Green Tea
The Tea Series
Sheila Horgan
Copyright © 2010 by Sheila Horgan
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, businesses, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No reference to any real person is intended or implied.
Edited by Christie Giraud at Ebook Editing Pro
This book formatted by Heather Adkins at CyberWitch Press
Cover by David Avila
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
“You want to go on Liam’s honeymoon with me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Cara, that seemed like a perfectly clear question.”
“Teagan, you’re anything but clear these days.”
“If that’s an attempt at humor because of my rash…”
“Why would Liam and Morgan want us to go on their honeymoon? I’m not even sure they’re taking Jordan, and Liam adores him, and he’s Morgan’s one and only child. We aren’t that high on either one’s list.”
“Not with them, with me.”
“Start at the beginning.”
“I won a cruise.”
“You did? That’s amazing. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, it was great ‘til I called Jessie and found out that he can’t go. Then I called Liam and Morgan and asked if they wanted to use the trip as a honeymoon and they declined. Now I’m calling you. You want to go?”
“I feel so special. When everyone else turned you down, you came to me.”
“I haven’t asked everyone else. The advantage of coming from a large family is that I still have a long list of people I could invite, so if you don’t want to come, say so and I’ll ring the next person on my list.”
“Where?”
“Alaska.”
“When?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Originally, the tickets were good for a year.”
“Well, then take Jessie when he gets back or gets unbusy or whatever.”
“I said, originally. Turns out they’ve been sitting around for a while and we’re down to the last few weeks. My boss bought them at some charity thing thinking that he would bring his new wife, but she said there’s no way that she’s going toward cold. She’s a Floridian for a reason. If they’re going to cruise, they’re going to the islands.”
“Why didn’t he just trade them in?”
“Well, turns out that the cruise line normally lets you do that, but something about these tickets makes them not turn-in-able.”
“Then how do you know they’re transferable?”
“Okay, you know what? I didn’t call so that you could beat me up about the tickets. Do you want to go or not?”
“I’d love to go. I’ve never seen Alaska.”
“Me either. I’m not sure exactly when we’re going to go, but since you’re unemployed, I figured you’d be open.”
“Not my fault that unemployment runs high in this state right now. And besides, I’m not completely unemployed, I am alternately employed.”
“You’re the one who quit your job.”
“I’ve been doing just fine thank you very much. I’m making just as much money doing odd jobs here and there as I was working full time before.”
“Good. I really am glad. We’re gonna need long johns I bet. Where do we even find those in Florida?”
“I’m sure they’re available for the snow birds if nothing else or we can always buy them online.”
“True. You’re in charge of finding out what we need and finding out where we can get it.”
“Why me?”
“I have the tickets, a job, and I’m in a piss-poor mood because Jessie is off with some woman I don’t know instead of coming on the cruise with me.”
“Woman? What woman?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I’m not at work. I’m not sure if I’m pissed or hurt or just, I don’t know.”
“You want to come over tonight? I’ll cook.”
“I can’t. Jessie and I are going to go out tonight. I want him to leave here with really good, bonding, know-I’ll-track-your-ass-down thoughts of me.”
“That sounds really healthy. You don’t need to visit with a mental health professional at all.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’. I’ll call you tomorrow. Get busy with all things Alaska, figure out if we want to do any shore excursions. They’re not included with the tickets, price wise, but I have a gift card thingy that will pay for at least part.”
“Excursions? Anything you’re particularly enamored of?”
“We could look for whales.”
“Teagan, I would love to see a whale in the wild.”
“They have boats that get really close.”
“Yeah, I saw that on the Internet. The big ol’ whale came crashing out of the water and hit the boat. I think it broke the mast. Poor whale.”
“Yeah, well, had I been on that boat I’d have had a heart attack and died, then who would you be feeling sorry for?”
“The whale.”
“I should have known. Anyway, you can get close enough for the spray to hit you if you get on the right excursion.”
