Complicated Care

by Denise M. Hartman

  Messy emotional things broke her sleep patterns and damaged her calm.

  “Hello, earth to Mom? You okay?”

  She shook her bouffanted head. “I’m fine. It was just an early start and I didn’t sleep well.”

  “Don’t lose your marbles today. I have an appointment at the DA’s office in an hour, so we can make this go away.”

  Gambling would have to wait while she dealt with this legal problem first. “My marbles are just fine and this isn’t going away, Tommy. Mitigate is probably the best you can hope for.”

  He had the grace to look away ashamed staring out out the window. “I swear I’ll get my sh --, uh, crap, stuff together.”

  Blanche’s heart sunk. She’d heard this speech before. Harry the penny pincher must hate this if he looked on from heaven seeing his son mess up so badly.

  They really had done all they could to raise their kids with good values and God fearing life skills.

  The pragmatic side of her took over. “It doesn’t matter what you swear or promise to me. The subpoena will not go away. You’ve got to live with some consequences you created.”

  “It’s not my fault.” His brown eyes jerked back to her face.

  “That’s not what the prosecutor thinks. I agree with them.”

  He looked dark. “You could at least be on my side.”

  “I’ve been on your side and by your side since the day you were born. It’s just that decisions you make without wisdom or thinking through something, can’t always be undone. Your father and I tried to give you some indications of how to live. I guess, they didn’t stick.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Blanche felt herself beginning to flush with the stress of unwelcome emotions. “Life’s not fair. Not paying your bills isn’t fair to the people who supplied you with electricity and water. Not paying your child support isn’t fair to your children. “ Her heart palpitated. “Not...” she was about to bring up the gambling when his phone rang and he took it.

  He turned his head and started to skooch out of the booth. Blanche heard, “Look, no. I’m getting it fixed. I’ll have an, uh, installment soon.” He glanced back at Blanche with this last phrase.

  Must be his bookie. She shook her head and poked her fork at the pancakes.

  She tried to finish eating while he paced outside the diner, but the food turned to goo in her throat. She let the waitress pour her another coffee.

  When he returned, he said, “We’re going to be late. The county prosecutor appointment is at 9:30.”

  As they drove across town, she quizzed him had he brought his computer and the documents that the prosecutor had requested. He had. Good boy, Blanche thought.

  They were escorted into a government office and given into the hands of a junior prosecutor. The young woman said she was in charge of the supplemental portions of the lawsuit against Ambrosia Company.

  “We have subpoenaed you Mr. Binkley due to your, uh, dealings with what appears to be an aspect of the business,” The professional young blond paused to consult papers then continued, “that deals with loaning money.”

  Blanche glanced sideways at the nervous and beginning to sweat Tommy. He’d never been good with stress, poor thing.

  “Does the Ambrosia Company have any dealings with gambling establishments?” Blanche asked.

  Tommy coughed.

  A slight smile pulled at one corner of the assistant prosecutor’s mouth. “The investigation is exhaustively searching for wrong doing.”

  “Thomas Binkley would like to cooperate completely with the prosecution but is concerned about personal safety due to some dealings with the people in question. Rather than completely take his fifth amendment rights and be included in any future part of the prosecution, is it possible that there would be a way to cooperate without appearing in court if this goes to trial?”

  “What would be the advantage for us?”

  “You’d have the information you requested in the subpoena as far as he has knowledge and his safety would remain in tact.” Blanche communicated this more calmly than she felt. “He is fearful of retribution from Ambrosia Company employees.”

  “I’m not sure...” she looked at the computer screen on her desk. “We are wanting to clean up certain, uh, aspects, elements that are operating in the county.”

  “My son will agree to sign up for Gamblers Anonymous and not participate in the unwanted aspects of the betting business in your county in future in exchange for his not needing to appear.”

  Tommy made a strange gurgle in his throat.

  The lovely prosecutor looked doubtful. She stood and left the room.

