Brain Trust

by A W Hartoin

  “I always wondered how they got the board to go along with that crap. The Girls are generous to the art community and what some of the board members said about them and later about Stella was vile.”

  “Getting the board to go along isn’t really the right question,” said Fats.

  “No? What is?”

  “What happened to the board members that their hired hands replaced?”

  I looked sideways at her. “Retired?”

  “Dead.”

  “When you say dead, do you mean murdered?”

  She fired a finger gun at me. “Calpurnia was seriously offended. As if she’s in the business of hiring out hitmen.”

  I decided not to broach that subject since I had no doubt that Calpurnia would have someone killed if it suited her purpose. “I don’t remember any museum people getting murdered.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t, would you? Not if the job were done right. One died of carbon monoxide poisoning and the other committed suicide.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing. It wasn’t beyond the realm, considering Agatha and Daniel’s plane crash and Lester’s murder.

  Fats dropped me at the front door of the hospital with Tiny. They kissed and made plans for later, a romantic dinner on the hospital roof if they could get Rocco on board to hang with me and Mom.

  Tiny practically dragged me inside. My stumpy legs couldn’t keep up with his tree trunks.

  “So, what did she say?” he asked.

  “A whole lot. I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

  Tiny’s face fell. “Damn. I thought I was in there.”

  I blinked and craned my neck up to look at my cousin’s face so far above my own. “In where?”

  “With Fats. That woman. I thought we had something special. The way she kisses make a man forget his name. Last night—”

  “She likes you. A lot. So much that you never have to talk about the two of you again. Ever.”

  The elevator doors dinged and opened. The candy-stripers from before were in there.

  “Oh my god!” exclaimed the blonde, woodpeckering the buttons.

  “I’ll scream!” yelled the one with pigtails.

  Tiny put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You know them?”

  “We’ve met,” I said.

  “You make an impression.”

  The doors started to close and Tiny put his hand out to stop it. The girls screeched and I pushed his hand down. “Let them go.”

  “Maybe it was me. I make an impression, too,” said Tiny.

  “You’re a gentle giant.” I pushed the Up button again. “It might have something to do with Aunt Miriam.”

  “Oh, lord.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I know you’ve got new bruises.”

  I looked down. “Oh, yeah. She does know how to get my attention.”

  “And theirs, too.”

  We laughed as we rode up to Mom’s floor. Chuck and Sidney weren’t there anymore, thankfully, and The Girls were standing in the hall with Grandad.

  “Mercy, my dear,” said Myrtle, coming over to kiss my cheeks. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” I exchanged kisses with Millicent.

  “Are Nana and Pop Pop still in there?” I asked.

  “No, dear. They’ve gone down to the cafeteria,” said Myrtle.

  Nikki came out of the waiting room with her ginormous purse. “I will have dinner here in two hours, but I guess they’re hungry now.”

  Millicent took Nikki’s hand. “They will enjoy your lovely dinner later. They aren’t hungry. They needed to get away.”

  “Of course. Seeing their daughter in the ICU must’ve been terrible.” Nikki ordered me to go eat the array of antipasti Aaron had brought over and took off, presumably to get the goat. Gag. If it was anything like crab, my life was going down the tubes.

  “How upset are they?” I asked. “Should I go find them?”

  “Let them have some time. They’ve dealt with tragedy before. Your grandparents are strong people.”

  An opening. Yes.

  “I probably made it worse,” I said, doing the hound dog eyes.

  Grandad shot me a look.

  “Whatever do you mean?” asked Millicent.

  “I made them drive.” I told them about the private plane thing.

  “I’m sure that has nothing to do with how they’re feeling,” said Myrtle.

  “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to them.”

  Grandad crossed his bony arms and said, “Mercy.”

  “Agatha and Daniel being murdered was bad enough,” I said. “But it could happen again.”

  The openness vanished, quickly replaced by distant expressions similar to the ones they used to have when they grounded me.

  “It won’t happen again,” said Myrtle.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because we’re not sure it happened in the first place,” said Millicent.

  I crossed my arms just like Grandad and said, “Aunt Tenne told me what happened.”

  “It wasn’t proven, dear.”

  They knew it was murder. I could see it in their shifty eyes. “Sounds like murder to me and I’m getting good at this stuff.”

  “That’s true,” said Myrtle. “You’re very talented, but why would anyone murder your great-grandparents? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense to us,” I said. “And whatever the reason, it sounds like it died with them.”

  Millicent and Myrtle appraised me quietly. “How would you know that?”

  Be careful.

  “Aunt Tenne said no one was arrested and no motive found.”

  The Girls hooked their arms through mine, their faces now wreathed with relieved smiles. Grandad wasn’t buying it. His blue eyes evaluated me from under half-lowered lids. I knew that look. He was thinking and that wasn’t good for me.

  The Girls started to lead me into the waiting room. “How much do you know about Agatha and Daniel?” asked Millicent.

  “Almost nothing,” I said. “I’ve seen their tombs in New Orleans, but nobody talks about them.”