“Teagan, you do realize that’s the whale blowing his nose on you. You get that. right?”
“It is not.”
“You’d probably just think of that as one more skin treatment anyway.”
“Don’t go there, I’m still sensitive.”
“How is the rash from hell?”
“Mostly gone. I still have patches where my skin stays warm.”
“Eww, that doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“What?”
“The whale, it’s snot.”
“Are you in third grade or what?”
“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“Oh, and Cara, I got a call from Steph. She’s moving forward with the memory cards, she uploaded them and there’s some pretty disturbing stuff, most of which is self-explanatory, but a few of the things are just weird. She works with an investigator and he’s going to look into it a bit.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“Pro bono.”
“Why?”
“The investigator’s trying to get his new business off the ground and thinks that if he comes up with something really important it’ll be covered by all the media and that it’ll pay for itself with free advertising.”
“Great, my goal was to keep it quiet, not spread it around for free advertising.”
“According to Steph, there’s no way this is going to stay quiet, she used words like ‘salacious’ and ‘degenerate’ and ‘nefarious’.”
“Crap.”
“Nothing we can do now. Now it’s in the hands of karma and the universe.”
“Don’t go all new age on me, it doesn’t suit you. Great, now I’m nervous all over again.”
“I would be too, Cara. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Oh, I need the details for the cruise so I’ll know where we stop and everything.”
“I’ll email all the stuff I have within the hour.”
“Did you think maybe Mom and Daddy might want to join you?”
“Well, it’s just for two, and I thought about just giving the tickets to Mom and Dad, but they said they’re all about Ireland.”
“So, I was closer to the bottom of the list than I thought?”
“Cara, you know how it works, we’re a big family, we’re all loved just the same.”
“Yeah, right. But still, there is a pecking order.”
“I wouldn’t say that, I’d say that due to circumstances, you are blessed to be accompanying your favorite sister on an adventure to Alaska.”
“That’s why they pay you the big bucks, you can make anything sound good.”
“True, you should hear how I describe you.”
“Shut up. Thanks. And good bye.”
So, with Steph, Teagan’s lawyer friend looking into the memory cards that we found at Louis’s, Louis being the ex-cop maybe turned bad guy or maybe killed for being a good guy, does that mean that I officially have one less thing on my plate or with the call from Teagan about going to Alaska, do I have one more thing on my plate?
Either way, it’s time to start clearing some of that stuff off.
I texted A.J. to see if he needed me at the photography studio. I’m not convinced that working for your boyfriend is a good idea, even if it’s only part time and I need the money. Truth be told, I’m not even sure I can justifiably call him my boyfriend, but calling him the guy I live with and have sex with is too many words and besides, my mother would kill me. We haven’t defined our relationship yet, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have one. After all, he has accidentally, or maybe it was on purpose, told me he loves me, and that means something.
That means a lot.
So, as of this moment, there are more things up in the air than I can possibly manage and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about most of them.
I need to address them one at a time.
There’s Louis’s condo. It may be that I was legitimately hired to clean and organize it for resale after his death, by his brother who I can no longer get ahold of, or it may be part of a huge criminal thing that I don’t know the details of, and am prayerful that I won’t end up in jail because I stepped in the middle of something I don’t understand.
A.J. still hadn’t responded to my text. I’m rapidly becoming one of those people I despise. People who wait about twelve seconds for a response to their phone call, or their email, and get all pissy when they don’t get an answer. Another personality flaw. Great.
I called Teagan back. “Hey, sorry to interrupt you at work, but next time you talk to Steph, could you please ask her if I’m supposed to be doing anything with Louis’s condo.”
“Oh, that was the other thing I was supposed to tell you, you’re supposed to stay the hell away from there.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Cara, you know you were supposed to stay away from there if I wasn’t with you, so when you called to make arrangements to have me come with you, I would have remembered that you aren’t supposed to go there. If you were too stupid to ask me to go with you, then I can’t help it. As any O’Flynn will attest, try as I might, I cannot keep you from doing really stupid things.”
