A Summer with the Dead Page 16

  “None that I’ve discovered and none that she has mentioned. The medicine cabinets were both empty when I arrived here back in early May. I’ve never seen her take anything. Not even vitamins or an aspirin.”

  “If you inherit your aunt’s genes, you’ll probably live a long time,” Dr. Framish said. “But I can recommend a good psychologist for her, if you’d like.”

  “I don’t think she’d agree to see one.”

  “I understand. I’ll have these test results sent to you. You should receive them in a week or two. I’ll enclose a business card for the psychologist, just in case, all right?”

  “Thank you.”

  “How are you doing, Ms. Pederson? Are you overwhelmed? Caregivers often find themselves exhausted. It’s not an easy job.”

  “I’m okay. Thank you for asking though.”

  “Please call me if I can help in any way.”

  “I will.”

  “You still have my card?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have a good afternoon, Ms. Pederson.”

  “You also.”

  Maya stared at Dr. Framish’s card, impaled on the wall above the phone with a long straight pin. She might call him if Elly needed something, but she wouldn’t phone him for her own concerns. She had Dr. Conover for that.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  MAYA CALLED UP THE stairs. “Aunt Elly?”

  Overhead, the upstairs hallway floor groaned. “Yes, baby girl?”

  “Dr. Framish says you’ll live to see a century. No stroke, just a bit of stress.”

  “Thought so,” Elly said. “Something like that happened once ‘afore, when I was young. I just slept it off.”

  “What did Uncle Harlan do? Did he phone for help?”

  “Naw. He just let me sleep.”

  “For how long?”

  “Almost a week. I woke up thirsty as a camel, but I was just fine after that.”

  The upstairs floor snapped and groaned again and Maya spotted Elly’s shadow on the landing wall. “The phone rang twice. Who else called?” Elly asked.

  “Before Dr. Framish, it was Tony Bradley,” Maya said. “Tony’s on his way over right now. He said he’s received an offer on the farm and wants to discuss it with you.” She climbed the eight stairs to the landing and looked toward the second floor.

  Elly appeared at the top, rubbing her hip and frowning. “We talked about selling, but I didn’t sign anything. If I was eager to sell I’d have phoned some big-time realty office, not Tony Bradley. I spotted a couple realtor signs from my hospital window. But, we aren’t ready for that, are we Maya?”

  “He might have gotten that impression by something I previously said. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay, honey. I’m just grumpy ‘cause my hip is aching”

  “Do you want me to call Tony back and tell him not to come?”

  There was a moment of silence and then Elly said, “Nah. Let him come. I’m curious what he has to say.”

  When Elly clipped her words and sounded annoyed like that, Maya guarded her words. She wouldn’t accuse Uncle Harlan of anything. Elly had a quick, defensive temper when it came to Harlan.

  Twenty minutes later Tony parked his silver Audi outside the kitchen window. He wore a silk shirt the same color as his aqua eyes and pressed, cream-colored trousers. His blonde hair had been trimmed within the last day or two, revealing a pale line along his hairline. Wherever it was he’d traveled to the previous week, it had tanned his face. Maya opened the door before he knocked.

  “Elly and I were just about to have lunch. Care to join us?” she asked.

  “I just had lunch at the River Lodge Café,” Tony said. “But I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee.”

  “Is tea okay?”

  He shrugged. Maya steeped a pot of tea and set out three mugs. “So, who is this buyer you mentioned?”

  “A super nice family from the Midwest,” Tony said. Maya thought he answered too quickly, as if he had anticipated the question and had practiced his answer.

  “Is it a good offer?” Elly stood in the entrance to the dining room. Her expression looked hardened and for one uncomfortable moment, Maya was afraid it was Mr. Elly standing there.

  “Hello, Elly.” Tony carried his steaming mug to the table. He pulled out Elly’s chair and she acknowledged his courtesy with a nod before joining him at the table.

  “It’s a fair offer, considering the economy these days.” Tony sat facing the bay window, one polished tan loafer resting on the opposite knee.

