Viola Avenue

by Pamela Grandstaff

  “We don’t name the victims in rape cases, and I’ll tread delicately where Agatha’s concerned,” he said.

  “And what about Carlyle? Are you going to name him? That will send the tabloids into high gear. Rose Hill will be covered in sleazy reporters within 24 hours.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Ed said. “Your fiancé is a reporter.”

  “Not like the ones that will descend upon us if you mention Carlyle,” Claire said. “He’s a hot property right now in Hollywood gossip circles. Not to mention you’ll have Sloan’s team on my back, pressuring me to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I can’t take any more stress right now.”

  “Claire, I have to write about this. What kind of example am I setting for my students if I kowtow to special interests and squash a story? What kind of legitimate reporter does that?”

  “An unemployed professor,” Claire said. “You write this story and you’ll be fired.”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” he said. “The truth is more important.”

  “If I’d known I was on the record, I wouldn’t have told you everything,” Claire said. “Is that the kind of precedent you want to set for our relationship?”

  “You knew what I did for a living when we got involved,” he said. “It’s not just what I do, it’s who I am.”

  “Don’t mention Carlyle.”

  “Claire,” he said. “He saved your life. He’s an integral part of the story.”

  “Why will you say he was here?”

  “For Alan’s funeral.”

  “Are you going to mention that Alan was an imposter?”

  “Of course,” he said. “That’s huge news. That may be a series, depending upon what I find out. I need Carlyle’s phone number so I can interview him.”

  Claire got out of bed and began getting dressed.

  “You’re mad,” he said.

  “You have an acute grasp of the obvious.”

  “Claire, let’s talk about this some more.”

  “Why? You’re going to do what you want, irregardless of how I feel.”

  “ ‘Irregardless’ is not a word,” he said. “It’s ‘regardless’ of how I feel.”

  “You know, for someone so smart you can be really dense sometimes,” Claire said.

  “Claire,” he said.

  “Nope,” she said. “This is not going to be resolved by you correcting my grammar and telling me what a righteous journalist you are.”

  “It’s not about grammar; it’s just a word used by people who don’t know any better.”

  “Idiots like me, you mean.”

  “Claire, you know I don’t think that.”

  “Except you must, because you took the time to correct me and then explain it’s only because I don’t know any better.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I could have stated that in a better way.”

  “To soften the blow about how stupid I am, you mean.”

  “Don’t go,” Ed said. “Don’t leave mad.”

  “No, I need to get out of your way,” she said, as she opened the front door. “I wouldn’t want my ignorance and need for privacy to compromise your journalistic integrity.”

  “Claire,” he called after her. “Remember, a deal’s a deal.”

  Claire told him what he could do with his deal, and then turned and walked the twenty steps to her parent’s house.

  It wasn’t the most cinematic exit, but it was dramatic.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Claire received a call from Carlyle in the early hours of the next morning. He was calling from a new phone to tell her the real Alan Richmond was alive and well, and living in Cornwall. He was completely unaware that someone was impersonating him, and seemed amazingly unconcerned.

  “What are you going to do now?” Claire asked.

  “Look for a job,” Carlyle said. “I’ll have to channel my sorrows into my work.”

  Claire warned him the entertainment media might be back on his trail at any moment, wished him well, and went right back to sleep.

  First thing in the morning, Claire called to check on her father. The charge nurse said he was fine, and that Dr. Nell said it was okay for Claire and her mother to visit that afternoon.

  Claire then called to check on Agatha. Her roommate said she was taking her home as soon as she received her discharge orders. There was no concussion and she did not require stitches.

  Claire called the station and Scott informed her that the college was handling the “incident” and had not called in the city or county to intervene.

  “Just say the word and we’ll press formal charges,” he said. “They can’t stop me from arresting her then.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Claire said.

  Claire checked The Sentinel’s web site and saw the Eldridge story was the headline. She read through it, and wasn’t exactly appalled. The story about the incident at the college party was brief, folded into the bigger story about the Eldridge practice of covering up incidents that didn’t flatter the college.

  Ed was gracious about Agatha, said she had intervened trying to save Claire’s life and was injured in that attempt, but not how. He stated that an anonymous source provided all this information but he named Claire as the victim of the attack and Carlyle as a friend of the deceased’s, who had returned for Alan’s funeral and thwarted Beatrice’s assault with a deadly weapon.

  He didn’t mention Alan’s identity theft, but Claire figured that was only because he didn’t have enough evidence to back it up. He stated his contact at the college had refused to make a statement due to continuing inquiries.

  She checked the tabloids but no one had picked up the story yet.

  Claire’s anger had cooled somewhat, but she was still peeved about the whole thing. She was in no hurry to make up with Ed, or to think about what it all meant to their future. She decided to take advice from Scarlet O’Hara, instead, and worry about it tomorrow.

  Claire knew what would happen if she didn’t press charges: Beatrice would get off with a forced sabbatical in a rehab. As soon as Ed’s article hit the Internet the college would spring into defense mode, and his job was toast. She was thinking maybe she could use her decision on whether or not to press charges to keep Ed employed. She needed some time to figure out her angle, and how best to work it. She didn’t want to do anything illegal; she just wanted to help Ed if she could.