“Don’t start. You just forgot. You. Miss Organization. You’re losing it, Teagan.”
“I am, and we need to talk about that, but not right now.”
“Any time, day or night, you know that.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks, Cara.”
One thing off my plate. Well, not cleanly off my plate, more like it sploshed over the side of the plate and is now a mess all over the table.
Sploshed is another one of those words. Plogged is plugged and clogged. Sploshed is sloshed and splashed. I have to wonder, if “smog” is smoke and fog, and “smaze” is smoke and haze, is snow and fog called “snog?” Will we get the chance to see some snog on our trip? I have a lot of research to do before we go to Alaska.
Add it to the list.
Also on the list, since I won’t be able to get the picnic table that they’d rigged for physical therapy out of the locked room in Louis’s condo, I really owe the physical therapist a call. I told her I would see if I could get it for her and that I would keep her updated about my progress, then I didn’t call her again. Rude to say the least.
I went over to the desk to find her card. Sitting right there were Louis’s journals. Yet another sploshy mess on my table.
I called Teagan back. “Sorry. Quick question. Should I bring Louis’s journals over to Steph? If they stay here, someone might show up all of a sudden and take them. I’m still not sure if they’re fiction, evidence, or hopefully something completely benign. With finding those memory cards, they might be more important than we thought.”
“Good point. I’ll call her and ask.”
“Thanks.”
Two minutes later the phone rang. “Steph said that if you’re going to be anywhere near Old Town today she’d meet you and take custody of the journals. She also has some paperwork for you to sign.”
“Great. Then it’s official. A lawyer is representing me. I just don’t know why, or what, or how it’s all going to turn out. Crap. I’ll call her when I get to Old Town. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
“I’ll let her know.”
“Thanks. Could you text me her number? Kind of stupid for you to play intermediary all the time.”
“Sure, give me two seconds.”
I hung up. Teagan always says to give her two seconds when she’s running out of patience, so I knew not to call back, no matter what.
Back to searching for the name of the physical therapist who helped Louis try to get back to work, or at least that’s how the story went; I’m questioning everything now. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. So far, I haven’t come up with any answers and I’m not sure the questions are about the right stuff. Who knows what I’ve missed while I was busy asking inane questions, and thinking about words like inane?
Darn it, I was this close to getting my confidence back. I refuse to lose that again. I’m going to stay confident. I’ve got what it takes to figure all this out, I just need to get off my rear-end and do it.
All I need is more pieces to the puzzle.
I found Gina’s number, gave her a call and got her voicemail. She must be physical therapy-ing someone. I left a message saying I’d be in the area we met last time, or in Old Town, as well as all the way on the other side of town today, and if she’d like to meet I have information about the table.
I sounded a little desperate, even to my ears, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And clichés.
Once I got off the phone, I felt kind of guilty. The only information I have about the table is that I have no information about the table.
The call was more than a little manipulative and manipulating people is a bad thing. I wouldn’t want someone to manipulate me.
I called Gina back and left a more coherent message saying that there was really no new information about the table because I’d been having trouble getting ahold of Louis’s next of kin. I told her that the table hadn’t been moved and she was still in the running as far as the table’s ultimate destination and that I’d still like to meet if she was willing.
I hung up and wondered, not for the first time, if I really am a blood relative of Teagan’s since she can leave the most eloquent messages and mine sound more like a confused crack head that has been drinking too much. Not that I’ve ever actually known a confused crack head, but I’ve seen a couple on TV and I’m pretty sure that confused and crack head go together like Irish and Catholic, but in a completely different way.
I’ve got it back. My way of thinking a little sideways. Who in their right mind would compare a Catholic and a crack head?
With my confidence returning, probably unreasonably, I jumped in the shower for one of my famous five-minute quickies. If you’re going to be heralded for a quickie, best it should be a shower, not, well, moving on. Out of the shower, I put on some jeans and a t-shirt, and braided my hair.