  Maya slid Elly’s mug and a plate of homemade cookies on the table. “Oatmeal chocolate chip,” she said.

  “Don’t let me keep you ladies from lunch. I’m happy as a tick on a hound with my tea and one of those cookies.”

  Maya frowned. She believed Tony was putting on a redneck act, as if he thought she and Elly would appreciate it. Did he consider them hicks? She scooped gazpacho into two bowls and set them on the table along with a plate of crackers and cheese. “What do you consider a ‘fair offer’?” she asked.

  Tony glanced from Maya to Elly and back again over the rim of his mug. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Three hundred thousand.”

  Elly swallowed a spoonful of gazpacho before resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her knuckles. “We’re talkin’ five hundred acres, year-round stream, two barns, three sheds, a bunkhouse, carport, and three-story house with basement, for three-K? I don’t think so.”

  “Most of the structures on this property are rotten, Elly, and like I said, it’s a tough economy right now. This might be the best offer you receive.” Tony sipped his tea again, twice. “Maybe the only offer.” His voice lost any hint of friendliness.

  Elly shook her head. “I can divide this farm into nine hundred half-acre lots, develop them myself and sell them off one by one. That ridge up there above the Fedder Prairie homestead, the one with the view? It’s worth three-fifty all by itself. I’m not stupid, you know, and I won’t take one cent less than one million.”

  Tony grinned. “That’s the Elly I’ve been expecting. I knew you’d surface sooner or later. Shrewd, cutthroat, greedy little Elly. You probably have the first nickel you ever earned.” His unidentifiable accent was gone, replaced by something much more east coast. Maryland?

  Pennsylvania?

  “What did you say to her?” Maya grabbed the mug from his hand before it reached his grinning lips again. The tea spilled in his lap and he jumped to his feet.

  “Damn! That’s hot.”

  “I remember you, Fritz,” Elly said. “I remember the first time you ever came here—and I remember the last time you were here. It wasn’t so long ago, was it? Seven months maybe? You brought an unscheduled delivery—a spare—after I told you I was done with the business and to not ever bring another. Things didn’t go so well, remember? You drove off and left me with a nasty little problem. So get the hell out of my house and don’t ever come back or–”

  “Or what, you stingy old bitch? You’ll drag out your shotgun? Can you live up to your infamous reputation? When was the last time you talked to Felix, Elly? It’s been quite a while since you heard from him, right? Felix can’t protect you anymore. He’s probably dead by now, or close to it. He wasn’t doing so well last week when I saw him. He was hooked up to tubes and a machine that breathed for him. He couldn’t even hold a pen or scribble his name. He’s blind, almost deaf, half paralyzed and drools like an old dog. If I’d been alone with him in that room, I’d have crushed his windpipe.” Tony snapped his fingers. “Like that.”

  Elly picked up the cheese knife and dragged it across the top of the kitchen table, gouging a deep groove. Orange wood and pale green paint curled up behind the blade. “You came here not long ago, dragging a shovel. I saw you. I know what you were looking for, but you didn’t find it, did ya’ Fritz?” Elly grinned. “And you never will, you stupid bastard.”

  Tony stepped back, eyeing the knife in Elly’s hand. “Think you can
take me, Elly? You could have once, twenty-five years ago when I was just a kid and you were in your prime, but not now. Not–”

  “Now, I’m here too,” Maya said. “And like Elly told you—get out. Now.”

  Tony glanced over his shoulder. His grin faded when he spotted the butcher knife in Maya’s hand.

  “Shit,” he said. “Another Pederson loony.”

  “You’ve got ten seconds, Fritz, and then I gut you like a trout.” Elly moved with remarkable ease, tossing the cheese knife from her right hand to her left and back again. “You know I can.”

  Tony kicked his chair away. It skidded against the refrigerator. He backed toward the door, opened it and paused. “Let me know when you’re ready to negotiate, Elly. But remember, if Felix is dead the deal you made with him is just smoke, along with your stipend. There are people in Chicago who’ll pay big-time to learn where you’re hiding. I can sell them that information. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk, but don’t wait too long because I need cash.” He left the door open.

