“What do you mean?” Clancy interrupted us by sticking her head around the corner. “I’m going to be working with your mother and so is Laurel. What expectations do you have? I think we have a right to know.”
On occasion, Clancy was not very diplomatic. However, I valued her straightforward approach. She was right: We needed to know what was ahead.
Laurel’s sigh could be heard from two display racks over. Her purple ballet shoes slapped their way across the floor as she came our way. Putting her hands on the hips of her skinny jeans, she said, “Let me translate. Rebekkah is telling us not to call nine-one-one if Dodie passes out or starts to feel unwell.”
“Right. Because if you do, the emergency technicians will go to any length to prolong Mom’s life, and we don’t want that.” Rebekkah shoved both fists into the pockets of her cargo pants and looked away.
“I don’t want Dodie to die.” I could barely spit out the words.
Laurel tilted her head, stared at me, and spoke very slowly. “Whether we want it to happen or not, Dodie is going to die. The cancer is taking her from us. But if the EMTs respond to an emergency call and come get her, they’ll put her on life support systems. That’s their mandate, but it will prolong her suffering. Hospitals and doctors view death as the enemy. So they might give her a blood transfusion or oxygen or whatever, none of which will be gentle or comfortable. In the end, all their invasive treatments will only slow the natural process of her death. Nothing they intend to do will buy her quality time.”
“But it could buy her more time, right?” I asked.
“But not quality time. Maybe longer in a coma. More time in and out of consciousness on high doses of morphine. Certainly more time in pain. But not time when she can function or enjoy us or live the sort of life she wants to live.”
“So, if I’m working with her and she collapses, I’m supposed to stand here? Do nothing? That’s what you want?” My voice went up a notch as panic grasped me around the throat.
“If Dodie collapses, by all means, make her comfortable. Then call Horace and Rebekkah. Call the hospice nurse. But do not call nine-one-one. Hospice and her family will work as a team to give her palliative care.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said, flicking away tears with the back of my hand.
“Palliative care aims to relieve a patient’s pain rather than try to restore her to health. You see, no one can make Dodie well, so it’s a matter of going slowly and painfully, or dying quickly with less misery,” Laurel explained.
I put my hands on my hips. “How do you know all this?”
“Because I’ve watched a loved one die of cancer. In my humble opinion, given their limited options, the Goldfaders have made very good decisions. I suggest we respect their wishes.”
twenty-three
I’d had enough of Laurel. Reached my limit. And the expression on my face must have telegraphed my feelings because when Clancy offered to drive me home. I didn’t care that Laurel had been planning to give me a ride. I’d had it with her. What a know-it-all! First she lectured me on my attitude and then she spouted off about how we couldn’t help Dodie.
Clancy watched me as I opened the door of her meticulously clean silver Avalon and helped Gracie climb onto the back seat. “Laurel’s right, you know.”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t tell Clancy how Laurel had scolded me for whining.
I climbed into the passenger seat. As if to comfort me, the big dog settled her rump on the back seat and rested her muzzle on top of my shoulder. “Does Margit know all this? About Dodie?”
“It’s on my ‘to do’ list to call her this evening. Today she’s with her mother. It’s her mother’s ninety-fifth birthday.”
If my mom lived that long, I’d celebrate by poking myself in the eye with a fork. Putting up with her for another twenty years would be the death of me. During the day, I’d checked my cell phone and found three messages from her complaining about how I’d mistreated her at HER party. She also suggested that I was keeping Amanda busy so my sister wasn’t around, and gee, didn’t I realize how lonely Mom was there in that big house of Sheila’s all by herself ? How could I?
Very easily.
My cell phone rang. I nearly didn’t answer, thinking it was my mother frustrated by my silence. But at the last minute decided that with two people I cared about in the hospital, one on his way to jail, and another with one foot in the grave, maybe I should pick up.
“I have a phone number for you,” said Laurel before I could say, “Hi.” She rattled off a number and added, “I’m going to send it to you via text, so you don’t have to scramble for a pencil.”
“And I should call this number why?” I sounded petty because I felt that way.
She laughed. “Okay, okay. I deserve a little attitude. At least you’re acting spunky again. That’s the phone number for John Henry Schnabel. He’s the best criminal defense attorney in Illinois, and he’s agreed to take Detweiler’s case pro bono.”
My phone landed on the floor of Clancy’s car. “Oh, gosh, oh, I’m sorry. I dropped my phone. You there? Laurel?”
“Yes,” she chuckled. “I’m here.”
“How? Why? I mean, thank you, but …”
“Like I said, I’ve been through stuff. We’ll discuss that later. Schnabel has never lost a case when the client is innocent. He’s on his way to the Sangamon County jail right now, but he’s expecting your call. He needs the phone number for Detweiler’s parents because if they’ve already engaged counsel, he might need to back off.”
“Th-thank you.”
“You are welcome. Now call him so he can get to work.”
“I assume you need something to write on.” Clancy had overheard. She pointed to her glove compartment. “Pen, pencil, notepad are all there.”
Thelma answered on the first ring.
