Lisa Lutz Spellman Series E-Book Box Set: The Spellman Files, Curse of the Spellmans, Revenge of the Spellmans, The Spellmans Strike Again (55 page)

“DON’T EAT THE PANCAKES AND BINGE-DRINKING CONFESSION”

The transcript reads as follows:

ISABEL
: Thank you, Henry.

HENRY
: [grumbles] You’re welcome.
[Rae shakes her head back and forth and mouths
“Don’t eat the pancakes.”
]

ISABEL
: I’m hungry.

HENRY
: So eat.
[Rae performs a pantomime of picking up the pancakes and putting them in her pocket. I would later learn these were instructions for me.]

ISABEL
: Harpo, eat your breakfast.
[Rae shakes her head in the “I told you so” style. I take my first bite of pancakes, which taste nothing like the pancakes I’m used to.]

RAE
: No matter what you do, don’t spit it out. He really hates it when you spit out food he’s made you.
[Henry sits down at the table. I finish my bite of pancakes.]

ISABEL
: Do we have any syrup?

RAE
: You’re not allowed to put syrup on the pancakes.

ISABEL
: Have you lost your mind?

RAE
: [to Henry] You never let me put syrup on the pancakes. Why does Isabel get to?
[I get the bottle of syrup out of the pantry and douse the pancakes with it.]

HENRY
: Rae, your sister is a grown woman—in theory—and she can do as she pleases. The situation you are referring to was very different, if you recall. You demanded I make you pancakes. I made the pancakes, then you spit your half-masticated food back on the plate and asked for syrup to make what I can only assume would be pancake soup.

RAE
: Are you mad at me?

HENRY
: Of course I’m mad at you. What you did last night was 1) illegal, 2) irresponsible, and 3) really dangerous.

RAE
: I’m sorry, Henry. I really am. It’s just that I’ve never gotten drunk before and I thought I should just to see what it’s like.
[Yes, I have the confession on tape!]

HENRY
: So, it’s not going to happen again?

RAE
: Not until I go to college.
¹

HENRY
: Right.
²
[Long pause.]

RAE
: Thanks for coming to get me.

HENRY
: You’re welcome.

RAE
: I knew you wouldn’t let me choke on my own vomit.

ISABEL
: Some of us are trying to eat.

RAE
: Sorry.
[I reach into my pocket to turn off the recorder, since I have all the evidence I need. But Stone catches me out of the corner of his eye.]

STONE
: Are you recording?

ISABEL
: Yes.
[End of tape.]

Henry spent the next hour trying to get in touch with David, whom he believed should take full responsibility for his wayward sisters. When Henry finally did make contact, his side of the conversation went like this:

“David, this is Henry Stone. I’m fine. How are you? I see. I see.
Where
are you? Really? You’re at a yoga retreat. Hmmm. Yes, flexibility is important. Any chance I can convince you to come home?…No, it’s not exactly an emergency, but I think Isabel has a cracked or broken rib or something. No, she’s not coughing blood, but still. Uh-huh. Well, I think somebody should be keeping an eye on your sisters…I know Isabel is an adult, but—I see. I understand. Okay. Yes. I’ll tell her that. You’re welcome. Good-bye.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s at a yoga retreat in Northern California. He needs to clear his head.”

“From what?” I asked.

“We didn’t get into that. He said you should listen to me and go to the doctor.”

“No doctors!”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

I didn’t respond for fear of incriminating myself. Rae translated my silence: “She doesn’t want to go because Mom gets all the insurance documents and she’ll want to know how Isabel injured herself.”

“So she knows you fell down a flight of stairs,” Henry said.

Rae rolled her eyes.

“That’s not what happened?” Henry asked.

I turned to Rae and glowered. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

The doorbell rang. Rae opened the door to two uniformed police officers.

“Is Isabel Spellman home?” Officer Carmichael, who appeared to have a fake tan, asked.

“Let me check,” Rae replied, and then looked to me for further instruction.

Henry grabbed my arm and walked me to the door.

“Hello officers, I’m Inspector Henry Stone and this is Isabel Spellman. Is there a problem?”

The second officer, Townsend, whose physical blandness was the only notable thing about him, remained silent while his partner did the talking.

“We received a complaint from your neighbor Mr. John Brown. Apparently someone tried to break into his apartment two nights ago while he was out. Mr. Brown received a call from another neighbor who claims to have seen a woman on a ladder near his office window, and when he checked the office, he found a screwdriver on the floor, which he believes was used to jimmy open the window. Do you know anything about this, Ms. Spellman?”

“No. I’m sorry, I don’t. Did Mr. Brown suggest that I was the person who tried to break into his home?”

“Mr. Brown did not suggest that, but he claims the neighbor who notified him believes it was you.”