I need to call Jovana, the lovely woman who started out simply sharing studio space with A.J. and has quickly become a part of the family. It’s handy that she just happens to own a bar and a ballroom and is doing a barter thing with Morgan so that the wedding is only expensive, not exorbitant.
Anyway, I needed to let Jovana know that I would be at Adeline’s today. Adeline is Jovana’s neighbor and friend, and because she is living alone, and everyone thinks that maybe she is showing signs of some level of dementia, I’ve been hired to be her companion and report back if I see anything her daughter needs to know. I slowed down only long enough to have a quick cup of tea, and make another for my travel mug.
For some reason, known only to God, when I was about to leave I walked over and looked out the window into my parking lot.
God, or the universe, or karma, or whatever deity floats your boat, is good.
Sitting right there beside my neighbor’s Mustang was a familiar little Mini Cooper. Officer Jerkface, once a shining example of all things good in the community, being a very handsome cop, is now high on my list of yucky people, and there is just no good reason for him to be sitting right there in my parking lot.
Again.
I called my neighbor with the big blue balls, bowling balls, or so his welcome mat says. He was kind enough to give me his number when he came over for faux stew. That was the night we discussed that he’s an ex-special forces spy kind of guy, a good bowling buddy with the police chief, and since Officer Jerkface was parked right next to his car, I knew he was home.
“Hey, this is Cara.”
“Hi.”
“I think I might have a problem.”
“Tell me.”
“You know that cop that has been following me around and almost ran over me at my parents’ house?”
“Yeah, I remember the little…”
“He’s parked right next to your car.”
He growled at me, “Stay in the house.”
“I don’t want you to kill him or anything.”
“I’m not gonna kill him. Stay in your house. Stay away from the window. When I knock on the door, you look out the hole, and you open it only if I hold up five fingers.”
“You know what? This was probably a bad idea. Never mind.”
“Cara, there’s no unringing a bell, ‘specially an alarm bell. This guy is dangerous. Stay in the house.”
“Yes, sir.”
Okay, I stayed in the house, and I stayed away from the living room window. Instead I ran into my room, catapulted myself from the door onto my bed, damn near shot myself out the window in the process, hit my elbow on my nightstand and bashed that nerve that makes you say things that your mother would smack you for; but I held it together while I peeked out the window.
I admit, my eyes were watering a little from the whole elbow thing, so it added to the drama of the situation, but it was pretty dramatic all by itself.
Soon, I saw my neighbor walk over toward Jerkface’s car. He looked like he was on his way out to play baseball, with jeans, a loose baseball jersey, a bag that could hold equipment, and a baseball bat in his hand.
He got to his car and dropped the bag on the ground like he was going to stick it all in his trunk, then just happened to notice Jerkface in the car next to his.
Since they had a previous run-in outside my apartment door, it would seem natural for my neighbor to say hi.
I was hoping he was just saying hi.
He said something I couldn’t hear, and Jerkface got out of the car, obviously pissed beyond words.
I’m guessing my neighbor’s opening line was something less benign than, ‘Hi, good to see you again.’
They exchanged a few words and a few non-verbal communications. From my vantage point, with life’s mute button on, they looked like the coach and the umpire after a really bad call. They did everything but bump chests.
It seemed a little extreme.
They argued.
They say when you’re going through a trauma everything moves in slow motion. They weren’t moving in slow motion, it was just taking forever for them to finish their argument. I was already feeling guilty because I’m the one that got my neighbor involved in all of this to begin with, and while your brain can put a trauma in slow motion, the daughter of any self-respecting Irish Catholic mother has pretty much instant guilt reactions.
They’ve done studies. The guilt comes on so fast it can’t be timed.
All of that was rushing into my wee little brain when Jerkface pulled a gun.
Holy Mother of God!
When these things happen, I become very ethnic. I can’t help it. I’m pretty sure that Holy Mother of God was blurted out loud, possibly with an Irish brogue, but no one heard me.
