Chapter 23
“This is Simon Latch. Who is this?”
“Sergeant Pully, Braxton PD. I think we met once in court.”
“Oh yeah, I remember.” Simon had never met the guy but it was always a good idea to humor the cops, especially when they were calling at odd hours. Something was up and it wasn’t good. “What’s going on?”
“Well, there’s been an accident involving Eleanor Barnett. She’s in the hospital with some injuries, but they do not appear to be life-threatening. She asked me to call you, said you were in charge of her affairs.”
They had never agreed that he would be in charge of her affairs, but as their relationship had evolved there was really no one else. And that was fine with Simon. “Yes, I am. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Well, sure, but she wants to see you. I’m at the hospital, so come on down and we’ll have a chat.” It was more of an order than a request.
Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside the ER entrance because Pully needed a smoke. He was saying, “Ms. Barnett was driving and she had a passenger, Doris Platt. You know Ms. Platt?”
“Sort of. We’ve actually never met.”
“According to Ms. Platt, they went to a little Christmas party, a bunch of old ladies, and they played cards, gin rummy I think, and they had dinner and such, and they also hit the sherry pretty hard. They left, with Ms. Barnett behind the wheel.”
“She’s not supposed to drive at night.”
“With good reason. Not supposed to drink and drive either. Ms. Platt said she was all over the road, and they were yapping back and forth when they ran a red light on South Poplar and T-boned another car. The two people in that one are pretty banged up, but nothing fatal, or at least that’s the initial report. ”
“Oh boy,” Simon said, shaking his head.
“Happened about two hours ago. All four came in by ambulance and I think they’re all stable. I had time to check Ms. Barnett’s record. Not good. She has three speeding tickets pending, one is reckless. Her insurance just canceled.”
“Say what?”
“Afraid so. Allstate notified the DMV on December the second.”
Simon frowned and shook his head. The officer said, “I thought you were in charge of her affairs.”
“Not all of them. She pays her own bills, or at least she’s supposed to. Are you certain this accident was her fault?”
“We’re still at the scene investigating, but there were eyewitnesses who saw her run the red light. Plus, Doris Platt agrees with them.”
“And she had no insurance.”
“Apparently not. Plus, it looks like she was drinking.”
“She doesn’t drink.”
“Well, she did tonight. Doris confirms it.”
Doris needs to shut up, Simon thought but held his tongue.
Pully said, “She gave us a blood sample. Waiting on results.”
“You took a blood sample?”
“Yep, she consented, in writing.”
“Did she know what she was signing?”
“Yep. Two nurses witnessed it, both said she was lucid.”
“Did she ever lose consciousness?”
“I don’t think so, but, again, I wasn’t there. Her left leg is pretty banged up, not sure about the X-rays. They’re still looking her over.” Pully frowned and listened to his earphone. “I need to go check something. Why don’t you hang out in the waiting room and I’ll be back in a minute?”
Simon hadn’t smoked since college, but he bummed a cigarette off Pully and said he would stay outside.
An hour later, the cop was back. He fired up another and said, “Preliminary blood work shows point-zero-nine. Over the limit. They just moved her to a private room and the doc says you can say hello. She’s really upset and wants to talk to you. ”
“Is she still drunk?”
Pully found that funny and laughed. “Probably got a pretty good buzz. Let’s go. I’ll take you up there.”
It was almost midnight when Simon entered the room. Two nurses were fiddling with tubes and checking monitors. Half her forehead was covered with a large gauzy bandage. Her left leg was wrapped in cotton. Her eyes were closed.
Simon could think of nothing else to say so he asked, “Uh, how’s she doing?”
One nurse said, “She’s been better. Two broken ribs on the left side. Some cuts, plenty of bruises. Her left knee took a hard blow. She’s going to be sore for some time.”
Eleanor opened her eyes and saw Simon. She stuck out her right arm. Two tubes dangled from it. He gently squeezed her fingers and said, “Hello Netty. I’m so sorry about this.”
“So am I,” she said, barely audible. “Have you seen Doris?”
He shook his head. A nurse said, “She’s down the hall.”
The other nurse said, “We’re injecting morphine for the pain, so she’ll probably slip away for some time. Are you hurting, Ms. Barnett?”
She closed her eyes and said, “A little, I guess. Please stay, Simon.”
The thought of spending the night had not crossed his mind and he was suddenly on his heels. A nurse nodded to the only chair in the tiny room and said, “That one reclines. Folks use it all the time.”
Simon glared at it. A weird creation designed to ruin lower lumbars.
Pully was listening to his earphone again and said, “Gotta run. I’ll be back tomorrow to take a statement from Ms. Barnett.”
Simon almost blurted, She’s not making any more statements to the police, but he let it pass. He would deal with the legal issues tomorrow. He watched a nurse inject the knockout juice into an IV. She smiled at Simon and mouthed the words, She’ll fade away.
The other nurse said, “Make yourself at home.” Both nurses left the room and Simon was suddenly alone with his client.
He stood near the door for a long time and tried to absorb the surreal image before him.
She looked so tiny and frail in the bed, with a thin white sheet pulled up to her neck, head turned to her left, with a small tube running into one nostril.
How did this person, this nice old lady he met for the first time only nine months earlier, enter his life in such a dramatic fashion?
How had she lived for eighty-five fairly comfortable years and reached this point where she had no one to care for her but him?
No family, no close friends except for Doris, who she had just practically killed.
He would admit, and only to himself, that greed was the driving force.
Months earlier he could have done what she asked him to do, prepare a simple will for $250 and close the matter.
And that’s exactly what would have happened if she had no money.
Matilda would have filed her will away with hundreds of others and forgotten about it.
However, the client was certainly not poor and appeared to be quite vulnerable. His otherwise good judgment was corrupted by greed. He saw an easy way to take control of her money, a fortune that was wonderfully hidden from everyone. Under his clever control, it would remain a delightful secret.
He glanced at a digital clock in one corner of a monitor above her head. The green digits read 12:42.
He analyzed the chair and devised a maneuver to get himself into it without rupturing a disc.
Once situated, he managed to lean back with his head resting on a wall.
He studied the outline of her shrunken frame under the sheets.
He listened to the soft, steady, obnoxious beating of a machine monitoring something.
He heard the sounds of the nurses and orderlies shuffling along the hallway.
And he wondered how any visitor could be expected to sleep in a hospital. The patients were drugged.
He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply.
There were so many issues to fret over. His dear Netty was about to face criminal charges for drunk driving.
She was about to be sued by the folks she injured in the wreck.
The lawsuit would allow the opposing lawyers to pry into her finances.
The criminal charges and lawsuits would be public record.
The more Simon thought, the more problems arose. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock: 12:46.
Gently, he wiggled out of the chair and left the room.
He took the stairs down two flights to the ground floor where he followed the signs to the cafeteria.
All three of his children had been born in the hospital, but that was before it had been renovated several times.
There were new wings and corridors with every visit.
The cafeteria was closed, thus forcing him to buy coffee from a machine.
He walked outside the building, took one sip, and poured out the rest.
He was contemplating an escape. Eleanor was knocked out and would sleep for hours. Why shouldn’t he do the same? He could hustle back to The Closet, sleep until 6 A.M., then shower and return to the hospital. There was no benefit in babysitting a woman who was in another world.