Keisha took him by the hand. “Come on. We'd better go in.”
Lula waved her right index finger at them. “That's right, Honey, keep a close eye on your man. If, by any chance, Edgar is looking for me, tell him I'll be in shortly.” She brought the cigarette to her lips, then called after them. “Oh, by the way, I've convinced Edgar to apply for a liquor license for the motel. Won't that be great?”
“Sure,” Stephon answered. “At least, it'll be convenient.”
Keisha jerked on his hand as the automatic door opened. “Poor Edgar,” she said.
“Poor Edgar, is right. She'll drink up all his profits before he knows what's happening.”
The waiting room was packed. Keisha glanced around for Fonnie. She was sitting in a chair closest to the double doors labeled “Staff Only.” Midge and Doris sat next to her. Brian and Melanie stood in a far corner, apparently oblivious to everyone else. Edgar paced, and Hank had slid down in a chair and seemed to be dozing. Jeremiah sat by himself, looking lonely and dejected.
In another corner a Latino couple clung to each other, and an older man sobbed against a young woman's shoulder. Keisha's heart went out to everyone in the room. It was a side of herself she tried hard to hide from others. She'd figured out long ago that she and Fonnie had this in common—a tender heart paired with a tough facade.
She glanced over to where Fonnie and Midge sat. Fonnie caught her eye and beckoned her over. Keisha dropped Stephon's hand. “I'm going to check on Fonnie.”
Stephon nodded, smiled over at the women. “I'll wait here for you.”
Keisha bent down and touched Midge's hand. Fonnie didn't give her a chance to say anything. “See that pink lady over there?” Fonnie motioned somewhere down an adjoining hall.
Keisha looked in that direction and noted the volunteer in a pink pinafore. “Yes. What about her?”
“See if she can get you a box of tissues. Midge has gone through all mine and is now working on a wad of toilet paper I grabbed from the bathroom. I don't know which is running worse—her eyes or her nose.”
Midge lifted blood-shot eyes, gave Keisha a wan smile, and sniffed. “I'm sorry. Fonnie's doing her best to cheer me up, but I just can't help myself. It's my fault. I should have made him see a doctor when he first got sick.”
“Nonsense,” Fonnie said. “It's not your fault.” She dropped a clump of matted material in a nearby trash can.
“I'll get some tissues.” Keisha walked over to the pink lady. On her way she passed Brian and Melanie and couldn't help overhearing some of their conversation.
“Are you sure you have to leave in the morning?” Melanie asked in a deep whisper reminiscent of an old Lauren Bacall movie.
“Yes,” Brian whispered back, “I have to leave in the morning. Duty calls.”
“But you'll call me?”
“You know I will. Often.”
Keisha slowed her steps and brushed some imaginary dirt off her sweat shirt sleeve. But the whispers became softer and she couldn't hear anything else. She glanced up, saw Fonnie glaring at her, hurried to get the box of tissues.
Fonnie snatched the box and motioned over to Jeremiah. “Why don't you and Stephon sit by Jeremiah? I hate to see him all alone like that, but I think I need to stay with Midge.”
Keisha nodded her agreement.
Fonnie reached across Midge and tapped Doris on the arm. “I wonder why Clara and Tony didn't come.” As Paul's daughter, Fonnie thought the girl should be concerned about her father's partner. “Did you see them when you left the motel?”
“They were in the lobby when we left,” Doris said. “I heard Clara tell him that it was a shame that her dad's wedding day had to end in a disaster. Then he said something about most weddings ending in disaster.”
“What an odd remark,” Fonnie said.
Doris went on. “He laughed like he was making a joke, but Clara didn't seem to think it was funny. She said they ought to go to the hospital, but he said he was going up to bed. Then he hurried toward for the elevator. When we went out the door, she was rushing down the hall after him.”
“Nothing they could do here anyway, but still....”
Fonnie's voice trailed off as she stood up to stretch. She wasn't accustomed to sitting in a straight-back chair. Her back ached, her legs were cramping, her body longed for bed. She'd made a remarkable recovery from her stroke, but she still fatigued easily. As much as she bragged about being “as good as new,” it wasn't completely true. Whenever she became over tired, she could feel the weakness returning to her left side. But she couldn't think of herself now. She sat back down and took Midge's hand again.