  Claire called the Eldridge HR department and was informed her services were no longer required in the drama department, which was what she expected to hear. There was no mention of her contract or a severance, but Claire knew if she pushed it they would have to pay up. She’d have to think about that and see how she felt about it in Scarlet time.

  Claire went home and informed her mother of the update on Ian. Delia was taking some time off from the bakery, so she was planning to go that afternoon to see her husband.

  “I hope I don’t make it worse for him,” Delia said.

  Claire didn’t have high hopes about it.

  She expected the worst.

  Claire decided a run might make her feel better. She was rounding the corner behind the IGA when she saw the bear. It was halfway in the largest trash bin, its rear end and back legs dangling over the side.

  Claire called Hannah.

  When Hannah arrived, Claire was still keeping an eye on the bear from a safe distance. It seemed to be stuck, and was making sad moaning noises. Hannah got out of the animal control truck and walked up to stand next to Claire.

  “Poor thing,” she said when she saw his predicament. “If I call it in, they’ll shoot him.”

  “Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Claire asked.

  “If we let him go, he’ll just come back,” Hannah said. “He’s going to get shot sooner or later.”

  “Can’t we take him to a bear preserve, or just way out in the woods?” Claire asked.

  “How are we going to get him out of there, and into here?�
� she pointed to her truck. “I don’t think he’ll fit in the largest compartment.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Claire said. “If we can get a truck with a camper top on the back, and put some really good-smelling food inside it, when he gets in there we can slam the doors shut and lock him in. Then we can take him out to the state park and let him go.”

  “This isn’t a storybook bear,” Hannah said. “If we screw up, someone could get hurt or killed.”

  “But it might work.”

  Hannah looked at Claire as if she was searching deep in her eyes for something. Claire hoped that whatever it was Hannah needed to find she would, and that it would be enough.

  Hannah nodded at Claire, her expression more sad than mad.

  “We can give it a try,” Hannah said.

  “Do you know anyone with a truck like that?” Claire asked.

  “I know a hundred people with a truck like that,” Hannah said. “Where do you think we live?”

  “So, how do we get him out of the trash bin?” Claire asked.

  “What if we tip it over?”

  “Hmmm,” Claire said. “It would have to be gently.”

  “We could put a bunch of hay bales under this end and tip it onto those.”

  “You have hay bales at your house,” Claire said. “Left over from my birthday party.”

  “I’ll call Skip to bring his truck,” Hannah said.

  “I’ll call in the reinforcements,” Claire said.

  So, it came to pass that the cousins and their significant others worked together to free the bear and take it out to the state park.

  The IGA donated five blueberry pies to use as bait.

  Skip and Frank roped off the entire area, and volunteer firefighters were helping with crowd control. Ed was standing on the roof of the IGA, taking photographs.

  Hannah had powerful sedative ammunition loaded in a gun, which she kept cocked and ready to shoot. Sam had a twenty gauge shotgun ready as backup.

  Claire and Maggie sat in the cab of Hannah’s truck and watched.

  Four volunteer firemen tipped the trash bin onto the hay bales and retreated to a safe distance. The bear backed himself out of the trash bin and shook all over to remove the garbage and hay attached to him.

  He then looked around as if to say, “What’s all the fuss about?”

  And then he huffed.

  “He’s scared,” Claire said.

  “He’s five hundred pounds of dangerous and scared,” Maggie said. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

  Hannah had made a trail of blueberry pie wedges leading to the truck, and the bear went right for it. He hesitated before getting in the truck bed. When he stood up on his hind legs and looked around, Sam put his shotgun in firing position.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Hannah said. “Give him a minute.”

  The bear, standing around six feet tall, sniffed the air and leaned forward toward the tailgate of the truck. The smell must have been too tempting, because he climbed in, and two men waiting in front of the truck hurried around, closed the tailgate and topper, and then chained them shut with a padlock. The weight of the bear rocked the truck back and forth, but he soon settled in to eat pie.

  Sam and Scott drove the truck, with Hannah and the two cousins following in the animal control truck. Deputies Skip and Frank, plus two volunteer firefighters followed in a Jeep.

  “This is so exciting!” Claire said.

  “This is crazy,” Maggie said.

  “I’m glad you’re happy,” Hannah said. “I may get fired for this.”

  “Why?” Claire asked. “You’re controlling an animal.”

  “This is definitely not protocol, and if someone wanted to, they could make things very hard for me over this,” Hannah said. “It’s a grievous waste of city and county resources, for one thing. We’re also violating several laws, I’m sure. Somebody’s probably calling the county right now, to complain about it and report me.”

  “Who would do that?” Claire asked.

  “Someone who likes to stir things up,” Hannah said. “Someone who hates my guts.”

  “Like Harlen Manne,” Maggie said.

  “Who is that?” Claire asked.

