Organized to Death (25 page)

“Hot coffee would be good. Thanks.”

Betsy nodded. “Have a seat.”

Tina sat while Betsy rattled around in the kitchen. She studied the picture of a rough-tossed sea over the sideboard and the ceramic seagulls and pelicans on top. No pelicans in Newport. Maybe Betsy just liked pelicans.

Betsy returned with a tray loaded with two coffee cups and a creamer and sugar bowl. She arranged everything on the table, took the tray back to the kitchen, and then sat down.

“Help yourself,” Betsy said. “How’s your mother? And your uncle?”

Tina took some of everything and said, “They’re both fine. Uncle Bob scared us the other day when he collapsed in the kitchen. He had a bleeding ulcer. None of us suspected anything so serious. We got him to the hospital and they fixed him up. He’s home now.”

Betsy took two olives with an olive fork and put them on her plate. “That’s too bad. He was hardly ever in the office with anything when I worked for Dr. Stevenson.”

“I know. Except for having some stomach trouble off and on, for years, really, we never thought much about his health. He went to the hearing aid dispenser every so often, but he wouldn’t see a doctor about his stomach. Hopefully now he’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure he will,” Betsy said, her voice warm. “And Laura?”

“She’s fine. The same as always.”

Betsy smiled. “Still wants to run your life?”

“You know about that?” Tina saw the perfect opportunity to broach the subject she’d come here to talk about.

Betsy laughed. “I think the whole town knew about that.”

“And about the other girls whose mothers were the same? Brenda, Leslie, Crystal and Rachel, Sally?” Tina held her breath.

Betsy put down the sandwich she’d just taken a bite out of. Swallowed hard. “Well, maybe not the whole town.”

Tina placed her fisted hands on the table. “Mrs. Holden, I’m worried about something, and I’m hoping you might be able to help me.”

“If I can,” Betsy said, her tone cautious.

“You know I’m helping Dr. Ted straighten up the office.”

“Yes.”

“I’m doing the files now. I notice that none of ours, or our mothers’, files are to be found. Dr. Ted had to make up new ones for Brenda and me.”

Betsy nodded. “Dr. Stevenson kept those files separate.”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that. Patient confidentiality.”

“But I am one of those patients!” Tina stopped herself from banging the table with her fists.

“And the doctor would have to tell you anything that’s in the files. It’s not my place.”

Tina felt as if her head were about to explode. She’d never been so frustrated in all her life.

Betsy was looking at her with some concern, perhaps realizing how close to the edge Tina had gotten. She patted Tina’s hand. “Best not to worry about it. Just get on with your life.”

Tina forced herself to remain calm. She took several deep breaths. “You’re right, of course,” she finally managed to say. “You’re sure you can’t help me?”

Betsy looked regretful. “No, Tina.” She patted her hand again, and Tina wanted to snatch it away, but instead used it to pick up the rest of her sandwich.

Tina managed to eat enough to be polite while Betsy chatted on about Newport. Tina barely heard her.

So close
, she thought.
But so far away
. Maybe Betsy was right. She should forget the whole thing.

After Tina left, Betsy took the tainted leftover egg salad sandwiches and pushed them down the disposal. She’d been clever to cut them into different shapes so she knew which ones she could eat safely. She’d always loved gardening, and thank goodness some of her plants had survived that first frost. They’d come in handy today.

As she cleared the rest of the dishes, she wondered how long it would take for Tina to die.

Those daughters thought they were so special. And their mothers. Her hatred of all of them had burned while she was Doctor’s office manager and had gone down to a simmer after they both retired. But when Crystal threatened Doctor, she’d had to take action. After all, as office manager, she’d known everything he did. Both their reputations would be ruined, and they might even go to prison.

She glanced at the clock. Too early for a drink, really. But what was she going to do until she heard about Tina? Would Tina survive the night?

Betsy took down the brandy bottle and noticed it was only a quarter full. She’d have to buy another bottle soon.

The voice in her head was back. “You’re no good.” She wanted to scream, but she poured some brandy into an old jelly glass instead. When this was over, she’d put whatever was left in the back of the cupboard again.

After Tina had been back at work on the files for about an hour, her stomach began to ache.
Stress
, she thought.
I’m a psychologist, I should know how to handle stress
.

