by Dianne Emley
“It appears you’ve done some research on the subject.”
“I have an interest.”
“It is a popular but erroneous myth that ECT damages the brain. In some cases, it can be lifesaving. To see a depressed, cachectic, demented person return to active independent life is akin to witnessing a miracle.” He held his palms out.
Iris said, “When Dolly DeLacey came back after her treatments she didn’t know which way was up. She lost great portions of her memory for many years and never returned to active independent life, as you say. When I think about Dolly, I remember her being manic as often as she was depressed. ECT isn’t an appropriate therapy for a manic-depressive. Why did you and DeLacey decide to do ECT right away without first trying drug therapy?”
“Miss Thorne, yours is a simplistic view. Mr. DeLacey was very well read on the subject and sought out my services because he knew I was a recognized expert in the field.”
“Maybe he also knew that you were such a proponent of ECT you’d administer it whether it was indicated by her illness or not.”
“ECT was indicated as an appropriate treatment for Mrs. DeLacey’s illness.” The glasses went on again. He flipped through the folder. “Dolores DeLacey suffered from recurrent and severe depression with agitation. Her condition worsened after the murder of her father, to the extent that she was a danger to herself and others. Mrs. DeLacey was psychotic, paranoid, and prone to hallucinations. For example, she insisted that her father had visited her hospital room and molested her.”
“Molested her? Had he molested her in real life?”
“Clearly, electroconvulsive therapy was warranted in her case.” He closed the file and stood. “I have other appointments to attend to.”
“Had her father molested her?”
“I’m not at liberty to comment on that.”
“Did she say who killed her father?”
“Miss Thorne, Dolores DeLacey was delusional. We do not give merit to patients’ delusions. Furthermore, these are confidential patient records. Good day.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Iris parked the Triumph in the garage of her condominium complex. There were still cars parked in a row down the middle of the street in front of the building, but people were slowly starting to use the garage again. They were either confident the building would not collapse or so tired that they no longer cared.
At the door of her condo, she noticed that only the small lock in the door handle was latched, but the bolt lock was open.
“At least she managed to close the door.”
She walked across the parquet entryway, stepping around the empty squares where damaged tiles had been removed. She switched on the lamp on the small antique table in the entryway, set her purse on the table, and stood her briefcase on the floor next to it, just as she did every day after coming home from work.
“Paula?”
In the living room, she turned on a lamp with a crushed shade and broken base. Paula’s hundred thousand dollars which she had left strewn across the damaged floor was gone. Instead there were empty shopping bags, mostly from discount stores where Iris never set foot unless she had to buy something like a broom or a flashlight.
In the kitchen, she opened a cupboard and grabbed an acrylic wine goblet. She poured a glass of chardonnay from an already open bottle, then took it into the living room, where she stood facing her new sliding glass doors and looked at the lights along the coast.
She thought she heard a noise. She cocked her head toward the hall. She heard it again. It was muffled and small like a whimper.
She set the goblet on the dining room table and walked to the broom closet in the kitchen, from which she took a wooden baseball bat. She hoisted the bat on her shoulder and walked toward the hall. Standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom with her hand on the light switch, she heard it again. A low moan was clearly coming from her bedroom. The door was closed.
She crept down the dark hall, the bat still poised against her shoulder, and pressed her ear against the door.
“Damn her.”
She dropped the bat to her side and rapped sharply on the door. “Paula! I’d really like to use my bedroom.”
The moaning grew louder.
“There’s a whole empty bedroom down the hall.”
She turned the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but it turned easily. She pushed the door open. The lights were off and the room was dim, but she could make out a shape on the bed. The air was thick with a sweet, earthy smell.
Her heart began to pound. She took two steps into the room, knowing exactly how far it was to reach the lamp next to the bed. She turned the switch and a circle of pale, low-wattage light dispersed the darkness.
She gasped, dropped the bat then stumbled on it, her arms windmilling as she lost her balance. She fell on her behind in the doorway. Coordination abandoned her as she frantically swam against the carpet, trying to get out.
Angus lay on his back in bed. He had raised his bloody hand from where he had been clutching his blood-soaked chest and held it toward her as if he was begging. His moans had grown urgent and his eyes were desperate.
“Help me,” he panted. “Iris.”
“It’s okay, Angus. It’ll be okay.” She got to her hands and knees. The small lamp now dimly illuminated the hall, revealing something that had been hidden by the darkness. Bloody footprints traced a path on the carpet.
She recovered her dropped bat and slowly stood, dragging her back against the wall. With the bat held by both hands in front of her, she eyed the dark guest bedroom and the hall that seemed excessively long. She crept to Angus, looking around furtively. “Is anyone else here?” He was motionless on the bed and his eyes were closed.
She put her ear near his face. He was breathing faintly. The condo seemed deathly quiet.
“Angus?”
No response.
