by Mary Ellis
After starting the coffeemaker, he set out a pitcher of milk and plate of blueberry muffins on the sparkling countertop. But he’d barely opened the spreadsheet of this month’s receivables when his sister swept into the kitchen like a tornado.
‘What on earth are you doing here on a Saturday?’ Bernie Conrad carried an armload of shopping bags to the sink.
‘I could ask you the same question, little sis.’ Eric didn’t glance up from his computer screen.
‘I always do the Saturday baking because Pamela has weekends off.’ Bernie began washing peaches and plums. ‘Your turn.’
‘I thought this would be a good time to catch up on the accounts.’ Avoiding his sister’s gaze, Eric pulled two mugs from the cupboard as the coffeemaker released a burst of steam.
‘Why not the office or at home, for that matter? You’re never here on Saturday until the first reservation.’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Maybe you’re afraid someone will scare away the new tenant.’
‘Obviously, that possibility occurred to you as well.’ Eric carried their coffee to the table. ‘Speaking of which, where is your juvenile delinquent daughter this morning?’
‘She insisted on walking instead of riding with me. Something about wanting to get more exercise.’ The two siblings shared a laugh until someone cleared their throat in the stairwell.
‘What, exactly, should I be afraid of?’ Jill Wyatt strolled down the last few steps into the kitchen.
‘Nothing, as long as you wear a rope of garlic around your neck and keep a wooden stake handy.’ Eric pulled out another chair at the table.
‘Don’t pay any attention to him; we’re harmless.’ Eric’s sister jumped to her feet and extended a hand. ‘I’m Bernadette Conrad, Eric’s sister. Call me Bernie, if you’re staying.’
‘Jill Wyatt, pleased to meet you.’ After the two women shook, Jill turned toward him. ‘Last night I slept like a baby. I’ll take the suite.’ She smiled, a gesture which changed an ordinary face into an extraordinary one.
‘Glad to hear it.’ Following his four-word reply, Eric stood with his hands in his pockets, befuddled.
Bernie broke the tension after a few uncomfortable moments. ‘I think I’ll inventory wine in the cellar and bake my fruit cannoli later. Eric, why don’t you show Jill where everything is in the kitchen?’ she asked and then disappeared.
‘First, how ’bout some coffee?’ Eric snapped out of his paralysis.
‘I would love some,’ she said.
He filled a mug and handed it to her. ‘This is the non-commercial end of the kitchen. Help yourself to anything on the counter or in this fridge or these cabinets.’ He pointed at the bowls of fruit and plate of blueberry muffins. Then he opened the cupboards where they stored an array of cereals, snack foods, and canned soups. ‘So no one makes a midnight snack from something meant for tomorrow’s daily special.’
Jill added milk to her coffee. ‘Got it. I prefer this to a set breakfast time.’ She reached for a bowl and the box of Cheerios.
‘Did your friend get back to Savannah?’
Jill sat in the chair vacated by Bernie. ‘She did, after her husband dragged her to the car. Beth was worried you might chain me to the salad station.’
Eric laughed, his composure restored. ‘That punishment is reserved for my niece, Danielle, who was grounded for breaking curfew on a school night. She might get early parole if she works hard enough. That’s up to her parents.’
‘I had a feeling it was something like that.’ Jill filled her bowl and started to eat.
Suddenly, the subject of their conversation burst into the kitchen. ‘Uncle Eric, why are you just standing around?’ Danielle Conrad demanded.
‘Good morning, Dani. This is Jill Wyatt. She’ll be renting the upstairs suite. Your mom is downstairs. Why don’t you help her inventory wine?’
The teenager shook her head. ‘How did you not see the mess when you arrived this morning?’
‘What … mess?’ he asked. Before Dani could answer, Eric was out the door with Jill on his heels. But when he reached the courtyard everything looked fine: Tables were upright, chairs in place, candleholders ready to be lit at twilight.
‘Not here, Uncle.’ Dani ran to the security gate leading to the alley and threw back the bolt.
