Trouble in Mind

by Michael Wiley

  ‘Let me die,’ Doreen said.

  They took her to the hospital. In the chaos, they didn’t hear their phones ringing. The doctors gave Doreen a transfusion, sewed her up, pumped more antibiotics into her, and put her in a room they used for dangerous patients.

  When they released her from the hospital six days later, Peters took her into custody.

  Accessory to this.

  Accessory to that.

  Obstructing the other.

  Kelson’s lawyer got her out on bail but with provisions and restrictions – the ankle monitor among them. Technically, she shouldn’t have been at the party or drinking or chatting with others connected with Toselli’s killing spree. Technically, Peters and Johnson should have arrested her for breaking her conditions.

  When the building super knocked to say neighbors were complaining about the noise, Kelson invited him in and gave him a Tecate.

  Payday sat on the carpet, while Painter’s Lane hid under the bed.

  Payday looked at the super with green almond eyes. ‘You can’t have that,’ the super said. ‘Building rules.’

  ‘It’s my daughter’s,’ Kelson said.

  ‘It’s got to go.’ The super made a gentle ntching sound to get the kitten to come to him. Painter’s Lane darted out from under the bed at the sound. ‘Hey, how many do you got?’ But he grinned as the kittens high-stepped across the carpet as if it was tall grass.

  ‘Just the two,’ Kelson said. ‘They’re service kittens.’

  ‘Never heard of such a thing,’ the super said.

  ‘They help with my headaches.’

  ‘I’ll need to check with the owners.’ The kittens rubbed against the man’s ankles.

  ‘Tell them they’re for an ex-cop,’ Peters said. ‘Shot in the line of duty.’

  The super tickled Payday’s back, and the kitten purred like an engine. ‘I’ll tell them you’ll sue if they don’t let you keep them. Americans with Disabilities, right?’ He scooped up Payday and made more ntching sounds, which made the kitten purr louder. ‘It worked for a cripple in another building. Guy with a parrot. Said he needed company.’

  Rodman brought the man another beer.

  And Doreen helped herself to one. She sat at the dining table, where Sue Ellen was drawing pictures of Payday and Painter’s Lane with colored pencils.

  The redhead watched Kelson move among the guests.

  Sue Ellen said, ‘Take your eyes off him or I’ll stab you with a pencil.’

  Doreen smiled and kept watching. ‘He’s a good man, isn’t he?’

  ‘Depends what you mean by good.’

  ‘A good dad?’ Doreen asked.

  ‘He won’t get me a horse.’

  ‘Probably for the best. It wouldn’t fit in the elevator.’

  Sue Ellen put down the green pencil and stared at Doreen. ‘Are you going to ask him out?’

  ‘I was thinking of it. He’s cute, don’t you think?’

  ‘Eww. Mom’s already got me going to a therapist. I’d need another just to deal with the two of you. Besides, he still loves my mom.’

  ‘Does she love him?’

  Sue Ellen screwed up her lips. ‘Nope.’

  ‘The world’s messed-up, isn’t it?’ Doreen said. ‘Maybe all we can do is ride through it as high as we can.’

  Sue Ellen picked up the green pencil again and started shading in Payday’s almond eyes. ‘Ride on a horse?’

  ‘Whatever gets us from here to there.’

  Sue Ellen traded the green pencil for a red one. With a remarkably sure hand for an eleven-year-old, she drew flames by Payday’s mouth, as if the kitten could breathe fire or eat it. ‘If you ask my dad out, I won’t stab you.’

  ‘That’s kind of you,’ Doreen said. She wiped something from the corner of one of her eyes with a knuckle. Maybe it was a tear.