She took a step down the hall and then another, barely able to make her feet move. She inched down the hall, her back to the wall, until she finally stood opposite the open door of the guest bedroom. She peered into the darkness, her breath a whisper. Then she bolted and flew across the living room to the front door. She fumbled with the lock, flung the door open, then spun into the hallway where two hands grabbed her. She futilely waved the bat and thrashed until she realized it was Bobby.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
She gazed wild-eyed into the condo then at him. “Angus…”
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for him. He came up to talk to Paula so I went down to the beach to walk around…”
“Angus is here. He’s in the other room,” Iris said with a glazed look on her face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Rose Thorne sat in the breakfast nook in Lily and Jack Rossi’s kitchen and nervously scraped at a design printed on a coffee mug. She was wearing a powder blue velour robe. Pink plastic rollers dotted her head. “I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened! I just can’t get it out of my mind, it’s so awful to think…Oh my God, I can’t get it out of my mind how…”
Iris pulled her worn terry cloth bathrobe more tightly around her. After the police had finished their work at her condo, she’d gathered a few articles of clothing and gone to Lily’s. She didn’t go to work that day. “Mom, try to put it out of your mind.”
“But when I think about what might have happened, I just get sick to my stomach! You were so close…”
“Mom, drop it,” Iris snapped. “You’re obsessing over things that didn’t even happen.”
“But when I think about…”
Iris got up from the table and said in as lighthearted a voice as she could muster, “I’ll be back.”
In the living room, she passed Lily, who was helping her three kids get out the door for school. She leaned toward Lily and whispered, “I’m going to kill her.”
Lily looked up from recombing eleven-year-old Gerald’s hair. “I’ll help.”
“Aunt Iris,” sixteen-ye
ar-old Vincent said as he was leaving. “How about lending me the TR to go to school?”
“No!”
“Okay, okay. Jeez, what a grouch.”
Rose shouted from the kitchen, “I’m just worried about you, Iris. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t worry about my children?” Her voice took on an injured tone. “You know you children are my life.”
Iris muttered, “Great, I have to live for me and my mother.”
Lily put her hands on her hips and glared at Ashley, who was wearing Iris’s hot pink short-sleeved pullover sweater. “Did Aunt Iris say you could wear that?”
Iris waved dismissively. “Go ahead. Enjoy.”
Ashley sauntered past them, holding herself straighter than usual, and walked out the door.
Lily breathed a sigh of relief. “All gone.”
They walked back into the kitchen. Lily poured more coffee.
“They don’t really think that Paula shot that man, do they?” Lily asked.
“I guess she’s a suspect. Frankly, I don’t see how she could have done it either. But the fact is, she’s gone and so is all her stuff. Hopefully Angus will regain consciousness and name his assailant.”
Rose was turned around in the breakfast nook and straightening pictures thrown askew by the last aftershock.
Iris peered at her mother and inhaled sharply, as if she was about to say something but had to work up the nerve to do so. She bit her lip and frowned.
Rose glanced over her shoulder at her daughter. “What is it, Iris?” She sounded irritated.
“Did you ever hear anything about Gabriel Gaytan molesting Dolly?”
Rose looked horrified. “Who in the world would say a thing like that?”
“I talked to Dolly’s psychiatrist.”
Rose nervously fiddled with the neckline of her robe. “Dolly always thought people were after her or watching her or some such nonsense. Nothing she said would surprise me.”
Iris said, “She wasn’t completely bonkers. She’d be fine for long periods of time, then she’d have a bad patch.”
Lily said, “If Gabe did molest Dolly, I wonder if he tried the same thing with Paula or even the boys.”
Iris twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Lily, was Gabe ever weird around you?”
“He always made me uncomfortable. I can’t quite put my finger on it. But he never did anything. How about you?”
Iris shook her head. “I don’t remember anything. Of course I was pretty clueless. I remember his putting me on his lap when I was as old as ten but I didn’t think anything of it.”
Rose said, “I personally refuse to believe any of it. Gabriel was a very nice man. He was always kind to us.”
“I’m sure he was.” Iris bit her lip again and peered at her mother.
“Now what, Iris?” Rose petulantly pursed her lips. “Not five minutes ago you didn’t want to be in the same room with me. Now you can’t leave me alone.”
Iris let the comment slide. “Remember the night Gabriel was murdered?”
“Of course I remember,” Rose replied. “I’m not that old.”
“When Dad said he was with Sonja, did you have any reason to believe he wasn’t?”
Rose’s face grew long. “It was the first time he’d come out and admitted he’d been with that home wrecker. All the other times, I had to catch him. Remember that time we saw his car parked in front of her house all night?”
“I remember, Mom,” Iris chafed. “I remember the pleasure of accompanying you as you cruised past Sonja’s house half the night.”
Lily stared into her coffee.
“Well, how else was I supposed to find out what your father was doing?” Rose continued scraping at the coffee mug.
“It was a school night too,” Iris added.
