by Tina Anne
“Well, we’ll get the doctor in here and he’ll make that decision soon.” She took the tray away and left.
“That’s good news.”
I jumped about a mile and made a squeaking noise that normally would have been a scream. Apparently Frank woke up when the nurse came in. The problem was that I didn’t know it until he spoke and scared me.
He started laughing. I threw one of my pillows at him. He caught it and brought it back to me.
“Careful or you’ll tear your I.V. out,” he said.
I panicked and looked at my arm. It was ok.
“Like you did when Frankie was born, remember that?”
Oh, I remembered. I was almost nineteen years old. After twenty four hours of labor my son finally gave up the fight and came out. I was so elated that he was finally born that I felt like I could climb Mount Everest. I was alone in my room. Frank had gone to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Frankie was in the nursery.
I had to pee. So, I did what made sense to me at the time. I took the covers off. I took the IV out, because I didn’t need it. Then I got out of bed, and promptly fell down. The body goes through a lot more during labor than I had anticipated. I had no energy; I was exhausted but I was so high on happiness that I didn’t know it.
Well, thankfully someone heard the bang when I hit the floor and rushed in to the room. I was placed back on my bed by two nurses. The IV was put back in to my arm. And I was given a very strong lecture and warned not to try it again. As if I would after falling to the floor.
Frank looked at me. I could tell by his eyes that he was remembering our past. Then he cleared his throat and his eyes looked like they were back in the present.
“We have to find who did this to you,” he said. “It wasn’t right.”
I gave him a no kidding look. I wrote “and Pete” on the paper and showed it to him.
“You always did have attitude. And concern for others.”
The doctor and nurse entered the room. Frank left the room so the doctor could examine me.
The doctor poked and prodded. He listened to my lungs. He looked down my throat. This made me feel bad because I hadn’t brushed my teeth and my breath must have been awful.
“Please speak,” Dr. Smertz said.
I tried. All that come out was this kind of raspy, squeaky noise. God, I wanted my voice back!
“You’re doing much better,” Dr. Smertz said. “I’m going to give you some prescriptions and some instructions on how to treat that throat. Then you come and see me or your doctor in a few days to see how the healing is going. I think you can go home. I don’t think there will be any permanent damage.”
That was great news. I wanted to run out the door at that moment.
“However,” he continued, “it will take a few days to get your voice back. Even longer for it to get back to normal. But, I’ll sign your release papers and Nurse Raynor here will come in and get you ready to go shortly.”
I tried to say, “Thank you”. It didn’t come out real well, but the doctor understood me.
He and the nurse left. A few minutes later Frank back came in. He was accompanied by William. William walked over and gave me a hug.
“Well, you look great. For someone who’s been through what you did,” William said.
William had one of my canvas tote bags with him. “I stopped by your place and got this from Frankie. You can’t wear the clothes you had on to go home; the police got ‘em,” he said.
He placed the bag on the chair Frank had recently occupied.
“I got my whole church prayin’ for you. It ain’t right what happened to you and that nice young fella. Miss Aretha was so upset I thought she was going to have a heart attack.”
I panicked. Aretha was over eighty.
“Don’t you worry none, she’s ok. Lord help the person who did this to you if she ever gets her hands on ‘em,” William said.
All three of us laughed at this one. Aretha might be tiny, but she was full of fire.
Nurse Raynor came back in the room. She asked who was driving me home. Frank raised his hand. William said he had more parishioners to visit. He gave me another hug and he left.
Then Nurse Raynor went over my instruction manual with Frank and I. I say instruction manual because it was several pages long. There was a lot I was supposed to do.
“Don’t worry,” Frank said, “Misty loves her own voice. She’ll follow this to the letter.” He winked at me.
Nurse Raynor made Frank leave the room. She removed my I.V. and then left me alone to get dressed. A few moments later she and Frank returned. She was pushing a wheel chair. Frank helped me get in to it.
“I let the chief know you’ve been released. Officer Thomas is waiting in the hall. He will follow you home,” Nurse Raynor said.
“And I will stay outside your door once we get there,” Officer Thomas said from the hall.
I nodded and waved to him. Frank said thank you to him for me.
I rode home in Frank’s truck. I hadn’t been in his truck in quite some time. It was clean and it smelled nice. I gave the credit to Minerva.
Frank insisted on carrying me up the stairs. He set me down on the couch and placed my instruction manual on the coffee table. He took my prescriptions and the notebook I had used at the hospital with him. He put both of them away for me. Then he left. He said he had to get to work at the park, but I also knew that no matter how much he’d refuse to leave my side at the hospital whenever I was sick at home he ran away as fast as he could.
I looked around. Besides the missing computer you never would have known someone had recently broken in to my home. I really had to thank Minerva and ask her what service she used.
I would do that later. Right now all I wanted to do was shower, put on some comfy clothes, and watch TV. The only problem was that Frankie was the only one around who could help me. I probably could have showered and dressed without his help, but he insisted on playing nurse. I did my best not to expose my naked body to my son, gay or not. He just laughed, and said it was his turn to take care of me.