  A moment later Tony’s silver Audi headed down the driveway into the trees. Elly and Maya crossed through the dining room and into the living room. They stood in front of the big picture window as the Audi climbed from the driveway to the blacktop and disappeared over the hill.

  “He’ll be back, won’t he?” Maya said.

  “I’m counting on it.” Elly headed toward the kitchen. She traced the deep gouge in the table with the tip of her index finger. “Won’t take much to sand this down and repaint it.”

  “What does Tony want, Elly?”

  “Money, of course. But don’t call him Tony. It’s Fritz … Fritz Pulitano. He’s originally from North Carolina but I met him in Chicago. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him that night at the River Lodge Café.”

  “So, there isn’t really an offer on the farm?”

  Elly shook her head. “No honey. He wants three hundred thousand to keep his mouth shut, but if I give it to him he’ll just demand more. He also wants the farm. That would be included in the deal. He wants this farm so he can search it, inch by inch. I won’t ever let him take this farm, though. I’ll burn it to the ground before I let him have it.”

  “So, there are people in Chicago who want to find you?”

  “Yes, two families in particular. The Sonosa family … and the Zoubeks.”

  “Why?” Maya asked. “What would they do if they found you?”

  “I’d be dead in a snap, honey, for things Harlan did—things Harlan was paid to do. Those people want my head ‘cuz they figure I helped Harlan. And, well, I did help him, didn’t I? They won’t ever forgive or forget that.”

  “What does Tony … I mean Fritz … think he’ll find here? And who is Felix?”

  Elly sighed. “Fritz thinks there’s millions of dollars stashed around this farm. And Felix? Well, that’s another long story, baby girl. Let’s clean up from lunch and then I’ll tell you about it from the beginning.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I MADE A PITCHER OF lemonade. Want some?” Maya asked.

  Maya and Elly carried their lemonade into the living room and settled into their usual places, with Elly stretched out on the sofa and Maya in the big armchair beside the fireplace. Outside, sunlight shimmered off leaves in the overgrown front garden. Blood red rhododendron blossoms glowed along the fence line and at the bottom of the lower field the surface of the stream glimmered like sequins.

  This day was too beautiful, too warm and sunny for one of Elly’s nightmarish stories, but she began without hesitating.

  “Felix Olsen was my father’s first cousin and they were also best friends. Felix was … connected. You know what that means, honey?”

  Maya nodded. “Friends in powerful places.”

  “Yes. Felix was almost two years older than my father. He convinced some higher-ups to give my father a job. At first, Dad just repaired trucks. That was his trade. Dad was a master mechanic and he taught me everything he knew. If I had all the parts I could build a truck or a car from the tires up. Anyway, Felix convinced those higher-ups to use Dad for other jobs, small stuff. Nothing big—nothing that would have sent him away for too long if he’d’a been caught. It was deliveries mainly, or after-hours break-ins and burglaries at a few small jewelry stores. Dad and Felix were both so good at that, the store owners didn’t realize they’d been robbed until they took inventory and that was sometimes two weeks later. This was back before security systems were common. Dad and Felix did an armored car heist together once. Every time they told that story, I’d almost wet my pants laughing. It was like listening to the Three Stooges, except there were just the two of ‘em. They were so careful and they planned things out so well in advance they never hurt anyone. The clumsy armored car driver got a concussion, but that was from tripping over his own feet as he ran away.”

  “This was back in Chicago?” Maya asked.

