"The phone's not working."
"Ah, well, that explains a few things."
He smiles at me then snaps his official look back in place.
"I'll go and get them. The station's not far," Miriam says.
"Can we get Memé into bed first, Ethan? Her portable oxygen isn't as strong as the one in her room and she's been through a lot."
"I don't see why not. Dembi, I'm Ethan."
He takes two long strides forward and puts his hand out. I notice that he still has a good grip on the gun with his other one.
"I'm a good friend of Anne's. I'm here to help you."
Dembi nods. Once he shakes Ethan's hand he looks completely calm.
"I would like you to help me, buddy. Can you do that?"
Another nod.
"I want you to go and help Anne and Miriam put your Memé to bed. Then I want you to stay with her. Keep her calm and happy. Can you do that, too?"
"I am strong," Dembi says. "I can help Memé."
"Excellent. I knew that. I'll just stay here with these people and keep all of us safe."
We wheel Memé into her bedroom and lift her onto the bed. She's drenched, so I replace the diaper while Miriam adjusts the oxygen. All the while our mother strokes our hands. Murmurs our names. She's so exhausted she can barely lift her legs or arms, yet she's desperate to comfort us by her touch.
Once Memé is settled Miriam leaves for the police station.
Dembi lies down beside our mother. He curls into a fetal position against her body, exhaling with relief. Memé puts her arm over him. Rolly pops out from his hiding place under the bed and snuggles into Dembi's neck.
"We'll bring you some food in a bit." I kiss Memé's hand.
"Anne." She sighs it. The word feels like a song inside me.
Even before I straighten up, she's asleep.
I make my way over to Dembi and kiss his cheek.
"You are a hero, Dembi. You are strong and smart and wonderful."
He smiles but doesn't open his eyes.
I stand and watch them for a while. I'm not sure what to feel. My body is propelled only by adrenalin. Emergency mode. My mind is blank. I decide to leave it that way for a while.
Ethan sits in the telephone chair with his long legs crossed, the gun propped on his knee. This is my lover as police officer. He's composed but there's an aura around him that speaks of strength and ferocity. Immediately I feel calmer, too.
He smiles when I enter the parlor. His eyes grin, too. Sparkle with love. I realize that he's been waiting for me. He wants to interrogate these three before the local police get here and take over. He wants me to hear.
I wiggle in beside him. There's plenty of room for two of us.
"Would someone get me a bandage or something?"
I notice that Glenn's head still bleeds a little. His hand and arm are covered in blood. Out in the kitchen, I find an ice pack and a clean tea towel. He mumbles thanks when I hand it to him.
"I'm a little confused. Who are you people anyway?"
"I'm her brother."
If Glenn thinks self-pity is going to bring him favor, he's wrong. His whiny pathetic tone only irritates.
"We haven't proven that yet," I say, wanting distance from this bumbling idiot in front of me. "You said Karoline found you when she was searching for our siblings. But I don't trust a word you say."
He starts to retort but Ethan cuts him off.
"And you, madam?"
Dee's tears have not abated. "My name is Melody Fischer. I'm a caregiver. Can I please explain?"
"In a minute. Introduce yourself, sir."
Tommy looks pasty and sunken. His voice is weak and belies his pompous response. "Dr. Thomas Fischer."
"All right. I'm Detective Ethan Byrne from the Los Angeles Police Department. You wanted to tell us something, Mrs. Fischer?"
"I want to explain what happened."
Dee clears her throat and wipes the tears across her plump cheeks.
"Our son is a gambler."
She sounds like a confessor at an AA meeting.
"He got himself involved with some very bad people. We never had much money because Tommy would not move from this little hick town. Somehow Karoline found out about our situation."
Glenn groans as he shifts the ice pack on his head.
"She was brilliant."
I had to agree with him there.
"She paid off his debts. In return, I helped her with her research and Tommy gave her drugs."
No wonder Dee knew so much about our history. The second thought that crosses my overloaded brain fills me with anger. I sit up very straight.
"Memé! Did you give drugs to my mother? Is that why she stopped being able to talk or move or…"
"We never gave her any drugs. That was Karoline and Glenn."
"What the fuck is the difference? You knew about it. You preyed on an innocent woman. A dying woman."
I am on my feet, fists clenched. Ethan reaches out to pull me back. I resist for a moment. Venom spills out in a long shuddering exhalation. I sit back down, but on the edge of the chair.
Tommy clears his throat.
"Your mother may have a lot more time than you think. The radiation and chemotherapy were very successful in shrinking the tumors. Her results were better than for most cancer patients, in fact."
"You knew she should be in remission, not sliding backwards. You knew she was being fed those drugs. And you're a doctor."
I spit out the last word the way my mother says Diable.
"As soon as Karoline was gone, Tommy made sure we took good care of her."
Dee is actually defending their actions.
"We figured out that Glenn here must be giving Libby the drug whenever he could. When he told us Karoline was dead we knew we were free, but we were still nervous about Glenn. That's why I offered to do the job of caregiver. You saw how she improved."
Her skewed logic is astonishing. Perhaps it's similar to ignoring your best friend's disintegration. Perhaps it's akin to manipulating all the people in your life for financial gain.
