The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers)

by Lawrence Kelter

“I hate needles. Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” he hissed, his frustration clearly evident. He swiped her bottom with alcohol, jabbed her with the needle, and discarded it within the span of three seconds. He gestured for her to leave. “I hope you feel better,” he said in a detached voice. He walked to the door before she had time to pull up her panties, looked out into the waiting room, and called, “Next!”

  Chapter 36

  The emergency room physician pulled back the privacy curtain and prepared to heal the woman writhing in pain before him. A stethoscope was draped around his neck. He grabbed it and placed the buds into his ears as he stepped toward the bed. A nurse was in the process of starting an IV. The patient’s sheets were saturated with blood. “What have we got?”

  The nurse glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m having a hard time getting the IV started, Dr. Doshi. I can’t find a vein.”

  “What’s your name, dear?” he asked, ignoring the nurse’s issues.

  “Diamond, Diamond Sand.”

  “Where does it hurt, Diamond?”

  Diamond gripped her lower abdomen and grimaced. “Right here.”

  Doshi slipped on gloves and began to palpate her belly. “Does this—”

  “Ahhhh!” Diamond screamed. “Oh God, it hurts so bad, doctor. Make it stop. Please make it stop.” She was hysterical and cried out in desperation. “What’s wrong with me? Am I dying?”

  “You’re in good hands,” the doctor said. “Try to remain calm while I examine you.”

  The nurse looked up after successfully inserting the IV start and connected it to the IV line. “Got it.”

  The doctor listened to her heart and took her blood pressure. “How far along are you?” he asked.

  Diamond grabbed his arm and squeezed it as a sharp wave of pain tore through her. “I’m not pregnant. I have fibroids.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Your belly is very distended,” Doshi said. “How long have you had this pain?”

  “About two weeks now, but not this bad.”

  “And the bleeding?”

  “Since yesterday.”

  “I see.” He felt her stomach again, this time taking greater care to explore each quadrant. “I don’t think fibroids are causing this. Are you married, Diamond? What type of contraception do you use?”

  The severe pain made her angry. “I’m not pregnant!” she ranted. “I haven’t been with anyone since my abortion.”

  The nurse and Dr. Doshi looked at one another with concern.

  “When was that?” he asked.

  “About four months ago.”

  “I see.” He placed the stethoscope on her belly and listened carefully. “Hold your breath, please.” He looked up at the nurse after a moment. “Schedule an ultrasound. I want to get to the bottom of this.”

  Chapter 37

  It was summer and the sun was hot, mercilessly intense. The Coney Island amusement park was up and running for the season. It had seen better days, but locals who couldn’t afford the extravagance of high-dollar amusement parks like Six Flags still took advantage of the boardwalk shops and attractions. The air was filled with the buzz and bustle of ghetto life.

  Diamond took notice of the neighborhood’s din as she pushed her baby carriage down Surf Avenue, munching on Nathan’s fries and sipping Coke through a straw. She passed the electric bumper car track and wrinkled her nose from the metallic smell of ozone that hung heavy in the air when the cars collided and sparks flew. She was unconditionally happy for the first time in a great while. She had a baby son to love and had just learned about the promise of financial independence. She pictured Steven Dartmouth, the charismatic attorney who had visited her in her home, boasting of a huge malpractice settlement against the doctor who had botched her abortion and had failed to order a follow-up sonogram to make sure that her pregnancy had been thoroughly aborted. He spoke about a multimillion-dollar settlement, enough so that she’d never have to worry about money again, enough to take care of her son’s special needs.

  She was preening like a peacock when she turned the corner onto the block on which they lived. Neighbors smiled at the new mother as she passed by with her little treasure, and congratulated her on the birth of her son. She paused for a moment to toss away her trash in a corner trash container. Just then Maybelle Alexander crossed the street to see the new arrival.

  “Let me have a look at your baby. I heard you had a boy,” she said, gushing. “What’s the darling’s name?”

  “I call him Jo’Ell. I named him after my mommy and daddy.”