  “You should visit their memorial,” said Millicent. “It’s a lovely spot.”

  “Carolina could never bear to go, but we’ve been several times with Caro and Henry,” said Myrtle.

  I stopped walking. “You went with Nana and Pop Pop? When did you go to New Orleans? Recently?”

  “Not New Orleans, dear,” said Myrtle. “The memorial is just outside St. Sebastian. You should really go.”

  “Why in the world is the memorial there?”

  The Girls tilted their head in exactly the same way. Sometimes, people thought they were twins when they did that. “Because that’s where it happened,” said Millicent. “Didn’t you know?”

  St. Seb? What the what?

  “I guess I thought it was…farther south.”

  “Come. You should have something to eat,” said Myrtle.

  The ICU door opened and Aunt Tenne came out. “Thank goodness you’re back. I thought I was going to have to go to that test.”

  “No, no. I’ll do it,” I said.

  Behind Aunt Tenne, Mom was wheeled out on a gurney and followed by a young cop who’d been assigned to her. Mom didn’t look happy. “I could’ve just walked.”

  “You haven’t been evaluated by physical therapy, so no walking.”

  “You’re coming?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Tenne said you talked to your father,” said Mom hopefully.

  “I did. He’s on his way.” I hope.

  Wallace was running in circles at the foot of Mom’s bed and I picked her up. “Wallace should stay here.”

  “No,” said Mom. “I need her.”

  “She can’t be in with you during the test.”

  Mom began to look shaky, so I got Aunt Tenne to carry Wallace. We left everyone and went down to the cardiac lab. Officer Gish checked the room
for unauthorized personnel and Aunt Tenne stayed outside with the pug, who was not happy about it.

  I heard Aunt Tenne exclaim through the closed doors. “Don’t bite me, you overgrown weasel.”

  The procedure nurse looked at me. “What kind of therapy dog is that?”

  “She’s…special,” I said.

  “Wallace is a wonderful dog,” said Mom. “So sweet. So patient.”

  “Dear Lord! She peed on me!” yelled Aunt Tenne.

  I ran out with Officer Gish and found Aunt Tenne standing as far from Wallace as possible with the pug at the end of her rhinestone leash and looking adorable. Gish groaned and muttered, “Of course this would happen.” I guess getting stuck with us wasn’t high on his list of fun things to do.

  “Something is wrong with this dog,” said Aunt Tenne. “She peed on my feet. I think she did it on purpose.”

  “Oh, she did it on purpose alright. She’s Wallace the Wonder Pug.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Google it.” I ran to the bathroom for some paper towels and returned, giving them to Aunt Tenne and Gish. “I have to go back in. Be careful. She’ll do it again.”

  “Not possible. It had to be a whole cup. She’s a tiny dog,” said Aunt Tenne.

  “Trust me. There’s more where that came from. I have like two pairs of shoes left.”

  Bark. Bark. Bark.

  “It wasn’t a compliment, Wallace,” I said. “If you pee on my aunt again, I’ll change your online persona to Wallace the incontinent pug.”

  Grr.

  “Mercy, you’re talking to that dog like she understands English.”

  “She understands.” I pointed at Wallace and she plopped down on her wrinkly butt. “I’m watching, dog.”

  Aunt Tenne touched my arm. “I’m concerned about you.”

  “Join the club. I have to go back.”

  I returned to Mom as they were setting up the equipment.

  “Is this like an x-ray?” Mom asked.

  I’d given her a short explanation on the way down, but I hadn’t gotten into the details. In short, I wussed out.

  “It’s to look at your heart from the back so we can see if you have a hole that might’ve caused your stroke.”

  Mom gave me the stink eye. “How are you going to do that?”

  “Don’t worry, Carolina,” said the nurse. Her name was Nellie and she was a little more jittery than I would’ve liked. “We do these all the time.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “You’re going to swallow a probe,” I said. “It’s not that big.”

  Mom’s eyes got huge and she started grabbing at the sheet.

  Nellie patted her leg. “We’re going to give you a sedative, but you’ll stay awake and be able to follow commands.”

  “Why would I want to stay awake? Knock me out.”

  “We can’t, Carolina. We need you to hold your breath and exhale on command.”

  “What does the probe look like?” Mom asked.

  Nellie held it up and it didn’t look so bad to me, but, then again, I didn’t have to swallow it. “I’ll spray your throat with an anesthetic to numb it. You’ll hardly feel anything.”

  That was such a load of crap I almost snorted, but I turned it into a cough instead.

  Mom turned the stink eye on me. “Was this your idea?”

  “What? Me? No.”

  “You sound guilty.”

  “The cardiologist ordered the test, Mom, not me.”

  Nellie gave us a big smile. “We’re all set up here. I’ll go get your sedative and check on when Dr. Reddy will be here.” She left and Mom glared at me.

  “Seriously, Mom, it only takes twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes? Are you crazy?”

  “It’s not that long,” I said.

  Mom balled up her fists. “You do it.”

  “I can’t. You had the stroke.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  I took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t know what to do with that, but I’ll be right here.”

  “As if that helps,” she said.