When Eric stepped into the alley, the reason for his niece’s distress became apparent. The restaurant’s dumpster, scheduled for pickup that morning, had been overturned. Food scraps from hundreds of unfinished meals lay strewn in a colorful array, along with empty containers, and every other type of trash. Not only had the dumpster been overturned – no easy feat in itself – but the contents had been spread from one end of the Manfredi property to the other. It was as though someone had made a concerted effort to be thorough.
‘Whoever did this will pay,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘It wasn’t me. It was like this when I arrived.’ Dani looked stricken.
‘Of course it wasn’t you. I was just blowing off steam.’ Eric wrapped an arm around her shoulders and then grew acutely aware of Jill’s gaze on him as well.
‘Sorry you had to witness this on your first day. Pranks by teenagers happen all too often in this business. But if you’d rather continue looking at rentals, I understand.’
Jill kicked a Styrofoam cup toward the rest of the debris. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m only sorry I can’t stay to help clean up. I’m supposed to meet my client in a few hours.’ She peered up with brown eyes so plaintive, so earnest, his stomach clenched.
‘That’s nice of you to offer, but I’ll call a professional service. The alley must be cleaned and sanitized by strict city codes to reduce the chance of infestation.’ Eric stepped on a cockroach as discreetly as possible as Jill pretended not to notice. ‘And I better call them fast. We don’t need pictures appearing on the internet. That would be a black mark against the restaurant.’
‘Sorry, Uncle Eric, but that’s why I ran here so fast. Someone already posted this on the internet and tagged me.’ Danielle, on the verge of tears, held up her phone, showing a video of the alley taken some time after dawn.
Eric swallowed down the first reply that came to mind. ‘It’s OK, Dani. I’ll take care of this with one phone call. You grab something to eat and then go help your mom.’
Reluctantly, his niece shrugged and ducked through the opening in the wall.
‘If you’re sure you don’t need me,’ said Jill, ‘I’d better eat breakfast and hit the road.’
‘I’m sure, but would you like to join my family for dinner tonight? Then you’ll see you haven’t fallen in with a bunch of serial killers.’
Jill hesitated. ‘Sounds tempting, but I have no idea how long this will take or where I’ll end up.’
Eric held up his palms. ‘I understand. If you change your mind, we never eat before eight thirty, well after the dinner rush.’
She nodded and ducked through the opening in the wall.
Eric stood alone for a few minutes, pondering, before he called the cleaning service. Despite his assurances to the contrary, he was absolutely certain of one thing: This was no prank by a bored group of teenagers.
Jill’s guilt over leaving her landlord ankle deep in garbage vanished the moment she left Bella Trattoria. With a nine thirty appointment in a suburb called Goose Creek, she wanted to be prepared and on time. Luckily, Beth had left her GPS in the Toyota, so finding the white colonial among dozens in the development proved easy. At least the Sugarman family had painted their shutters and front door red to stand out from the rest. Dressed in a tailored jacket and slim skirt, Jill knocked firmly on the bright red panel.
When the door opened, a girl of five or six smiled up at her. ‘Hi, my name is Joan, after Joan of Arc. Stall-wart and brave, that’s me.’ The child peered up through impossibly thick lashes.
Jill bent from the waist. ‘Are you ready to march fearlessly into battle, Saint Joan?’
She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. Daddy said fighting is wron
g.’
‘O-kay.’ Apparently, little Joan hadn’t heard the full story about her namesake. ‘Are your mom and dad home?’
‘Miss Wyatt?’ A grim-faced man with thick glasses appeared behind his daughter. ‘I’m David Sugarman. Please come in and make yourself comfortable.’
Jill followed him into a tidy living room where a young man was watching TV. Plants lined every windowsill and rows of framed photographs decorated the walls. Toys had been piled into an overflowing chest next to the couch, except for one lop-eared rabbit half buried by a cushion.
‘That’s our son, Robert, and you’ve already met Joan.’ When David released her hand the child ran to retrieve the forgotten rabbit.
‘Mr Bugs, you have to stay in here until this lady leaves.’ Joan shoved the stuffed toy down in the crate.