  “Ha. You made one name out of Joseph and Ella? That’s so sweet.” She bent over to look into the carriage.

  The baby was face down, his face smushed against the pillow.

  “Oh. He’s sound asleep, the little darling,” Maybelle said.

  “Yes. He sleeps most of the time. The doctors said it’d be that way for a while. He was a preemie, you know.”

  “He’s beautiful. You must be so proud.” She tickled his shoulder. “Coochie, coochie coo. Come on, sweetheart, move your face and give old Maybelle a smile.”

  Jo’Ell responded to her touch. He turned his head and fussed, knocking his cap off in the process.

  Maybelle stepped back and crossed herself. “Oh, sweet Jesus. The poor child—why’s he all sewed up like that?”

  “On account of the injection they gave me when I got pregnant.”

  Jo’Ell had sutures on his upper lip and in multiple spots on his skull where his fine newborn hair had been shaved away.

  “Poor little thing was born with holes all over—on his head and one little one in his heart—but he’s all stitched up now good as new. The doctors said you won’t see those scars when he grows up on account he’s so young and babies heal so good. They say he might be a little slow on account of all he’s been through, but I think they’re wrong. He’s got a good appetite and smiles all the time.”

  “I’ll say a prayer for him,” Maybelle said. “God bless all the Lord’s creations.”

  Chapter 38

  Three years later

  The Trough & Tussle stank of sweat, stale beer, and vomit. It was one of those bars that were only frequented by bottom feeders. The lights were so dim that you had to strain to see the person sitting next to you. The patrons had to sense their surroundings like denizens of the deep sea with vibration-detecting sensors running along their sides.

  Koonts Ralston was one of the regulars. He wandered out of the men’s room after smoking a joint and eliminating the nonalcoholic content of three beers. It was almost midnight, and only a few of the barstools were occupied. Like that familiar parking-lot scenario where two cars will come and box you in even if you’re the only one in the lot, Ralston squeezed in between two of the seated bottom feeders and signaled to Dre, the bartender, to hit him with his usual last-call cocktail, a boilermaker.

  “Come to daddy.” Ralston’s fingertips tingled as he reached for the glass of lager and the accompanying shot. “Oh yes, goddamn it. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Sure you can handle that, old man?” an unfamiliar voice said.

  “Say what? You looking for trouble, Sonny Jim? What’s it your beeswax anyway?”

  “Don’t go gettin’ yourself riled up, old timer. Just looking out for myself—don’t want to see you piss your pants while you’re sitting so close to me.”

  “Piss my-self? Piss my-self? Why I’ll piss on your pants before I piss my own.”

  Ralston reached into his vest pocket.

  Dre knew what he was reaching for and intervened. “Easy, Koonts. I’m sure this young man meant you no disrespect.” He turned to the younger man with a hot gaze. “Now ain’t that right?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s cool,” the stranger replied.

  “What’s your name, fella?” Dre asked.

  “I go by the name Blunt.”

  Ralston snickered.
“Blunt? What kind of name is that? Blunt like you smoking cigarette butts or something?”

  “Yeah! Just like that, old man. You got a problem with that?”

  Dre snickered. “You’re one to talk about names, Koonts.”

  Blunt hacked out an offensive laugh. “Your name is Koonts? Shouldn’t it be coot, like old fucking coot?”

  Dre grabbed Ralston by the wrist as he once again reached for his switchblade. He glared at his regular customer and then diffused the fire before it got out of hand. “What say you gentlemen shake hands and I buy you both a last round?”

  “Works for me.” Ralston turned his attention to the two glasses before him and dropped the shot glass into his beer. He opened wide and poured half the concoction down his throat.

  Dre poured Ralston another shot of whiskey and pushed it forward. He turned to Blunt. “Remind me, friend, what were you drinking?”

  “Chivas.”

  The fuck you were drinking Chivas, you lying-ass motherfucker. Dre counted slowly to ten and then poured the stranger a shot of premium whiskey. “I ain’t seen you before. You new around here?”

