Greg had sung that hymn hundreds, maybe thousands of times.
Abide with me: fast falls the even tide; the darkness deepens; Lord with me abide…
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
Greg was ready for death, in one sense. He knew he would go to Heaven to live with God and his mother and other family members and friends. But first, he wanted to live a long life on earth. A wonderful life with Cynthia. To have children and grandchildren. In that sense, he wasn’t ready to die at all. Funerals are so depressing, he thought.
**********
“Wonder where Carnie’s going?” said Macy, standing at a window in Mallie Mae’s room.
“There’s no telling,” said Mallie Mae.
“I went down to check on Elmo late last night. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t bothering him.”
“Bothering him?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what she’s capable of. She might try to seduce him while Carsie’s gone.”
“Honey, Elmo has a lot of flaws, but being unfaithful isn’t one of them,” said Mallie Mae.
“I know.” Macy hesitated, but then blurted it out. “She’s been coming on to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The other night she kissed me.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was embarrassed.”
“You think she’s gay? Or bisexual?”
“I don’t know. And then last night when I went down to the basement to spy on her, she opened her door and was standing there naked. She just stood there staring at me.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I ran away. That woman scares me.”
“Sound like she is gay.”
“I’m not sure if she’s gay or just some kind of wacko—especially after that. She just seems dangerous to me.”
“Well then, just stay away from her. She and her sister will be out of our lives soon.”
“I hope you’re right, Mallie Mae.”
16 - VOLUNTEERS WANTED
Carnie had studied her printout from the pharmacy and selected Nancie Jo Gristel as the first ‘volunteer’ for her Hideaway Hospital Clinical Trial. She had learned from Elmo’s internet printouts that Namenda was being prescribed for patients with moderate to severe cases of Alzheimer’s. She had selected Nancie Jo at random from the list and located her house on the map. She hoped it might be easy since the house was at the end of a dead end street. If the driveway was on the dead end side of the house, Mrs. Gristel would be a perfect choice.
Carnie’s 2005 white Chevy Malibu was just one of a few dozen driving around in Coreyville. She had swapped out her license plates with a set she took off a junkyard car, just in case some neighbor actually took notice and remembered the plates. She figured nobody would find it odd to see a nurse visiting an 81 year-old Alzheimer’s patient at 11:00 AM.
The house was on the left, at the end of Bowie Street. She parked in the driveway, behind Nancie Jo’s car, and walked to the side door, near the back of the house. She wondered if Mrs. Gristel was fearful about living all alone. The fact that the old woman’s most-used door faced the woods rather than the other homes seemed particularly dangerous.
As she stepped onto the porch with her medical bag in hand, she heard someone playing the piano. She knocked and waited a full minute. Finally the music stopped and she knocked again. Twenty seconds later the door opened.
“Yes?” said the old woman.
“Hi. Are you Nancie Joe Gristel?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, I’m from Dr. Johnson’s office.”
“Really? I’ve never seen you before.”
“That’s because I’m new. Just started this week.”
“I see. Well, what can I do for you?”
“Dr. Johnson is initiating a new treatment regimen for all his Alzheimer’s patients.”
“Okay. But I’m doing fine right now. And if the doctor wants to see me, I could just make an appointment and go in to his office.”
“Oh, of course you could.” Carnie smiled sweetly. “But he’s so excited about this new medicine that he wanted to get everybody started on it right away. It’s getting rave reviews from NIH.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m sorry. The National Institutes of Health.”
“Okay. Come on in.”
Carnie went in and followed Nancie Jo to the living room. The bench was pulled away from the piano, and a piano score was opened on the music rack.
“I heard you playing,” said Carnie, nodding to the piano. “Sounded nice.”
“Thanks. I’m not really all that good, but I’m taking lessons. Now what did you say your name was?”
Carnie didn’t answer. She pulled a small pistol out of her medical bag and pointed it at Nancie Jo.
“What are you doing? I knew you weren’t from Dr. Johnson’s office! Who are you?”
“Never mind that. You’re coming with me. And you will do exactly as I say—if you want to live. Let’s go.”
Carnie motioned for Nancie Jo to walk toward the kitchen, and she complied. But when the old woman got close to the door she stopped and bent over in pain, placing her left hand on the stove for support, clutching her hip with her right hand.
“What’s the matter?” said Carnie.
“It’s my hip. It goes out on me sometimes.”
“Just take it slow and you’ll be—”
Nancie Jo swung around.
She seems to moving okay now, Carnie thought. Moving fast.
By the time Carnie saw the iron skillet in the Nancie Jo’s hand it was too late. It whacked her on the side of the head and she flew sideways onto the floor, dropping the pistol and the medical bag. Nancie Jo flung the skillet down and scrambled for the gun. Carnie tried to shake off the dizziness and run toward her. But Nancie Jo picked up the pistol and pointed at Carnie.
“Get back!” said Nancie Jo.
Carnie stumbled backward. Her vision was getting clearer. Out of the corner of her eye she noted the knife block, to her right, on the counter. It held eight or ten knives of various types and sizes. “Look, Lady, I was taking you to a hospital for clinical trials—for your Alzheimer’s.”
