At Witt's End (19 page)

"You might as well give up. I doubt you'll ever find him."

"You're probably right. I've got enough to worry about."

The phone rang. When Nan returned from her office, she said, “The family is about five minutes away. I've got to pull a few things together before they get here."

Paul leaned on the French doors leading into the office. “I'm picking you up at seven and I won't take no for an answer. We'll work on eliminating one of your hurdles."

"Hook, line, and sinker.” Paul sat in the cracked-vinyl visitor's chair in front of Carl's desk. “I think I'm about to reel in the big one. If Nan contacts you about continuing her land lease, don't talk to her. Tell her your attorney will contact her.” Pointing at Carl, Paul added, “I want you to tell her all negotiations have to go through him. I don't want my plan to fall apart."

"You sorry sack of shit,” Carl said. “You're preying on that poor woman's misery to get her to marry you. What kind of bottom feeder are you?"

A furrow of irritation creased Paul's forehead. “Same species as you. Except you're dealing with two old women you intend to put out on the street. But I don't need to remind you, do I?” If Carl wanted to take a position for the sake of arguing, he'd better choose his words wisely.

"Please. Remind me,” Carl said. “It excites me. My middle initial doesn't stand for Raymond, it stands for Revenge.” Carl's lips curved into a crooked smile as he put his hands behind his head and leaned back.

"I'm going to present an offer Nan can't refuse,” Paul said. “I also bought another piece of land south of town on the highway. It would make a good spot for a new mortuary. She doesn't know about it, though.” Paul stretched his long legs and crossed one foot over the other. “I'm keeping that surprise on hold in case I need ammunition. If she turns me down, I'll sell it to someone else."

"Is she still on a kick to find that man who screwed her dad over a patent?"

"She mentioned it again today."

"Do you think she'll find him?"

"I doubt it. I told her to give it up, but you know Nan. It's all about family loyalty."

The dispatcher entered the room and lifted the lid on a plastic container she carried. Angie waved the box under Carl's nose. “Try one. My daughter baked them this morning."

Carl inhaled one of the gooey cookies in two bites before grabbing a second one and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth.

Paul took a cookie and broke off small sections. Staring at the chocolate smears on Carl's lips, Paul placed a piece in his mouth before flicking at the crumbs on his grey slacks. He didn't want chocolate stains to soil his new three-hundred-dollar pants.

"By the way, Carl,” Angie said, “I forgot to tell you Mr. Fossum's sister called yesterday. She won't be back for a few more days. She wondered if you'd keep an eye on the Fossums’ property.” Angie handed Carl three more cookies. “She's meeting a realtor out there when she gets back."

As Carl licked the chocolate off his fingers, Lon Friborg entered through the side door. Lon rummaged through the stack of papers in his hand, pulled out an envelope, and tossed it at Carl. The envelope slid across the desk and hit Carl in the stomach. “Here's the letter you wanted. It looks like the union's going to back your election."

"Holy shit,” Carl said with a whoop. “It's about time they back the better candidate. With their vote and your campaigning, it'll seal my victory tighter than a virgin's ass."

"Congrats, buddy.” Paul grabbed Carl's hand and pumped it. “Things are going your way."

"I wonder why?” Lon said under his breath.

Carl pulled the cookies out of Lon's reach. “If you've got something to say, say it to my face.” He shoved a whole cookie in his mouth, glaring at Lon.

"I wonder why things are going your way. It wouldn't have anything to do with that fishing excursion with Judge Kimmer, would it?"

"That's none of your damn concern, Deputy,” Carl said. “You better keep your nose out of my business. If your brain was as big as your ears, I wouldn't have to remind you."

Carl gestured with a stab of his finger. “You're trying to sabotage my election by conducting an investigation behind my back. You're going to get somebody in a whole shit load of trouble, and it ain't gonna be me."

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Sadie draped her arm over the back of the driver's chair as she tried to interpret Lora's frantic ramblings. After calming the woman, Sadie stomped out of the van and marched through the sliding glass doors into the nursing home.

"Hi, Miss Sadie,” a nursing home resident shouted as she hurried past him and continued down the hall. Her bare heels slapped against her sandals.

"I'll catch up with you later, Elmer.” Sadie rounded a corner. Cursing her sandals for slowing her down, she paused in a doorway and kicked them off. She called out to Aanders.