  “It’s supposed to.”

  Mom made a strangled noise that I supposed was a snort. This was going to be fun.

  “Mercy!” yelled Aunt Tenne. “Come get this dog.”

  I ran out the door and found Aunt Tenne and Gish standing next to a fresh puddle.

  “Come on, Wallace,” I said. “They’re going to kick you out. Therapy dogs don’t pee in the hospital.”

  Grr.

  “They don’t. It’s a fact.” I ran and got more paper towels.

  “You know what,” said Aunt Tenne. “I’ll do the test. You take the dog. You have experience.”

  “All bad.”

  Grr.

  “Don’t growl at me. You’re a bad dog. I have to call housekeeping and schmooze them.”

  Bark.

  “So we’ll switch?” asked Aunt Tenne.

  “Sure, but I warn you, Mom is not happy,” I said.

  Aunt Tenne brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and said, “I’m her sister. I can handle it.”

  I was by no means sure she could, but I agreed. I called housekeeping on the wall phone and she went inside for a split second and then poked her head out. “Where is she?”

  “In there.”

  “Where?”

  “In the room you’re in,” I said, feeling exhausted from explaining the ridiculously simple.

  “No, she’s not.”

  Oh my God!

  I looked through the door and Mom’s gurney was empty.

  “Oh, crap!” said Gish, running through the door while pulling his piece.

  “Can she walk?” asked Aunt Tenne.

  “Apparently. Here.” I thrusted Wallace’s leash at her and ran through the lab. There was a second exit into an office and that’s where I found my mother, pushing her IV pole, barefoot with her gown tucked up into her panties.

  “Mom! Where are you going?” I chased her through the office with Gish at my heels. I guess we didn’t need physical therapy so much.

  “I’m not doing it.”

  “You have to do it.”

  “No. Thank you. I’m going home,” said Mom, banging her hip on a desk because she couldn’t corner.

  “You can’t go home. You just had neurosurgery.”

  “I survived that just fine. I am not swallowing any probe for you or anyone else.”

  I pulled out the big guns. “How about Dad?”

  “Your father won’t care. He always wants me to be happy.” Mom was tiring. She couldn’t make it to the other door. I caught her around the waist and lowered her into a chair.

  Mom sighed. “I’m so tired and I have another headache.”

  Gish was almost as tired. He nearly keeled over in relief.

  A nurse came in and started when she saw us. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Tell the Cardiac lab that we have a runner.”

  “Wheelchair?” she asked.

  “No,” said Mom.

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  “Why are you so difficult?” asked Mom. “You’ve always been difficult.”

  “That’s what you pay me for.” I squatted in front of her. “Dad loves you. He’ll want to know why this happened.”

  “What does it matter? They put me on those shots and pills,” she said. “Pete said I’d be on the pills for life.”

  “If it’s the heart, we might be able to repair it,” I said.

  “Repair it? Why didn’t you say so? Where’s that wheelchair?”

  Mom swallowed her probe and by the end of it, I needed a sedative. It was that hard to watch her in distress. Another one for the list of things never to do again.

  Mom didn’t return to the ICU. We took her directly to a regular floor and my anxiety level went up twenty notches. Anybody could walk right onto the floor and it was freaking me out. Officer Gish stood outside while we transferred Mom t
o the bed, but it wasn’t much of a comfort. If I could’ve put her in a vault, I would’ve.

  But in a few hours, I wouldn’t need a vault. Dad was on a flight to Chicago. He’d change planes there and land at one in the morning. As soon as Uncle Morty confirmed Dad was actually on the flight, Agent Hatchet Nose showed up without being told, blowing past Gish with a flip of the badge.

  “Get out,” I said, stepping between him and the bed.

  “We had a deal,” he said.

  Mom leaned to the side, grabbing her side rail and peeking around me. “What deal?”

  “The one I had to make to get Dad back,” I said.

  “We’ve fulfilled our part,” said Hatchet Nose. “I want the location.”

  I pushed him out of the room with Mom calling after us that she wanted to know what I had. I gave Hatchet Nose the location of the burial ground in Kansas. He got on the phone, ordering a full out CSI assault on the area. By the sound of it, Uncle Morty’s pics were pretty convincing.

  He hung up and tried to dart by me into Mom’s room, but I was ready for that and blocked him so fast that he ran into me. “Back off,” I said with a gesture to Gish for help. The officer wasn’t enthusiastic about standing up to the FBI. I had no such problem. “You’re not going in.”

  “I need to interview your mother,” said Hatchet nose.

  “Nope.”

  “You don’t want me to solve this?”

  I blocked him again. “You won’t be the one to solve it. That’s all Tommy Watts.”

  “Your father isn’t as gifted as you think he is.”

  “Then why did you bother to hold him back?”

  “Not my call,” he said, making another break for it. He shoved me into the door frame and Gish exclaimed, “Hey!” The officer wasn’t fast enough to nab Hatchet Nose, but that wasn’t a problem. Tiny stepped in front of the agent and he bounced off my cousin’s broad chest and hit the wall.