“Yeah, right. I may have Alzheimer’s, but I’m not stupid.”
“I’m telling the truth. You would be treated by Dr. Elmo Mobley.”
“The pediatrician?”
“Yes. He just found out his mother has Alzheimer’s and he’s desperate to find a cure.”
Nancie Jo had heard that Mallie Mae Mobley had Alzheimer’s and that Elmo had taken a leave of absence from his practice.
“There is no cure for Alzheimer’s,” said Nancie Jo.
“That’s what I’m saying. He wants to find a cure.”
“I see. So, Elmo told you to come to my house and pull a gun on me and force me to participate in his clinical trial. Yeah, that sounds like Elmo alright,” said Nancie Jo, with all the sarcasm she could muster. She inched her way toward the wall phone on her right.
“You know, you kind of remind me of my grandma,” said Carnie.
“Really? So, your grandmother points a gun at you sometimes?”
Nancie Joe took the receiver off the hook and was about to dial.
“No. But if she did, she’d be smart enough to release the safety,” said Carnie.
In the split second it took Nancie Jo to look down at the gun, Carnie grabbed a butcher knife from the knife block and launched it. When Nancie Jo looked up, it was too late. The handle of the knife hit her squarely in the forehead and bounced off.
Nancie Jo’s glasses flew off her face as she fell backward and collapsed onto the floor. The gun fell out of her hand, but it was only a few inches away. As she focused every ounce of her willpower, rolling to her stomach and reaching for the pistol, Carnie leaped at her.
Nancie Jo picked up the gun and was about to roll back to shoot Carnie. But Carnie snatched the knife off the floor and thrust it into Nanci
e Jo’s back. And as always, once her anger had been triggered, it quickly escalated into blind rage. She twisted the knife and ripped it out sideways. Then she gripped it with both hands and chopped at the corpse repeatedly with all her might.
**********
“Here’s your BLT and Fritos.” Greg handed Cynthia the flimsy white cardboard box and gave her a quick kiss. “And your diet Coke.”
“Thanks. And I suppose you got the turkey.”
“That’s right. How’d you guess?”
It was the only kind of sandwich he ever ordered at Jane’s. Cynthia had come to realize that Greg was a creature of habit. And he took comfort in his habits. Fortunately, most of them were good ones.
“I’m sorry we have to rush,” said Cynthia.
“That’s okay. It’s worth it just to see my baby for a few minutes.”
“Thanks. You too, Sweetie.”
Greg said a blessing and they began to eat.
“Oh, yeah, you had a funeral this morning, didn’t you? How’d it go?” said Cynthia.
“Fine—for a funeral. It wasn’t so bad, really. But I would hate it if I had to do the pastor’s job. Talking about how wonderful the person was—especially if they weren’t. And you have to stand up the in front of the family and try to convince them that it was for the best—which is not so hard if the person was old and sick. But what if they were young? What if it was little girl who got hit by a car? I’m just glad I don’t have to do it.”
“I couldn’t do it,” said Cynthia.
“I couldn’t do banking. Loaning poor unsuspecting souls a bunch of money and then foreclosing on their house.” Greg frowned playfully.
“I don’t do that. If they can’t pay, I just politely suggest that they sell a kidney.”
“Wonder how much a kidney goes for these days?”
They laughed. He checked his watch. His time with Cynthia always went by so fast. “By the way, do you think your mom will go to church with us on Sunday?”
“I think so. I haven’t talked to her about it, but she is Baptist. And it’s the only Baptist church in town.”
“Yeah, but she could drive back to Marshall.”
“I would try my best to talk her out of that.”
“Did you remember that we have to take separate cars tonight?”
“Yes. What time will you be finished with your lessons?”
“I should be done by 8:00—unless somebody cancels. If so, it might be a little earlier.”
“Okay. It seems like there’s still an awful lot left to pack.”
“Oh, I’m sure we can get all done by Saturday, even if we have to pull an all-nighter tomorrow night.”
“I hope we don’t have to do that,” said Cynthia.
Greg agreed. He had often pulled an all-nighter with Cynthia in his dreams. But in his dreams they weren’t packing.
17 - PACKING
“Greg asked me today whether I thought you would be going to church with us this Sunday,” said Cynthia, as she wrapped another plate and put it in the box.
She and her mother were in the kitchen, packing dishes and cookware.
“I guess so. To be honest, that’s going to be the hardest thing about moving,” said Beverly. “I could still go to church here if I really wanted to. It’s only a fifteen minute drive.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t think I should. If I’m going to move to Coreyville, I need to be a part of that community. And that includes going to church there. So, I might as well get started this Sunday.”
“Well, I’m proud of you, Mom. I think you’re doing the right thing.”
“But don’t get me wrong—I do plan to stay in touch with my friends here in Marshall. I just won’t see them as often. But we can email and IM.”
“IM? Y’all instant message each other?”
“Sure. We try to stay up with the times. You think we’re too old for technology?”
“No, I didn’t say that.”
“A couple of times I’ve even sent a text message.”
Cynthia laughed. “You’re pretty cool, Mom.”
