by Linda Hanna
The doctor cleared his throat and continued his assessment. “As I mentioned before, this is a diagnosis of exclusion. Before we can call it Alzheimer’s, we have to rule out all other possibilities. The deciding factor is to check your language, problem solving, and attention capacity. We’ve done all the tests and scans, concentrated on your memory and counting skills since these were your biggest concerns. Everything came back well within the normal range.”
Cora blinked. “You mean I’m normal? Even my math?”
“Mrs. Timms, you were able to do the math, it took you a little longer, that’s all. With AD, you would completely forget what numbers are and what to do with them. Alzheimer’s patients also forget how to prepare meals or participate in lifelong hobbies.”
Cora studied his face as she sat back in her chair. She desperately wanted to believe him.
The doctor leaned forward. “Those are tasks AD folks can’t do at all. They forget the simplest things like how to wave good-bye or motion for someone to come.” He looked up as the muscles in her face relaxed. “You mentioned the traumatic event of your daughter’s death. Forgetfulness is common in the grieving process, Mrs. Timms. Often those who mourn feel disoriented and wonder if they’re losing their mind. Let me ask you this, has there been further emotional strain in your life?”
Ed quickly answered for her. “Yes, there certainly has been, Doctor.”
The physician offered a compassionate nod. “The weight of anxiety causes many problems, depression being one of them. The loss of your daughter, coupled with this new emotional strain, is enough to throw you into a tailspin.” He looked over her chart again. “We know your symptoms came on all of a sudden. Alzheimer’s is gradual and progressive.”
“Stress has been causing the forgetfulness?” Cora asked. “Things are calming down, so my problems should be coming to an end. You’d think I’d be dancing around the room.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Then why do I still feel apprehensive?”
Dr. Keith gently replied, “First, go easy with physical things and get plenty of rest for a week or so. Once you’re relaxed, your mind will settle down. I’ll give you a prescription to help with your depression and anxiety. Be sure to tell your family doctor and if things don’t improve after a month, he can adjust the dosage.”
Cora’s expectation of a dismal future may have been erased, but she sensed something was still wrong.
They thanked the doctor for his time and advice, and then found their way to the receptionist’s desk. While Ed took care of business, Cora impatiently waited, eager to be home and begin a new life with her sister.
Then it hit her. Emily. She grabbed Ed’s arm as they walked to the elevator. “Something’s happened to Emily. I need to call her.”
“You and your woman’s intuition,” he teased.
Undaunted, Cora continued. “Remember the night Vanessa had her accident? Well, it’s that same sick feeling I had just before we got the call.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “By all means, we’ll call home if you feel so strongly about it.”
Cora was determined not to give him a moment’s peace until her fears were mollified. After all, she had been right about Vanessa. She looked for her cell phone. “Where did I leave it this time?”
“Here, use mine.”
She grabbed the phone and opened it. “Oh no. There’s no signal. Now what?”
“OK, calm down. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a payphone. Hey, there’s a custodian. I’ll ask him.”
The elderly man shook his head and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “These things are really handy and come in different price ranges. I’m sure there’s one to fit your budget.”
Cora thanked the man, and nervously punched in their home number. She chewed her lower lip and looked at her husband. “There’s no answer. We’ve got to get home.”
“Now wait a minute, Toots, maybe she’s taking a shower or out walking and ran into Letitia. You know how she can talk your leg off.” Ed paused and added, “Emily has a cell phone. Call her on that.”
“I don’t know her number,” Cora wailed and handed the phone back to the custodian.
Ed thanked the man and turned to her. “Calm down. Jeff’s office is in this building. We can get her number there.”
Within a few minutes, Ed and Cora stood in Jeff’s waiting room. The receptionist took them to his office.
The young doctor listened to their concerns. “She’s doing fine. I called her earlier. She told me a neighbor came over with her dog and a plate of brownies, and then nearly talked her ear off.”
“Letitia.” Ed and Cora said in unison.
20
Ed was in a hurry to get back to his office at the golf course. He pulled into the driveway and waited for Cora to get into the house.