Stifling her smile, Jill asked, ‘Is Mrs Sugarman home?’ She glanced left and right ridiculously as though Mom might be hiding under a cushion too.
‘My wife is a patient at UMSC Hospital. We’ll go there next, but I wanted to speak to you first. Charlotte thought you should meet us before meeting her.’
‘Charlotte is my mom,’ Joan explained, hurrying to Jill’s side as though she might be having a hard time following the conversation.
David sighed. ‘Joan, go watch TV with your brother so I can talk to Miss Wyatt without interruption.’
Jill waited until the child loped off. ‘My boss has already accepted the case. I will do everything in my power to find your wife’s biological siblings, if any exist.’
‘I believe Charlotte has a sister, who’s most likely still living in South Carolina. A long time ago, the natural mother responded to my wife’s request to meet. She gave Charlotte her original birth certificate and indicated she had given up two daughters for adoption, four years apart. The woman didn’t let on that she was dying. When Charlotte reached out to her again, she was already dead. Here’s a photocopy of that birth certificate, for all the good it’ll do.’
Jill tucked the folded paper into her purse. ‘I take it the woman doesn’t wish to be found.’
‘She has refused every request for contact that the agency has made.’
‘Then she shouldn’t be too hard to find. But I can’t guarantee any outcome beyond an address and perhaps a recent photo.’
David dropped his chin. ‘I’ll get right to the point. My wife has been on a donor waiting list for years. Unfortunately, the likelihood of obtaining a suitable match due to her rare blood type grows slimmer every day.’
‘That’s why I’m tracking down siblings?’ Jill blinked. ‘You think a complete stranger – someone who’s resisted all attempts of contact thus far – will let you remove one of her organs?’
‘Half of one organ,’ David corrected. ‘The liver begins to regenerate almost immediately. Without the transplant Charlotte will die, and she doesn’t have much time left. We’re getting down to the wire.’
Jill could hear Joan crying behind her, along with restrained sniffles from the boy. ‘Perhaps it would be better if your children played outside for a while?’
‘No, my wife wants them to understand everything happening in their world.’ David’s point-blank tone of voice matched his erect posture. ‘We all die, Miss Wyatt. We would just like to have Charlotte a while longer. Wouldn’t we, kids?’
Dutifully, Joan and Robert nodded their blond heads, their faces streaked with tears.
‘Now that you know the situation, we can head over to the hospital.’ David stood and switched off the TV. ‘And it’s time you two stopped crying if you want to see Mom.’
‘Daddy, can I take Mr Bugs to the hospital?’ Joan asked.
‘Definitely not. That rabbit is probably covered with germs.’ David Sugarman strode from the room with his children trailing behind like mini-robots. Jill fell in step, too, thinking that alley cleanup was sounding better and better.
Despite David’s insistence that they had plenty of room in their van, Jill drove herself to UMSC Hospital. This guy’s cavalier attitude about life and death made her nervous. What kind of father frightens his kids about losing their mother? With more people joining the donor registrar, suitable matches turned up every day. Mrs Sugarman could still receive her transplant in plenty of time. And those kids would have been traumatized for nothing.
Inside the medical center’s isolation ward, Jill changed her mind in a hurry. Dressed in gowns, masks, and booties, she and David were escorted into Charlotte’s private room, while another nurse herded the children down the hall to a play area manned by volunteers. They were ordered not to touch the patient, drink from her cup, or handle anything on the patient’s tray. With a weakened immune system, Charlotte must be protected against viral infections. When Jill gazed at the thin, pale woman lying motionless on the raised bed, she no longer doubted David’s dire predictions.
‘Charlotte?’ David bent low and spoke next to her ear. ‘Char, honey? Look who came to meet you – Miss Jill Wyatt of Price Investigations. That’s the agency John spoke so highly of.’
Jill had no idea who John was, but she wasn’t fond of her fame preceding her. Wouldn’t that place an unrealistic burden on her, considering the impossible circumstances? ‘How do you do, Mrs Sugarman? I’ll do my best to track down your siblings.’