Rose didn’t seem to hear Iris’s comment. “I wish I knew what that man saw in that overly made-up, dyed…” She straightened her posture, extended her neck proudly, and pressed her palm against her chest. “And me, always working hard to keep myself up. Guess he would have liked it better if I’d dressed like some streetwalker.”
“I’m going to go talk to Dad today,” Iris stated.
Lily looked at her with surprise. “Really? Why?”
“I think he knows something about that night. Why else would he have set up an alibi? He never admitted he had girlfriends. Even when Mom caught him outright, he’d have the gall to deny it.”
Rose looked appalled. “Why would you want to go talk to him after the way he left you girls? Abandoned you. Left us in the lurch. What kind of a father is that?”
Lily said, “Mom, you’re always telling us how we should have a relationship with Dad. Now you’re telling us not to?”
“I’m not telling you not to. It’s just that you girls don’t appreciate all the sacrifices I’ve made for you.” Rose began angrily to pull the rollers from her hair and slam them on the table. “All you ever talk about is Dad this and Dad that. You built him up like he’s some sort of a hero or something. I’m the one who stayed and raised you. Don’t I get any thanks?”
“Oh, Mom.” Lily put her arms around her mother. She caught Iris’s eye over their mother’s shoulder and glared at her. “We love you.”
Iris rolled her eyes and then put her arms around her mother too. “We do.”
Iris parked the Triumph next to the curb in front of Les Thorne’s house in the same spot she had previously.
“He’s got five kids in that little house?” Lily peered around Iris from the passenger seat.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Iris asked.
Lily nodded.
“You promise not to tell Mom anything I told you.”
“I promise, Iris.”
“She’ll have a coronary if she thinks whoever killed Angus might have been after me.”
“Do you really think Bill DeLacey would go that far?”
“It could have been Alvarez and Cole. I don’t know what I’ve gotten into. I’m afraid. Just don’t tell Mom, please.”
“If you can’t trust your own sister, who can you trust?”
Iris was mulling that over when Lily put her hand on her arm.
“There’s something I’ve been thinking about lately.” Her eyes were solemn. “I look at my daughter and I don’t know how she could have handled what you went through when you were her age. It makes me feel really bad to think about it.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Iris took her hand.
Lily sniffed. “All Dad cared about was screwing around. All Mom cared about was being angry. I was always gone. Then I got married, too young, just to get away. And you were left all by yourself.”
“Well…” Iris sighed. “You know what they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I don’t blame you, Lil. You were just a kid too. We did the best we could. No one had anything to give to anyone else. Everyone was too busy just trying to get through the days and nights. Especially the nights.”
“But I was your big sister.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I should have watched over you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“It’s okay.” Iris pulled Lily toward her in the cramped car. “Apology accepted, but unnecessary.”
Lily let go and busied herself by digging in her purse. “No tissues.”
Iris taunted, “Mom would disapprove. You’re always supposed to have tissues in your purse.”
“And enough cash to get home.”
“I wonder how much cash that is,” Iris mused. She opened the glove compartment and took out a wad of paper towels that were streaked from being used to check the Triumph’s oil. She tore off a somewhat clean corner and handed it to Lily. “Only the best for you, darling.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
A teenage boy came out the front door of the house and walked down the driveway toward the garage. Iris and Lily watched him.
“Think that’s…?” Lily b
egan.
Iris finished the sentence. “One of our brothers.”
“He looks older than Vincent.”
“Wonder if Sonja had him before Dad left Mom.”
“Good Lord.” Lily took a deep breath. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Lily squinted at her image in the Triumph’s clouded vanity mirror. “How do I look?”
“Fabulous.”
They started down the path to the front door when they heard the sound of something electrical coming from the garage. They walked across the lawn to the driveway and stood beneath the open garage door.
The boy, who was varnishing a cabinet with a paintbrush, spotted them first. “Dad?”
“Yeah?” Les Thorne was leaning over a workbench, using a power saw to cut through a plank.
“Dad, there are two ladies here.”
Les straightened, pressing his hand against the small of his back as if he were in pain. He pushed his protective glasses above his head. “Can I help you?”
Lily and Iris hadn’t budged, as if their feet were rooted to the spot. They looked at one another, each waiting for the other to speak.
Les cocked his head at them with his mouth agape.
The boy rested the paintbrush across the top of the can and watched.
Iris said, “He doesn’t even remember us. Let’s go.” She started to leave.
Lily hesitated, looking from her father to Iris.
Iris was halfway down the driveway when Les exclaimed, “It is you!” He walked toward Lily with his arms open.
Lily hugged him.
“It’s the girls!” Les explained to the boy. He laughed. “You’re hardly girls anymore. I’m so glad to see you.”
The boy eyed Lily curiously and said nothing.
“Good to see you too, Dad,” Lily said.
Iris hesitated at the end of the driveway. She quickly walked back, her body tilted forward as if she were walking into a storm.
Les moved to hug her but she thrust her palm out for a handshake instead. He brushed her hand aside and hugged her anyway. She barely tapped his back with her fingers.