What had I gotten my neighbor into?
Before I could even pull my eyes away, all hell broke loose.
Jerkface was screaming and waving the gun all around.
My neighbor didn’t back down at all.
I was about to open the window and scream, or call 911, or faint, when cops came from everywhere.
My neighbor smiled and stepped back.
I was still watching the whole thing like a silent movie without the benefit of piano accompaniment, but it was pretty obvious what was going on.
Jerkface looked stunned and just stood there.
The cops told Jerkface to put down his weapon.
He identified himself as a cop.
The other cops didn’t look overly impressed.
Jerkface put his weapon down on the hood of his car and backed away from it.
Some young cop, who looked a little too nervous to be involved in the whole thing, bolted toward Jerkface. I thought he was going to grab the gun, but instead, the young cop cold-cocked him.
Jerkface went down like a ton of bricks. I never understood why my parents used that expression, but having seen it, I get it now.
An older cop grabbed the kid and pulled him behind a police car.
Another older cop grabbed the gun and walked away with it.
Yet another cop pulled Jerkface up and sat him on the bumper of a police car, which could not have been comfortable since they have those nob things so that they can give another car a push.
Some older guy in a suit showed up.
He walked right over to my neighbor and shook his hand.
I sat there dumbfounded as my neighbor pulled off his baseball jersey. It took a second for it to register that he wasn’t wearing a catcher’s chest plate thingy—he was wearing a bulletproof vest.
What the hell?
I sat there watching the whole thing unfold and cops run around. You know how cops are, they swarm the scene, everybody busy, then it’s like they have a psychic moment and they all get calm. Then they’re all just kind of standing around, watchful. When they got to the watchful part, my neighbor broke loose from the crowd and headed my direction.
I bounced off the bed, ran for the door and got there just in time for my neighbor to knock.
I slammed the door open.
“You didn’t look out the peep hole.”
“I was watching out the window. What the heck was that all about?”
“Well, remember when you told me I could talk to my bowling buddy, the chief of police?”
“Yeah.”
“We decided that nothing like this would probably happen, but if it did, he told me how he wanted me to deal with it, and I did.”
“But he pulled a gun. You could have been hurt.”
“I had on a vest.”
“Doesn’t help your head!”
“That’s why I had the bat. Hard to aim if your arm is broke.”
“I never wanted to get you in the middle of something like this. My God, you could have been killed and even now he’s going to be after you.”
“Better me than you.”
“It doesn’t have to be an either/or situation. He can be after both of us.”
“Whatever he’s in the middle of, it has to be stopped. He can’t abuse people just because he carries a gun and a badge.”
“I agree, but just because they caught him waving his gun around doesn’t mean they’re actually going to stop him from doing whatever he’s gonna do.”
“You said you had a lawyer working on that. The chief hasn’t heard anything about it.”
“Well, I’m kind of out of the loop. She’s going to take care of it. Some investigator is working on the details. I admit, I’ve gone out of my way to know as little as possible, but I didn’t get the impression that I was going to have some crazy cop camped outside my door.”
“Well, things don’t always work the way you want them to, Cara. For now, he’s gonna be sidelined. I think maybe the cops are going to want a statement from you. I know they want one from me. I think it would also be kind of smart for you to get a restraining order.”
“Paper doesn’t stop a bullet. Besides, then it’s just going to be harder to see him. It won’t stop him, it’ll only make him hide better.”
“That might be true.”
“So now what am I supposed to do?”
“Well, the chief and me are hoping that this has taken some of the heat off of you and put it on me. Maybe he’ll be after me for a while now.”
“If he’s as crazy as I think he is, this is just going to make him madder at me.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to take a little trip.”
“Teagan and I are going on a cruise, but not until after my brother’s wedding.”
“When is that?”
“Next weekend.”
“Well, that’s real nice. I hope you have a great time.”