“Can you tell me who that neighbor was?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” replied the talking officer.

“Well, I assure you, I had nothing to do with the attempted break-in, but I will be on the lookout for any prowlers from now on. Thank you for the warning.”

“Is that all, officers?” Henry said with an air of authority.

“One more thing. Mr. Brown wanted us to tell you that he would not hesitate to file a restraining order against you if he deems it necessary.”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I replied.

Henry and I said a polite good-bye to the officers. The moment I shut the front door, he took me by the shoulders and looked me in the eye.

“You fell off a ladder trying to break into that guy’s house, didn’t you? That’s how you hurt yourself?”

“No,” I said, almost convincingly.

“What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing, anymore.”

“So you’re not dating him?”

“No.”

“Then why are you trying to break into his home?”

“Because he’s evil.”

“How is he evil?”

“I don’t know! That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Henry tried to humble me with his disappointed gaze.

“Get your coat, we’re leaving now.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

Henry walked over to me and gave me an icy stare. “Do you want me to tell your parents about our visit from the cops?”

“No,” I replied.

“Good. Then the only choice you have to make is whether you’re going to arrive at the hospital looking like an escaped mental patient or like a civilized human being. You have ten minutes to dress or not dress. Your choice,” he said, and I went upstairs to attire myself with some dignity.

Four hours later, after a three-hour wait in San Francisco General Hospital’s emergency room, I was X-rayed and found to have a minor rib fracture, prescribed pain pills, and told to take it easy for the next six weeks. Henry was in a crabby mood, so I didn’t reiterate on the drive home that we had just lost one sixth of a day and a five-hundred-dollar insurance deductible that we would never get back. My only revenge was recording the next episode of
The Stone and Spellman Show
on the drive home. Rae had perused a number of organ-donor brochures at the hospital. It got her thinking.

“HENRY’S-CHOICE”

The transcript reads as follows:

[Rae, Henry, and Isabel exit San Francisco General Hospital.]

RAE
: Shotgun!

ISABEL
: Whatever.
[We get into the car and pull out of the parking lot. Rae turns on the radio, flicking through the different stations.]

RAE
: What happened to my radio stations?

HENRY
: What are you talking about?

RAE
: I programmed the bottom three buttons to my stations.

HENRY
: When?

RAE
: A long time ago.

HENRY
: I changed them.

RAE
: But I left the top three channels for you. That was totally fair. Fifty-fifty.

HENRY
: Rae, it’s my car. All the stations are mine to program.

RAE
: You are so prehistoric.
[Henry always laughs at this. I have no idea why.]

HENRY
: Stop calling me that!

RAE
: I’m going to program the very last station. Try to leave it alone, if you can.

HENRY
: No promises.

RAE
: Did you read any of that organ-donation material in the hospital?

HENRY
: Yes. It’s very sad.

RAE
: More people need to donate their organs.

HENRY
: I agree completely.

RAE
: When I die, I’m donating it all.

ISABEL
: When you die, Rae, your organs will most likely be too old to do anybody any good.

RAE
: That’s the problem. You can’t donate them when you’re alive.

ISABEL
: Except a kidney. You can donate a kidney.
[Long pause.]

RAE
: Henry, if you ever needed a kidney, you could have one of mine.

HENRY
: Thanks, but I think you’re too young to be donating kidneys.

RAE
: So you wouldn’t take it?

HENRY
: Nope.

RAE
: Even if it meant you might die?

HENRY
: Yes.

ISABEL
: Can I get a kidney?

RAE
: Only if Henry doesn’t need it.

ISABEL
: He just said he wouldn’t take a kidney from you.

RAE
: How about Isabel? Would you take a kidney from her?

HENRY
: No, I suspect Isabel will need both her kidneys.

ISABEL
: You’re hilarious.

RAE
: So who would you rather take a kidney from, me or Isabel?

ISABEL
: Who said I was offering?

RAE
: It’s a hypothetical.

HENRY
: Good word.

RAE
: So?

HENRY
: So, I wouldn’t want to take a kidney from either of you.

RAE
: But you have to pick. That’s the game.

HENRY
: I’m unaware of any such game existing.

RAE
: I just made it up. It’s called Choose Your Organ Donor.

HENRY
: I don’t want to play that game.

RAE
: Please.

ISABEL
: Just answer the question, Henry.

HENRY
: Fine. I’d sooner take Isabel’s kidney than yours.

RAE
: That’s an unwise decision.

HENRY
: Why?

RAE
: Because my kidneys have to be better than Isabel’s.

ISABEL
: How do you know?

RAE
: Because I’m clearly a superior life form to Isabel.
[Henry catches me checking the batteries on the digital recorder in the rearview mirror.]

HENRY
: Isabel, are you recording this?

ISABEL
: Yep.

HENRY
: Turn it off!