The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “He killed Bev? Who?” Joe continued. “Henry or Jess?”

  “Henry.” Richie nodded. “Henry killed Bev. That . . . that bastard.” Richie twitched his head.

  Frank stood up from his lean against the desk. “Henry killed Bev?”

  “Henry killed Bev,” Richie repeated.

  “How do you know?” Frank questioned.

  “He said,” Richie answered.

  “Who said?” Frank asked.

  “Henry.” Richie nodded then twitched. “Henry said. I killed Bev. Not me. Henry. Henry said. I killed Bev. Jess. Jess said. Henry killed Bev. Killed Bev. Henry hates Bev. She knows . . . she knows things. Henry likes men like Jess likes men. They like men. Bev knows. Knew. Henry hates, hates her.” Richie made a face of disgust. “Henry killed Bev.”

  Joe interceded. “Richie, did you hear them say this?”

  “Yep. Yep,” Richie spoke fast. “Right in front of me. Talked. Oh, boy did they talk. Then I screamed . . .” Richie shrieked out. “Henry killed Bev!” He dropped his voice. “And Jess. He said. Please don’t say . . . say anything. Don’t say that. O.K.” Richie covered his mouth.

  “I see.” Joe slowly stood up from his desk. “Frank, can I see you outside for a moment.”

  “Yeah.” Frank nodded and walked to the door.

  “Grace?” Joe looked at her. “Do you mind if I leave you with Richie.”

  “No, not at all.” Grace smiled. She watched Joe and Frank leave then she looked at Richie who stared. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” Richie patted his hair down.

  “You seem like a very charming man.”

  “Thanks.” Richie gave a bashful look. “And . . .and gosh. You’re . . . you’re pretty.”

  Grace smiled and tucked her short hair behind her ear. “So, I hear you Ellen’s brother?”

  “Yeah. She hates me. I owe her money. Yeah. Three thousand, six hundred yeah. Plus penalties and interest. Yeah.”

  With a nod, Grace smiled, said, “I see,” and looked back down to her notes.

  After a breath and a look to his closed office door, Joe faced Frank. “What do you think?”

  “What do I think?” Frank laughed. “I think Richie’s got a distorted view on everything. I think he hears things and exaggerates them.”

  “Exactly,” Joe said. “So knowing this, and knowing we’d have to decipher the truth, there’s one very important thing we are missing here. Do you know what it is?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Think about it. People talk in front of Richie.”

  “That’s because they think he’s an idiot.”

  “But he’s not,” Joe corrected. “He can hear. He can process thoughts, understands, but as Dean said, he just can’t project them correctly.”

  “People don’t know that though. They just think he’s mental.” Frank saw his father smile. “What? What am I missing?”

  “The boat, Frank. If people think Richie can’t comprehend, let them. They’ll still talk. If people talk in front of him, who knows what they’ll say? I think it’s time to put Richie in general population during the day.”

  “And do what?”

  “Who knows? Resident janitor.” Joe shrugged. “He can be our ears. Our distorted ears, but our ears none-the-less.”

  “Do you think that is smart? I mean, he really isn’t all there.”

  “Neither are you, Frank, but we let you run around.”

  “True.” Frank bobbed his head. “All right. Let’s do it.”

  “Good.” Joe reached for the door. “What do we have to lose?”

  Frank softly chuckled to himself after his father walked in the office. “What do we have to lose?” His father asked. Frank knew if Richie Martin inadvertently found out the truth behind Bev’s murder, the answer to that question would be . . . a lot.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When Dean nodded that one time, his eyes looked to Ellen as if they said, ‘El, I completely understand’. Then he stared. “O.K.” He held his hand out to her. “Hear me out.”

  “All right.” Sitting on the edge of her bed, Ellen looked up.

  “Do you think that was a wise decision?”

  “What!” Ellen nearly shrieked it out and stood.

  “No, El.” Dean took hold of her arm and pulled her back. “Listen to me.”

  “You said all you had to say.”

  “Not entirely.”

  “Dean.” Ellen had an almost laugh to her. “Before you speak, look at your position. You are my husband.”