“It’s Kiki—”
“I’m sorry, hon, but I don’t have time to talk, we’re on our way—”
“Wait! Listen! I have the name and phone number of a criminal attorney who’ll handle your son’s defense pro bono. It’s John Henry Schnabel and he’s on his way to meet you at the Sangamon County jail.”
There was a long silence.
“Did you say John Henry Schnabel? How on earth did you get him to take this case? We don’t have that kind of money, Kiki!”
“It’s pro bono.”
“How on earth … ? Never mind! What’s his number?”
She stuttered her thanks and promised to call me with any news. Then I filled Clancy in on what had transpired.
“While you and Laurel were out walking Gracie, I called Amanda. She will pick up Anya from CALA, feed her, and drop her off later. I’m planning to come in with you and see that you get that cup of chamomile tea.” With a flourish, she reached into her purse and waved a plastic baggy filled with teabags.
“Let me guess. Laurel gave you those.”
“Wonder Woman strikes again.”
“I bet she owns one of those costumes with the red bustier and blue trunks. How does she do it? Laurel’s like my life coach, my personal mentor, and my personal assistant all in one. Geez, I always thought she was competent. Never seen her botch anything. Watched her smooth the ruffled feathers of the most disgruntled customers. But I didn’t suspect she could work miracles. Yet she has.”
“How much do you know about Laurel?” Clancy raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.
“Uh, Mert recommended her.”
“Ever noticed how much alike they look?”
I rolled my eyes. “Piffle. You need new glasses.”
“Think about it. Has she ever talked about her personal life?”
“No.”
“Ever invited us to her home?”
“No.”
“Have we ever met anyone she’s dating or any member of her
family or any friends?”
“No, no, and no. What are you driving at?”
Clancy shrugged. “I’m not sure what I’m driving at. She’s an enigma. I always thought that maybe you knew her better than I did. Or that Dodie did. Or that she was a friend of Rebekkah’s. But she’s not. She’s like this elusive shadow. An invisible-visible playmate who works with us and then—poof !—she disappears.”
A fly landed on Clancy’s windshield. It marched over, around, up and down. She hit the wipers and brushed it away. I knew almost as much about Laurel as I did about that fly.
No, that’s not true.
“Here’s what I know about Laurel: Whenever we’ve needed her, she’s been there. She’s always been a trooper. Always been upbeat and positive and helpful. If she has a past she’s running from, frankly, I don’t care. Sure, she ticked me off. But maybe she said what I needed to hear.”
“I missed something.” Clancy turned over her palms to indicate she was lost.
I filled her in on Laurel’s lecture about whining.
“She’s right, you know. You’ve been a great friend to me, and I think the world of you, Kiki, but you do have a tendency to whine a lot.”
“Nothing like kicking me when I’m down.”
“See what I mean?”
twenty-four
Chamomile tea tastes like grass clippings. Under Clancy’s stern gaze, I drank two cups, but it wasn’t the high point of my day. Sitting on my sofa, with my dog at my feet and our two cats curled next to me, I could almost pretend that all was right with my world. Almost.
“I can’t stop thinking about Detweiler,” I told Clancy.
“Then you need a distraction. I heard everything Rebekkah told you about that girl who upset Dodie. What are you planning to do?” Clancy came over to the sofa and picked up Seymour, Anya’s gray tabby. She returned to her chair and stroked his head as he pressed his little pink nose into her hand.
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
“Take a guess. You’re pretty good at solving puzzles.”
I thought a minute. “I think I’ll go over to CALA and ask Ruth Glazer in the alumni office what she knows about those kids.”
“They went to CALA?”
“Yes.”
“How did Dodie and Horace afford the tuition? I never got the impression they were terribly well-heeled.”
“At the start of seventh grade, students all over town take the ISEE, the Independent School Entrance Exam. To keep academic standards high, CALA accepts students who score well. See, they can’t control the quality of the legacies, because whether those kids are smart or not, they’re guaranteed a spot, so adding high-scoring ISEE students to the mix keeps CALA’s overall SAT scores above average.”
“Let me guess. They also offer scholarship or tuition help to these imported brainiacs.”
“You got it. Nathan and Rebekkah both attended CALA. That’s how Dodie and Sheila knew each other. That and they attended the same temple. Sheila changed temples after Harry died. She’d never liked the rabbi at their old house of worship, and how he conducted the funeral service didn’t sit well with her.”
“What do you expect Mrs. Glazer to tell you?”
“Beats me. It’s possible there were rumors after Nathan died. Stories about what really happened.”
“That’s assuming something really did happen other than the official version. Cherise Landon could have felt guilty because she didn’t stop Nathan from jumping off the cliff. Or because she invited him to the party, if she did. Kids are great observers but poor interpreters. What she thinks, how she feels about Nathan’s death, might have very little to do with the actual circumstances.”
Clancy understood the dynamics at play better than I, because she’d once taught high school. As she scratched under Seymour’s throat, his rich purr filled the room. Seymour could sound like a cello soloist when he was happy.
“Here’s another idea,” Clancy said. “Why not track down the students who were there, one by one, and tell them that Dodie is not doing well? That you’d like to make an album for her. So you need to collect any memories they have of Nathan.”