She was relieved to get home. The premonitions about her sister had been so strong; she needed to actually see Emily, in order to satisfy her intuition.
“Em! I’m home. Where are you?” As Cora neared the guest room, the shower could be heard along with Emily as she sang a rousing rendition of “The Man on the Flying Trapeze.”
“O-o-o-oh, he flies through the air…with the great-est of e-e-e-ease…”
Cora giggled and went to get some much-needed coffee. She filled her cup and headed for the bedroom, eager to ditch the itchy outfit Ed got for her. Now that he saw her wear it twice, the prickly dress was destined for the back of her closet, along with the matching shoes. Her bunions were in an uproar. As much as she hated to admit it, those duck slippers were quacking her name.
She was still in her slip when the bedroom door popped open. Her heart jumped to her throat. “Emily! You scared me to death.”
Emily laughed. “I’m sorry. I heard a noise in here and thought it was a boogieman.”
“And you came dressed like that?” Cora pointed to her sister’s terry bathrobe and fluffy pink Barbie slippers.
Once they regained composure, Emily sat on the end of the bed. “So, what did your doctor say?”
Cora put her satin robe and duck slippers on. “Good news.” She took a sip of coffee and explained the doctor’s findings. Suddenly she stopped. “Did you hear that?”
“It’s probably Ed.”
“No, he dropped me off because he had some work to do at the golf course.” Cora looked at her twin. “Think we should check it out?”
Emily nodded and whispered, “We need a weapon just in case. What have you got?”
“Oh, Em. I can’t think of anything, except a can of hairspray.”
“That’ll work. I’ll put it in my pocket and I’ve got my cell phone, too. We can call 9-1-1 if we need to. Let’s go.” Emily grabbed Cora’s hand. “Stay with me.”
Quack-quack!
“Take those dumb ducks off. He’ll hear you.”
They were in the middle of the hall when a loud crash followed by a man’s booming voice came from the other end of the house. They froze and waited for further commotion. Cora held her half-filled coffee cup in one hand and duck slippers in the other.
Together, they tiptoed through the kitchen and into the hallway, just outside the office. With one eye, Cora peered through the crack of the partially opened door. Books and objects covered the floor. A shiver ran down her spine as she saw a man about their age. He wore a denim jacket and mumbled while he attempted to break into Ed’s desk.
She held her breath, and leaned closer to the opening. Come on buddy, look up. I wanna see your mug. His curses became audible, and she backed away.
Emily peered in. She turned to her sister, pointed a finger in the air and tapped her temple.
What was she going to do? Cora wasn’t good at charades. She watched in amazement as Emily held her phone up and pressed a button. Photographs. She took his picture.
The intruder opened the desk and rifled through each drawer with reckless abandon. Obviously, the man didn’t find what he was after. He stood and stretched his back.
As he turned,
his craggy features came into view. With eyes as big as hubcaps, Emily grabbed the sleeve of Cora’s robe and snapped another picture.
With the door still ajar, Cora juggled her almost empty coffee cup and her slippers. The two backed away as the man continued to explore, oblivious that several photos had been taken.
Cora stared, engrossed with his ardent search. He yanked out the middle drawer, dumped the contents, and then tossed it on top of the cluttered desk. Ed’s golf bag pencil holder fell off and a jumble of pens and pencils littered the floor.
“The pencil holder.” He rushed around the desk and picked it up. His pudgy forefinger dug into a zipped pocket. He pulled out a key and headed for the safe.
Cora realized the danger they were in, and tugged on Emily’s arm. They had to get away. Emily carried the cell phone with the incriminating photos close to her. They took two steps.
Then it happened…the cell phone rang.
Emily’s flinch bumped her sister’s hand and Cora dropped her cup to the tile floor with a crash.
They were toast.
A gruff voice yelled. “Who’s there?”
Emily whispered, “Hide.” They scurried to the kitchen, and Emily left the ringing phone on the counter.