  “And . . . I am a doctor.”

  “So what?”

  “No, El. Not ‘so what’. The doctor in me is questioning the doctor in you on this one.”

  “This is ridiculous. My husband, the doctor, is questioning, his wife, the doctor, on why she ended a budding relationship with Elliott Ryder.”

  “I wouldn’t be questioning you, El, I couldn’t care less, if . . .if the man wasn’t so ill.”

  “So you think I should stay with him out of pity.”

  “No.” Dean lifted a finger. “If I pleaded that argument, it would be the human side. I am going on the medical side here, El. At this point in his health, at this point in his treatment, do you think it is wise to be dragging him down?”

  “As if . . .” Ellen shrugged. “As if my breaking it off will affect him.’

  “Yes.”

  “No.” Ellen tried to make her escape again.

  “El,” Dean charged to in front of her. “You don’t think? A person’s mental state is so vital to their healing state. You know that. You do. This is the first case of cancer we are dealing with. These treatments can work, if not on Elliott then on the next person. But . . . but, we cannot judge the success or failure of them fairly if Elliott gets depressed. If he gets depressed, you know as well as I do it will affect his treatment.”

  “And Dean I wholeheartedly agree. A good mental state is vital to positive therapy.”

  “Good,” Dean said. “Then you see my point.”

  “I never said I didn’t see your point on that issue, but if you’re applying it to Elliott’s case, you’re wrong. Elliott’s mental state will not be affected.” She started to walk again.

  “Why even take a chance? How can you be so sure?’

  “Because Elliott couldn’t care less.” Ellen stopped cold and faced him. “When I said I wasn’t going to be his doctor, he gave argument. When I said I was breaking it off between us, he said nothing. Nothing. Not a word, not an argument. Nothing.”

  “What?” Dean laughed. “Did you expect the man to beg you? That is not his style.”

  “No, but what would have been so wrong with him just saying he didn’t want it to happen. Nothing. Why? Because it didn’t matter. If he had a woman, so be it. If not, so be it as well.”

  “You’re wrong,” Dean argued.

  “See!” Ellen grabbed her head in confusion. “Why . . . why are you defending him?”

  “Because I don’t want him to die!”

  “Don’t.” Ellen stepped to him, her voice graveling. “Don’t you dare put his life on my shoulders. Don’t. His dying or living should not be contingent on whether or not I am his girlfriend.”

  “No, you’re right.” Dean softened his voice. “I’m sorry. That was wrong.” He looked into the eyes that with rage locked into his. “I just thought you didn’t want him to die either.”

  “I don’t. I care about him.”

  “Then stick by him.”

  “No, Dean. No.” Ellen shook her head. “I can’t. I care too much. I don’t want to get hurt. Trust me. I know Elliott. I know him much better than you or anyone else. This will not affect him. He will not let it. He is a fighter and he wants to fight for his life. Whether I am in it emotionally or not, Elliott Ryder will still fight. Trust me.” She dropped her voice. “This won’t have a bearing on his health at all. He won’t let it.”

  “Maybe consciously, but what about subconsciously?” Dean asked.

&n
bsp; Ellen walked away.

  ^^^^

  New Bowman, Montana

  Hal pretty much replayed Dean’s doctor words of advice when he met him at the clinic to drive Elliott home. Dean basically told Hal the treatments could make Elliott tired and ill and just to let him rest. Hal did. He figured since Elliot was quiet most of the ride back to New Bowman, the effects of the treatments were hitting him. When Hal dropped his friend off at his home, he figured Elliott was doing just what the doctor ordered. Getting rest.

  But there was another thing Dean prescribed, nourishment. Though Elliott didn’t need to stop by the Mess Hall to eat, Hal figured it was easier for him than preparing his own meals. But Elliott didn’t stop by, nor did he come to the Mess for the late night snacks that the Mess crew always set out for the men.

  No one had seen or heard a word from Sgt. Elliott Ryder and that bred concern.

  Making something hot, easy, yet filling, Hal brought with him to Elliott’s house the newest food rage, Oodles of Danoodles.