At that moment one side of the double doors opened. A white coat appeared. Fonnie raised her head and saw the troubled eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses. The doctor walked over to them. His eyes paused on the woman clutching a handful of damp tissues. “Mrs. Garrison?”
Midge bobbed her head a quarter of an inch to acknowledge her identity and tightened her grip on Fonnie's hand.
Fonnie knew what the doctor's next words would be.
“I'm sorry. We did all we could.”
Midge closed her eyes, started rocking back and forth on the metal chair. Doris slipped her arm around her and hugged her close.
Melanie and Edgar both seemed to notice the doctor at the same time. Edgar stopped his pacing in mid-stride and dashed across the room. Melanie strode over quickly.
“What is it?” Edgar demanded.
“We did all we could, sir, but Mr. Garrison didn't make it.”
Edgar swerved around, screwed up his face in a picture of despair. He pounded his fist against the back of a chair. “Damn! Damn it all!”
The doctor turned back to Midge but Melanie leaned forward. “Then it was a heart attack?”
“It appears it was a coronary event.”
Brian came up behind Melanie. She pivoted around, gave him a sad smile. “Poor Buzz. In the prime of his life. One never knows.”
The doctor turned back to Midge. She stared up at him. “It's hard to believe. And I thought he just had the flu.”
“As I said, it appears to have been a coronary event, but the origin of it isn't clear. He'd been sick?”
“Well, yes. That is, he kept complaining of nausea and stomach cramps and some dizziness. But today he was feeling better.”
Fonnie released Midge's hand, stood up, and motioned for the doctor to take her seat.
He sat down, touched Midge's arm. “Mrs. Garrison, as with any unexpected death when the diagnosis is in question, an autopsy is indicated.”
Midge's eyes welled up again and Fonnie shoved some more tissues at her. “Autopsy?”
“Yes. It's important we discover the exact cause of death.”
Midge shook her head. “Why? It won't bring him back.”
“It's important for our medical knowledge—and for your peace of mind.”
“Now just a minute.” Edgar motioned Doris out of her chair next to Midge and plopped down in it himself. “Buzz Garrison was my law partner and my best friend. I'm not going to let you cut on him just to satisfy your curiosity.”
Fonnie noticed the withering look the doctor gave Edgar. She tried to maneuver closer to Midge to give her emotional support and back up the need for an autopsy. She didn't get the chance.
“Edgar is right,” Midge said. “What difference does it make if it was a blocked artery or a blood clot or whatever? My Buzz is dead. All I want now is to take him home.”
The doctor stood up, brushed back his hair. Fonnie could tell he was trying to control his temper. When he spoke, his voice was low but determined. “I'm afraid it's not that simple, Mrs. Garrison. The hospital has certain guidelines for situations like this. I can't sign the death certificate without a definite diagnosis.” He paused. “I'm sure you understand.”
Midge shook her head. “No, I don't understand.” She paused. “But I guess there's nothing I can do about it.”
“I'll have someone bring ou
t the papers for you to sign.” The doctor disappeared behind the double doors.
“Blasted bureaucracy,” Edgar said. “Give me ten minutes and I can put a stop to this nonsense. Hospital guidelines, my foot. He can't force you to sign those papers.”
“Thank you, dear Edgar. But there's no need to raise such a fuss. Let them do their thing if they have to. Then we'll take Buzz home and give him the memorial service he deserves.”
“Are you sure you're all right with the autopsy?”
“Yes. It's okay.”
“Then as soon as you sign the damn permit, Lula and I are taking you back to the motel. You'll stay in our suite tonight. We have an extra bedroom.”
Fonnie tried to regain her chair next to Midge, but this time Melanie scooted into it. “Don't worry. They just have to do the autopsy to satisfy the hospital review committee. It won't take long and by tomorrow you'll be free to take your husband home for burial.”
Midge gave Melanie a questioning stare. “You mean they won't check everything?”