She stepped over to talk to Sylvia. “I’m calling it a day. I’m getting punchy from looking at all those folders.”

Sylvia smiled. “I would too. Take it easy.”

“You too.”

When she arrived home, both Uncle Bob and her mother were in their rooms. She didn’t disturb them, just went to her own, took off her shoes, and lay down on the bed. So tired.

Tina woke with a start and rushed to the bathroom, her stomach heaving. She made it just in time to throw up all her lunch. Weak, she sank to the floor and moaned.
Mommy
, she thought.
I want my mommy.
When her stomach calmed down, she stood up, ran cold water over a washcloth and rubbed her face with it.

Back in bed, she debated getting her mother. But she felt too weak, too tired. She drifted off to sleep again.

She awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she saw Laura standing there. “You all right? You threw up?”

“How’d you know?” Tina asked groggily.

Laura wrinkled her nose. “I can smell it. You didn’t open a window.”

“Oh. Oh!” Tina jumped up and rushed to the toilet again. This time when she was finished, she was so weak her mother had to help her back to bed.

Laura brought her a cold washcloth, and Tina ran it over her face a few times.

“Must be the flu,” Tina said. She curled herself into a ball, clutching her stomach.

“You need to see a doctor.” Laura stood with her hands on her hips, frowning.

“Well, he’ll have to come here, ‘cause I’m not moving,” Tina said with as much spirit as she could.

Laura shrugged and left the room.

So much for wanting her mommy, Tina thought. At least Laura’d helped her back to bed and given her a washcloth. That was something, she supposed.

She drifted off again, woke again at a touch on her shoulder.

This time, Hank stood there. “Whew, Red, you’ve been sick. The flu?”

“I guess,” Tina said. “You come up the trellis?” She was sure Laura wouldn’t have let him in.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Good thing they made them so sturdy long ago. I brought you another gun. After what happened to Rachel and Nicky, I thought you should have one.”

Tina nodded, too tired to care. But then she stirred. “You’re not watching Nicky.”

“Don’t worry. He went home. Other guy is watching them both now. Rach will call me if they separate, but they’ll probably stay in for a few days. I told them I’d bring them anything they need.”

“Good,” Tina said, relaxing back onto her pillow.
Should have known old Hank would have it covered.

He leaned over her. She wondered how bad she smelled but couldn’t do anything about it. “Carry this all the time. And if you throw up again, get to the hospital. Okay?”

“Sure,” she said and drifted off again.

When she woke, she wondered if she’d been dreaming about Hank. No sign of the gun. She sat up, took a deep breath. No nausea. Another deep breath. Swung her legs over the edge of the bed. A bit of dizziness that passed while she stayed there. Cautiously, she stood. Her purse was on the chair where she’d left it. Inside, she found the gun.

In the bathroom, she washed her face again. Wanted a shower badly but decided against it. Too weak, might faint.

As she climbed back in bed, Laura came in with a tray.

“Tea and toast,” she said.

“No Jell-O? I was hoping for Jell-O.”

“Maybe later.” Laura smiled. “You’re feeling better.”

“Yes, I think it’s all over. Must have picked up the flu either at Ted’s office or the hospital.”

“Probably.” Her mother set the tray down on the nightstand, then moved Tina’s purse to sit in the chair. “This is heavy—what have you got in here?” She opened the flap and saw the gun lying on top of everything. “Oh. Hank’s been here, has he?”

Tina laughed. “Yeah, Mom. We made wild, passionate love. Very romantic. I almost barfed all over him.”

Laura stiffened. “Don’t be vulgar, Tina. It’s not becoming.”

“Do you even know what Hank does for a living?” Tina asked.

“Of course,” Laura said. “He’s an undercover police officer.” Her mouth twisted with distaste.

Tina almost dropped her teacup. “What?”

“You didn’t know?” Laura looked astonished. “I thought you knew. I thought that was some of the attraction. The danger, the secrecy.”

Well, no. The attraction hadn’t been that Hank was in danger, Tina realized. It had always been that Hank himself seemed dangerous. “Does everyone know?”

“Of course not. The fewer people who know, the safer he is.”

“Who told you, then?”