“God, I hope Jerkface doesn’t try to pull anything at the wedding. That would be just great, screw up one brother’s wedding and the other one’s career, all in one day.”
“That’s not gonna happen, not on either count.”
“You don’t know that. My brother’s a cop and we share the same last name. If this goes bad, the other cops aren’t going to play nice.”
“You just relax and let the lawyer take care of everything.”
“Yes, sir. I was on my way out when I looked out the window and saw Jerkface. I gotta go. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yep. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.”
“Now you’re scaring me.”
He laughed and walked back to his apartment.
I grabbed a huge brown paper bag, the kind from the health food store, and shoved the journals into it, just in case anyone left out in the parking lot would recognize them.
I stopped for a single heartbeat wondering why none of those cops knocked on my door to take my report, but then decided that sometimes you have to just thank the powers that be and go with it. If the cops want to talk to me they know where I live. Unfortunately.
I put on my bravest face, grabbed my purse, which still had tons of stuff in it and could actually be used as a weapon, grabbed the bag with the journals in it, made sure my phone was handy and not in the bottom of my huge purse, made sure my key was in my hand and half walked, half jogged, to my car.
I jumped in, locked the doors, and then dumped the bag and all my other stuff onto the passenger seat. I half expected the window to get smashed in and the books stolen, but alas, no drama, thank you God.
I put my Bluetooth thingy in my ear in case Teagan, Gina, Steph, A.J. or some unexpected person should happen to call, which pretty much guaranteed that no one would. That’s why I always buy the warranty on stuff. When I buy the warranty, nothing ever goes wrong. When I skip the warranty, I have a problem every time.
I wonder if there’s any way to impose that kind of karma into my current situation. Probably not.
I got most of the way down I-60, stopped at a light and dialed Steph. I told her I’d be in her area in the next ten minutes. We agreed to meet at the diner across from the photography studio for a quick soda.
At the next red light, I sent A.J. a text to let him know I would be at the diner if he wanted to drop in for a quick soda. I didn’t get a response.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to leave the journals in the car, and walk back with Steph to get them after our meeting—the whole safety in numbers thing—or take the chance that ol’ Jerkface was following me again and would grab them as I walked from the public parking lot to the diner.
Better to get my arm ripped out of the socket than my car window broken. I heal, glass doesn’t.
I grabbed the bag and headed for the diner.
The diner was almost empty so I was able to get a table right up front by the window. I could people watch while I waited.
That’s what I’m telling myself.
Simply people watching.
I’m not being paranoid and looking at every guy in a hat assuming he’s Jerkface. I’ve never seen Jerkface in a hat, which is why it would make such a good disguise.
I can’t wear hats. My head is too big, but that’s a whole other issue for a whole other time.
While looking out the window watching people walk by, I could also see the photography studio. But unfortunately, all you can see from the street are some really extraordinary images framed in the front windows. No good way to tell if A.J. is inside.
At first, I kind of ignored the portraits in the front window because I’ve seen them before, up close and personal, but then the one on the end got my attention, mostly because it was different than it had been last time I was at the studio. I couldn’t quite make it out. I decided to walk over after I met with Steph.
Steph came trotting down the street a few minutes later. Women who can jog in very high heels on cobblestone streets or old plank wood sidewalks always impress me. I’d just seen Steph manage both.
She smiled when she saw me, sat in the booth across from me, and ordered lunch.
Alrighty then. Guess we’re gonna eat.
Grilled cheese, fries and a Pepsi for me. Comfort food. I’m probably gonna need it by the time this conversation is over.
Steph ordered something relatively healthy and asked how things were going.
I suffered a major blurtation moment and filled her in on everything that had happened earlier at the apartment. Part of me completely trusts this person and part of me isn’t trusting anybody I haven’t known for at least ten years, or share blood with, or well, ya know, share my bed.
Steph was appropriately concerned, agreed that I should get a restraining order, and said she would take care of it for me.
