Crush. Candy. Corpse.

by Sylvia McNicoll

  Jeannette’s lively brown eyes seemed to dull over as I told her. I had spoiled a fairy-tale romance for her, I suppose. How could I have been that mean?

  “Why don’t we go to supper together?” I suggested. I helped her stand up and attach herself to her walker. Then we crept along, so slowly it was hard to tell we were moving. Finally I stepped around Jeannette so I could open the door to the dining room.

  I waved to Cole who was already grabbing a tray for his grandmother. He smiled.

  I helped Jeannette settle in and then ran back to open the door for Fred and Marlene so they didn’t have to drop their handholding to get in.

  I guided the two of them to their seats near Jeannette. Once they sat down and had their chicken and rice in front of them, they seemed to have a hard time parting their hands.

  “Just for now.” I gently pried Fred’s fingers from around Marlene’s.

  “We’re married, you know,” Marlene told me.

  “So soon? I just heard you got engaged.” I looked down at her hand as though looking for an engagement ring. That’s when I noticed something weird. She was wearing two gold bands.

  chapter nineteen

  “Does the defence wish to question the witness?”

  “Thank you, Your Honour, yes.” My lawyer stands and pauses for a moment, not looking at any notes, just staring at Mrs. Johnson. “Do you enjoy working with young people?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.” Mrs. Johnson lifts the front of her hair with her fingers. Fidgety. “Obviously my line of work is with seniors.”

  Michael clears his throat. “Let me rephrase the question. You said earlier that Sonja was like most high school volunteers, that she didn’t want to be there. How do you work with that kind of arrangement? Do you have to be on top of the volunteers all the time, to make sure they do everything and make sure they do it right?”

  “I’m too busy to be directly involved. Gillian Halliday supervises the students. We need volunteers. The seniors benefit from the extra social contact.”

  “If you were not directly involved, how did you know that Sonja was ‘screwing up’ so much, as you told the court earlier?”

  Mrs. Johnson’s lip twitches now. I’ve never seen it do that before.

  “Because of the effects. If Helen Demers hadn’t had ridiculous hair, I wouldn’t have known about Sonja dyeing it without consent. If Helen hadn’t gone into a coma, I wouldn’t have known that Sonja had fed her a box of doughnuts.”

  “But you knew about Sonja not wanting to wash her hands or label clothing.”

  She pulls at her hair again. “I did watch her a little more closely because she missed her first appointment with us and was on probation.”

  “Was she on probation because she said that Paradise Manor smelled bad?”

  Mrs. Johnson turns bright red. “We do the best we can with the seniors. We change them frequently. Our home was voted number one in The Post. We have an excellent reputation.”

  “But Sonja didn’t make that first appointment because she thought a sewer had exploded. That annoyed you, didn’t it?”

  “Sonja Ehret is a liar. She never seriously believed we were evacuating the residents due to a broken sewage pipe.”

  From behind me, I hear my mother call Mrs. Johnson a witch under her breath. I sigh. Angry is better than ashamed, I think.

  “But there was an odour in the foyer. She couldn’t take the smell. Have you had other volunteers resign because of the odour?”

  Mrs. Johnson turns to the judge, eyes watering, skin the colour of a deep sunburn.

  “Answer the question, please,” he tells her.

  “Yes.”

  “You are the one who initiated the charges against Sonja Ehret, are you not?”

  “Yes, but I did it on behalf of the Manor.”

  “You told this court that Paradise Manor has an exceptional reputation in the community. How did you fare on your last Compliance Review?”

  The red in her face breaks up. Is she getting hives? She sits up straighter. Her neck gets longer. She blinks a few times. “We were cited for two unmet standards. But one was for not reporting properly on incidents during a very busy time and we’ve rectified the situation.”

  “And the other?”

  She waits a few moments. “A resident did not get cleaned up quickly enough.” She pounds the desk in front of her and raises her voice. “But it was during a flu epidemic.”