  “Yep, before Harlan started delivering for them. When Dad was dying Uncle Felix promised he’d look after me. At first Uncle Felix wouldn’t even consider using me for a driver. He’d just hand me some money and say, ‘Let me know when that runs out, Elly girl.’ But I cornered him one day and explained how there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do with cars or trucks, their engines or transmissions, and how I knew what made vehicles tick, inside and out. I knew the routes Dad had driven because we talked about them. I knew where all the stops were. Uncle Felix laughed and said, ‘Elly girl, you have no idea how dangerous deliveries can be. The job is tough, raw, work. The people waiting for the deliveries can be mean sons-a-bitches.’ I told him I already knew that. But I also told him, they won’t expect trouble from an eighteen year old girl, and they won’t expect a girl to have a gun strapped behind her ribs, or a knife in her boot—or expect her to know what to do if things go south, or how to keep her mouth shut if she screws up and gets caught. Give me a chance, Uncle Felix, I said. He looked at me for a long minute and then said, ‘Let me think about it.”

  “How long did you have to wait?” Maya asked.

  “Just two weeks. One of the other drivers was caught selling goods to someone on the outside and pocketing the money. I don’t know what happened to him. I never saw him again. No one did, and because of that, Uncle Felix was a driver short that week and something was on the must-deliver list. There were six big wooden crates, each about four feet square and too heavy to move without a forklift. They were already loaded into the back of a truck. I didn’t know what they were, but things went as slick as buttermilk. I backed the truck up to a warehouse door like I had been told to do, and the door opened and I heard men’s voices in the back. Then the truck jostled and I heard three knocks on the back of the cab. After a couple seconds there were two more knocks. That meant, go—drive away. I heard the back doors slam and I put the truck in gear. When I got home, Uncle Felix handed me five hundred dollars and he said there’d be another delivery in about a week. And that was the start of it all. I was a driver. Then later, I introduced Harlan to Uncle Felix. So actually, I was the one with the connection. I was a driver before Harlan was.”

  “Harlan took over your route?”

  “Yeah, he didn’t want me driving anyway. He said big money meant there was big risk. He talked to Felix and Felix hired him to replace me. I don’t know what was said. I wasn’t even consulted about it.”

  “You didn’t drive for very long then?”

  “Only about a year, but even after I quit driving, Felix paid me anyway, as part of his promise to my dad. It was a relief to stop making those deliveries. I didn’t like the way the other drivers treated me. Felix gave me the easy jobs—easy compared to theirs. The other drivers called it favoritism, and I suppose it was. I remember the looks they gave me, and how they’d clam up when I walked by. I knew they were talking about me. Harlan took to the job like a fish to scales, and the other guys respected him. If they didn’t respect him they kept it to themselves or found work elsewhere—or Harlan ma
de them respect him. Nobody messed with Harlan. He didn’t even need training. He just seemed to know what to do.”

  “You never knew what you delivered?” Maya asked.

  Elly studied the ceiling for a moment and then glanced toward Maya. “That story is for another time.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  WITH A MODEST DEGREE of satisfaction, Maya noted the gap in her medication journal. She had not taken any Lorazapam for two weeks now. Since the recent refill was much less than usual, she needed to save them for full-on panic attacks and would have to deal with stress or sleeplessness with exercise. Maya suspected Dr. Conover wanted to wean her away from the addictive drug. The thought scared her. Lorazapam was the only thing that halted an anxiety attack and ensured sleep without nightmares. It was a matter of time before the nightmares overwhelmed her again.

  And the sleepwalking … and my inability to distinguish between dreams and reality.

  Sometimes it took several hours before she could dismiss a nightmare. They seemed so real. Too real.

  The last pill from her old prescription was now gone. Maya recounted the pills inside the new bottle. Twenty. She picked up her cell phone, planning to call Dr. Conover, to remind her that her refills had always been ninety pills—she punched in the doctor’s number, heard the phone ringing and the answering machine pick up, but instead of leaving a message, Maya hung up. Dr. Conover knew how many pills she normally prescribed and she was also aware of how many pills she had prescribed this time. She doesn’t need to hear me whining about it.

  “Baby girl?” Elly called from the front of the hall.

  Maya closed her journal and stepped from the bathroom into the upstairs hallway. At the end of the hall, Elly stood with her back to the morning glory window, her petite silhouette surrounded by a violet-blue glow.

  “I have an appointment tomorrow in Graceville,” Elly said. “I want you to help me choose what to wear. I need to look as business-like as possible.”