by Mary Marks
Aha! The prim little Hadas wasn’t that pure after all. She wouldn’t be able to complain about spending all those years alone pining for Crusher. In Ettie’s world, she was probably accurate if not downright mean when she called Hadas a nafke.
“Did you stay in touch? How did she find you?”
“She must’ve Googled me. I’m on Facebook. I have a webpage. She messaged me and we FaceTimed. Made a plan long-distance. When she got to LA, she texted me her location. I guess that was your house. The rest you know.”
“What about the second time she disappeared? Did you give her a ride from Ojai last Friday night?”
He glanced at Fanya, who said, “Just answer the lady.”
“Yeah. I went there.”
Giselle said, “How much did she pay you to keep quiet this time?”
Hauer stared at the floor in silence.
Fanya slapped the back of his head. “How much?”
“Ow.” He raised a protective hand. “She gave me another grand.”
“I’ll double that.” Giselle looked hard at him, as if she were daring him to refuse.
“Two grand?” He brightened.
Giselle nodded and reached for an envelope on the coffee table. She extracted a wad of Benjamins and counted out twenty. Then she looked once at him and counted out another ten. “For your trouble.” She pushed the pile of thirty hundred-dollar bills across the coffee table toward him. “Now, where did you take her?”
CHAPTER 24
Hauer reached for the three thousand dollars. He straightened the pile of Benjamins and smiled as he crammed them into his bulging wallet. “I went to Ojai at midnight and drove her to a place in Oxnard by the beach. The house was maybe fifty yards from the sand. Real plush.”
I knew of the area, a place called the Silver Strand, where the houses went for seven figures. “There are no hotels around there, only privately owned homes. Did she know someone in the neighborhood?”
“Uh, Hadas doesn’t tell me her secrets, you know. But I got the feeling the place was empty because she got the front door key from a lockbox on the side of the house. She made me wait until she knew she could get inside.”
“Then what happened?”
Hauer smirked again. “It was late and I didn’t feel like driving all the way back to Hollywood. Hadas is still a babe. Know what I mean? So, I asked her if she wanted a little freebie for old time’s sake. Figured I could sleep there afterward.”
Fanya made a face and looked like she wanted to throw up. Giselle shook her head slowly.
I said, “Did she accept your offer?”
“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”
He was far away from being a gentleman, but I decided not to pursue the point. I now held plenty of ammunition against Hadas. I didn’t need more. “Give me the address where you took her.”
Hauer rattled off the street and number. “It’s the second house from the corner. Are we done, now? Can I go?”
I rose from the sofa. “You’re free to go. Out of curiosity, what are you going to tell your agent, Buster Dingle?”
“Screw him. I’m keeping all the cash. I’ll tell him I didn’t get the gig.”
“And so you know? If you contact Hadas and warn her about this little business deal of ours, I will be forced to go to your agent and tell him about the money you’ve been making on the side without giving him his ten percent. Then we’ll come after you.” I pointed to Fanya. “Understood?”
“Whatever.” Hauer stood, brushed past Fanya, and slammed the front door on his way out.
“Eww!” Giselle made a face and shivered as if she’d swallowed unsweetened cranberry juice. “What a sleazeball. I feel like I need a shower.” She rubbed her arms. “By the way, Fanya, you were terrific. Was that a Krav Maga move you used on him?”
Fanya wasn’t listening. She pulled a small packet of salt out of her pocket and began sprinkling it in the corners of the living room, repeating each time, “Hamsa, hamsa, hamsa, pu, pu, pu and three sholem aleichems.”
I suspected Fanya of being an agent in disguise because of her cool thinking and expertise in martial arts. But as I watched her exorcising demons, I decided she probably was just what she claimed to be, a superstitious wallpaper hanger who knew Krav Maga.
Aria entered the room with her hand over her mouth, shaking with silent giggles. She handed the cell phone back to Giselle, who took one look at her housekeeper and started to laugh out loud. Soon the four of us were howling.