A gnarled hand pointed in the direction of the dining room. “I just saw him pushing that empty wheelchair down the hall.” The resident attempted to clear the gravel from his voice. “Don't that kid have nothing better to do than wander the halls all day?"

Sadie waved briskly as she passed a woman inching her way down the hall supporting her weight on a walker. Clutching her sandals, Sadie scurried past two more residents in wheelchairs. A conversation at the end of the corridor caught her attention. A funeral director from a town located seventeen miles north of Pinecone Landing loaded a body bag into his vehicle. Sadie watched him thank the nurse who had assisted him and hand her a sheet of paper. The nurse attached it to a clipboard and returned to the nursing station.

"You better be pushing an empty chair this time, young man,” Sadie said under her breath. The dining room was filled with residents waiting for their evening meal. Weaving through the crowd, she spotted Aanders sitting at a table in the far corner. She balled her fists when Aanders shifted to the side and she saw Tim in the wheelchair.

Aanders pushed the wheel-lock lever into position before placing his hands under Tim's arms and hoisting him up. He uttered a cry as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder.

"I just had a conversation with Lora. I'm here to see if what she told me is true.” She leaned close to Aanders so he could appreciate her anger. “The fact that Tim is still here tells me it is."

Aanders traced the leaf pattern in the table top with his finger.

Tim's head slouched toward his chest before he peeked up at her then back down to avoid the shards of rage emanating from the angry woman.

"Aanders, I'm talking to you.” Realizing she'd attracted attention, she grabbed the handles on Tim's wheelchair and rolled him through the crowd. Looking back at Aanders, she jabbed her finger toward him and then down at her side. He fell into place next to her.

"Ma'am. Oh Ma'am,” one of the dietary aides shouted. “You'll have to put your shoes on. You can't be in here with bare feet."

Dropping her sandals on the floor, Sadie slipped them on and gave the aide a look that could boil water. “Are you satisfied? I don't know what difference it makes anyway."

Sadie and Aanders left the aide standing in the dining room. “Blah, blah, blah,” Sadie mocked as they rounded the corner and continued down the hall. The aide hurried to catch them, all the while reciting the merits of infection control.

Elmer and a few of his cronies watched Sadie push the empty wheelchair up to the van door.

"Help him into the van while I return the wheelchair,” Sadie said.

Theo climbed down and took one of Tim's arms while Aanders grasped the other. They assisted Tim up the steps. Aanders avoided Lora as he walked to the rear of the van. Theo took his usual seat across from the driver.

"Sorry I don't have time to visit,” Sadie shouted to Elmer. “I'll catch up with you next time.” She pushed the door release and the door swooshed closed.

Elmer smiled and returned the greeting with a wave of his hand. The residents watched the van disappear around the corner. Elmer said, “Sure is hot today."

The woman with a straw hat said, “Sure is.” Not one of them gave voice to what they had witnessed.

The tension in the van swelled as Sadie pulled away from the no-parking sign. She adjusted the rear view mirror so she could see Aanders. “Did you keep Tim from going through the light?"

Hearing no reply, Sadie raised her voice. “I'm talking to you, young man. If I don't get an answer, I'll pull this van over and hound you until you tell me the truth.” Her voice faltered as she repeated the question. “Did you prevent Tim from going through the light?"

"Yes."

Sadie let out a disgusted breath. “I can muster four hours a day of being nice and I've already used them up.” When Aanders’ eyes finally met hers, Sadie said, “I'm furious with you. You need to realize what a terrible thing you've done."

As soon as the vehicle came to a stop and the door folded open, Aanders bolted from the van and ran toward the mortuary. Theo assisted Tim up the steps and into the cabin.

"Why was Aanders running across the lawn?” Jane said, as Sadie pushed through the screen door. “It looked like he was crying."

"He was.” Sadie dropped her purse on the table. “That young man is in a whole lot of trouble."

"Why?” Jane wiped the grease splatters that had peppered the stove.

Sadie strode over to Jane, bent over the cast iron pot, and took a deep breath. She frowned. She gave Mr. Bakke a questioning look. He shrugged and retreated behind his newspaper.

"It's what he didn't do that's making me madder than a wet hen,” Sadie said.

Mr. Bakke chuckled. “Have you ever confronted a wet hen? I have. They're vicious."