“This is just a small hospital. They'll only do what they have to.”
Midge sat up straighter and smiled at Melanie. “I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I was just upset. Thank you for trying to help Buzz.”
A secretary came up and asked Midge to step behind the counter. Fonnie watched as a nurse apparently explained the autopsy permit and Midge signed it. The two witnesses then also signed. When Midge came out, Edgar took her elbow and propelled her out of the waiting room.
Brian came up to Fonnie. “Do you mind if you and Jeremiah ride back with Keisha and Stephon. I'm going to take Melanie. She's pretty wrung out. We may drive up the coast a ways.”
“That'll be fine. She's had a rough night. A relaxing ride would do her good.”
The waiting room started to empty out. Keisha came up to Fonnie. “Ready to go?”
They went out the door at the same time as Hank and Doris. “What a night,” Hank said. “Wish I could turn back time. Last week Buzz and I were enjoying Florida sunshine, playing golf, sipping drinks, not a care in the world.”
Doris pursed up her lips. “I don't know about that,” she said.
Fonnie looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Buzz didn't strike me as being all that carefree. I remember mentioning to Midge that he seemed worried about something.”
“And what did Midge say about that?” Fonnie asked.
“She said I was imagining it.”
Chapter Six
Fonnie spent a fitful night. Bits of scenes and conversations from the evening before played hide-and-seek in her head. It wasn't just because a man had died unexpectedly. Fonnie was no stranger to death. She knew sudden death happened—to the young, the old, the strong, the vigorous, as well as to the sickly. However, she couldn't help but wonder if Buzz's earlier illness had anything to do with his death, and why Midge initially opposed the autopsy.
At daybreak she threw off the covers, slid into her slippers, and padded over to the window. She pulled back the drapes and gazed at the calm, glistening water. The morning beach beckoned her. Well, she had come here to walk the sands. She might as well get started. Maybe a good stroll was what she needed to still the nagging voice in her head—a voice trying to tell her something wasn't quite right.
As Fonnie started to turn around, a flash of pink appeared in her peripheral vision. She studied the slight figure as it jogged closer across the sand. It was Melanie in a pink sweat suit. Her blonde hair, tied back in a pony tail, swished back and forth like a real pony's tail swatting flies. Fonnie sighed. Oh, for the energy to be able to run again.
She made a quick trip to the bathroom, pulled on a pair of slacks, a heavy sweater, and her walking shoes. Maybe she could catch Melanie when the girl finished her run and discuss some things with her. Fonnie felt it would ease her mind to talk to someone. She knew Brian had left for home early that morning and Keisha was probably sleeping in. Fonnie had heard her come in late last night. She assumed Keisha and Stephon had either gone for a drive or had a late night chat.
Fonnie took a short walk on the beach then waited on the motel verandah until she sighted Melanie heading back. She waved as Melanie sprinted up the steps. The young girl wiggled her pony tail and smiled. “Nothing like a brisk run to work up an appetite. How about joining me for breakfast?”
“I'd love to.”
A short while later Fonnie was comparing her scrambled eggs, sausage patty, and two buttered biscuits with Melanie's grapefruit juice and one piece of dry toast. “You call that breakfast? My parakeet used to eat more than that.” Fonnie bit into a biscuit, swiped some butter off her lips. “Come to think of it, the vet said he died from starvation.”
Melanie gave the obligatory laugh. “You have such a sense of humor.”
“It's just a front. I'm really a miserable old witch who didn't get much sleep last night.”
Melanie instantly looked concerned. “And why couldn't you sleep?”
That was the opening Fonnie was hoping for and she took advantage of it. “I'm worried about what the coroner might find on Buzz's autopsy.”
Melanie nibbled at her toast and took a drink of juice before responding. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I don't know. It's just that at first Midge was against having an autopsy done. I thought that strange. If it had been my husband, I would've insisted on a post-mortem—would want to find out exactly what killed him. But she didn't seem to want to know.” Fonnie sipped her coffee. “Then there Doris's remark.”
Melanie took another bite of toast. “And what did Doris say?”