“You got that right, Dog.” Beverly attempted a rapper pose. “Too much?”
“Yeah—that’s a little scary.”
Cynthia heard the Bonneville in the driveway. “There’s Greg.”
She let him in the kitchen door and gave him a long, tight hug.
But before he got too excited, he pulled away.
She pretended to be hurt, but then gave him a quick kiss on the lips and grinned at him. She understood. And she loved the fact that she could turn him on so easily.
She checked the clock. It was 7:58.
“You’re early. So I guess your last student cancelled,” said Cynthia.
“No, she didn’t cancel. She just didn’t show up.”
“One of your teenagers?”
“No, it was Nancie Jo Gristel. She’s 81. And she never does that. She always calls me if she has to miss. She was out for a couple of months because of her Alzheimer’s. But the doctor put her on some new medication, and she’s been fine ever since.”
“One of my good friends just found out she has it,” said Beverly. “It’s a terrible disease.”
“Did you try calling her?” said Cynthia to Greg.
“Several times. But then I figured maybe she just fell asleep.”
“It’s easy to do when you’re leaning back in your recliner watching TV,” said Beverly.
“Yeah, that could be it,” said Cynthia.
“Well, I just hope she’s okay. I’ll give her a call in the morning,” said Greg.
**********
Before going inside, she sat in her car a few minutes to put on the blonde wig. She was wearing a hot pink blouse, black leather mini-skirt, and knee-high boots. When she walked in, every man in the bar was instantly seduced. Beer mugs hung suspended at open mouths. She could have chosen any one of the poor saps, and they would have gladly barked like a dog at her command.
The anticipation faded in the eyes at each table as she passed them by. She had no intention of spending time with any of them, although her body language suggested otherwise. The man sitting alone in the far corner was her ultimate destination. He had taken a glance when she came in, but then went back to studying the bubbles in his beer.
“Well?” she said.
“Well, what?” said Jake, as he finally looked up.
“Remember me?”
“Jennifer? Is that you?” He stood.
Carnie had forgotten the fake name she had used Sunday night. “Uh…yeah.”
“Well, sit down and let me buy you a beer,” said Jake.
“Okay.”
Jake hollered to the bar tender, “Hey, Bill. Two more beers, please.”
“You look great as a blonde.”
“Thanks.”
“Of course, you looked just as cute before you bleached it. I like brown hair.”
“Actually, it’s a wig. I just wanted to try a different look.”
“So, where have you been keeping yourself?” said Jake. “I thought we had a lot of fun the other night. But then you disappeared.”
“Yeah. I’ve been busy.”
“Okay, I get it. Don’t worry—I’m not looking for a wife, or even a girlfriend.”
Carnie shot him a wry smile. “Me either. So, you’re just looking to get laid, huh?”
“Well, no, not necessarily.”
“Then I’m wasting my time here. See you around.” Carnie stood.
“Whoa, wait a second. I said I wasn’t looking to get laid. It’s not that I don’t want it. I’m just not searching for it.”
Carnie sat down. “But what if it just came along and bit you in the butt?”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but yeah, I’d be interest—if it was somebody I really liked.”
A young waitress delivered their beers and walked away slowly, hoping to hear more of the conversation.
“Somebody like me?” sh
e said with a sexy smile.
“Yeah.”
“Then why are we wasting our time sitting here, Jake?”
“Good point, Honey. Let’s go. I’ve got plenty of beer at home in the fridge.”
Jake threw some bills on the table and they hurried out. The other men watched in envy and amazement. What was so great about him?
**********
Carnie followed Jake’s truck to his house. As soon as they were inside, he took her in his powerful arms and started kissing her. He was twice her size, and she barely knew him. Most women would not put themselves in such a vulnerable situation. But Carnie was fearless. She kissed him with enough passion to set a dead man on fire. But after a few seconds she pulled away.
“Let’s slow it down, Big Boy.”
“What? I thought you wanted to have sex?” He knew he could have had her right then if he wanted to. She wouldn’t have been able to stop him. But he wasn’t that kind of man. He would never force himself on a woman.
“Maybe I do. But first I’d like to get to know you better. Let’s sit and talk a while, and have a drink or two.”
“Okay. Make yourself at home and I’ll grab us some brewskis.”
Jake walked into the kitchen while Carnie sat down on the couch.
The living room furniture looked like a page out of a 1975 Sears catalog. But at least it’s clean, she thought—except for a thousand dust mites living down deep in the fabric. Yuk.
Jake handed Carnie a Coors Light. “So, what do you want to talk about, Jennifer?”
“How about a little question and answer game. You can ask me any question, and I have to answer it honestly. Then I ask you a question. And we take turns until we both agree to stop.”
“Sounds kind of dangerous.”
“Yeah. But you get to ask the first question.”
“Okay.” Jake thought for a few seconds. “You acted sort of funny tonight when I called you ‘Jennifer.’ Is that really your name?”
“Oh, good one, Jake. The answer is ‘no.’”
He waited for her to go on.
“So, what is your name?” he said.
“Sorry, it’s my turn to ask a question,” said Carnie.
“Ah, come on.”
Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set Page 26