by Aysia Amery
He continued without confirming. I took it to mean I was correct.
With one hand on his neck and the other to his chest, he gagged, tongue exposed, gasping for breath.
“You couldn’t breathe.”
Continuing, he thumped his fisted hand to his chest, right over his heart, very fast. Then paused. Then beat it again and again in varying tempos.
“You had erratic heartbeats?”
With his eyes wide as though staring at the clouds, he lay still for the remainder of this act.
“You finally died.”
This time he shook his head. He continued to stare out into the sky.
Hmm, if he didn’t yet die, then what?
I took a moment to ponder this one.
My eyes lit. Oh gosh, of course. I should know this one. I had been in one myself.
“You were in a coma.” It wasn’t a question. I knew that was the answer.
He stood to his feet and nodded.
“Were you blacked out while in your coma?” I figured he might not have been since he would’ve just acted out ‘dead,’ but I wanted to make sure.
His answer was no. I thought so. Being aware while in a coma had to be torture. That wasn’t the case for me. I was so glad that I was unaware while in that state of limbo. That could make anybody want to scream over and over in their head. Like being in a room where the walls encased you to where you could only stand all day and night. There’d be no sitting or lying down because you couldn’t move an inch in any direction. I would go crazy in that situation.
If I had been in that type of coma, I’d probably be in a psychiatric ward today.
Tony pointed to himself. Then he held something small, like a vial, in one hand, and poured the contents into his other bowled hand. His hands went around his neck, then tilting his head to the side, he stuck out his tongue to one side of his mouth and closed his eyes. It was an act of death.
“And that’s why you feel you were murdered. Poisoned.”
His eyes gazed at me with the sorrow of a man who regretted how he treated people. Like the way Ebenezer Scrooge did in A Christmas Carol. I felt sorry for the man at that moment. Tony’s gloomed face spoke of regret, forgiveness and atonement, yet his soul was in purgatory because he could never rectify any of it. Ever. He would never be able to make amends with those he cared about.
“Thanks, Tony. That helped a lot,” I said.
He nodded one last time before he disappeared.
I was done here today and ready to head home. As I approached the parking area, five feet from my minivan a woman, probably in her early fifties with black hair as short as a tomboy’s, sauntered my way. She wore a sleeveless white tank blouse and black jeans.
Something told me this was Helen Ryker.
:: Chapter 11 ::
“You grow tilapia?” I asked as the woman came close enough to where I could see what she carried in the deep tinfoil pan covered with plastic wrap. The two fish were still whole and sitting on a bed of ice.
“Yes, I do.” She stopped in her tracks in front and slightly to the side of me, smiling as though I’d complimented her on winning a trophy.
“Those are nice-looking ones. Are you selling them?” This was a perfect opportunity to make conversation. What luck!
“Not yet on a big scale. I’ve been growing them in my aquaponics garden.”
Okay, I could do a lot with this topic.
“Oh, cool. I’m a caterer, and I’d love to buy some fish off you if you’re willing to sell me some.” Actually, I wasn’t lying about that. I was always on the lookout for suppliers since there were times I couldn’t get what I needed from my current ones. Especially when a client booked a last minute gig and they wanted a menu where the items were hard to come by on such short notice.
The larger vendors had their restaurant customers who were on a predictable menu, so when I couldn’t put my order in advance, many times I was plumb out of luck. I actually could do some business with her—if she ended up not being the murderer, that is.
“I’m sure we could work something out.”
“Do you have other fish besides tilapia?” I asked, trying to distinguish if she was an avid collector of exotic fish like Tony was.
According to Maile, there was a fish missing from Tony’s aquarium tank, and the fact that she brought it to my attention meant that it had something to do with his death.
“Yes, I do. Those are not for eating though. I’ve got koi in the aquaponics ponds with the tilapia, but I keep other types of fish in aquariums.”
I didn’t want to mention that I’d seen Tony’s collection in case she brought me up to Elaine, and Elaine told her about my earlier visit here with a detective. Helen didn’t need to know about my reason for being here. She might clam up with any disclosures that may be pertinent to Tony’s death if she knew I was snooping.
I had to play this right. This woman had things to hide, and she didn’t look like an airhead. She’d probably detect anything suspicious that might incriminate her and bury her deep in manure up to her neck.
“Fresh water or marine?” I asked.
“Marine. The fish are far more colorful and interesting. I also like to include crustaceans, coral and anemone in the tanks.”
“Cool. I’d love to see your collection,” I said, hoping for an invite.
“Do you have a business card?” she asked. Good thing I did. Kept my story legitimate.
I pulled out a business card from the side zipper of my handbag. Since both of her hands were full, I said, “I’ll drop it into your purse.”
She turned the side her purse hung from her shoulder toward me. I slipped the card into the side pocket.
“I’m free anytime this week, so please give me a call soon,” I said. “If you’re free too, that is.”
“I will. By the way, what’s your name?” she asked.
“Ginger.”
“I’m Helen.”
“Was nice meeting you, Helen. Hope we can do business in the near future.” I shined her a ‘ray of sunshine’ kind of smile.
“I’ll look forward to it,” she replied.