“Mitzi. She worries about him. He’s all she has left.”

Tina didn’t know what to think, what to feel. “I’ve been away too long,” she said.

“Yes,” Laura replied.

Tina drank the last sip of tea. “One secret out of the way. I don’t suppose you’ll tell me another?”

“I think you’ve had enough shocks to your system for one day,” Laura said. She took the tray and headed to the door. “Rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning. I talked to Uncle Bob, and we both agreed that it would be best he not see you in his weakened state. We don’t want him back in the hospital.”

“No,” Tina said. “He should stay away.” When her mother left, Tina hunkered down under the covers, her mind whirling. It took her a long time to go to sleep.

The next morning Tina made it downstairs, feeling weak and a bit disoriented. She heard Princess’s tail thumping before she entered the kitchen. Uncle Bob was reading the sports section. Princess stood up and put her chin on his knee. He looked up, saw Tina, and grinned.

“There you are! You had your mother worried yesterday.”

“I’m fine,” Tina said. “How are you?”

“Fit as a flapjack.”

“A flapjack?” Tina laughed. “Why a flapjack?”

“Funnier than a fiddle.”

“That’s for sure.” Tina walked over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. As she did, she had an inspiration. She grabbed the phone book at the end of the counter, then sat down opposite Uncle Bob.

“Do you know where Dr. Stevenson’s house is out in Portsmouth?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Dr. Stevenson—the doctor we used to go to.”

“Oh, yes. He moved to his summer cottage after he sold the practice to Ted. Let’s see if I remember. Almost out to Island Park. Yes.” He gave her directions, then a shrewd look. “You going to ask him about the secret?”

“Ask who?” Laura said as she came down the back stairway and into the kitchen.

“Dr. Stevenson,” Tina said. “He was my doctor, after all, and I have a right to know everything that’s in my file.”

Laura shrugged. “He’s far into Alzheimer’s, Tina. Whatever he tells you is suspect.”

Tina’s shoulders slumped. Then she perked up. “But he might have the file.”

“He’d have to remember where he put it.” Laura poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.

Her mother seemed so sure of herself. Unconcerned. Alzheimer’s patients had moments of lucidity. All Tina had to do was catch him in one.

“Well, I’m going to see him,” Tina said.

“You’d better eat something first,” Laura said. “You’ll be weak from yesterday.”

Tina knew she was right. She made some toast, poured some cereal, got it all down. No one said anything else; they just read different sections of the newspaper.
Like any ordinary family
, Tina thought.
Yeah, right
.

The air had a bite to it when Tina stepped out the back door. She yanked on her gloves and got quickly into her car. The drive to Portsmouth was pleasant enough, and she had no trouble finding Dr. Stevenson’s cottage. It stood off by itself a few blocks away from the Atlantic Ocean, its weathered clapboards gray in the late fall sunlight. An old, dark green Porsche sat in the driveway. It needed a good wash Tina noticed as she went up the walk to the front door.

She rang the bell twice before the door opened. Dr. Stevenson looked at her with no sign of recognition.

“Dr. Stevenson? May I come in? I’m Tina. Tina Shaw. Laura’s daughter?”

He nodded and shuffled backward to let her enter. The house smelled musty and stale. He led her into a neat but dusty living room and motioned to a chair.

Tina sat. Dr. Stevenson stood staring at her.

“Why don’t you sit down, too?” Tina asked gently.

Nodding his head, the old doctor sat across from her. He squinted, then said, “Tina?”

She sighed with relief. “Yes. I came to ask you about my medical records.”

He stiffened. Shook his head. “Secret.”

“Why?”

“Bad medicine.”

“What?”

He became agitated, stood up.

“Dr. Stevenson,” Tina said, her voice low and calm, “where are my medical records? Do you know?”

He looked puzzled. Then he stood at the mantel, his back to her. “Where they’ve always been,” he said, then whirled around. “The office. You know they’re at the office.”

“But I couldn’t find them there. They’re not with the others.”

“No, of course not. I had to keep them separate. Yes, separate.”

“In the file cabinet upstairs?” Tina guessed.

“Yes! That’s it. But no one must know. Secret.”

“I understand.”

“Even my son mustn’t know.”

“Who’s your son? I didn’t know you had any children.”