  His voice was raspy and thick when he spoke as he answered the door. “Captain. Hey. Come in.”

  “Elliott.” Hal walked inside. “You look like shit.”

  “Thanks.” Elliott scratched his head then tried to straighten his hair. “I’ve been sleeping. A lot.”

  “Doctor’s orders. Were you sleeping now?”

  “No, actually I was making tea.”

  “I’ll get that. You . . .” Hal walked over to the coffee table and set down the bowl. “I would like you to eat.”

  “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Did you eat?” Hal asked.

  “No.”

  “Then you are hungry. Sit.” He moved to the kitchen. “They are the newest food. Excellent. I love them. Oodles of Danoodles.”

  Mouthing with a snicker the name, ‘Oodles of Danoodles’, Elliott sat before the covered dish. He lifted the lid and the steam pelted his stuffed nose. The scent of spices actually penetrated.

  “Fork. Tea.” Hal set them both down and sat in the chair.

  Elliott plunged his fork into the bowl and lifted the long noodles. “They look like Ramen Noodles.”

  “They are, only the Danny Hoi version. How are you feeling?”

  “Sick like I have the flu. I’ve been . . .” Elliott coughed. “Doing that a lot.” He coughed again.

  “Did Dean say that was normal.”

  “Yes, he said my defenses are down. But he did say he was confident I would probably feel no side effects at all after my last treatment Monday.” Elliott took a bite. “These are good.”

  “I told you. That is good news about Monday. Ellen is in town. You wouldn’t want to feel ill for your evening together.”

  Elliott set down his fork.

  “What’s wrong?” Hal asked. “She is coming Monday isn’t she? I mean she works Clinic here Mondays and Wednesdays. The women will have a fit if she . . .”

  “She’s coming. I guess.”

  “Oh.” Hal nodded. “Then what’s wrong?”

  “She won’t be staying here.”

  “Is she bringing the children?”

  “I don’t know.” Elliott shrugged.

  “Then why isn’t she staying here?”

  “Ellen and I . . . Ellen and I are no more. She ended it today.”

  Hal stared for a moment. “I see. I can’t say that I blame her.”

  “Captain.”

  “No, Elliott. You want me to side with you, I won’t. I told you that you should not have shut her out like that. I told you that. In this world, when you have someone, you don’t make vital mistakes like that. I’ll talk to her.”

  “No.” Elliott shook his head. “Let it go.”

  “Let it go? Why? Are you planning to wait a little bit and then see if she changes her mind?”

  “No. I plan on letting it go.” Elliott stood up and paced his nervous energy.

  “Elliott.” Hal stood. “You don’t want that. You love her.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You don’t have to. I know you. I’ve watched you. Why would you want to let it go?”

  Elliott shook his head. “I don’t want to let it go. I just am.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Because she is a woman. There are very, very few of them. I had a chance. I blew it. It’s not right for me to ask for another chance when she has made her choice. I can’t ask her to change her mind.”

  “Yes, you can. She’s a woman. They do it all the time.”

  Elliott bred his first smile of the night. “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome for that.” Hal said. “Now, sit down and eat you Oodles of Danoodles, before they get cold. We’ll work this out for you. We will and you can start feeling better.”

  “But I’m sick because of the illness and treatments.”

  “Nonsense.” Hal walked to the couch with Elliott. “You’re depressed. That’s why you feel so badly today.”

  “Really?” Elliott asked. “Do you think it’s depression and not sickness?”

  “By all means I think it’s depression.” Hal laid his hand on Elliott’s back. It was hot. The temperature of his friend’s skin seeped through the clothing. Hal slid his hand from Elliott and rolled his fingers into a fist. Behind Elliott’s back he closed his eyes. “No, my friend.” Hal spoke softly as Elliott sat down. “It’s not the illness at all.”

  ^^^^

  Beginnings, Montana

  “Laid,” Frank whispered, back leaning against the bar in the Social Hall.

  “Companionship,” Johnny whispered back.

  “Laid.”

  “Companionship.”