  “Why would you say that?” hissed Tommy.

  Blanche took a deep breath. “Because it’s what you need to do. You have a problem.”

  “I do not. You don’t know anything about my life.”

  “I know you don’t get subpoenaed for owing money at Macy’s. Your poor choices and risk taking have arrived at a crisis point right here in this office.”

  “They could kill me.”

  “Who?”

  “Ambrosia’s people.”

  “Because you owe them money?”

  Tommy’s dark eyes so like her own bored into hers. He nodded but said, “If I give out information.”

  “Information? What about money that you gambled and no longer have? Are they demanding repayment?”

  He looked like he was in pain and his eyes shifted away from her. “Yes, fine. Are you happy now?”

  “That is a problem, Tommy.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just hit a bad streak. I could quit if I want to, but I’m good at it.”

  “It has to stop. You’re ruining your life and your relationship with your kids.” He didn’t look at her. “How do you want your kids to think about you in a few years when they are adults? Or when you’re gone?” Office sounds and phones rattled outside the glass office. “Do you want them to think of you as someone they can count on?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Ma! Stop. It’s not that big a deal.”

  “It is. I’m not rescuing you with money anymore.” He looked up at that, wild eyed.

  The assistant prosecutor re-entered the office. “Look, Mr. Binkley, I know it’s hard, but you have to do the right thing. We can’t guarantee that you will be spared a court appearance. We will take your information and try our best to keep you out of it. The registration into gamblers with addictions does predispose the prosecutor to think more carefully, but it’s too early to be sure we can guarantee you won’t have to appear.”

  Tommy stood and darted out of the office as much as a fat man can dart. Blanche and the lovely young woman looked at each other. The prosecutor handed Blanche a card. “If he ever feels like he’s in danger or wants to talk to our office after hours, he can call this number.”

  Blanche rose and walked out. She knew the worst now, but there was no satisfaction in knowing what you really already knew in your heart.

  Tommy was in the car. She gave him the card and explained.

  He didn’t say anything. He drove her to a hotel by the airport, not his house.

  “I’m not registering with the gambling problems association. I won’t be able to do anything after that.”

  “You need help.”

  “I guess I’m not getting any from you.” He looked through the windshield and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  Blanche had never watched those intervention shows on television because she found even the commercials too painful. Maybe she should have gotten some tips.

  The mother in her wanted to cave in and make things better for her child. Pay the debts, hire a lawyer, fight the court appearance. Maybe she could make it go away? But should she?

  The detective in her wanted to dig into the affairs of Ambrosia which couldn’t be operating above the law and threatening Tommy too.

  The executive secretary who liked to get things in order knew it was not good to let this continue.

/>   “Don’t leave it this way, Tommy. Choose a better life. You can cut me out,” she opened her car door, “you can stop talking to me, but that’s not going to solve your problems. Life can be better than this, but you gotta do something different than you’ve done before.”

  “You don’t care. You never did.” He muttered as she pulled at her suitcase in the back seat. She saw a young Tommy having a similar fit and suddenly knew she’d given in too many times even 50 years ago.

  She reached to get her pocketbook from the front seat. “I think I cared too blindly for too long.” She tried to look at him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She closed the door and he pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Blanche hardly slept all night again in the strange hotel room with a head full of worries. Then she got up early for her flight to go see Michelle and the kids in Missouri. She really wanted to hide under the covers and never come out.

  Everything she touched shone with pall of disaster. She was the opposite of Midas and his golden touch. She worried about what would happen to Tommy with no money and struggling with the prosecutor, never mind a mob bookie. She could hardly let him get killed by the mob. She realized, she could hardly stop it either.

  As the flight descended and the attendant picked up Blanche’s empty coffee cup, she tried to think of a way to put on a happy face and not obsess about her situation while she was with the grandkids. Her daughter, Michelle, could always sense things.