"You mean you were working against me? There are nothing but bitches in my life. Only Karoline…"
Glenn's ridiculous whine trails off into a weak mumble. He looks like a giant slug as he slithers further into the folds of the sofa.
Ethan moves his body slightly so that I can feel his warmth right up next to me. I want to dissolve. Disappear into his arms. Let go.
Either that or pummel the faces of these three lowlifes into bloody pulp.
"Let me get this straight," Ethan says.
He leans forward, the gun highly visible. His tone is measured and melodious. For that reason alone he sounds scary.
"Karoline found out about Anne's history. She came here and pretended to be a Johnston sister. Immediately she realized there was a lot of money in the paintings and antiques. She recruited Melody here to help with researching the family. I'm supposing she didn't have the time to do it herself. Mrs. Fischer did her bidding because Karoline offered to pay off their son's debts. As a result of the research Karoline found Glenn and began a love affair."
"They used to have CoJons hanging on their walls. They didn't even have insurance," Glenn scoffs. "Karoline dealt in art for her boss. Right away she knew their worth. Libby didn't even notice when Karoline substituted them for different prints or just left the walls blank. Slut mother didn't deserve that art."
Fortunately for both Glenn and me, Ethan moves his arm in front of me and holds me in.
"You are a bastard in more ways than one."
It's a childish retort but I feel better anyway. I have one more question that I need answered.
"Do people around here really think that I burned down Vryheid?"
Melody nods. "That was one of the theories, long ago. Karoline asked me to revive the rumors. Old superstitions kept people away from the farmhouse."
I draw in a shaky breath. Sweet Karoline. How could I have lived with this pe
rson my whole life? How could I never have known how controlling and evil she was? I am ashamed of my previous shallow existence. I was so self-satisfied that I took no notice. Never examined anyone or anything too deeply.
A loud noise at the front door interrupts my thoughts. Lots of heavy footsteps. Then suddenly a booming voice.
"Detective Byrne? Constable Miller here! Is everything all right?"
Ethan moves into the doorway, the gun at his side, talking loudly.
"I'm here, Constable Miller. Everything is under control. I confiscated a gun from the perpetrator and I have it here at my side. Just down the hall in front of you."
Three burly men and one tall thin woman all in dark uniforms follow Ethan's voice into the parlor. Behind them, Miriam looks tired and scared. She lights up when she sees me. We hover in each other's arms for a minute. Neither of us even tries to stop the tears, though I do tamp down on the sobs that want to scream out of my chest.
Things happen very quickly after that. The police constables question each of us separately, including Melody, Tommy and Glenn. They pretty much leave Dembi and Memé out of any heavy interrogation. All I remember about the officers is that they are of a size that could be intimidating but they are kind and thorough instead.
Miriam and I whip up some food for everyone at one point. Meat and cheese and bread. Soup for Memé. We sit with Dembi and our mother for a long time. All four of us are tired and numb. Miriam and I take turns holding hands with Memé, Dembi, or each other. We say very little. Rolly makes us smile with his antics.
At some point in time in the mid afternoon Ethan joins us in Memé's room. He's tired too. How could he have expected his vacation to turn into work?
"The police are reading Simpson and the Fischer's their rights. They've confessed to the crimes and will be held over in jail. A judge will decide if they get bail, I guess."
Ethan and I haven't even had a chance to talk. As if he's read my mind he asks if he can speak to me privately. Miriam smiles and tells me she'll be fine with Dembi and Memé.
I take him down the hallways to my room. We drag his suitcase, which had been left abandoned near the parlor.
As soon as I shut and lock the door of my room, we are in each other's arms. We tumble onto the bed. Without bothering to remove anything but his shorts and my underwear, we make frantic, passionate love. Two teenagers on a family sofa. We both laugh when we're done.
"Sorry, honey, that's not what I meant to do."
"That's what I meant to do," I say, pulling up my panties and snuggling into his arm. "Later we'll do it right. There are too many people in this house right now."
I help him with his shorts. Other than our flushed faces and satisfied airs, I'm sure we look normal.
"Hey listen. I found this on the floor in the parlor. I know we might have to turn it in later but I thought I'd look it over first."
Ethan pulls out Karoline's blue diary.
"In between interrogations I was able to read quite a bit of this. She wrote a lot in point form as though she couldn't be bothered to embellish. I don't think you should ever read it."
I feel sick to my stomach. How much longer would Karoline reach out from her grave to torture me? How many more betrayals might I uncover?
"I don't think I want to anyway. I don't think I can take any more. At least not right now."
"I hear you. I can't imagine what this day has been like for you. But I thought you might have some questions about Karoline. Some loose ends that you need tying up."
Reasons for her suicide, he means. To make me realize that it wasn't my fault. Except nothing in that diary will help. After the last few days immersed in my new family, I feel as though I will be plunged back into my former life if I hear any more about Karoline.
Yet there are so many questions.
"Does she explain anything? Does she say why?"
"I've skipped around and she records nearly every thought she had over her last few months."
I can hear that scribbling once again. The constant irritating sound of a pen ground onto paper. Thoughts so dark they had to be stabbed into existence.