Giselle imitated Hauer. “Eddy Ellwood was a golfer?”
More laughter.
Finally, we sobered enough to talk about our next move.
Giselle said, “I think we should drive to Oxnard before Hadas has a chance to disappear again.”
An hour and twenty minutes later we arrived at our destination, a small section of homes with quick access to the beach. Most of the well-kept houses in this community were two-story beach getaways for wealthy families. Many featured one-bedroom rentals on the ground floor. The owners’ living quarters were on the second floor, taking advantage of the ocean view.
According to Hauer, Hadas landed on one of the side streets across from the beach, second house from the corner. We found the address as Hauer described. Giselle eased her midnight-blue Jaguar onto the driveway and turned off the engine. Double garage doors took up most of the front of the house. A small porch with a red door claimed the remainder of the space. The only windows on the front of the house faced the ocean from the second floor.
We knocked on the front door and waited for a minute. When nobody answered, we knocked again. After three tries with no response, I walked back far enough to gaze at the upstairs windows. “Everything’s dark. It doesn’t look occupied.”
Fanya moved toward the side of the house. “Let’s go around to the back. There should be windows there.” She led the way with determined strides of her long legs.
A bank of windows faced the backyard. We could clearly see inside.
A blond woman in a red halter top stood looking at us for a moment, grabbed something white on a table, and opened a door. Her face was tan and leathery, testifying to a lifetime in the sun. “Hi. Can I help you?”
I stepped forward. “Hi. We’re here looking for a friend of ours. She may have arrived over the weekend. Have you seen her?”
The blonde waved a white envelope in the air. “Yes. I talked to her briefly. Nice lady. She said there might be people looking for her. Can I ask your name?”
“I’m Martha Rose.” I pointed to my sister. “This is Giselle and this is Fanya.”
“Yeah. She said you might come looking for her. Right before she left, she said if you did come by, I was to give you this letter. She gave me a hundred dollars. I figured it was pretty important.” She handed me a sealed envelope with Martha scrawled on it.
Crap! Not again. I closed my eyes and wagged my head. “When did she leave?”
“Less than an hour ago. Took her suitcase. She won’t be coming back.”
“Did you see who gave her a ride?”
“Someone in a white Prius. I think there was an Uber sticker on the window.”
“Do you own this house?”
“Heavens no. I rent the downstairs apartment full-time. The owner rents out the top as an Airbnb. I’m used to having people come and go.”
“Thanks.”
I tore open the envelope as we walked toward the Jag in the driveway. The note inside was short and not-so-sweet: Martha, Do NOT try to find me. Alexander may be following you.
“Darn!”
Giselle took the note from my hand and read it aloud. “Well, isn’t she the wily one.”
Fanya said, “She didn’t get to head a big company by being naïve.”
I sighed. “Sooner or later, she’s going to run out of resources and time.” My cell phone chimed in my purse. I pulled it out to see who was calling. “It’s Uncle Isaac. I’d better see what he wants.” I slid the icon on the screen. “Hi, Uncle Isa
ac. How are you?”
There was momentary silence on the other end and then Hilda’s voice. “Martha, this is Hilda. It’s your uncle Isaac.”
My stomach plunged and I stumbled over to the Jag and leaned against it for support. “What? What’s happened? Oh my God. Is he okay?”
“He’s in the hospital. Cedars-Sinai. He got a dizzy spell, fell, and bumped his head. I called the paramedics right away and they brought him here.”
Sour juices rose from my stomach and burned my chest. “Is he conscious? What does the doctor say?”
Giselle and Fanya looked at each other and hurried to my side.
“Yes, he’s conscious and not at all happy to be here. He didn’t want me to call you. He didn’t want to worry you. I waited until they took him to be scanned. That’s what’s happening right now. The doctor said it could be as simple as low blood pressure or as serious as a mild stroke.”
“We’re leaving right now from Oxnard. Where in the hospital are you?”