Cora ran for the pantry. They barely squeezed into the small enclosure as sounds of the intruder drew closer. Fearful images of a physical attack sprang to Cora’s mind. She managed to shut the squeaking door behind them, not a second too soon. She drew a deep breath. Through the louvered slats, they observed the beefy man bolt into the kitchen and survey the room.
His sinister eyes darted about. They watched him pick up the cell phone from the counter. Would he see the pictures? Emily gasped, and her hand went to her chest.
Cora felt the shadowy cubicle close in on her. That was when she noticed Emily’s breathing had become labored. Did she need her medicine?
Jeff said that it would bring on an incapacitating headache. Should she take the nitroglycerin anyway?
Only Em could make that decision. When her sister’s hand went into her pocket, Cora instinctively knew she was after the pill…or the hairspray.
Her attention returned to the hefty man.
The intruder’s shifty eyes locked onto the pantry door. He slammed the phone on the counter, then turned and left the kitchen. Cora eased the death grip on her slippers. He was gone.
Emily was fidgety. She whispered, “Did you see who that was?”
“He doesn’t look familiar to me.”
“Well, I know him from somewhere. I bet he was in cahoots with that guy that killed himself.” She clutched her chest. “I’ve got to get out of this pigeonhole.”
“I don’t think it’s safe to leave yet. Can you wait a few more minutes?” Cora held her wristwatch up to the slats in the door. The barely sufficient light allowed her to see it was almost one o’clock.
Emily placed a tiny white pill under her tongue, and leaned against the shelving.
Would a headache follow? This pantry was no place for Em to be immobilized. They needed to move soon, before the severe pain rendered her helpless.
Cora struggled to put her slippers on. She’d have to remember to tiptoe to keep the ducks quiet. She spoke softly, “Now’s our chance. If we can just make it to the front door, we can go to Dahlia’s for help. Wendell and Jack will be there eating lunch. Ready? Let’s go.”
Cora pushed on the door. It stuck. A fresh panic clinched her heart. Don’t scream. Be brave for Em. She took a deep breath, then, pushed harder, and the creaking door compliantly yielded. Cora stopped short, and waited for a response to the squeaky disturbance.
When all was quiet, she assumed it was safe, and took a tentative step forward. With desperate determination, she ventured out of the pantry. A box of macaroni fell to the tile floor with a loud crack. Emily backed deeper into the pantry as little elbows flew far and wide.
From the hallway came a hoarse whisper. “Cor-rah.”
Her heart plummeted right to the soles of her duck slippers. She glanced in the direction of the voice. The intruder abruptly appeared, ready to strike. Cora’s slippers quacked as she dodged him. She reached for the counter to regain her balance. A firm hand grabbed her arm. Crushing fingers dug into tender flesh.
“Let me go!” She flailed and clawed at his rugged face.
His grip increased as he stepped behind her. “Nice try, Cor-rah,” he growled. “All you had to do was give me the envelope.”
In the hallway, she writhed in the futile attempt for freedom.
He yanked her right arm behind her.
Her bones felt brittle as he delivered a sharp wrench.
Finally, he trapped both her arms and backed her tightly against himself. “Don’t try that again,” he warned through gritted teeth. “Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” Cora weakened at the intensity of his strength.
Without warning, Emily fell from the pantry, and landed in a heap. The hairspray can rolled into the middle of the kitchen floor. Cora moaned. The nitroglycerin pill had taken effect.
“What the—?” He ignored Cora’s continued pleas, and half-dragged her back to the kitchen. Her foot twisted on the broken cup and a shard pierced her ankle. Cold metal touched her neck. Hard and threatening.
He released Cora with a warning. “I’ve got a gun. Move and I’ll shoot her.” He grabbed Emily from the floor and threw her over his shoulder, and then he waved the gun at the garage door. “My van’s out there. We’re all going to go quietly without attracting attention. Got that?”
With a gun pressed in her back, Cora led the way. She had to protect her helpless sister from this monster. Once she came to, they’d make their plans for escape. That was their only hope. A still, small Voice spoke to her. Fear not, for I am with you.
