Glossed and Found

by India Ink

  The ambulance siren pierced the night as it pulled into the driveway, and I closed my eyes, just wanting the chaos to end. Auntie knelt by my side with my head on her lap, and she kissed my forehead as the paramedics hurried up the steps. My one consolation, I thought as they began working on me, was that this little stunt should put Elliot away for a good, long time. Somehow, the fact that I’d broken his nose seemed very inconsequential at this moment.

  Three hours later, we were all back from the emergency room, except Elliot, of course, who was being kept in a guarded room at the hospital. His nose had been broken in a second place when Dorian tackled him. His right shoulder was strained—probably from when I shoved it away from me—and his right knee was swollen, though the doctors hadn’t found any serious injuries in it. All in all, I thought, he’d best thank his lucky stars he was still alive.

  Dorian and Barb were snuggled together on the sofa. His hand sported a bandage, and he’d fractured two fingers in the fight. My bandage was smaller; the bullet had only barely grazed my skin, but the abrasion burned. What really hurt, though, was the huge bruise right above my left breast and my left shoulder. The doctor said I’d torn a few ligaments in the fall. He gave me a shot of corticosteroids, prescribed some heavy-duty ibuprofen, and sent me home with instructions to rest for a few weeks. I’d be on my treadmill rather than weight training until it healed up.

  Auntie was in the kitchen, fixing tea and cookies and whatever else she could think of, while Kyle leaned back in the recliner, looking as worn as I’d seen him in a long time.

  I made myself comfortable in the rocking chair and leaned my head back against the cushion, wishing that I could start the evening over again.

  “He’s going to stay locked up this time, isn’t he?” Barb asked. The phone call she’d taken just as Elliot barged through the door had been from Kyle, warning me that Elliot had managed to post bail. If he’d called five minutes earlier, or if Elliot had showed up five minutes later, none of this would have happened.

  Kyle nodded. “I hope so. I can’t believe he managed to scrape up bail money. This time we’ve got him, though. Attempted kidnapping, assault, unlawful possession of a handgun, possession of a stolen weapon, violation of parole . . . we’ll be able to rack up the charges. I think Elliot’s going to find himself in prison for a long time. My guess is he won’t see the light of freedom for a good twenty years.”

  “Just keep an eye on him till he gets there. He’s slippery,” I said, frowning as I shifted in my seat. The moment I moved, pain shot through my shoulder, and I groaned.

  “Will you sit still?” Barb said. She and Dorian hadn’t said a cross word to one another all evening, and I had a feeling their feud was over. “You’re going to hurt yourself again.”

  “I’m okay, honest.” I stopped. “Well, I’m not, but I’m not going to die or anything like that.” Turning cautiously, I asked Kyle, “So, on to our other big problem of the day. Any news about Lisa?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. She’s been gone forty-eight hours now. The trail . . .” His words died away as he stared into the flames.

  “The trail goes cold at forty-eight hours. I know,” I said, feeling a mire of depression slipping over me. Thanksgiving my ass, this week was turning out to be one of the most painful in a long time. “How’s Amy doing?”

  “Not well. She expects me to be able to say, ‘Oh, I know where Lisa is!’ and run out and rescue her, but the truth is that we haven’t got a clue. Lisa’s ex-boyfriend, Shawn Johnson, was at the dance Saturday night. After the dance he and his girlfriend went out for drinks with two other couples—all easily verified. Lisa’s current boyfriend is in the clear, too. He was waiting for her, and when she didn’t show up, he thought she stood him up and went out to dinner with his roommates.”

  “Speaking of Lisa’s ex-boyfriend,” I said, “I talked to Karen, the sister of Yvonne Sanders. Yvonne went out with Shawn before he dumped her for Lisa. Karen said Yvonne is still pretty upset at Lisa and begged me not to tell Yvonne that she’d gone to Lisa for a makeover.”

  Kyle frowned. “Karen Sanders? You aren’t talking about a tall girl, the plain type . . . are you? She wears overalls—”

  “That’s her,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t put much stock in what she says.” He accepted a cup of tea from Auntie as she set the tray down on the coffee table. “In fact, I’d be apt to think she’s just looking for a little attention.”