“We’re still in the emergency room. I don’t expect they’ll move him until they know what happened.”
“Okay. I’ll see you as soon as I get there.” I ended the call. Tears stung my eyes and my hands shook. Oh dear God, please let him live. Please don’t take him yet.
Giselle stretched her hands in front of her and grabbed my arms. “Whoa! What’s happened? You look white as a sheet.”
By now my whole body trembled. “It’s Uncle Isaac. Something’s happened. I’ve got to get to the hospital right away. Drop me off at your house so I can take my car.”
Giselle’s grip on my arms tightened. “You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll take you. Which hospital?”
“Cedars-Sinai. It’s rush hour. It’ll take us at least two hours to get there.”
“We’d better get going, then.”
The three of us jumped into the Jaguar, Giselle driving, me in the passenger seat, and Fanya in the back. Traffic was beginning to thicken on the freeways. I closed my eyes in frustration with each slowdown and delay. Two hours later we arrived at the hospital, followed the signs to the emergency room parking, and left the car with valet service.
Once the car stopped moving, I wasted no time running into the hospital. Giselle and Fanya caught up with me only when I stopped at the ER admission desk to ask about my uncle. “Isaac Harris. He’s here with his caregiver.”
The pleasant volunteer in a pink-and-white uniform typed something in the computer. “Are you family?”
“I’m his closest next of kin. Niece. Actually, he raised me. You can say I am more like a daughter.” I gestured toward Fanya and Giselle. “These are my sisters.”
She looked from my five feet two inches to the almost six feet tall Fanya, the straight auburn hair of Giselle, and back to my wild gray curls. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look like members of the same family.”
“Do we have to show our adoption papers?” Giselle raised her voice. “I don’t think so.”
The volunteer blanched at the unexpected outburst and looked back at the computer screen. “He’s in radiology now. Why don’t you take a seat? The doctor will speak to you as soon as they know anything.”
“Oh no,” I said. “He came in with his caregiver. If she’s allowed to stay with him, then I should be allowed as well. Point us in the right direction.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let all three of you in there. You’ll get in the way.”
“Fine. They’ll stay here, but I insist on going in.”
She exhaled loudly and nodded once toward a set of doors marked staff only. “Through those double doors. I’ll buzz you in.”
I pushed through the doors and rushed into the room beyond. People dressed in scrubs with serious faces bustled around me, moving with confidence and purpose. I searched the faces, looking desperately for Hilda.
A young African-American nurse approached me. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for my uncle, Isaac Harris, and his caregiver.” I gave her a description of the two of them.
“Oh yes. I know who you mean. I don’t think he’s come back from radiology yet, but she’s still here.” She pointed to the far end of sick bays. “Last bed.”
I thanked her and rushed to the end of the room. The green curtains of the last bay were open. Hilda was sitting in a chair, hands folded in her lap, head bowed, lips moving in silent prayer. She hadn’t heard me approach. I cleared my throat to get her attention.
“Thanks for calling me, Hilda. Even though he didn’t want you to. You did the right thing. How long has he been gone? Did anyone say when he’ll be back?”
“I’m glad you’re here. They took him for a brain scan right before I called you.” She looked at her watch. “Maybe two hours ago. They didn’t know how long it would take. Something to do with overcrowding in the ER today.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Hilda shifted her weight in the chair. “It was after lunch. He usually likes to take a little nap right after eating. Did you know he could sit in a chair and doze off at will?”
I chuckled. “I’ve always admired his ability to do that.”
“Anyway, he slept for about twenty minutes while I cleaned the lunch dishes in the kitchen. When I finished, I went into the living room to check on him. He woke up, smiled, and said he felt like going for a walk.”
“Does he normally take walks?”
“Yes. I go with him, of course. Since Isaac’s been boxing, he seems steadier on his feet and he enjoys the fresh air. He started to get out of the chair, but when he stood, he collapsed and fell unconscious to the floor.” She paused and shivered a little. “I was so scared. I immediately called 911. They were at the house within a few minutes.”