21
Bright sunshine streamed through the window of Ed’s office at the Saguaro Valley Golf Course. His assistant, Roger Clark, whistled in disbelief. “What a wild story.” He chuckled. “I would’ve given my eye teeth to see the fallout from that scene.”
“Lunch at the Pegasi was a real roller coaster ride, let me tell ya,” Ed added. “But finding Cora’s twin sister has been a Godsend. I haven’t seen her this happy in years.”
“Have you celebrated, yet?”
“No, not yet. We haven’t had time.”
Roger laughed. “You should take them back to the Pegasi. I’ll alert the media.”
“What a great idea. I’ll do it.” Ed’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t you dare call the press.”
“Aw, why not? Think of it as free publicity. I can see the headlines now: Steady Eddie Timms Scores a Double Bogey.”
Ed laughed and looked at his watch. “I’d better call home so they don’t plan supper.” He dialed the phone. “Hey Rog, there’s Pastor Luke coming for his lesson. He’s all yours.”
“Oh, I see how it is, stick the lowly assistant with the putter-challenged preacher.” Roger chuckled. “By the way, is this a good time to ask for a raise?”
Ed tossed a golf ball at the door as his mischievous employee ducked out. He dialed his home phone number. When he got the answering machine, he left a quick message. “Hey Toots, call me a.s.a.p. Love ya.” He looked around to check for an audience. Even with no one there, he still covered the mouthpiece, cleared his throat, and whispered, “Kissy-kissy.”
A half-hour later, he phoned the house again. Cora hadn’t mentioned any plans when he dropped her off. She couldn’t go anywhere, he had the car, and hers was still in the shop. Where were they? Letitia’s? Well, he couldn’t call her, she’d never hang up. After the third unsuccessful phone call, he decided to contact Wendell. He always bragged about having his finger on the pulse of the community.
The security guard was glad to check in on Cora at the house. He immediately returned Ed’s phone call to report his initial findings. “I’m inside an’ been yellin’ for ‘em, Ed, but I don’t hear nothin’. You’re prob’ly right, th
ey must be out walkin’. Maybe that ol’ magpie, Letitia, is bendin’ their ear. If so, we won’t be seein’ hide nor hair of ‘em for a while.” He hesitated then added, “I reckon I could mosey on over there an’ see.”
“Would you mind?”
“Well, just wait a minute. I’m in the kitchen, now. Your pantry’s open, Ed, an’ a box of macaroni’s dumped on the floor, an’ a can of hairspray, too. Hey! We got us a cell phone on the counter,” he announced. “Prob’ly Em’s, don’t ya think? I’ll just take it over to Letitia’s with me.”
Suddenly Ed heard Wendell let out a sharp whistle. “Ah-oh. I see a broke cup an’ spilt coffee in the hallway.”
The disquieting information alarmed Ed. His stomach churned. Was there a struggle? Or did one of them get hurt? Maybe he should alert Sam.
The Texan’s voice intensified. “This ain’t no good. I see some blood on the floor.”
“Blood?” Ed’s heart was in his throat. Was it Cora’s or Emily’s? “How much blood?”
“Can’t rightly tell since there’s coffee there, too. Woo-whee! This really gets my detective juices flowin’. Too bad Jack had to go get hisself a new drain snake. Boy howdy, is he missin’ out.” Wendell chuckled. “Oh well, Jack’s loss is my gain. I’m headin’ for the bedrooms now.”
Ed heard him knock on a door. “Don’t forget to look in the closets and bathrooms, Wendell.”
“Nope, they ain’t here, neither. Lemme go check your office.”
As Ed visualized Wendell boot-scootin’ down the hallway, he considered all the ramifications of the Texan’s search. He turned and saw the pro-shop manager nearby. “Hey Larry, I need you to call 9-1-1 and send the cops over to my place. I think there’s been a break-in.”
Wendell’s loud voice on the phone recaptured his attention. “Woo-whee! Ed, I hate to tell ya this, but everything’s catty whompus in your office.”
Ed’s mind raced as the news sunk in. “Don’t touch anything, Wendell. I’ll be right there.”