  “Why?” I asked, taking a sip from the steaming cup that Auntie pressed into my hand. Celestial Seasonings’ Lemon Zinger. The fruity flavor flowed down my throat, soothing my nerves.

  Kyle bit into a gingersnap and licked his fingers. “Mmm, good. Thank you, Miss Florence.”

  Auntie smiled. “Anything to take the edge off, Kyle.”

  “And we appreciate it,” he said, then continued. “Karen’s quite a bit younger than you, I believe.” He held up his hand when I started to laugh. “I kid you not. She looks in her late thirties, but she’s only twenty-two or twenty-three. She grew up in Yvonne’s shadow, and more than once she’s been in to the station, telling us one outlandish tale or another. She’s hungry for attention, and she’ll do anything to keep you talking.”

  I’d wondered about that. As I thought back to our conversation, it made sense. She wasn’t a drama queen out of vanity but out of loneliness. I suddenly felt the weight of the world descend on my shoulders. The pain and fear from Elliot’s escapade, along with the worry over Lisa, all combined to knock me out with a one-two punch. I slumped back in my seat and let out a whimper.

  Auntie was at my side in an instant. She immediately assessed my need for sleep and rest, and turned to Barbara. “Help me get her into the ground-floor guest room. She’s exhausted, and I won’t have her climbing the stairs tonight.”

  Dorian stood, motioning for Barb to stay back, and before I knew what was happening, he’d swept me up in his arms and carried me into the guest room as Auntie led the way. He didn’t even seem to notice his injured hand.

  I laughed, really starting to lose it. As he gently deposited me on the bed, I whispered, “You’d better start treating Barbara right and listen to her, or you’re going to lose her. She’s worth her weight in gold, you know.”

  He gave me a long look, and at that moment I could see what Barb saw in him. He was her protector, her guardian, her lover, and her companion. His eyes said it all. Dorian gave me a gentle nod.

  “I know,” he said. “I promise, I won’t be such a stupid man ever in the future. Mama will stay at a hotel the rest of her visit. My wife will never be driven out of her home again.”

  I realized then that he understood how he truly could have lost Barb. Not just by her walking out on him, but during the standoff with Elliot. Elliot could have gone nuts and shot us all. He could have hurt Barbara or killed her, and then Dorian would never have forgiven himself.

  Dorian’s gaze told me all these things. I had the feeling that whatever problems lay ahead of the couple, they would work them out in a way that didn’t require one person to stomp out of the house in order to make a point.

  I started to tell him he was doing the right thing when the lights went out, and I slid into unconsciousness.

  When I woke, a rare glimpse of winter sun was glinting through the windows. Auntie was sitting by my side, watching me. I started to push myself up, but an ache a mile wide hit me in the shoulder, and I groaned, leaning back.

  “Oh God, just don’t ask me to stand up,” I said. I’d no more spoken when I realized I had to go to the bathroom. “Well, hell. Auntie, can you help me up?”

  “Of course, Imp.” She helped me to my feet, and I shuffled into the bathroom and awkwardly fumbled my way through a bare basic routine. Toilet, brush teeth, wash face, stare at bloodshot eyes . . . yep . . . bare minimum. She tapped at the door, and I let her in.

  “I need to change your bandage. They showed me how at the hospital. Sit down.” As she prepared a strip of clean gau
ze and antibiotic spray, I eased my nightgown down over my shoulders. I didn’t remember changing into it, so Auntie and Barb must have done it for me. My shoulder was stiff and hurt like hell, but not quite so much as I thought it might.

  “I sure banged up my arm, didn’t I?” I said, gingerly testing my range of movement.

  Apparently Auntie thought I was trying to exercise it, because she scolded me. “Persia, you stop that! The doctor said you’re to rest, and rest is what you’re going to do. I don’t want you ending up on the operating table. By the way,” she added as she peeled away the bandage covering the abrasion on my shoulder, “there was a phone call for you this morning.”

  The tape holding the bandage on took a layer of skin with it when she pulled it off and I resisted the urge to yelp. “Who was it? And what time is it?”