I figured I’d catch her later with more questions, and didn’t want to press my luck with being too nosy on this first meeting. Keeping it to a possible business relationship was safe.
As I got into my minivan, I watched for a moment as she headed toward the house. Then I glanced at the clock on my dashboard.
Think I’ll go visit my dad. He might have some insight to the symptoms Tony had experienced.
Yes, in fact I was sure he’d be able to help with that.
:: Chapter 12 ::
At least three times a week I’d visit Dad, although he didn’t care for being treated as though he were an invalid. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t lonely, was all. Also, it’s where I could see Mom again too.
My brother, on the other hand, hardly visited him. The two just didn’t get along. Every time they were in a room together they ended up in some kind of argument. It’s like they both had their heads dipped in cement because neither could admit when they were wrong.
Funny how some personalities clashed like two asteroids colliding head-on at each other (Aku and Dad), while others could work together planting crops in Shangri-La (me and Dad). Yet Aku and I got along just fine. So what was it with those two?
I’ve tried to tell my brother that Dad is at a stage in his life where he probably won’t change, so he had to be the bigger person and not push back all the time. Some arguments were just not worth raising the blood pressure over. And I wasn’t only talking about Aku’s blood pressure. I didn’t want him causing that for Dad.
Unfortunately, Aku can’t bring himself to rescind so there’s no mending their relationship until one or both started taking the higher road.
I can’t blame Aku though. Losing both Maile and Mom left Dad shattered, and he was never the same after that. Cracking silly jokes and teasing us, tweaking our noses, hiding goodies around the house where he�
��d have us go on treasure hunts gave Dad as much pleasure as it did us. How I’ve missed that about him.
Why Dad’s harder on my brother than me, I haven’t a clue, especially since I was the one with Maile at the time. You’d think he’d be upset with me for having lost her. But he’s not. He chooses to take things out on Aku.
One thing I can say, though: Dad’s not to Aku what Tony Min was to Lance. No, Aku’s gripe with Dad was more that they just couldn’t see eye to eye rather than Aku being a disappointment to him. I know Dad’s proud of his son. I’ve sensed this many times, like when my brother played football in high school, and when he went off to college and got his PhD in chemistry. There’s a lot to be proud of Aku for, and Dad always showed it. But it’s the arguments that got under Aku’s skin, and then he’d only focus on those negatives. Never mind about all the positives that they had between them.
Oh well, I can’t help them mend their differences if they refuse to meet me in the playground.
Till this day, I’ve never told Dad that I could see Maile’s ghost. I didn’t think it would make him feel any better knowing that. In fact, I was afraid it might make him feel even worse.
Dad would rather believe that his little girl was resting somewhere in heaven, and I wasn’t ever going to spoil that for him. He needed to have some type of closure to the madness of the unknowingness which tortured us all.
For me, how and who killed her was what tormented my soul. Bringing the murderer to justice was my lifelong goal.
Anyway, I better drop this. I do not need to bring this up again and again, even though I can’t help it sometimes. I have to catch myself doing that. It’s something hard for me to let go of though.
Back to Dad. There was one thing that he hadn’t given up on, and that was his willingness to help others. Whenever I had a problem, he’d want to help me solve it. Maybe this gave him a reason to keep on living, a sense of purpose in this world after having lost so much.
“How’s it going today?” I asked him. He was in the kitchen making himself a cup of decaf.
“Fine. Like every day,” was his response.
I went over and gave him a hug.
“You want a cup of coffee?” he asked me.
“No thanks.”
After he creamed his coffee and emptied a packet of stevia for his shot of sweetness, he grabbed his cup and turned to me.
“You want a cup of coffee?”
I lifted my brows an inch. “No thanks, Dad.”
“I just asked you that earlier, didn’t I?” he said in a low, soft voice as though facing the grim reality that he might be on the verge of Alzheimer’s.
My heart felt squeezed at that moment. I knew it frustrated him when he caught himself doing things like that.
“No worries. You can repeat that as many times as you want. We are all getting forgetful these days.” And that was the truth. Even I wondered if my own memory wasn’t on hiatus sometimes.
Although I tried to be patient and not let his forgetfulness bother me, for now it wasn’t too bad to cope with. I’m not sure how it will be in the long-term though—when he gets worse. I’ll be honest, my patience might wane then. I don’t pretend to be a saint, because that I’m not, but I just hope I’ll be able to catch myself if I start snapping at him. It will hurt me to hurt him, even if done unintentionally.
“So when are you going to give me grandchildren?” he asked. Wow, that was a surprise. Where did that come from?
“At 40, I think my biological clock has plumb ticked out.” I have heard of some women giving birth after 40, but at this point in my life, I don’t think that’ll be me. “Aku still can though.”
“That boy won’t ever get married,” he grumbled. No matter how old Aku got, he’d always be a ‘boy’ to Dad.
But he was probably right. My brother was 42, and after his first love burned him, it would take a miracle to sway him to give love another chance. Also, at this point in his life he was too set in his ways. But I won’t close the book on him. Anything can happen.