Once I was back on the couch I had the remote control, a cool drink, a notebook and pen, and some sort of contraption to use to buzz Frankie when I needed him. He gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and he left me.
I felt safe and warm. My son was upstairs. There was an armed officer outside my door. And the man I now realized I was in love with was hunting down the maniac who did this to Pete and I. I turned on the TV, watched my favorite cooking competition show, Slashed, and promptly fell asleep.
Chapter 16: Death by Chocolate?
Suddenly I was there again. Trapped in the warehouse as it burned around me. The smoke was choking me and I couldn’t see. I started yelling for help. I started yelling for Marlowe. Where was he? Why wasn’t he rescuing me? I was trapped and he wasn’t here. I yelled for him again.
“Misty.”
I heard him. I could not see him. Where was he?
“Misty.”
He was touching me. I could feel him. I still could not see him.
“Misty, wake up,” he yelled.
I opened my eyes quickly. I was in my living room. It wasn’t on fire. Marlowe was there. I forgot all about the dream. Marlowe looked scared. Why was he scared?
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“Did you say what’s wrong?” he said wide eyed.
“Yes,” I said. Was he having problems hearing today?
“Misty, you’re voice is coming back. That’s great,” he said, smiling at me.
That’s right. I forgot. I wasn’t supposed to talk.
“Was I dreaming?” I asked him.
“Yes, honey, you were dreaming. You’re safe. You’re home. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
I sat up and looked around. Yes, I was safe. My gates were secure again and there was a police officer outside my door. No one was breaking in to my home ever again.
Marlowe sat beside me. I laid my head on his shoulder. It felt so go
od to have him here.
“I’m sorry,” I said to him.
He looked at me. “You’re sorry. Why?”
“I worried you,” I whispered. The voice was going again.
“Misty, it wasn’t your fault. Well, ok if you hadn’t gone to the buffet and announced that you were trying to solve the murder you probably wouldn’t have been attacked last night. But it still wasn’t your fault.”
“I thought they were my friends. I thought they could help,” I whispered.
“Most of them are your friends. Obviously at least one person wasn’t.”
“Damn.”
“Ok, you rest your throat.” He handed me a glass. “Here, drink this.”
I did. And I almost chocked on it. I looked in the glass. There was some sort of thick green liquid in it. “What in the hell is this?” I whispered.
“Old family recipe. Good for the throat.”
“A lot of smoke inhalation in your family?” I looked at him suspiciously.
“Ha-ha. Stop talking. Drink it, it will help.”
I tried again. I held my nose and took a drink. Nope, still awful. But at least I swallowed it this time. I allowed myself to relax in his arms. It felt good. It felt like home. I didn’t want him to ever let go.
“I read what you wrote in the notebook,” he said. “I’m guessing the list is the traits of your attacker?”
I nodded my head in agreement.
“Not much to go on.” He showed me the page. It said:
Maniac:
Rubber soled shoes
Employee
Knew where the hay was stored
Knew where to go to get the gasoline
Expensive cologne
Average weight
New clothes, maybe from wardrobe
Probably Caucasian
“We have the people in your wardrobe department looking out for returned pants that smelled like gasoline. But no luck so far.”
He was right. It wasn’t much to go on. If only I could remember more. Like what the cologne was that they were wearing, it smelled so good. Or how tall they were. Oh, I remembered something. I took the notebook from Marlowe and wrote down “more than three hay bales high. Not more than maybe three and a half.”
“What? Am I supposed to measure the person’s height from this?”
I shook my head yes.
“How big is a bale of hay?”
I wrote, “Go to the park and measure one. We must have more.”
“Well, why didn’t I think of that?”
He got on the phone and told someone to go measure the hay bales. Then he had to repeat it and tell them that no, he was not drunk and that they should just follow the order. If you could slam a cell phone to hang it up Marlowe would have.
While he was on the phone I head a soft mewing. I looked down at the floor and there was this little tiny white cat. I sat my glass on the table, reached down and picked her up. She couldn’t have weighed more than three or four pounds. I put her on my lap. She immediately curled up and closed her eyes. She was adorable.
Marlowe stopped cursing under his breath and looked at me. “Oh, I see you met Willie,” he said.
He sat beside me and stroked the tiny cat.
“I brought her here because she’s alone so much,” he said. “I felt guilty leaving her alone while I was here taking care of you. I hope you don’t mind. I see she likes you.”
She was so cute and soft. I didn’t mind having her here. In fact, holding her was rather comforting.
“It’s ok,” I whispered. “What do you mean taking care of me?”
“Stop talking.”
Did he know me? I wasn’t going to stop talking unless I was asleep. Possibly not even then.
“We are all taking turns caring for you and Pete. Mostly you, because Pete is almost healed.”
Damn the young. They have all the advantages. I mean, I’m glad Pete is doing well.
“Yes,” Marlowe continued, “that means I’ll be spending the night here. No, that does not mean that anything improper will happen. While I would love to share a bed with you, these are not the circumstances under which I want that particular event to occur.”
Was he talking about the first time we made love, or was he planning a party? I wasn’t sure. But I thought it was romantic either way. And frankly, right now I felt like tonight would work for me.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Marlowe got up and opened it. It was one of his officers.