  “Candy Harrison. She said you left her a message. I told her you’d call back when you woke up,” Auntie said and gently sprayed the bruised scrape with the antibiotic. The chill mist both hurt and soothed the stinging wound, and I wasn’t sure whether to let out a sigh or an ouch. The abrasion hurt, but the bruising hurt worse. She fitted the new bandage over the top and taped it down. “It’s nearly lunchtime. You slept deep.”

  “I wish I’d been awake to take her call.” I cautiously stretched my neck. Damn, and I’d thought the fall from my exercise ball had left me stiff. This was ten times worse. “I ache. I can’t sit still, or this is going to get worse before it gets better. I need a walk or something.”

  “After breakfast,” Auntie said. “You need to take a hot bath first, and then you need to eat.” She paused, then added, “Kyle called. There’s still no sign of Lisa, so they’re notifying the papers and putting flyers up. And he told me that Elliot’s due in court this afternoon for the judge to set bail. Do you think he’ll be able to pay it again?”

  I shook my head. “Doubt it. This was a lot more serious. But he had been able to before, so I tempered my prediction. “At least I hope not.”

  While I eased myself into the bathtub in the downstairs bath, trying to keep my bandage from getting wet, Auntie went up to my room to get me some clothes. I stretched back in the tub, wondering if my talk with Candy would reveal anything helpful. I scrubbed myself with a bath puff and some rose-scented bath gel as my mind fluttered from thoughts of Lisa to thoughts of Elliot. How did I manage to get involved with so many troubled people? For once, I thought with a loud sigh, why couldn’t things just run like clockwork?

  As I steadied myself and stepped out of the tub, Auntie came in carrying a chocolate brown broomstick skirt and a loose red peasant top that I usually wore in the summer. It wouldn’t constrict my movement or bind my shoulder, and if the abrasion oozed a little blood, it wouldn’t show against the crimson color. My bra was more problematic, but there was no way I could go without one. My breasts were too big to be comfortable without support, and I had no desire to incur any more havoc than gravity had already wreaked on my boobs.

  But Auntie brought me my front-hook sports bra, so I could easily slide it on like a blouse. Finally, I stepped into my skirt and pulled it up over my hips.

  “This sucks. I don’t have time to be incapacitated,” I complained.

  “Give yourself time to heal, or you’ll be laid up longer than a month. Just take it easy and let people help you, Persia.” Auntie hit on my sore spot, and she knew it.

  “I don’t like being vulnerable. Look at what it got me!” I followed her into the kitchen, where she opened the refrigerator and brought out the yogurt to go with the granola.

  “Don’t be so hasty, Imp. You’ll heal, but you have to let your body pace itself. You’re in good shape, so the healing process should be quicker for you than for some people. Just give it time, and don’t rush it. Now, eat your breakfast.” She poured my cereal and took the top off my yogurt.

  “Auntie,” I said after a few bites, “last night I thought Elliot was going to kill me. He had a look in his eye I’ve never seen before. He’s gone around the bend.” I paused, trying to find the right words. “I thought about what you said—about me buying a gun. Even if I’d had one, it wouldn’t have done me any good. I couldn’t have gotten to it soon enough. I can’t wear it twenty-four/seven—that would be ridiculous. And if I did own one . . . I might have killed him. I was so angry and so frightened.”

  She nodded. “You know yourself best, Imp, and I respect your decision. You know,” she added, “when Keola was murdered I went through a period where it was hard for me to leave the house. Once I moved back to the main-land, I cloistered myself in the penthouse I rented at a hotel in Seattle and stayed there for months. I ordered everything via delivery. The shock took a toll on me, and it took me a long time to get over it. I don’t want that to happen to you. I know you’ve had a scare, so if there’s anything you need, anybody you want to talk to, just let me know.”

  I pushed my chair back and wandered over to the windows that overlooked the ocean. The light was all silvery as the clouds kissed the water, and it was hard to discern where the water left off and the sky took over. As I stared at the waves that were foaming on the beach, my thoughts ran to Lisa again. Where are you? I thought. Where did you go?

  The phone rang, and Auntie held it out. “Candy Harrison,” she mouthed.

  I took the receiver and said, “Hello? This is Persia.”

  “Persia, I got your message. Did I leave something at Venus Envy when I was there?” Her voice conjured up images of a vacuous bleached blonde. Marilyn Monroe, only a dumb and cheap parody.