  Heh, heh, the juror in the front row coughs.

  Michael speaks calmly. “You didn’t really like Sonja Ehret, did you?”

  “My liking her had nothing to do with this.”

  “She said Paradise Manor stank. She wore coffee beans around her neck so she could stand the smell.”

  “She’s a spoiled brat,” Mrs. Johnson hisses.

  “Would a spoiled brat commit manslaughter?” Michael snaps back.

  “She did whatever she felt like,” Mrs. Johnson said. “There was never any stopping her.”

  “Really? But you and your staff were too busy to report incidents and clean residents in a timely fashion. Weren’t you also too busy to check on Helen Demers on February 14?”

  “No, no!” Mrs. Johnson slams her hands on the desk in front of her.

  “You said yourself Sonja left at five-thirty. That it was ten minutes before someone else looked in on Helen Demers.”

  “But it was Sonja’s fault. She shouldn’t have given her the candy!”

  “Isn’t it true that if someone had just looked in a few minutes earlier, the Heimlich manoeuvre could have saved Mrs. Demers?”

  “Yes, but —”

  “Isn’t it also true that you never saw Sonja give a candy to Mrs. Demers?”

  Mrs. Johnson’s face flushes a deep red. “Yes, I didn’t see it personally, but —”

  “No further questions.”

  The buzzard rises quickly to his feet. “Your Honour, I would like to request that court adjourn for an early lunch. The Crown wishes to discuss something with the defence.”

  The judge looks at his watch and frowns. “It’s eleven-thirty now. Let us adjourn till two. Will that give you enough time, Mr. Dougal?”

  “Yes, Your Honour.”

  “So be it then.” He stands.

  “All rise,” the court clerk announces. The jury and people in the court stand, too. There aren’t many people. My parents and I wait with Michael McCann. The judge and jury leave the courtroom and the buzzard approaches us.

  “Why don’t you wait for me in the cafeteria? Mr. Dougal and I need to talk alone first,” Michael says.

  My father nods and we shuffle out, down the hall to the bland little room with a soft-drink machine in one corner and a square window hole near another. A lady in an apron toasts bagels and pours coffee behind that square.

  “Do you want something?” my father asks my mother.

  “A coffee would be nice.”

  “Sunny?” He raises his eyebrows at me.

  I shake my head and Mom frowns at me. I’ve lost ten pounds since last year, big deal. “Okay fine, a strawberry yogurt, please.”

  He orders and we sit at the table, waiting. Dad brings over the coffee and my yogurt. Then he returns to the window for a couple of warmed cranberry lemon muffins. He brings those back to the table, too, and slices each in half with one of those white plastic knives. “Here. Take a piece. You too.” He looks at my mother.

  There’s always a gnawing in my stomach. I have no idea if I’m ever hungry anymore. I take a spoonful of yogurt and try to taste the smooth tartness. Mom takes one piece of the muffin and nudges the plate towards me.

  I take a piece. I think it’s good, sour and sweet like the yogurt.

  “What do you think that lawyer wants
to talk to Michael about?”

  “Who knows,” Dad answers. “But we’re about to find out.” He nods his head towards the entrance.

  Michael McCann passes through the door to the lunchroom and approaches. His lips play a little half smile as he sits down. He sighs. “Good news. The Crown is offering leniency again.”

  “You mean if I plead guilty now, I won’t have to go away?” I ask, smiling.

  “Yes. Mr. Dougal will recommend that you get community service.”

  “But this means he thinks he will lose, yes?” my mother asks. “Why should Sunny plead guilty if we are going to win?”

  “Because everything depends on what the jury decides,” Michael says. “No one can really predict what they will decide.”

  “Do we really want to rely on them for my whole future?” I ask her.

  Mom tilts her head. “Will she have a record?”

  Mr. McCann nods. “In a few years we can ask to have it sealed, though.”

  “What does sealed mean?” she asks.