  “Oh, Lord, don’t even suggest that,” Hannah said.

  “He works for the state’s natural resources department,” Maggie said. “His nickname is ‘Mean,’ for good reason.”

  “Lucky for me he’s in Canada, fishing,” Hannah said. “I’ll get Linda to ask Congressman Black to present Sam with some award for saving the bear. He can hold a press conference, and then the state won’t touch me.”

  “Good idea,” Maggie said. “Vets are valuable right now.”

  “I hope it stays that way,” Hannah said. “If political elections hinged on how well vets were treated, the politicians might actually have to keep their promises.”

  “If you could lose your job, then why are we doing this?” Claire asked.

  Hannah smiled at Claire before returning her attention to the road.

  “Well, when one of the little bunnies wants to save a bear, then the other little bunnies help her save the bear,” Hannah said, and then pinched Claire, hard on the leg.

  “Ow!” Claire said. “What is it with this family and the pinching?”

  “That’s for anything I might have been mad about,” Hannah said. “We’re good now.”

  Claire rubbed her leg, but the tears in her eyes had nothing to do with the pinch.

  When the cousins returned from their wild bear adventure, they were covered in sticky blueberry pie filling, mud, and leaves.

  “Don’t ask,” Claire told her mother as she walked in the door. “All’s well that ends well.”

  “I heard all about it,” Delia said. “You girls are worse than Sammy.”

  “Me not worse,” Sammy said. “You worse.”

  Hannah picked up Sammy and kissed Delia on the cheek.

  “Good luck today,” Hannah told her. “Thanks for watching my kid.”

  “Me wants to see the bear,” Sammy said.

  “Ed took lots of pictures,” Hannah said. “He’ll show them to you.”

  Claire and her mother left at just past noon. They were both so nervous they didn’t talk much on the way over. Claire went through the security gate, parked the car, and checked in at the front desk. An attendant walked them back through the same five doors.

  Every time the buzzer went off, even though she expected it, Claire flinched.

  Claire and her mother held hands.

  In the common room, Claire saw the same patients she had seen on the day she left him there. The same patient was calling for help, the other one was still begging to get out of here.

  Delia squeezed Claire’s hand.

  “It’s okay,” Claire said. “It’ll be okay.”

  Ian was sitting in the lounge area watching a football game on the big screen. He was eating popcorn out of a microwave bag, and making comments about the game to a large white-haired man sitting next to him. That man looked out of it, and just nodded, not seeming to watch the game.

  When Claire came up to the group and called out to her father, he was surprised and looked pleased to see her.

  “That’s my daughter, Claire,” he told the man next to him, who just nodded.

  Claire helped her dad to stand and he hugged her.

  “It’s good to see you,” he said. “So good to see you.”

  “How’s it going?” she asked him, as she helped him walk over to a table to sit and visit.

  Claire’s mother was hanging back by the door, watching.

  “Oh, it’s going fine, just fine,” he said. “Some of these people … it’s just so sad, Claire. They’re mentally ill, you see, and not very happy about being here. The doctor asked me to help her out with some of them, and I think I have. That big guy over there, his name is Daniel. He’s brain damaged, you see, and he can’t talk very well. He was a professional football player; got hit too many tim
es in the head, they think. He loves to watch the game and I give him the color commentary. I think he likes that. The nurse said he doesn’t usually sit with the others, but stays in his room. I think I’ve helped him a little bit.”

  “That’s great, Dad,” Claire said.

  A nurse came by and greeted Ian warmly. Ian introduced Claire.

  “We love your father,” the nurse said.

  “She’s a dandy,” he said as she walked away. “Her father was a state policeman. I knew him very well.”

  “Sounds like there are some good people working here,” Claire said.

  “Oh, there are,” Ian said. “Some really good people.”

  “We have an appointment to speak to Dr. Nell here in a little bit,” Claire said.

  “You and me?” he asked.

  “Mom and me,” Claire said.

  Claire’s mother walked up to the table.

  Ian said, “Hello there,” in a pleasant voice.

  “Hello, Ian,” Delia said. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Is this a friend of yours, Claire?” Ian asked.

  “That’s Delia, Dad,” Claire said. “Your wife, my mother.”

  “Quit pulling my leg,” Ian said. “My Delia is a young woman, about thirty-five, with dark hair. She’s a beauty.”

  Claire and Delia could only stare at each other.

  “Is Delia coming to visit?” he asked. “I’d like to introduce her to the nurses and Daniel.”

  Claire was tongue-tied but her mother came to the rescue.

  “Delia had to stay home with Liam,” she said. “I’m a friend of Claire’s who offered to drive her here.”

  “Well, that was awfully nice of you,” Ian said. “Liam will probably be getting home from school soon, and then he has football practice. He’s in the pee wee league, you know.”

  “Yes,” Delia said. “I know.”

  They had the oddest conversation Claire thought she had ever heard. Ian told Delia all about his family, his job as the chief of police in Rose Hill, and his details were so accurate to that point in history that Claire felt as if she were caught in a time travel loop.