Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (18 page)

“What about clothes? Will she need to wear anything special?” I could almost see Rizzie’s brain clicking along, trying to process all of this. At the same time, I found it hard to picture Maum in a jogging suit.

“No, she can wear her regular clothing. Of course, you’ll want to bring gowns or pajamas and a robe for nightwear, but since our goal is to help patients get back to normal daily life, we like for them to dress in regular clothing each day.” He smiled. “Shall I hold the available bed for Mrs. Profit?”

“Yes,” Rizzie answered.

“I’ll stop by Ms. Marchant’s office and let her know we’re holding the bed and she can make arrangements for transportation.”

“How soon?”

“That’s up to the doctor.”

• • •

I had agreed to get in touch with Patel after I left the hospital. He’d suggested taking Tyrone and me to dinner. I really liked Patel, and I would have enjoyed an evening with him without Tyrone, but my headache had steadily grown worse during the afternoon and evening. I didn’t mind having Tyrone at the house, but, to be truthful, I’d lived alone long enough that I cherished time alone.

As always, Big Boy met me at the door, all excited as well as eager to go out for bathroom business. I clipped his leash on and took him for an extra long walk. We were barely back inside my apartment when I heard a knock on the door. Okay, so I had a momentary negative thought. Had Patel shown up without calling since he’d learned where I lived? I don’t like unexpected visitors. I peeked through the tiny hole in the door. Sheriff Wayne Harmon.

Í opened the door, protesting immediately. “Not tonight, Wayne. I’ve got a bad headache.”

The sheriff laughed. “Not tonight. I’ve got a headache. Who do you think you are? My wife?”

I laughed then, too, because the reason Wayne was divorced was that his ex-wife had turned out to be a nympho who’d never had a headache that prevented her being in the mood, whether Wayne was there or some other guy. For a long time, Wayne had been unable to even talk about her. It was good that he’d reached the point he could joke about her faults.

“Come in and sit down, but I honestly don’t feel like giving you a statement tonight. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“I didn’t come for a statement.” That’s when I noticed he held a pizza box pressed up against his side with his left arm while his hand clutched a paper bag. That right hand was virtually useless with the casts on every finger.

“For me?” I asked in a silly, little girl tone that came way too close to being a Magnolia Mouth accent and pointed toward the box.

“Yep, and look what else I have.” He sat the box and bag on my kitchen table, then opened the bag. A six pack of Michelob, my favorite brand.

“Did they give you any pain meds?” Wayne asked as he tore off two sheets of paper towel and put them on the table to use for plates.

“No, I didn’t have the headache then. Really, they just stopped my nose bleed and did some X-rays and a scan. No sign of anything broken and no sign of concussion.” I knew that was what he’d been thinking because I’ve had several concussions in the past.

“Then I guess you can have one of these,” he said and popped the top off two of the beers. He opened the pizza box and drew an imaginary line down the center of the pizza with his finger.

“That side’s yours,” he said pointing to the side closest to me. “I let them put those anchovies you like on it because I know you love them though I don’t understand how anyone would want sardines on pizza.”

We consumed that pizza in no time, and Wayne insisted on cleaning up after we ate. Not that dropping paper towels and beer bottles into the trash can takes a whole lot of time or energy. He put the rest of the beers in my refrigerator.

“Want another one?” I asked and pointed toward the closed refrigerator door.

“Nope. I’m driving.”

We moved to the couch and I waited for the inquisition, but he didn’t ask anything except did I need anything.

“No, what do you mean?”

“Well, I came to talk you into letting me take you to your dad’s to spend the night. Whether you admit it or not, that business at the warehouse had to have been very upsetting or you would never have smacked Frankie. You wouldn’t have done that otherwise.”

“Does everyone in town know about that? Frankie embarrassed me in front of someone I didn’t want to think I come from a family of rude rednecks.”

“So you reacted like a rude redneck and socked him?”

“Yes, I did, but I’m not proud of it. I may even call and apologize tomorrow.”

“There’s something else I want to tell you. Remember how whoever splashed paint all over the Mother Hubbard tent at the fairgrounds had tried to write Mr. Patel’s name?

“Yes, but they misspelled it.”

“Well, they didn’t spell your name correctly, either. On one of the caskets way in the back, they wrote, ‘For Calee Paris.’”

“What?”

“They tried to spray paint your name on a coffin.”

“Oh, - - - -,” and once again, I forgot to kindergarten cuss.

“Would you consider going over to your dad’s now?”

“No, I think Big Boy would let me know if anyone comes here looking for trouble, and I’ve got a gun, you know.”

“You know?” Wayne smirked. “Did you spend too much time with Mr. Haeden this morning? I talked with him and he just ’bout ‘you know’ed’ me to death.”

“Listen, I’m really tired and now that my stomach’s full of pizza and beer, I’d like to get a shower and go to bed. Would you mind?”

“Mind going to bed with you?”

“No, leaving so I can go to bed
alone.
What’s got into you with all these suggestive remarks? You know I think of you like a brother.”

“And I think of you as my little sister—most of the time. Speaking of brothers, I have a message for you from one of yours.”

“Not from Frankie, I hope.”

“No, from John.” He hesitated and stared at me. “Don’t get all upset. I know you’re aware that he’s been going through some kind of mid-life crisis, but I have good news from him. Before he headed back to Atlanta, I talked to him about counseling. My marriage didn’t work and I don’t think it was fixable, but John and Miriam’s relationship has been too strong all these years to let it fall apart now. I also pointed out to him that he’s been going through more difficulty about losing your mother, but if he leaves Miriam, he’ll be doing something similar to his kids. He called me today and said that he’s found a counselor who will work with him individually as well as work with the family as a group.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day—not just today, but in a long time.” I yawned right in his face. “Now my stomach’s full and my mind’s at ease about John, I hate to be rude, but could you leave and let me go to bed?”