“What if they are scattered all over the country? I doubt they’d respond well to a strange woman calling them.”
“What if Rebekkah asks them? If she goes on Facebook and asks them?” suggested Clancy. “The kids love Facebook.”
“You think they’d be forthcoming?”
She shrugged. “What did they teach you in journalism class about asking tough questions?”
“I didn’t get that far in college. However, I’m a big fan of Piers Morgan. Did you see his interview with Robert Blake? Or with Mike Tyson? Wow.”
“How does he do it? The tough questions?”
I thought a minute. “He starts with easy questions. Then he usually couches the tough ones in ‘Can you see why some people might … ?’ so he isn’t the bad guy. It’s usually pretty effective. When the guest turns on him—and I’ve seen a couple turn on him, like that woman who had a baby by John Edwards, that presidential hopeful—he stays cool. ‘Then set the record straight,’ he’ll say.”
“Could you do that?”
“I don’t know. I wish Sheila was out of the hospital. She knows all these old CALA families. Wait!” I sat up straight. “Hand me my phone.”
twenty-five
Jennifer listened to my question and said, “Sorry. I can’t help you. I didn’t really get involved with CALA until Stevie started school there. But since you called, how are you feeling? Any word on Brenda? Is she still out there? Posing a threat?”
“No. Just dead silence on her part.” I groaned inwardly at my pun.
“I’ve been listening to the radio all day,” Jennifer said. “The news media in Illinois are saying that a woman’s body has been found and that the identity is being held pending notification of the family. Could it be her?”
“Could be. Who knows?” I hurried to change the subject. “How’s Nicci?”
“More and more withdrawn. I hope this is the response to her breaking up with her boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” News to me.
“More like a crush than a real boyfriend. She and he text-messaged each other. Met at the mall. He would join her and Anya at movie theatres with other kids. Remember when a whole tribe of them went a couple of weeks ago?”
Yes, I did.
“I guess this boy, Reston, and Nicci would sit by themselves away from the others. To her, that was real love. But things changed. Stevie tells me the kid is being a real creep to Nicci online. Teasing her. Making fun of her. Sharing personal info that’s inappropriate. That’s how kids are, right?”
“Wow. I am so sorry.” This was almost a standard refrain from me. In fact, I said these exact words, with exactly the same intonation, so often that I should probably trademark them. Or print them on a sign and flash them at folks.
She sighed. “Makes me long for the good old days when we walked ten miles to school in the midst of blizzards. Well, I didn’t. Our housekeeper drove me, but you probably did. Seriously. Back then, a guy would dump you and tell your friends, but pretty soon, people moved on. Now, whatever he says that’s cruel, it’s there for others to read for years to come on the Internet.”
“What do you intend to do?”
She hesitated. “Would I be overreacting if I sicced my IT guy on this little creep? To report this little jerk to Facebook and Twitter and whatever so he’s banned. I could ask our IT department to erase all negative comments about my daughter.”
Jennifer was the CEO of a large company that manufactured and sold sports memorabilia.
“Are you asking my personal opinion? Because I’m living in scorched earth mode these days. If you have the resources to nail his scrawny backside to the wall, go for it. Better yet, tell him you know a gunslinger and
that once she’s killed, she’s hungry for her next victim. Go ahead! Teach the twerp a lesson.”
She laughed and we said our goodbyes.
My fingers itched to call Detweiler’s parents again, but I figured they had enough on their plate without talking to me. After all, Thelma had promised me she would call.
Clancy had gotten up during my conversation with Jennifer. I walked into my kitchen and found her scrubbing Gracie’s water bowl. Her neat-nik tendencies make her restless when she visits, so we’ve agreed she’s welcome to clean anything she wants whenever she’s here. Oddly enough, that seems to make her happy.
Works for me!
She turned and asked, “Could Robbie Holmes get you a copy of the police report? The one with statements taken the night Nathan died?”
“Maybe. Robbie has been on the force for thirty years. He might also remember what was said that didn’t make it into the report. Even if he won’t share it, he could find it and answer a few questions for me. That is, if he has any time. Running back and forth from here to the hospital in Illinois has to be a big pain in the backside. But Sheila’s supposed to be home soon. That should help.”
“And she’ll give your mother and sister the boot.”
I had considered this. “Until Amanda finds a place to rent, it’s possible that Sheila might want them to stick around. Linnea, Sheila’s maid, won’t be able to babysit Sheila around-the-clock. I don’t know how debilitating a broken collarbone is—”
“I can tell you. I tripped over a student’s backpack when I was teaching and broke mine. The doctor told me it’s the most commonly broken bone in the human body. Unless you have a compound fracture where the bone pierces the skin or a comminuted fracture where the bone is broken into several pieces, surgery isn’t necessary but complete immobilization is. Sheila shouldn’t be walking around, reaching for things, or doing any strenuous activity. Having your mother and sister at the house would be helpful, I’d think.”
“If Mom doesn’t drive Sheila nuts.”
Clancy grinned. “There’s always that.”
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