A part of me wished he and Jemma would get together. I’ve been waiting to see if their sparks become fireworks. One of them better make their move before the other gets snagged by somebody else. Most likely it’ll be Jemma who finds her Mr. Wonderful first. At least she’s not letting her failed marriage get in her way of a future love interest. Although, she’s more talk than action. She wants it but isn’t doing much to go after it. She’s kinda become a recluse herself, like Aku. Those two were made for each other, the more I think about it.
“Say, Dad, I have a theory, but I’d like to throw it by you to see what you think.”
His eyes lit up.
What I was about to discuss with him, I could’ve easily found answers to on the Internet, but feeling useful gave my dad a sense of importance. Nothing worse than feeling nobody needed you, and I wouldn’t want him to ever feel that way. He might give up on life if he thought there wasn’t a reason for his existence. Especially being there for his kids.
“Sure, what’s up?” he asked.
“Since you know a lot about fish, what types could cause toxic poisoning?”
“Are you talking fish in these waters around Maui?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Only fish?”
“Yeah, not urchins, anemone, Portuguese man o’ war or anything like that. Also smaller fish. Ones that can fit in a home aquarium.” There was a lot of poisonous and venomous marine life, so this should narrow it down.
“Well, the ones that come to mind are pufferfish, boxfish, lionfish...” He paused, searching his internal encyclopedia. “And porcupine fish.”
“Isn’t a porcupine fish a form of pufferfish?” I asked.
“They belong to the same group, but are classified in the Diodontidae family,” he answered. “Pufferfish belong to the family Tetraodontidae.”
My dad sure knew his fish. I knew about pufferfish myself since I remembered reading about people who ate fugu in Japan. Chefs there have to go through years of rigorous training before they can be allowed, by law, to prepare and serve fugu. Still people die every year from fugu poisoning. There are people who just like to live on the edge, I guess.
“Do you know the symptoms of these type of fish poisonings?”
“Well, from what I’ve heard people experience tingling in the mouth and fingers, lightheadedness, followed by nausea, then difficulty breathing. Vomiting and paralysis also. Even coma.”
Those were the exact symptoms that Tony described.
“There’s no antidote for tetrodotoxin poisoning. If someone doesn’t get to a hospital right away, they’d most likely die in a few hours. Especially depending on how much poison got into their bloodstream. Normally the poison is in the fish’s liver and gonads, so if they ate any of those organs, they’d be dead pretty quick.”
I kissed my dad on the cheek. “Thanks. You don’t know how helpful you’ve been.”
“Glad to be of help. I’m always here for you.” If my dad’s teeth weren’t so yellow, the breadth of his smile could’ve been used for a toothpaste commercial. His day had been made worthwhile.
Before I left, I wanted to see if I could get a visit with Mom. She didn’t always appear when I was there, but every now and again she would.
“I’m going out back to the garden,” I told Dad. I had to go somewhere he wouldn’t see or hear me talking to her ghost. He’d probably freak or think I’d freaked. It wasn’t easy getting time alone with her without him moseying around.
If he planted himself on the sofa and turned on the TV, or challenged a jigsaw or crossword puzzle, then I’d be in luck and get some time with her.
Today was one of those days. One of the spaghetti westerns with a young Clint Eastwood wearing a poncho aired on his 40-inch flat screen. I was pretty sure it was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, banking my assessment on that eerie music, which kinda gave it away.
So today, slipping out without the risk of being caught was a go
. I strolled past the arugula and headed toward the patch of collard greens. A small, short bench awaited me. It knew my butt well. Mine was probably the only one it had kept company with for a while now. Although my dad tended to his garden regularly, he hardly used this bench to sit on.
My mom, on the other hand, would sit on this small wooden piece of outdoor furniture when she’d need some fresh air. Looking out on the garden while catching whiffs of rosemary relaxed her. It did the same for me.
“Mom,” I whispered. “You around?”
Two mynah birds chirped away on the white fence that separated my dad’s property from his neighbor. Chatty little critters. For all I knew, they could’ve been arguing about who got dibs on the fence, or boasting about their latest car bombings.
I called out to her again.
Not always did Mom make an appearance, so normally I’d sit here for about fifteen minutes and if she didn’t come, I’d leave.
Maile never appeared here. I would’ve thought they’d be together and could visit me at the same time. But that was never the case. For some reason, Maile stayed away from the home where she grew up and where we played, as though it were off-limits to her. She appeared anywhere else but here. Weird.
As time passed, it wasn’t looking like Mom was going to come to me today. Visits with her were always a crapshoot. Wish I knew how this whole ‘other realm’ thing worked. Baffling was what it was.
Oh well, maybe next time.
As I got up to head back to the house, a cool breeze rushed by me. I hesitated for a second, and my eyes scanned the area. I held my breath.
Nope. Nothing. A sigh escaped my lips.
As I made my way back to the house, I thought about the fish tank. We needed to talk to Nolan one more time about that. This time, we had to ask him what exactly he’s caught for Tony’s collection. If he couldn’t tell us what fish was missing, maybe by process of elimination we could figure it out by knowing what fish were on the original inventory.
Yes, that’s how we’ll need to nail down the fish that had been removed from the tank.
I’ll call Pako as soon as I get home.