"Karoline was a psychopath."
He's firm in his conviction, but feels he has to explain.
"In police work, you meet a lot of people with mental health problems. I've taken lots of courses. We're trained to spot psychopathic behavior because most of our criminals are psychopaths. From serial killers to corporate frauds."
"Aren't some sociopaths?"
"The thing about psychopaths is that they are organized and smart. Sociopaths aren't necessarily. Karoline planned everything. Sometimes her schemes were years in the making."
He sits up. With his head propped on one hand, he looks down at me. Strokes my arm to soften the punch of his words. I know his goal. He wants me to see Karoline's true nature so that I can put her suicide into context. Forgive myself for not curing her. She was crazy, beyond hope. He doesn't know that part of his theory is very wrong.
"She admits stealing paintings and antiques from this house. That's how she paid the mortgage on your apartment."
"What?" I have to sit up now to squeeze some breath back into my lungs.
"Her Boosha didn't give her any money. She stole the CoJons and sold them to her own boss. In her diary, she mocks him. She charges him more than anyone would pay and tells him the auction went higher than expected. Karoline literally amassed a fortune."
I won't cry. I do need to know it all. I make eye contact with Ethan, letting him know without words that I've changed my mind about hearing everything.
"What does she say about finding my family and not telling me?"
"She found them because a letter came for you from your mother's lawyer."
"Memé sent me a letter?"
"Yes. She wanted you to know that she was dying. She wanted to reconnect with you. Karoline decided to show up and pretend to be you. Of course she had no idea that Dembi and Miriam existed. She didn't know you were four years old before you left here, either. She wouldn't have expected Memé to know the difference."
"How did she make Memé cooperate with her?"
"She doesn't mention that. At least I didn't find anything. I haven't read it thoroughly though. If the explanation's not there, maybe Libby will be able to tell us someday."
I shake my head slowly. I wish I could shake the information like a kaleidoscope and come out with a different picture.
"Even before she became ill, before the cancer and the extra drugs, Memé was simple and trusting. I don't know how Karoline did it, but she either had them fooled or frightened."
I think of the threats of drowning Dembi in the river. Perhaps Memé was convinced it would happen. Maybe her brother had drowned all those years ago and his death had scarred her toddler's mind. She would be terrified by the thought of her son going into the river.
Ethan flips through the book. The writing looks like scorpions to me.
"This is how sick she was, Anne. To answer the second part of your question about why she never told you about your family. She convinced herself that she was protecting them by keeping you away. As though she bought that hogwash about you being the witch who burned Vryheid."
I lived with this woman. I loved her. I trusted her implicitly with every part of my life. How stupid am I?
"One other thing. In her research, obviously with the help of Mrs. Numbnuts out there, she stumbled across a man who just might be Cornwall Johnston the younger. The artist, that is."
"Wouldn't the art world like to know about that?"
"Wouldn't the whole world like to know?"
Dear Diary,
Living in L.A., I always hear the stars moaning and groaning about their loss of privacy. But isn't that the price of fame? Don't they know that they're embracing fame as soon as they take on that role? You're up there on the screen and people start talking about you, recognizing you. That's the very definition of fame. So I think they should suck it up or quit the job.
Chapter 28
The evening is warm and fresh. Soaked with the previous rain, the fields and forests give off a fragrance that could never be captured except by nature. Evergreen, sweet clover and flowers mix with the scent of rich soil. A soft breeze plays with our hair as we sit on the porch.
The sun disappeared in an orange ball. Overhead there's a three-quarter moon that outshines any stars. Even the cicadas are quiet, although a few crickets strive to replace their song with one of their own. Bats skim the darkness in search of mosquitoes. We hear their winged hunt and are grateful.
Miriam has lit candles all around the veranda. We've pulled out lawn chairs and pillows and snacks. Memé sits in her wheelchair with a blanket tucked around her thin knees and arms. Ethan stretches out his long legs in a worse-for-wear lounger that is nevertheless comfortable. My sister and I sit on the porch benches.
Rolly entertains Dembi by chasing an unfortunate grasshopper along the boards. Our brother is almost back to normal. He's still a bit quiet and prone to cuddling up with one of us more often than usual. But we're convinced that he'll recover faster than we will.
Memé is more alert than we've yet experienced. The doctor who replaced Thomas Fischer stopped by earlier to see her and pronounced her fine for now. We have an appointment at the hospital on Monday. He'll do a thorough examination and give us recommendations for her future care.
Miriam has a bandage around her ankle. I have a purple bruise under my eye and a red mark down my cheek. Other than that, we have no visible repercussions from our encounter.
I don't think I'll be afraid any more. Despite Glenn's efforts, no one was seriously hurt. We uncovered a lot of interesting facts. We did hand over the diary although the police officers weren't sure it would be of any use. We will all have to be formally interviewed tomorrow. For now, however, we are peacefully at home.
Over dinner and this sojourn on the porch, my family bonds with Ethan. We're all exhausted and somewhat shell-shocked, but that seems to heighten the connection. We talk about everything except Glenn, Karoline and Melody and what just happened.
Sweet Karoline Page 25