOU CAN HIDE A LOT OF stuff in a basement. Cursing myself for my stupidity, I left the pills on the nightstand and picked up the t
elephone. I once again dialed the police station only to be told, once again, that Deputy Giles was out. Seems like cops are always around when you don’t need them, but when you do… .

  Instead, I called Opal Dupree. I glanced at my watch. It was after ten. The old bat was probably asleep by now, but if the nurse wouldn’t wake her, I’d go over there and shake her awake. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get the pleasure, as Opal answered on the second ring.

  “Miss Opal.” I said, after she had again inquired solicitously after my health. Maybe she finally felt some guilt here. She should, I thought. For I believed that while Opal didn’t know before the fact of the crimes, she figured out what was going on after the fact and didn’t tell a soul. I believe in loyalty, but this was carrying it too far. Especially when Bubba’s life was at stake. “Miss Opal, who besides you knew that Col. Sam was your grandfather?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Nothing, but it may have everything to do with the life and safety of Bubba Henley. Miss Opal, you’ve got to believe me, no one cares if your parents weren’t legally married or about anything else that went on in the past. But I need to know who knew.”

  There was a dreadful silence while she contemplated her reply.

  “The family,” she said finally. “Just the family.”

  I listened with growing horror as Opal described to me the peculiarities of her family tree. When she finished, I not only had my suspicions of Bubba’s whereabouts confirmed, I had the old lady’s tearful prayer that I be lucky enough to find the boy alive.

  “By the way,” she said, as I was about to hang up. “I’m not as strong as I once was and in a different way neither are you. I am choosing not to deal with any more of this trouble and because of your injuries, you can’t. That boy needs to be found, but let someone else go to him. You stay put, wherever you are, but I don’t suppose I have to tell you that.”

  I agreed that she didn’t have to tell me, but you know me, in one ear and out the other. It was only after we hung up that I realized I had lost my quite substantial awe of the Dupree family matriarch. The awe had turned into pity.

  I slowly eased myself out of bed, wincing and holding my upper arm firmly with my right hand. By use of some innovative ankle movements, I was able to slide my feet into an old pair of slip-on paddock boots. I pulled Agnes’s new, black slicker from its perch and managed to slide my right arm into the sleeve, and, by twisting and ducking my upper body, draped the rest of it around my left shoulder. It took me another five minutes to button the top button, but I got it done.

  If it says anything about me, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be doing what I was going to do. I knew it wasn’t safe. But I also knew that I had to do it. Bubba’s life depended on it. If he still had one.

  It did occur to me that I should call someone to go with me. I had seen the lights of Darcy’s car go down the drive a few minutes ago, and Carole was probably reading bedtime stories to the kids. So that left … let me see … Jon. I was horribly sure of what I would find in that basement and knew that I would need help moving the body. If Bubba was down there, alive, surely someone would have heard him. In all the times people had been in and out of there the past few days, no one had heard a single peep. Which meant Bubba was no longer alive.

  I sighed and gave Jon a call, just telling him I needed him to help me with something. He probably was in horror thinking I needed him to help me to the bathroom. The thought almost made me smile, but before I could, there was a knock on my door. So sure it was Jon, I switched off the alarm and, without checking to see who was on the other side, swung open the door.

  Damn those pills.

  “I’ve spent the entire day trying to get to you.”

  Adam’s hair was splattered with mud, his jeans torn and soaked in mire. His voice was full of rage and I refrained from looking at his eyes, for fear of what I would find. “In case you’re wondering,” he said, showing me the frighteningly large switchblade he was carrying, “I don’t have a gun, but I think you’ll come with me anyway. If you say one word, I’ll use the knife on the dog.”

  It was only then that I noticed that Adam had a subdued Hank on the end of a piece of baling twine. Hank looked worriedly from Adam to me, trying to understand this strange situation. His floppy ears, sad expression, and hopeful half-wag of his tail brought tears to my eyes. I looked Adam dead in the eye and realized that if he thought I was going to make a sound he would slice Hank’s jugular in a second.

  Adam’s eyes were dead, but the rest of him was gasping from excitement, or maybe rage, and his face twisted into a maniacal grimace as he looked at the bandages peeking from underneath Agnes’ stylish coat. It was a vivid reminder that I was in no shape to fight him. Indeed, I could barely stand. If he gasped any harder, I’d probably fall over from the force of his breath.

  We made our way slowly out the door. My only hope was to stall for time in hopes that Jon would see us. What in the world was taking him so long? And why had Agnes sent me a black trench coat? Wasn’t white much more practical in a situation such as this? If I was wearing white, Jon might be able to see me in the dark.