  Blanche shrugged her purse onto her shoulder and walked down the tunnel toward the terminal. If only just one thing had gone right. She really had to take up knitting or something that kept her out of other people’s business.

  Al’s opinion of her seemed to be right even though it was an ongoing joke. Busy body old lady. Blanche knew the phrase people include with busy body — poking into things that were none of their business.

  She’d certainly done it this time.

  She smiled extra big as she saw Michelle waving through the crowd. They embraced and headed toward baggage claim.

  “You didn’t bring any of the kids?” Blanche asked.

  Michelle pointed and Blanche saw the youngest, Ben, jumping from bench to row of chairs in a monkey attempt to keep up with their progress on the proper walkways.

  “Ahh. Ben.” She didn’t approve of Michelle letting her kids do things like that. It wasn’t considerate of all the other people in the airport. She’d found there was no room for her suggestions in that department and decided she’d struck out enough lately and didn’t say anything.

  Soon a wall intervened and her grandson joined them and squeezed her arm. “Grams! Seth said you were coming and Mom’s going to make hot dog deluxe Before she goes out of town and we can go to the pool everyday and stuff. Cool.”

  Before Blanche said anything he’d run over to the luggage carousel and started punching each suitcase as it came out of the chute. Blanche was amazed at the lack of embarrassment that parents seemed to have today. It was certainly a different day and age. She hoped her bag would come soon, so they could flee.

  “You’re quiet,” Michelle said.

  Blanche felt her daughter’s invisible antenna probing her. She rubbed her eyes a bit. “Yes, I didn’t sleep well last night.” Should she tell Michelle about Tommy? That would certainly take the conversation away from anything at Royale Cove. Michelle already had issues with Tommy getting financial help. She’d go ballistic.

  “I probably just need coffee and nap.” And a lawyer for Tommy, and a cat burglar to get Janice out of the dementia jail and a protection order for Greg Sforato from the Sabatini family.

  “So Ben said you’re making a what?”

  She half way listened to Michelle’s description of a hot dog casserole. Ick. Then pointed to her bag when it came off.

  The Dragon phone rang and in a panic Blanche grabbed at the pocket in her purse where she’d put it. She hadn’t really planned to let Michelle know she had it. Somehow in her hunt to pull it out and turn it off, she’d answered it and vaguely heard Sharon’s voice from the speaker near her face.

  She glanced at Michelle with an extra skip of her heart. How do you talk to your police department connection without your daughter noticing?

  “Blanche, honey, how are you?”

  “Fine, in Missouri actually with the grandkids.” Ben and Michelle walked toward her with the suitcase. Blanche let them pass without saying anything more and ducked in behind them but at a distance.

  “So it sounds like you are up to something. What’s going on that you want to know about a mass murderer and a Cuban despot?” Sharon’s voice was shrewd, but she hadn’t lost her humorous tone.

  “I, uh, well, I’m just curious if there’s anything active or I don’t know, what, uh, you guys think about them?” Blanche could not say any police vocabulary. She could tell Michelle strained to hear.

  “Hmm. I feel like there’s more to know than that. What are you not saying, Mrs. Binkley?” Sharon asked.

  “I don’t know really.”

  “That’s how all your incidents start that end up in the newspaper.” She chuckled lightly, but Blanche knew Sharon wanted something tangible.

  “So El Tigre is known as what you said? And the other guy really is from Cuba?”

  “Seems like maybe you knew that.”

  “I was wondering if I was being fed a bunch of...”she looked at Ben’s back jumping around, “Bull.”

  “Who’s feeding it?”

  “Uh, one guy told me he’s looking for El Tigre. I wondered if it was a made up story.”

  “A guy?”

  Blanche pretended to cough and turned aside. “I have to protect my sources too. I’ll tell you when I know something real.”

  “He’s kind of major news if he surfaces.”