When I asked her what was on the memory cards, she said she’d be happy to give me all the details, but not in the diner. I was welcome to join her in her office and we could discuss everything in detail. She wanted me to see all the evidence for myself.
Evidence.
Such a scary word.
I told her that my afternoon was pretty much booked but that I could meet her after I went to Adeline’s and met with Gina, and that I could sign the papers Teagan told me about when I saw her later.
She suggested, strongly, that I not wait. That for reasons she was not going to discuss in public, it needed to be quite clear that she was my representation.
Great.
Fortunately, she had the papers with her.
I asked if I needed to pay her a dollar so that everything she did for me was confidential. She smiled and said that’s a TV kind of thing, that even when a client is a pro bono case, all the rules still apply.
That was good news.
We ate our lunch. We talked weddings since I know a little bit about Morgan’s and Steph is in the process of planning one herself.
We finally got around to Teagan’s rash. Steph said she didn’t have a reaction at all. Poor Teagan blah blah blah, you know how those things go.
When we were ready to go, Steph picked up the check, I left the tip, and then she simply grabbed the bag with the journals as if she’d walked in with them. A pretty spiffy transfer if I do say so myself.
I jogged back to my car. All the windows were intact. Yay!
I programmed my GPS thingy. My Australian friend came on rather quickly and reminded me of the best way to get to Jovana’s. I could find Adeline’s house from there, since it’s within sight, even if I don’t know the address. I made a mental note to program her address into my GPS when I got there; you never know when you need information like that.
I got to Jovana’s, didn’t see her car, and kept going to Adeline’s.
Adeline looked a bit better today, but I was still worried.
We puttered around the house. I fixed her a couple of meals and a few snacks she could eat after I’d gone.
We talked for a couple of hours. I told her that I was going to go to the doctor for my annual physical. I admit, reality is that I don’t like going to the doctor and I really only go when I think I’ll die if I don’t, but Adeline doesn’t need to know that.
I didn’t even mention that what I really wanted was for her to go to the doctor but she saw right through my rather thinly veiled misdirection and declined.
I told her that it was in the best interest of every woman to have yearly exams, that if there’s a problem the doctor can catch it early and fix it. I told her that medicine is a wonderful thing. I really tried to be effusive and everything.
Adeline informed me that they call it the practice of medicine for a reason, a line I’ve used myself in the past, and told me that she had no intention of going to see a doctor. She insisted that she’s fine. She’s in great health. Her physical body isn’t what it once was, and her memory fades on occasion, she has her aches and pains, and a cough that comes and goes, but at her age, all of that’s to be expected.
I couldn’t really argue with her logic, so I decided that I’d simply broach the subject gently from time to time and maybe I could move her in the direction that I intended.
Never works with an O’Flynn, but it was worth a shot.
CHAPTER TWO
I left Adeline at the side door, promised I’d see her in the next few days, and jogged to my car.
Florida is famous for afternoon rain. The downpours don’t scare me, although driving in them can be a challenge, especially if someone decides to slow down simply because they can’t see ten feet in front of their car.
It’s the lightning that’s scary. Seems like all summer long you hear about somebody getting hit. People don’t realize that just because you aren’t in the rain, doesn’t mean you can’t get hit by lightning. People think it’s no big deal to run across the parking lot or stand under a tree. It amazes me that every year, some of the people zapped are locals. Of course it always shocks me when locals swim in fresh water, where alligators are rumored to hang out in wait, but that’s a whole other issue.
My personal rule: If you can hear thunder you are supposed to be under cover. Preferably at home. Preferably away from the windows.
With that in mind, I ran for it just as the sky opened up and the lightning started to crash all around me.
I hate that.
I drove toward the apartment. Felt safer getting off the freeway where semi-trucks were barreling down the road at eighty miles per hour throwing so much water onto my windshield that the wipers called ‘uncle.’
At a red light just before Old Town I texted A.J.; still no response. Strange. I was kind of hoping that he would ask me to join him for a soda, or dinner, or something. No such luck. Some days are just like that.