“There are some people here to see Mrs. Summer. Shall I let them in, Chief?”
“If their name is not on the approved list of names, then no,” Marlowe snarled.
“Well, I kind of figured since you were here it would be ok,” the officer explained.
“He has a point”, I thought. “Be nice to him, Marlowe.”
“Yea, let them up. But only for a minute. Mrs. Summer needs her rest.”
“Ok, chief.”
The officer left. I heard people coming up the stairs. It was a group of about five people from the park. I tried to quickly finger comb my hair and straightened up my clothing. Willie didn’t appreciate this too much, but she quickly got comfortable again.
“Misty,” the one I recognized as Bob said, “we just wanted to let you know that we’re sorry for what happened to you and we hope you get better real soon. And don’t worry; we’ll take care of the park for you.” He handed me a bouquet of flowers.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“We will do our best in your absence,” Nigel said. “And we brought you a box of chocolates.” He handed me the box of candy. It was small, but an expensive brand.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Thank you all,” Marlowe said, “but Misty needs her rest.”
“We understand, Chief. Thank you for letting us stop in,” Melanie said. She still was so pretty that I was envious.
The group filed their way out the door and left.
Marlowe took the candy and the flowers out to the kitchen for me. He was separating the bouquet and putting it in a vase when a memory hit me. That smell. I recognized that smell. I know that cologne. It was the one the maniac wore. I gently set Willie down and I ran out to the kitchen to tell Marlowe.
“Marlowe, Marlowe,” I tried to yell, but my voice was barely a whisper.
He tossed the note pad and pen from the refrigerator on to the island. “Write it down. Stop talking,” he said. He didn’t even look at me.
I wrote, “The maniac was in that group! He was here!”
He dropped the flowers that he was holding and looked up at me.
“What! Are you sure? How do you know?”
I wrote “Smell.”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Smell what?”
“Someone smelled like the maniac in the warehouse!!!” I wrote.
“Who?” he asked.
“If I knew that I’d tell you,” I wrote.
“Oh, my God, Misty, the maniac was here! In the room with us. Write all their names down. We’ll have a better list of suspects.”
I was starting to feel dizzy and the room was beginning to dim. Marlowe grabbed my arm and helped me sit in one of the bar stools. I wrote: “Nigel, Melanie, Bob, Charlotte, and Richard.”
Marlowe looked at the list. “Last names would be helpful.”
I don’t know last names. I don’t use last names. Oh, I wanted my phone. I could call Frankie or Della. Either of them would know the last names of everyone on that list. I looked at Marlowe and made a phone gesture.
“You can’t make a call, you can’t even talk,” he said.
I grabbed his phone and dialed Frankie anyway. Marlowe took the phone from me as Frankie answered.
“Hi, Frankie, it’s Marlowe. Can you come to your mother’s apartment? I think she wants your help with something.”
He hung up. “He’s coming right down,” he said. He went back to the flowers.
Frankie burst through the
door and ran over to where I was. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
I picked up the list names I had given Marlowe. “Last names” I wrote on it.
“You need their last names? Is that all,” Frankie said looking relieved. “Ok.”
He sat on the barstool next to me and wrote down everyone’s last names. While he did that I watched Marlowe examine the chocolates. I noticed that Marlowe was suddenly wearing gloves. He was looking at the bottoms of the candies like he was trying to see what was inside. Don’t tell me the man who was starting to be Mr. Wonderful peeked at the chocolates before he ate them. And what was up with the gloves? Was he a germophobe?
That’s when he picked up his phone and I understood that something was wrong. “Yea, Matt. This is Marlowe. I need you at Misty Summer’s place now. And bring your kit.”
He hung up and looked at us. “Looks like you’re right, Misty, the maniac was in that group.” He placed the piece of chocolate back in the box. “And they were trying again. I think the chocolates have been tampered with.”
I felt dizzy. They maniac was here? In my home? Trying to kill me with chocolate? But I was feeling so safe.
Then I started to get angry. How dare they? How dare they enter my home after what they tried to do to me? How dare they try to kill me again? I was done feeling sorry for myself. It was time to fight back. No one comes in to my home and tries to kill me. No one!
I got up to get my lap top from my bedroom. The police took my desk top but I still had my lap top. When I stood I discovered that my knees were very wobbly.
Frankie grabbed me and walked me over to the couch. “Rest,” he said. “By the way, I bought a new phone for you. A smart phone this time. I’ll teach you how to use it.”
I didn’t want a smart phone. I didn’t want to have to be taught how to use my phone. I just wanted to pick up my phone and make a call. I had to admit, though I guess I could see the advantages. Maybe Frankie was right.
“Get my computer,” I wrote on the tablet.
“Why?” Frankie asked.
I just pointed at the tablet again.
“Alright, alright, you don’t have to yell,” Frankie said. “Even on paper she yells at me.”
Frankie threw his arms up in the air and went to my bedroom to get my computer. Marlowe was standing at the kitchen counter with his head in his hands. I tried to speak, but I could barely make a squeak. So I slapped the notebook on the table to get his attention. He looked up at me.