“Yes, but I do want you to be cautious, watch what you do, and be aware of your surroundings.”

“You’ve given me that lecture before. I know all that and about keeping my doors locked both at home and when driving as well as always looking through the peep-hole before letting anyone inside.” I considered the whole thing for a minute or so. “I think this paint business is just teenagers pulling pranks.”

“Some pretty expensive pranks. Mr. Patel’s tent wasn’t cheap, but the financial damage to Middleton’s by ruining all those caskets is going to be astronomical, and Otis doesn’t know how much insurance will cover.”

“I still think it’s just kids.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

• • •

When Wayne left, I walked Big Boy again, being very conscious of my surroundings. I’d made the decision not to see Patel that night, so I took a long, hot bath in peach-scented bath oil and put on that warm, comforting night gown. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin the way Maum likes them before putting Patel’s number on speed dial and using it to call him. I looked forward to just lying there all warm and secure and talking to him, but he didn’t answer his telephone.

No answer at all.

I knew I should have called him earlier, and I had no claim on him to be upset if he didn’t answer when I called several hours later than he probably expected to hear from me. I knew that, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I just lay there and felt sorry for myself. Dr. Donald dumped me. Was Patel dumping me before we even got started?

We? There is no we. He’ll be gone the end of the week.

It was all I could do not to get up and go into the kitchen to get the box of MoonPies.

15

The next day brought a wonderful surprise. Odell called before I was even out of bed and told me he and Otis had decided to give me a week off to “recuperate from that horrible thing that happened yesterday.”

I called Rizzie and offered to pick up waffles for both of us and have breakfast with her at the hospital.

“No, don’t pick up waffles. Bring doughnuts.” Rizzie sounded excited. “Maum says she feels like a glazed Krispy Kreme.”

This was also great news because Maum hadn’t eaten much at all since she fell. I was out of the apartment in a flash and picked up an assorted half dozen doughnuts. Two of them were glazed; two, my favorites which were Boston crème with chocolate frosting; and two of Rizzie’s preference, frosted maples with sprinkles.

My heart filled with happiness as I watched Maum eat a glazed doughnut. She didn’t feel like feeding herself, so Rizzie pinched off tiny bite-sized pieces and fed them to her between sips of milk through a bendable straw. I noticed they’d given her two percent milk and wondered if the dietician really thought it necessary to limit the tiny woman’s calorie intake. Then I realized the milk was low-fat because of her heart condition, not out of fear she’d gain weight.

Maum only ate one, but Rizzie and I both scoffed up two doughnuts apiece. I’d bought a newspaper, so Rizzie and I settled into comfortable seats, divided the
St. Mary News
between us, and read while Maum took a nap.

Our peaceful morning was interrupted by the arrival of the bird. I declare, it was hard to think of Dr. Sparrow by his name or as “the bird,” when I considered him a buzzard.

Again, he stood in the doorway, not getting near any of us and not even looking at Maum.

“I’ve signed the papers for your grandmother to move to the nursing home for rehab,” he said to Rizzie, without really looking at her either.

“When?” I asked.

“Today. Just as soon as the social worker can arrange transportation.” He left without saying goodbye or anything else.

Apparently, Maum hadn’t been in as deep a sleep as I’d thought. She sniffled.

“What is it, Maum?” Rizzie asked as she patted her grandmother’s hand.

The waterworks began. Not a few tears, waterfalls. Maum sobbed. She’d heard the bird say that she’d be going to Peaceful Pines Health and Rehab. The nurse came in and removed the morphine pump. She told us that the ambulance would be there at eleven o’clock to move her. Maum was more awake now than she’d been since the operation. In fact, she was wide awake.

“Peaceful Pines sounds like a graveyard,” Maum said. “If I’m going to a graveyard, I want to go to Surcie Island and lie beside Paw Paw.”

“It’s not a cemetery. It’s a place to help you learn to walk again.”

“I don’t need nobody to show me how to walk. Pull me up and I’ll show you.” She lifted her arms toward Rizzie, and it was obvious that just that little bit of exertion exhausted her.

“We’ll follow the ambulance in my car,” I said.

“You follow. I’m going to ride with her.”

A little after ten, two men in uniform came to the room with a gurney. One of them held a clipboard, which he read from, “Mrs. Profit?”

“Yes,” Maum answered for herself.

“We’ll be taking you to Peaceful Pines.”

I began rushing around trying to gather up flowers and other things we’d accumulated in the room in those few days. “We’re not ready,” I said. “They told us eleven. The nurse said she’d take out the IV’s, and she hasn’t yet.”

The younger man laughed. “They told us ten, and I was afraid we were late. It’s no problem. We’ll wait at the nurses’ desk while you get packed.”

When we called them back in, they were as gentle as if Maum had been their own grandmother. They flirted with her tenderly, teasing her about her being a cougar and their date for the morning. She actually smiled a little, but the tears came again when the older one told her that Rizzie couldn’t ride in the back of the ambulance with her. The younger one quickly assured her he would be right by her side and Rizzie could ride up front with the driver.

I followed them in the service elevator down to the ER exit and watched the men slide the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Then I went back upstairs and finished emptying the room of the Profits’ belongings.

At Peaceful Pines, the CNAs welcomed Maum and helped settle her in Room 107. I’d finally managed to remember that CNA stands for “Certified Nursing Assistant.” The room was a double, and the lady sharing the room with Maum smiled and said, “Hello, Roommate. I’m Hennie Owens. Glad to meet’cha.”