“That Buzz had seemed upset when they were in Florida, but Midge denied it.”
“Oh. Is that all? Aunt Doris has always been a worry-wart. She makes a habit of seeing evil omens and of prophesying bad luck. She's never happier than when she can alarm someone.”
Melanie toyed with her toast, breaking it into tiny pieces. “And that business about Midge not wanting an autopsy. That's only natural. A lot of people hate to think of their loved ones being cut up. They seem to think it violates the body. Of course, you and I know it's purely a medical procedure. Midge will be all right. She isn't one to sit around and mope.”
“Then you know her well?” Fonnie asked.
“Sure. She and Buzz vacationed every year with Uncle Hank and Aunt Doris in Miami. I visited them often. When Stephon was there last week, the six of us went night clubbing together.”
Fonnie's fork stopped midway to her mouth and she let it fall back on her plate. “Stephon was in Miami?”
Melanie nodded as she downed the rest of her grapefruit juice.
“That's why I came up here. Stephon asked me to. He was afraid it was going to be boring for him and he wanted someone his own age around. So I thought, why not? He's a really nice guy, but when I met your grandson I forgot all about Stephon.” Melanie giggled like a school girl. “I guess it's just as well, the way Stephon's been making time with Keisha.”
Fonnie shook her head in dismay. “Making time?”
“You know what I mean. I thought at first he just took up with her because I went for Brian, but I think he's got it bad. I guess your generation would say that Stephon is smitten with Keisha.”
Fonnie glanced up and was so very glad to see someone from her generation. Jeremiah was heading toward their table. Thank goodness. She didn't think she could take much more of this conversation. Her thoughts were more confusing now than they had been during the night. Did Brian know Melanie had dated Stephon? Did Keisha know? Did it matter? Was it even considered a date, if the two of them had just gone night clubbing with a group?
Melanie jumped up as Jeremiah joined them. “Got to get changed,” she said. “Edgar's taking me out on his boat this morning. Lula hates boats. I can't imagine why she agreed to live at the beach.”
Jeremiah slid into the empty chair. His face was serious. “I know what you said last night, but I really do have to call Paul and
tell him about Buzz.”
“Yes, of course. He must be told about the death of one of his partners. But why don't you wait until after the autopsy report when the funeral arrangements are announced? I know they'll want to fly back for the service.”
Jeremiah signaled a waiter and asked for coffee and a bagel.
“Is that all you're having?” Fonnie asked.
A smile lit up Jeremiah's face. “Are you kidding? I've been up for hours. Took an early morning swim and ate a breakfast big enough for loggers. This is my mid-morning snack. I looked for you earlier. Glad you finally decided to crawl out of bed.”
“I'll have you know I've been up quite a while and even walked a little on the beach.”
“Nothing like brisk sea air to clear the mind and soothe the spirit.”
“I don't know about that. My mind is a jumbled mess and my spirit isn't much better. I was worried about Midge when I woke up, and now I'm concerned about Brian and about Keisha.”
“Tell me all about it. I'm a good listener.”
Fonnie did her best to explain why Melanie's remarks about Stephon upset her. “I'm sure she didn't tell Brian she came up here to be with Stephon, and I'm positive Keisha is in the dark about any relationship between him and Melanie.”
Jeremiah finished his coffee, pushed back from the table, smiled at Fonnie. “Before we get any further into this soap opera, let's step outside. The swing in the gazebo seems to be beckoning us.”
“Sounds good to me,” Fonnie said.
The swing faced the ocean, and Fonnie had to shade her eyes from the sun as it rose higher in the sky. The temperature was in the fifties with a slight breeze. The gulls kept up a lively chatter with each other as they swooped and dipped for their breakfast while the gentle rhythm of the surf played in the background. Fonnie pulled her sweater closer and turned her face from the sun to Jeremiah. “A little chilly, but beautiful for this time of year. Too bad I can't just relax and enjoy it.”
“You worry too much. The young people will be fine. If there are problems, they'll work on them. If they can't work them out, they'll bounce back and go on with their lives. Kids today are tough and resilient.”
Murder and Misdeeds Page 4