  We were now walking away from my house and barn, and toward Fairbanks. I was trying to make as much noise as I could walking, but bare, cold ground is pretty silent, even when it’s damp. The more I tried to stomp around, the more it jarred my fragile, broken bones. I prayed for a diversion, something, anything, that would make Hank bark and attract Jon’s attention. Jon must be walking from the barn to the house by now, mustn’t he? Surely he was. But no one, including Jon, arrived to interrupt my walk with Adam.

  I will say that Adam treated me as carefully as a treasured piece of art. So carefully in fact, that it was spooky. It had been drizzling when we left the house, but now the rain was coming down much harder––like a cow peeing on a flat rock, as my grandma would have said. After a few more steps and a few deep gulps of cold, foggy air, the last of my sedative wore off. Along with the clear thinking came deep, thudding waves of pain, but as long as my mind was clear, I felt I could handle anything. Well, almost.

  In the distance I heard a horse whinny and the sound of hooves banging on wood. It sounded like Sally Blue. Maybe that meant Jon had exited the barn and was headed this way. If he had done so without giving Sally a pat, she would whinny and stomp. Or did Sally know what was happening here? Adam didn’t seem to hear the noise.

  Away from the house it was much darker, and I knew any chance of Jon seeing us was gone. With Plan A down the tubes, I was doing double duty battening down my fear of the dark while also scrambling to come up with a viable Plan B.

  Billows of fog rolled heavily over Col. Sam’s mansion, where a single light shone in the hall. Beyond the house, I could hear the waves of the Cumberland River as they slapped against the steep, rocky bank. The fog thinned here and there, revealing windswept trees and angry, leafless branches.

  “Listen,” I said, “I’m not so sure this is a good idea, Adam. I just got out of the hospital and I’m not feeling all that well. Maybe I should go home.”

  Hank whined his assent, but Adam didn’t bother to reply.

  The air was full of the smell and taste and dampness of the river. The only sound besides the waves and the high, gusty whine of the wind was the irregular splattering of the rain as it hit the ground.

  I stiffened as we turned away from Fairbanks’s massive stone steps and headed behind the house toward the river. Adam still guided me gently, but his grip around my waist was much tighter. We stopped at the top of the wooded riverbank and a wave of wooziness swept through me. Adam sensed my faintness and pulled me to him. It was almost as if we were back in the parking lot of the nursing home, embracing each other for the ordeal to come. Only then, Adam was not going to kill me.

  “Is there a reason why you and I are standing here freezing to death and getting soaked?” I asked as I jerked away. I couldn’t believe myself. Here I am waiting to get killed and I’m pissing the
guy off.

  “I wanted you to see the river,” he said quietly, so quietly that I had to strain to hear his words. “During much of the Civil War the river here was filled with boats. Rafts, barges, you name it, they all passed by here. When the river was high, big boats––ships almost––could come in and dock right here at Fairbanks.

  “There was a warehouse just to our right, near where the Henley trailer is. It’s long gone, but it was there. They’d pull the goods up the bank and store it until Col. Sam could sell it at a profit. Neither side ever bothered Col. Sam’s shipments. They knew he carried needed supplies for each Army.

  “Once in a while, though, they’d unload and leave the goods locked in a big shed on the dock. Then when the ship had left, and when the river had receded, Col. Sam’s slaves would bring the goods in a different way, to another storage place.”

  He must be talking about the smuggling, I thought.

  “Cat, I’m going to take you to that other storage place. I just wanted you to see this first.”

  “And what if I don’t want to go?” I asked, my voice rising. “What if I just refuse?”

  “You won’t,” he said turning me roughly and jerking Hank and me toward Fairbanks. I didn’t think my arm could hurt much more than it already did, but I was wrong.

  It was even darker now. Black clouds rolled across the dark gray of the sky and it was difficult to see even a few feet ahead. Adam pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket; the light glowed eerily through the water soaked night as we moved in an odd pattern of disjointedness toward Fairbanks’ back door. I wondered if the lock was still broken and, bizarrely, I wanted once more to giggle. Maybe the last of the medication hadn’t worn off after all.

  Adam escorted me to the door and flung it open. For the first time since we left my house, I could see Adam’s features. His face was hard, expressionless, his aqua eyes now the color of ice. In that instant, reality set in and I knew he was going to kill me. Soon. My brain sent panic signals to my body and the now-familiar shakiness began.