  Blunt drank the shot and smacked his lips. “Just got back into town. I’m looking for my woman, trying to get things back together like they wuz.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who’s your woman?” Ralston asked.

  “Sweet-faced pretty young thang calls herself Diamond, Diamond Sand. You know where she gone to? I went by her old place, but someone else living there now—her and her mama up and left.”

  “Diamond Sand?” Ralston asked. “Like diamonds just lying there on the beach? Man, you young people sure got some crazy-ass names. When I grew up they didn’t name people after things. Blunt. Diamond. Sand. Huh. I guess I should be happy my daddy didn’t name me cockroach.”

  Blunt eyed the old man with irritation. “I guess he don’t know her. What about you, Mr. Bartender, sir?”

  Dre was busily wiping out wet glasses, eager to close down for the night. “Me? No, I don’t know her. Sorry, friend.”

  “How about another free shot?” Blunt asked.

  “How about you settle your tab and you get your mooching ass out of my bar so I can go home and put my aching ass to bed?”

  Blunt pulled some wrinkled bills out of his pocket and dropped them on the counter. “That ought to cover it.”

  Dre grabbed the cash and quickly tabulated the amount of the inadequate payment. “And maybe you ought to find yourself another place to drink the next time you’re feeling thirsty.”

  Talking with his hands, Blunt gestured like a gansta. “See you later, suck-as.” He bopped to the door, pulled it open, and vanished.

  Ralston delighted in dropping the second shot into his remaining beer. He smiled and then chugged it down. “Hell yes. That’s what I’m talking about. Yes, sir,” he cheered, repeating his favorite expression. He scratched his nappy white hair and then pulled some cash out of his back pocket. “Here you go, my man, keep the change.”

  “Two bucks on a twenty-eight-dollar tab. Koontsie, you charitable old shit, you embody the very spirit of Christian charity.” He put a bottle of whiskey away on a tall shelf. “You look happy all of a sudden. You going home to dip the wick or something?”

  “No. I’m just happy, that’s all.”

  “What made a crotchety old drunk like you so happy?”

  “Damn, Deandre, you in a bar all day—you never read the paper?”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “I puh-layed that Blunt motherfucker. I know all about Diamond Sand and her ogly-faced baby. Son of a bitch come in here talking all kinds of shit about me, and how he’s gonna hook up with his woman. Why that bullshit brother done knocked her up and skipped town. If he knew the first thing about that woman, he’d a known that he got her pregnant, her abortion got fucked up, and she gave birth to some kind of monster baby—born with holes in his head and whatnot.”

  “Why you playing God, Koonts? Maybe he wants to go back and take care of the mess he made. Why didn’t you tell him what you knew?”

  “My ass. I wouldn’t tell that jive-ass junkie nothin’. That girl got some Harvard lawyer to sue the abortion doctor, and she got millions of dollars out of that quack. Lives in a fine home with her mama and the baby now. If that Blunt piece of shit ever finds that poor girl, he’ll only suck her dry. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on. I hope that bastard drops dead.”

  Chapter 39

  The house that Diamond had purchased for her and her family was modest; a three-bedroom Cape Cod in fixer-upper condition with termites and a damp basement, but it was hers outright without a mortgage. She had performed many of the repairs herself, doing whatever she could on her own instead of spending extra money on repairmen. She had painted every room white and found furnishings at a secondhand shop. It had that well-worn look, like a poor neighborhood church that accepted any donations it could get its hands on.

  Diamond tore an old towel in half, wrapped a strip around each knee, and plopped down on the kitchen floor next to her mother.

  “Jo’Ell down for his nap, honey?” her mother asked.

  “Thank the Lord, yes,” Diamond said with relief. She reached into the bucket and grabbed a large soapy sponge. “Look at this mess.” She shook her head with dismay. “Almost three years old and he’s still putting more food on the floor than in his mouth. Sally’s little boy, Luther, is a full year younger, and he helps his mama clear the table.”

  “You know you can’t expect that from your son. You know he can’t help himself.”