  “It doesn’t matter, Mom. I want to change my plea. I can’t risk going away from you right now.”

  “Yes, it matters. The doctor will say I’m sick or not Thursday morning. You will have this record, regardless.”

  “Sealed means if someone searches your name for charges, the charge will no longer show up.”

  “When she applies for a job, she can say she doesn’t have a record?” my father asks.

  Mr. McCann’s mouth crumples into a frown. “If she’s asked whether she’s ever committed a crime, then the truthful answer is still yes. But if she says no, I would say there is no way for the potential employer to find out.”

  So in a few years, I can lie my way into an apprenticeship at Salon Teo. Will the details even matter to me then if Mom is dead? I sigh.

  “Can I still have the record sealed if I’m convicted?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what do you think we should do?” my father asks.

  My lawyer shakes his head. “We have a strong case. I’d like to say I’m sure we can win. But I can’t be certain. It’s your call.”

  That jury — what did it really think about me? I look at my mother, who purses her lips. Only a small cross of wrinkles separates her brows. My father puts his hand over hers. This could all be over right now if I just say yes, I’m guilty. They could go back to their business at the condo. They wouldn’t have to keep paying this lawyer or enduring this trial.

  And if I don’t plead guilty but the jury decides I am anyway, I would spend two years in a young offenders’ institute. I wouldn’t be there for Mom for her next treatments if there even are any. I blink back tears.

  It’s too much to risk. I look at the ceiling.

  “Sunny, don’t do this thing,” my mother tells me.

  I shake my head and chew my lip. I look at my lawyer.

  “Whatever you decide.” He shrugs his shoulders.

  My mother seems so sure.

  I shake my head at her. “Fine. We’ll continue with the trial.”

  My mother smiles.

  The Nineteenth Visit — two hours left

  Did Mrs. Johnson tell you that I found Marlene’s missing gold wedding band? Also I’m on the lookout for Jeannette’s service pin. The staff has to appreciate my efforts and I know you’ll give me A, Mr. Brooks, because I deserve it.

  Monday morning when I grabbed a pair of panties from my top drawer, something pricked at my finger. So that was where my amethyst earring went! Yah! My jewellery box sits on my dresser just above my lingerie drawer, so I guess it must have fallen in from there. Now I had the pair together again. Grinning, I quickly put them on. Finding them had also given me an idea about Jeannette’s missing service pin. I wasn’t sure where the framed picture of her hung — I mean the one that the camera pin had been stuck to — but I would search any drawers directly beneath it. After school that day, I could hardly wait to get to Paradise Manor. I was so sure about my theory.

  “Hi, Katherine. How are you?” I called as I signed in.

  “Fine. Nice earrings.”

  “Thanks. My grandmother gave them to me.” I made a production of sanitizing my hands, spreading my good mood and goodwill to all. “See you later.” I saluted her as I breezed over to lockup. The code worked first try and I walked towards Jeannette’s room.

  “How are you, Gorgeous?”

  I stopped when I heard her voice. “Great, Jeannette. I have an idea where your camera pin went. Want to come with me to look?”

  Her eyes went blank and her face turned slack. She didn’t say anything.

  I put my own face close to hers, trying to bring her back to this planet. “Your room. I’m going to your room. Want to come with me?”

  Still no answer.

  “Okay, well I’ll see you in the dining room in a few minutes.” I kept walking, said hello to that new care worker on the way, and then turned and walked through the open door to Jeannette’s room. Aha! Just as I thought, there was a dresser directly underneath the photo and the top drawer was even open. It was just a crack, but enough for a small piece of jewellery to pass through.

  I slid it open but there were hygiene products in there, not clothes — some moisturizer, a brush, a tensor bandage. I lifted each out, one by one, confident that underneath some article I would find that service pin.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Johnson snapped from behind me.

  I jumped. “I . . . I was looking for that missing camera pin. You see, this morning . . .”