“Was he still unconscious when they arrived?”
“He came round as they hooked him to a heart monitor. And they let me ride in the back of the ambulance. Isaac was very adamant about my not calling you. But as his next of kin, you have a right to know. I called you as soon as I could. I gave them a list of his meds. I always carry one with me wherever we go. Just in case.”
How could I think this woman would take advantage of my elderly uncle? She was clearly upset and seemed to care deeply. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt. When she touched him tenderly, maybe it wasn’t about seducing him. Maybe she was merely sending a message of comfort.
“Well, I can take up the vigil now and give you a break. Giselle and Yossi’s sister, Fanya, are in the waiting room. I’m sure they’d be grateful to hear from you about what happened.”
“Thanks. I could use a break.” Hilda’s shoulders sagged and her eyes were moist. “I simply didn’t want him to come back to an empty room.”
I sat in the chair Hilda vacated and pulled out my cell phone. I sent messages to my daughter, Quincy, and to Crusher, telling them about Uncle Isaac. Then I sent a group message to Lucy, Birdie, and Jazz, advising them I might have to cancel quilty Tuesday tomorrow.
In the quiet of the sick bay, I kept thinking about all the wonderful things my uncle did for me over the years, beginning with the fact he supported three generations of women: me, my mother—his sister, and my bubbie—his mother. He stepped into the role of father and protector with a selfless determination to keep our little family together.
I’d never seen my uncle Isaac with a girlfriend. As a young girl living at home, I’d never witnessed him leaving for a date or bringing one to our home. What must his life have been like without the intimacy of a romantic relationship? How lonely he must’ve felt, for a man as sweet as Isaac. If he and Hilda developed feelings for each other, who was I to object? Wasn’t I one of the primary reasons that kept him from marriage and a family of his own?
Shortly after I sat down to wait, my uncle Isaac was wheeled back to the ER, an IV bag on a pole attached to the wheelchair. When he saw me, he sighed. “Oy. Faigela, I told Hilda not to call you.”
“She did the right thing, Uncle. Don
’t you dare scold her.”
“Where is she now?”
“I’m giving her a break. She’s in the waiting room with Giselle and Fanya.”
“How is she? You should’ve seen her go to town, faigela. She didn’t panic. Knew all the right things to do. She’s really something, that one.”
I studied his face, trying to decode the feelings behind his words. He obviously relied on Hilda. And his admiration was also plain to see. I still wondered if there was more to their relationship than competent caregiver and grateful patient.
The tech helped him out of the wheelchair and back onto the bed, being careful to maneuver around the IV line snaking from his arm to a clear plastic bag hanging on a pole.
“Ach. I’m sure this is nothing.”
“And if it is something, God forbid.” My voice began to shake.
“I’m old, nu? These things happen.” He paused. “What? Are you crying?”
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I choked back a sob. “You’d rather be alone? You’d rather think nobody cared about you?” I pulled a tissue out of a box on a shelf next to the bed, blotted my face, and blew my nose. “I could name a hundred people right now who love you.”
“Wait until the doctor tells us why I fainted. Let’s not go planning the funeral yet.”
I laughed through my tears and reached for his hand. The skin on his smooth fingers was warm to the touch. His grip was still strong. His hands used to comfort me, for as far back as I could remember, resting on my head while he recited a special blessing for me every Friday evening, holding me after I scraped my knee, brushing my hair and braiding it for school in the morning, measuring me for a winter coat, hugging me at my high school graduation.
Please God, don’t take him yet.
CHAPTER 25
I sat with my uncle Isaac for over an hour, waiting for the doctor. I summoned the nurse I first encountered and asked when we’d know the test results. Her nose and mouth were covered by a pleated blue face mask. A pair of dark, weary eyes pleaded for understanding. “I know it’s tough to wait and not know what’s happening. But honestly, we’ve been hammered today with an unusual volume of serious emergencies. I promise the doctor will come to see you as soon as she’s free.”