  “Enough,” Joe said with a slam of his empty glass. “Whatever the reason . . .” He pointed to Jason and Grace in an intimated slow dance on the dance floor. Robbie, alone on stage, sang and played acoustic guitar. “It’s none of your business.” He reached over the bar and placed his glass in the sink. “This place is dead for a Saturday. Whoever leaves last, clean up.” He walked by Frank and Johnny.

  “Dad,” Frank called to him. “Doesn’t she have a home in New Bowman? The Dan-Tram stopped running hours ago.”

  “Yeah, Frank it did. And yeah, Frank she does. But tonight.” Joe looked at the couple. “She has a home with Jason.” Giving a chuckle to Frank’s audible cringe of disgust, Joe walked from the Social Hall.

  “Man.” Frank shook his head then clapped when Robbie finished the song.

  Johnny poured a drink. “I think they’re ready to go now. Look.” He pointed.

  “I can’t.” Frank turned his head. “I just . . .” He stopped. Johnny was pointing with the hand that held a drink right in Frank’s face and Frank quickly turned away.

  “Dad?” Johnny asked, hiding his smile. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Frank shook his head and cringed when, arm in arm, Jason and Grace walked out. “Something is just not right about that. What pushes a man to the extremes of Judge Grace, all to get laid?”

  Johnny held up his drink to Frank. “Enough alcohol.” He down it and gasped.

  After, clearing his throat, Frank looked up to the stage. “Journey!” he called out. “Play some Journey!”

  “Frank.” Robbie packed up his acoustic guitar. “Can I go home? Everyone is gone,” he yelled across the empty Social Hall.

  “I’m here,” Frank said.

  “But I’m tired. I have a service in the morning.”

  “But, Robbie, come on, I just got done working. I want to hear you play.”

  “I’ve been playing all night,” Robbie said. “Listen, I sound like Stevie Nicks.”

  Frank laughed. “Go home.”

  “Thanks.” Robbie walked off the stage. “Besides, I have to conserve my voice for tomorrow night. It’s Andrea’s memorial service and I’m singing the Silly Song.”

  “Slow and bluesy, I hope.” Frank nodded.

  “The only way. Night, Frank.”

  “Night.” Frank lifted his w
ater glass.

  “And no drinking.” Robbie smiled then walked out.

  Johnny shook his head. “Why do they do that?”

  “What?” Frank asked.

  “Say that to you.”

  “It’s more of a joke.” Frank shrugged.

  “No, it’s not. It’s a slap in your face.”

  “John . . .”

  “No, Dad.” Johnny faced him. “Why do they care? Why do they treat you like a child over it?”

  “Really, they don’t. They just worry. I had a problem. A bad one.”

  “Yeah, but you got through it.”

  Frank shrugged as he brought his water to his lips.

  “And . . .” Johnny poured a tiny bit in his glass, setting the bottle predominantly on the bar. “How much faith does it show that they have in you?” He finished his sip of a drink. “Really. You got out of control. You got it back in control. That’s something to be proud of. But . . .” he held up his finger. “You’re tough, Dad.”

  “So is an addiction,” Frank stated.

  “You really think if you had a drink now and then, you don’t know what to watch out for? You wouldn’t know how to control it?” Johnny snickered. “You’re stronger than that. You learned in your mistakes. If you wanna have a drink, you have a drink. That’s my opinion.” He lifted his hands. “Maybe I’m wrong. Probably. But I give you more credit than anyone else. And . . .” Johnny looked at his watch. “I have to go. I have to do blood work at the Clinic in the morning. Want me to help clean up?”

  “Nah. You go on. I’m gonna wind down and throw some darts.”

  “O.K. night, Dad.” Johnny leaned over and kissed Frank on the cheek.

  “Night, John.” Frank smiled peacefully.

  With his hands in his pockets, Johnny walked from the Social Hall. Unsure of how his father would end the evening, Johnny was certain of one thing. He left his father alone in the Social Hall with that bottle.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  November 10

  ‘Odd’ was the first word that came to Jess’s mind when he came down the steps, half awake. Robbie was not only awake, but at the table working on something.