  “No, nothing like that. I wondered if you could meet me for coffee or something? I’d like to talk to you about our beautician, Lisa.”

  There was a brief pause, then she said, “Okay. Well, I guess I could fit in a coffee break this afternoon. But I don’t know what I can tell you. I barely know the girl. I just came in for a makeover.”

  We agreed to meet at two PM, and I hung up. Auntie looked at me quizzically. I frowned. “Do you know anything about Candy Harrison? She’s been in at least once for a makeover.”

  Auntie cocked her head. “Her name sounds familiar. Let me think a moment . . .” As she rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, she stopped and snapped her fingers. “I know! She’s Annabel Mason’s private nurse. You know—the woman who chairs the Thanksgiving Gala.”

  “Really?” I glanced at the clock. “I think I’ll give Amy a call. She’s probably a nervous wreck by now.” I had no sooner dialed the number when Amy picked up. She was sobbing.

  “Oh Persia, Kyle just called. Somebody found a body. Kyle’s on his way. He thinks it might be Lisa. Can you come over? I can’t be alone right now, and I have to go identify the body.”

  I stared at the phone. The day wasn’t going to get any better, was it? “I’ll be right there,” I said and hung up. It was then that I remembered I didn’t have a car; mine was in the shop, its windshield shattered.

  “Auntie, I need to go over to Lisa’s right now. Can I take the truck?” Auntie had a small Mazda pickup that she used when she needed to haul something home like a piece of furniture.

  “Bad news?” she asked, pulling the key off the Peg Board. Then she stopped and tossed the keys on the counter. “I just remembered. Trevor told me the truck needs brake work; it’s too dangerous to drive.”

  I slumped. “Maybe bad news. And damn it, I didn’t know the truck was out of commission.”

  She gathered her purse and jacket. “Get your things. I’ll drive you over, then I’ll go rent a car for you to use while yours is being worked on.”

  We headed out to Baby, Auntie making sure the doors were locked. Trevor came running up to the car as we were getting in. He leaned down to poke his head through my window.

  “I just heard what happened. Persia, are you okay?”

  I’d never seen Trevor look quite so worried. He was our main gardener and kept the gardens and acreage going. Lately, he’d been nursing hundreds of new rosebushes. We’d had to lay o
ut almost twenty thousand dollars—or rather, Auntie had laid it out—to replace the entire rose garden we lost thanks to Bebe’s sabotage. Trev was determined to make sure they were healthy and blooming by next year, even if we wouldn’t have enough petals to gather for making the rose water that was so popular at Venus Envy. Trevor figured it would take two years before our new roses were up and running enough for us to make use of them.

  “Well, I’ve been better,” I said, wincing as I slid into my seat.

  He shook his head. “That bites. If you need anything, let me know.”

  I gave him a little wave, and we took off. As we wound around the bend, I pulled out my cell phone and made a quick call to Kyle.

  “I heard about the body. I’m on my way to Amy’s now. She asked me to come over. Kyle, make damn sure that it’s her. Don’t assume, because I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  “Persia, I have no idea if it’s her. I’ve met Lisa a few times, but people look different when they’re dead. And I didn’t know the girl all that well. We can’t match this woman’s fingerprints to any records, and according to Amy, Lisa’s never been arrested. If it’s not her, then we’ll start the long process of putting drawings in the newspaper and on TV. But it’s better that we eliminate—or confirm—whether we have Lisa in that morgue before we go to all that trouble. And to do that, Amy has to come in to see if she can identify the body. If it’s not Lisa, then she can rest a little easier. I’ll pick her—both of you—up in about a half hour. How are you, by the way?”

  “Okay,” I said, hesitating. “Actually, pretty sore. My shoulder really got bludgeoned. By the way . . . speaking of psychos, I wanted to make sure Elliot’s still in jail.” I tried to sound lighthearted. “You haven’t let him out, have you?”

  Kyle’s voice was soft when he said, “He’s safely locked up. Persia, he goes in for a bail hearing today. The prosecuting attorney is recommending he not be remanded on bail. The DA is asking for five thousand dollars, but I guarantee he’ll never get out that easy.”