"It's a good thing Aanders took off running because that's how I feel. I could spank his skinny butt."

"Sounds serious.” Mr. Bakke pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. Jane turned the burner down and waited for Sadie to explain.

After they cleared the supper dishes, Sadie called the crossers to the table. Lora fidgeted with the hem on her blouse and Theo drummed his fingers against his briefcase, waiting for the others.

Aanders hesitated by the screen door. Jane patted his shoulder and offered a consoling smile. “You'd better sit down. I think Sadie's looking for you."

"I know.” Aanders sat next to Tim. “She told Mom she wanted me to run an errand. She shouldn't lie just cuz she's mad at me.” He flicked a side glance at Tim. His foot buffeted the wooden base, setting the table in motion.

Belly plopped down next to Tim's chair and rested his head on his paws. His eyes turned upward to gaze at Tim.

"Do you see that?” Sadie pointed to the dog. “Even Belly is concerned about Tim's condition. What were you thinking, Aanders? Tim's death is at stake.” She glared at him. “I need to know exactly what happened today."

Aanders buried his face in his hands, eyes welling with tears.

Tim reached out and put his hand on Aanders arm. “He doesn't want me to go..."

"I know he doesn't want you to go,” Sadie interrupted. “But it isn't his decision. He's got a job to do. He needs to make sure you reach your destination.” Sadie placed her water glass on the table and stood next to the sulking lad.

"He had the perfect opportunity to help Tim through the light. Instead, he turned Tim's wheelchair around and ran the opposite way,” Lora said.

"Why? Why would you do that?” Realizing her voice had pitched two octaves above normal, Sadie fought to regain her composure. Fear of being disciplined would cause Aanders to slam the door on progress.

Tim rallied in Aanders’ defense. “There was a light building behind this old man. Aanders pushed me closer. When the noise got louder, I got scared. I asked Aanders to push me out of the man's room."

Aanders sat forward on his chair. “When I tried to turn the wheelchair around, the tunnel pulled at Tim. Tim shouted he didn't want to go. He said he had to tell Sadie something important. I pushed and we made it out of the room."

Sadie lifted Tim's limp hand. “Nothing is more important than getting you through that light. You may have made the biggest mistake you'll ever make."

"I hurried into the room when I saw Aanders running with the wheelchair, but it was too late,” Lora said. “The light moved up into the corner. I ran up to it, but by the time I got there, it was gone.” Lora glared at Aanders. “Because you fooled around, I lost my chance to go through the light, too."

"But we weren't fooling around.” Tim tried to shout his defense, but his voice caught in his throat. “I needed to get Sadie to listen."

"You're not still thinking it was murder, are you?” Theo said.

"It was murder."

"I thought we put that to rest,” Sadie said. “I thought you agreed it was your overactive imagination."

"No. There's a lot I haven't told you because you didn't want to hear it. I can prove Dad was murdered."

"If I listen, will you promise to make every effort to go through the light?"

Tim's shoulders drooped as he looked at Aanders. “I promise."

Sadie put her arm around Tim and pulled him close. He sagged against her body. His strength was deteriorating and she wondered if he possessed the stamina to go on. “Aanders, do you know what Tim has to tell me?"

Aanders nodded.

"Because I want Tim to reserve his strength, I'm going to let Aanders tell me.” She sat back and nodded for Aanders to begin.

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Paul tucked the boat keys in his pocket as the dock attendant secured the rope to the post. “Make sure you put gas in it,” he reminded the teenager.

"Will do, Mr. Brinks.” The boy responded with a two-finger salute. “I'll keep a good eye on her.” He grinned and watched Paul wave a twenty dollar bill before stuffing it back in his pocket.

After gassing the boat, the dock attendant wiped the surface clean. Bending low to inspect the area near the gas cap, he dabbed at a smear hoping to prevent an episode like last time when he had missed a spot. Tips of the twenty-dollar magnitude were a rare commodity.

The thirty-foot Sea Ray sport cruiser, named
Brink's Lady,
featured a Bimini top, full galley, sleeping berth, and a swim platform. The boat was Paul's most recent purchase. Two weeks earlier he had surprised Nan with the celebratory voyage around the lake where they toasted his new acquisition with a vintage bottle of Malbec from his personal wine cellar.