David Handler - The sour cherry surprise

“No, ma’am,” he assured her. “Absolutely not. Do what you got to do.”

A nightstand light was on in the bedroom, which was a soiled zoo cage reeking of sour sheets, overflowing ashtrays and its sweaty, unwashed occupant. Carolyn lay naked atop the wrought iron bed with an iPod plugged into her ears, head nodding lazily to the beat. Her eyes were open but she did not seem to notice Des standing there. Or Clay hovering behind Des in the doorway. She was in a stoned-out stupor. The lady was sporting a couple of fresh cigarette burns on her arms, Des noticed. But she did not spot a blow pipe or ice any other illegal drugs on the nightstand. Only beer cans.

“Carolyn…?” she said, standing over her.

No response. Nothing.

She reached down and pulled the earphones off. “Carolyn…?”

Slowly, Carolyn’s eyes began to focus. Or almost. “You… still here?” Her voice faint and dreamy.

“That was yesterday, Carolyn. I’m back again now. I need to talk to you about Richard.”

“He… left. I-I told you.”

“I’m very sorry, but I’m here to inform you that he’s dead.”

Carolyn blinked at her. “Away. Richard went away.”

“Carolyn, I just found him floating in the river. His throat has been cut. He’s dead, do-you-understand?”

With tweakers there was no such thing as an emotional middle ground. One moment the lady was lying there in a persistent vegetative state. The next, as the reality of her husband’s death hit home, Carolyn Procter turned into a wild woman.

“Where’s Richard?” she screamed, vaulting from the bed with a surge of instant rage. “Richard, where are you…? Richaaard…?“ She was still calling out his name as she went flying out of the room-past a stunned Clay-and right out the front door of her house, stark naked. Des in hot pursuit. The others, including Molly, standing out there in the lane gaping at her. “Where’s Richard? I have to be with him! Richaaaard…?“

Big Yolie, who happened to be there talking to Kimberly, grabbed Carolyn at once and frog-marched her back inside the house as Des phoned the Jewett sisters on her cell.

“Where’s the bedroom, girl?” Yolie hollered, puffing as she wrestled the squirming madwoman across the living room.

Des led the way. When they got there Yolie threw Carolyn down on the bed and pinned her there. Although Carolyn wasn’t done fighting her. She even tried to take a bite out of Yolie’s forearm.

For which Yolie slapped her hard in the face. “Behave yourself! Your little girl is out there. Want her to see you this way?”

Des found a man’s white button down-shirt hanging in the closet. Richard’s most likely. It took both of them to muscle Carolyn into it.

“He needs me!” she groaned, thrashing around wildly, her head swiveling from side to side. “Richard needs me!”

“Richard is gone!” Des hollered at her. “It’s Molly who needs you now!”

At the mention of Molly’s name the fight seemed to melt right out of Carolyn. She lay there limply now, panting for breath, foul-smelling sweat pouring from her.

“Are you going to behave?” Yolie demanded.

Carolyn nodded her head up and down. Yolie released her. Slowly, she sat up and fumbled for a cigarette on the nightstand, her hands trembling so badly that Yolie had to light it for her.

“I need a drink,” she gasped, drawing the tobacco deep into her lungs.

“You need to get clean,” Yolie countered angrily. “What are you into? Crack? Smack? Ice? All of the above?”

Clay reappeared in the bedroom doorway. “Everything okay in here?” he inquired, the picture of tender concern.

“Fool, what do you think?” Yolie snarled at him.

Now Carolyn had the full-blown shakes. Des could hear her grinding her teeth. It was not a pretty sound.

“I think Carolyn got upset,” Clay informed Yolie politely. “Which is perfectly understandable. Plus she’s been under the weather lately.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Yolie’s eyes were daggers.

Outside, Des could hear the Jewett sisters rolling up to the state police cordon. She went out there to meet them. Hector watched her coolly from the porch, saying nothing.

“Where is she, Des?” asked Marge, her eyes taking in all of the residents and sworn personnel gathered there. Mary was getting their gear out of the back.

“In the bedroom,” Des answered, lowering her voice as they hurried inside past Hector. “I want Carolyn Procter out of here, okay? Get her admitted to the hospital for acute psychological trauma. Or shock. Or a severe allergic reaction to prescription medication. I don’t care what. Just take her where she can get help, understand?”

“Afraid not,” Mary said briskly. “What kind of help?”

“Have either of seen her lately?”

They shook their heads.

“Then you had better prepare yourselves,” she said as the sisters barged past Clay into the bedroom.

Mary let out a gasp as soon as she laid eyes on Carolyn.

“Can you do it?” Des asked Marge.

“Consider it done,” she promised Des.

“Carolyn’s doing okay, really,” Clay tried to assure them. “Just needs a little shot of something to settle her nerves down.”

Marge ignored him completely. “Honey, you are coming with us,” she told Carolyn. “Can you walk?”

“She can walk,” said Yolie, pulling Carolyn roughly to her feet.

“Where am I going?” Carolyn wondered, gazing at Mary in bewilderment.

“To get you a hot shower, for starters,” Mary replied, wrinkling her nose. “You used to be the prettiest, most accomplished young mother in all of Dorset. I’d see you shopping for groceries in the A amp; P, always a smile on your face, always a polite word, and I’d say to myself that is one classy lady. Lord, honey, what on earth has happened to you?”

In response, Carolyn spat right in her face. Then began fighting with Yolie all over again. “Leave me the hell alone!” she cried out, struggling in Yolie’s iron grip.

“Out of our way, mister!” Marge barked, elbowing Clay aside as they hustled Carolyn out of there.

Clay didn’t try to stop them. He knew when to fold his cards. Just watched from the porch with Hector as the sisters loaded Carolyn into their ambulance, kicking and screaming.

Happily, Molly was no longer out there to see any of this. Jen had taken her inside her own house.

“Molly can stay with us for as long she needs to,” Kimberly promised Des after the sisters had rolled out of there, lights flashing.

“We’ll all look after her,” Amber chimed in, clutching Keith’s hand. “The important thing is that Carolyn get well.”

“I’d like Molly to stay out of that house while her mother is away,” Des said to them. “I don’t want her in there. Kimberly, please make sure Jen understands that, okay?”

Kimberly glanced over at Clay and Hector on the porch, swallowing. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“It shouldn’t be for very long. I’ve been in touch with Carolyn’s sister Megan up in Maine. She’s already on her way down to take charge of things.”

“That’ll be great,” Amber said enthusiastically. “Megan’s a really capable person.”

“In fact, I’m expecting her to turn up pretty much any minute now.” While she’d been waiting for the crime scene techies to arrive, Des had phoned Megan’s farm in Blue Hill. Woke up her partner, Susan, who sleepily told her that Megan had left for Dorset that very day at around noon. It was generally an eight-hour drive if the traffic was light, Susan said. Ten if it wasn’t. Which, according to Des’s calculations, meant that Megan should have reached Dorset at about the same time Richard was murdered. Unfortunately, Susan had no idea where she presently was or how to reach her. Megan would not buy a cell phone. She was convinced they caused brain cancer. “Amber, would you mind keeping an eye out for her?”