Charlotte opened one eyelid. With purple smudges and deep circles under her eyes and the telltale yellowish cast to her skin, she looked older than her husband by decades. ‘Thank … you … for … coming,’ she rasped through parched lips.
‘How ’bout some water?’ David placed the straw between her parched lips, tilted the cup, and patiently waited while his wife took tiny sips. Jill’s opinion of the man lifted one notch.
After five minutes of difficult swallowing, Charlotte waved the cup away. ‘Much better,’ she said, struggling to sit up.
Although David hurried to the other side, Jill was afraid to help. The woman weighed so little, she might break with the slightest pressure. Fortunately, David easily moved his wife higher on the pillows.
‘Honey, please run along and sit with the children,’ said Charlotte. ‘I would like to speak to Jill alone.’
‘But what if you need—’
She waved away his protest like a mosquito. ‘I can survive five minutes without you.’
When he closed the door behind him, Jill felt cut adrift. Am I allowed to press the call button or just the patient?
‘Mr Price betrayed your confidence, but I have told no one. Soon I’ll take your secret to my grave.’
‘What secret is that?’ Jill grew increasingly uncomfortable.
‘Mr Price told me you were adopted. He thought having that in common would create a bond between us. But seeing your face when you walked through the door, it might have had the opposite effect.’
‘Forgive me, it’s just that I have little familiarity with hospitals.’
Charlotte flourished her hand a second time. ‘Please, speak frankly with me.’
Jill met the woman’s watery gaze. ‘All right, I was hired to track someone down and that’s what I plan to do. But I’m not big on approaching someone who doesn’t wish to be found. It’s an invasion of privacy.’
She nodded sagely. ‘Because you wouldn’t like someone showing up on your doorstep?’
‘No, I wouldn’t, but I understand in your case. This is a matter of life and death.’
‘I don’t think you understand at all.’ Charlotte reached for her hand, breaking one of the nurse’s strict rules. ‘I’m not the least bit afraid to die. I’m so sick of needles and hospitals and don’t-eat-this, don’t-eat-that. I know that when I leave here I’m going to a better place.’ She ran out of breath and began to gasp. Jill reached for the water pitcher, but Charlotte shook her head.
‘This is about your kids, isn’t it?’ Jill asked.
Charlotte nodded. ‘Joan and Bobby are too young to be without their mother. David loves his children and he’s a good father. But he’s … rigid. He’ll
want them to stiffen their upper lips and hide their emotions, when they need to cry and stomp their feet. Do you … understand?’
‘Yes, I think I do.’ An unexpected lump rose in Jill’s throat.
‘I realize the ultimate decision rests with my natural siblings. If, after they hear the facts, they decide not to help me, God bless them. That’s their choice. Then I can die knowing I gave it my best shot.’ Charlotte’s smile revealed her former self before the disease ravaged her outer shell.
Jill laid a hand on her shoulder, careful not to touch bare skin. ‘I promise to try my best. If I have to crawl through barbed wire and dodge buckshot, every one of your siblings will hear the full story.’
‘Thank you. Sounds like Nate Price picked the right PI for the job. Please ask David to come in. I still have ten minutes before the nurses send everyone home.’
Jill left the room buoyed by the client’s confidence. She spotted David sitting in a plastic chair with his head bowed. ‘Charlotte wants you to come back.’
He sprang to his feet. ‘Are you coming, Miss Wyatt?’
‘No, I’m going to sit with your kids for a while.’ Jill turned and headed down the hall. Having little experience with munchkins, she had no idea why she chose this option. But maybe it was time to gain some.
‘Hi, Miss Jill, we’re over here.’ Joan called out the moment the door opened. ‘Come look at what we made.’
The Sugarman offspring had been industrious at the crafts table. Using purple and yellow Play Doh, animals had been fashioned and positioned inside a plastic barnyard.
‘Which ones did you make, Robert?’ Jill asked.
The boy blushed. ‘I know this is kids’ stuff, but I made the chickens because Joanie wanted me to.’
‘I thought those were chickens.’ Jill perched on a small-sized chair.