  “I know,” Diamond said, holding back tears. “It’s just …”

  “I know, child, but that’s the way the doctors said it would be.”

  “The doctors said a whole lot about the way it would be, but they weren’t even close.” She found a dried orange blob and had to use lots of elbow grease and a single-edge razor blade to scrape it off the floor. “Dried sweet potatoes are the worst.” She felt her mother’s hand on her arm and looked up.

  “Stand up!” she said forcefully.

  There were tears in her eyes. “Mama, I just want to get this done.”

  “I’ll finish,” she insisted. “Go outside and get some fresh air.”

  Diamond wiped away tears with her bare arm. “I’ll be all right—just feeling sorry for myself is all.”

  “Give me that sponge,” her mother demanded.

  “I said no. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  Her mother grabbed the sponge out of her hand. “Go get some fresh air like I said. You think I want to be down on my hands and knees scrubbing linoleum with my sad-sack daughter. Do us both a favor and haul your complaining ass out of here.”

  Diamond dropped the sponge and sat down on the floor with her back against the kitchen cabinets. She buried her face in her hands and continued to sob. “I’m so worried about him, Mama. Is he ever gonna be all right in the head?”

  Her mother stood and chucked her sponge into the bucket. “Stand up, girl.” She took her daughter’s hands and helped her to her feet. “He’ll be fine. That’s what all the money’s for, ain’t it? We’ll get him the best teachers and doctors and whatever he needs. So he ain’t growing up as quick as some of the other kids—how many of them is gonna be millionaires?”

  “I’d give back all the money in two seconds if it would just make him right.”

  “I know you would, darling but …” They were in each other’s arms, sharing badly needed strength with each other. “The good Lord will take care of him, Diamond.” She reached into the pocket of her housecoat and withdrew a strand of rosary beads. “I speak to the Lord all the time, and I know he’s been listening to my prayers. You’ll see, we’ll find a smart doctor, one who will make Jo’Ell right as rain.”

  “What kind of life is he going to have, Mama? I worry about him so much.”

  “Better than some, worse than many,” she said with defiance. “Now I don’t want to hear one more word of pity come out of your mouth. Put on
some clean clothes and take a walk down to the avenue. You still got some money left over from the settlement. Buy yourself something nice.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No buts. Go put some makeup on and show yourself off. I’ll watch after the little one for a few hours. What you need is a good man in your life,” she huffed. “Between a problem child and a crotchety, broken down old mama …” She sighed. “No wonder you’re such a steaming hot mess.”

  Chapter 40

  Diamond looked inside her plastic shopping bag to make sure the checkout clerk had folded the blouse neatly and that it wouldn’t wrinkle. She was very excited about her purchase, a white chiffon blouse that she could wear to church. It wasn’t expensive but it looked elegant, and she was eager to wear it on Sunday morning.

  “Damn, girl, you be lookin’ fine.”

  Goose bumps rose on the back of her neck. His voice had haunted her for years, yet she never expected to hear it again. Diamond hadn’t seen him in over three years, but his voice resonated with her instantly. Blunt? The idea of seeing him again after all this time immediately presented her with conflicts. She’d thought about what she’d do if he ever came back, addressed the possibilities, and made the tough choices all in advance. She was prepared for him and ready to shut him down cold until she lifted her head and saw his beaming smile. She tried to summon the strength to be cold. “What do you want?” Her voice was stoic and devoid of any friendliness.

  Her somber greeting did nothing to stifle his enthusiasm. He greeted her like a happy puppy, playfully, and unaware that soiling the rug was in any way inappropriate. “That the way you greet an old friend? Damn, you be cold, girl. I’ve been missing the hell out of you, Diamond. How you been?

  How have I been? Does he even know that he fathered a son? Could he be that clueless? It was one of the scenarios she’d wondered about. Did he think that they had merely hooked up and that there was nothing beyond the afternoon of casual sex they had shared? Could he be that naïve? She studied his face and admitted to herself that he looked completely innocent. “Where have you been the last three and a half years? It never crossed your mind to call me?”