  That hit close to her conversation with John at the Sun Sentinel. Blanche got the feeling that Sharon read between the lines and saw a reporter.

  “What about things that happened in a foreign country?” Blanche thought of Señor Rafael.

  “Murder, you mean? That would be up to extradition laws. Blanche?”

  Michelle and Ben had paused by the crosswalk to wait for her. She caught up, “I’m with the grandkids and I can’t talk right now. Could you call Royal Cove Care Center and ask if they have doctors orders regarding Janice Morgan? I’m worried about her. I think she got railroaded in a dementia diagnosis.”

  “That’s a social work thing, not a police thing. Besides we don’t have jurisdiction out there. It’s county and only if they’re called since it’s a private island.”

  “Oh.” That was disappointing news. “Okay. I’ll call you later.” She hung up quickly and smiled at Ben. He would be less likely to see the sadness in her eyes as Michelle her astute daughter would.

  If the authorities, couldn’t come out to the island without an invitation, even if she found a way to show wrong doing it would be a bureaucratic process. Not a 911 call to get Janice out.

  She needed 911 kind of help, but somehow without betraying all her island friends. Impossible.

  “You okay, Mom?” Michelle’s dark eyes bored into her.

  Blanche took a deep breath and smiled as deeply as she could possibly muster.

  “Fine. No problem.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Michelle delivered the promised hot dog deluxe for the her kids. It seemed to be a casserole hot dog mix up thing and Blanche didn’t think she’d ask for the recipe. Then Michelle and Bryan packed their suitcases in a hurry and left. They’d left the kitchen clean up for Blanche.

  Tired in every bone, she’d finally gone to sit on the couch with Seth and Ben. They played a video game involving racing cars on the enormous television jutting from the wall.

  Certainly wasn’t Scrabble, but she wasn’t sure the boys were using their mental side the same way you did in Scrabble either. Would it help you keep your brain cells alive longer driving cars on televisions? She’d have to resea
rch it.

  Her fatigue from the sleepless nights weighed at her eyelids, but she knew the kids were far from considering bedtime. She nodded off woken again by the wrecking car noise.

  She needed to be active. She stood and looked out the window at the twilight creeping across the sky. No palm trees here. The kids lived in a nice suburban area with big lawns, large houses, and scrawny newly planted trees. Blanche wondered they still had the Scrabble game she’d bought them. She could challenge herself and her imaginary friend to a game as she often did in the evenings at home. A good distraction. She knew the boys would veto the idea of playing with her.

  Fidgety, Blanche dug the Dragon phone out of her purse. She’d call Al that should keep her awake. She prayed there would be good news on the condo front.

  “Al, how is Operation Stop Sal going? Did you find an accountant?”

  “Hey, you nosy old woman. I thought you were on vacation.”

  “Babysitting, that’s different than vacation.” She saw Seth glance up and stick his tongue out at her. He didn’t approve of the term babysitting since he was 14 years old. She winked and moved into the dining room.

  “Well, you know, the auditor is coming tomorrow. I went around and told a lot of the busy bodies about it. Lois never got her letter organized about it. Alice is back though so I think she can do an official audit letter soon.”

  “Good work.”

  “Yeah, buddy, it is. I’m brilliant. You know?”

  Not wanting to let him gloat, Blanche turned the subject. “And the building inspector?”

  “That’s turning out to be harder. The accountant guy we promised a six pack of some designer beer and a gift certificate for hot wings to fake it. He’s going to walk around asking questions. He doesn’t actually have to do the audit. I’ve got some sausages we’ll eat in Lois’s apartment, so it looks like he’s inspecting the books. Official building inspectors from the city won’t come. Guys who do home inspections won’t come unless we pay and it’s a big building with a big price tag.”

  Blanche’s mind flashed onto an image of the construction bid on Greg’s desk that had a Sabatini signature on it. She knew Frank’s kids were too far away from Boca Raton, but just maybe he knew someone who would fit the bill?