  Ever notice that the more you explain, the lamer you sound? This was especially true now, ’cause Mrs. Johnson made me nervous anyway. “I found this earring that I thought I had lost forever right in my lingerie.” I showed her my amethyst earrings as though that would prove anything.

  “You are not to go into any of the residents’ rooms alone. Do you understand me?” Mrs. Johnson didn’t yell, but her message came out crisp as a rice cake.

  “Sure. But if you don’t want me to look, could you just take a peek yourself. Make sure it didn’t fall in there?”

  She rolled her eyes and pointed to the door. Clearly finding that brooch wasn’t top priority for her. I headed for the dining room, feeling like I’d been slapped in the face.

  Later, when I told Alexis about it on the phone, she tried to cheer me up. “Don’t you think finding your grandma’s earring was like a message from her? Like everything’s okay, don’t worry?”

  I touched my earlobes. “You’re right. I feel really good about having the pair together again. Like I’ve won a contest. Maybe it was Omi talking to me.”

  “And you know what? Your next visit to the home will be the last two hours you ever have to spend there. Don’t worry about what Mrs. Johnson thinks. You’ll never have to deal with her again.”

  “Hmm. I’ll miss some of the old people.” And Cole. I could keep him as a Monday friend as long as I volunteered there. Once I left, I had to decide: did I lose him entirely or did he become something more?

  Alexis seemed to realize that she’d hit an underbelly. “I know! Let’s do some retail therapy, this weekend. Just you and me.”

  I pumped enthusiasm into my voice. “Girl’s day at the mall. I like it.”

  “We’ll have iced lattes!”

  “In February. It will be great.”

  So that’s where we headed Saturday afternoon. The stores had their formal wear for the spring season out already. Perfect. We browsed the stores saving our favourite, the Patches boutique, for last. Alexis pulled a great white prom dress off a rack. “With your dark hair and your complexion, this would really go well.”

  I winced at it. “Too much like a wedding dress.”

  “Really? It’s a winter white.” She held it up to me.

>   “Yeah, and Donny’s grad is in the spring.” I saw myself in the mirror. The colour did look good against my skin. Alexis had a great eye for shopping. “Did I tell you about the wedding we had at the old-age home?” I asked her as I handed back the dress.

  “No. C’mon, you did not!” She hung it back up again.

  “Oh yes, we did. You know Fred and Marlene, and how they’re always walking together?”

  “That sweet couple you told me about?” Alexis pulled out a ruby red dress.

  “Alexis, that screams Valentine’s Day.” She shrugged and I took the dress for a moment. Cole’s dance. Nah, too formal. Besides I wasn’t going. I hung it back up. “Yeah, so Fred gave Marlene a wedding band. But the ring belonged to Evelyn, the new patient who got Susan’s room after she died.”

  “He stole it from her?”

  “We don’t know. How would Fred have gotten the ring off Evelyn’s finger? Maybe she gave it to him. Or she took it off to wash her hands and he just picked it up. It’s not like we can get clear answers out of her, or him for that matter. Mrs. Johnson practically accused me of taking it so when I saw two rings on Marlene’s finger I had to report it to Gillian Halliday.”

  “What did she do?” Alexis pulled out a black dress which would have looked knock-em-dead on her.

  “She tried to coax it away from Marlene but instead of giving it back the poor thing burst into tears.”

  “Aw.” Alexis held the black dress against herself.

  “We’re shopping for me here.”

  She quickly hung it back on the rack.

  I pulled it out again and held it against me. “What do you think? Too dark?”

  “No, I think those pink streaks in your hair make it all work. Still, if it’s for a spring prom . . . How about this?” She held out a shimmery blue number with a single shoulder strap on a diagonal.

  “Maybe I’ll try that one on.” I took it into my hands.

  “So how did you get the ring from Marlene?”

  “Oh, I traded her for the cubic zirconia Donny gave me. It’s way more sparkly so she liked that. And Cole told her he would perform an actual ceremony.”