“Sounds about right. When I’m sick, all I want to do is sleep. The last thing I need is someone sitting there making chitchat. Talk about exhausting.”
“Have you spoken to him recently?”
“It’s been a couple of weeks.”
“Which I’m sure suits her fine. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me over there. I have to rack my brain to get a foot in the door.”
“She’s protective of him. What’s so bad about that?”
“Nothing if he were doing better. The man is going downhill.”
“I don’t know what to say. Solana and I talk every couple of days and I’m not getting this from her.”
“Of course not. She’s the one doing it. Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I hope you’re not saying I should make another trip. I was out there six weeks ago.”
“I know it’s a hassle, but he needs the help. And I’ll tell you something else. If Solana knows you’re coming, she’ll cover her tracks.”
“Come on, Kinsey. She’s asked me three or four times if I’d come out to see him, but I can’t get away. Why make an offer like that if she were doing something wrong?”
“Because she’s devious.”
Melanie was quiet and I imagined the little wheels going round and round. I thought maybe I was getting through to her, but then she said, “Are you sure you’re okay? Because this is all sounding very weird if you want to know the truth.”
“I’m fine. Gus is the one I’m worried about.”
“I don’t doubt your concern, but all this cloak-and-dagger stuff is a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“No.”
She made one of those long, low exasperated sounds in her throat, like this was all too much. “Okay, fine. Let’s assume you’re correct. Give me one concrete example.”
Now I was the one silent for a beat. As usual, when confronted with a demand of that sort, my mind went blank. “I can’t think of one offhand. If you want my best guess, I’d say she’s drugging him.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. If you think she’s so dangerous, then fire her.”
“I don’t have the authority. That’s up to you.”
“Well, I can’t do anything until I talk to her. Let’s be fair about it. There are two sides to every story. If I fired her strictly on the basis of what you’ve said, she’d file a complaint with the labor relations board about unfair treatment or dismissal without cause. You know what I’m saying?”
“Shit, Melanie. If you talk to Solana about this, she’ll go ballistic. That was her response the last time around when she thought I was checking up on her.”
“How else am I supposed to find out what’s going on?”
“She’s not going to admit to anything. She’s too smart.”
“But so far it’s just your word against hers. I don’t mean to be hardnosed, but I’m not flying three thousand miles based on a ‘feeling’ in your bones.”
“Don’t take my word for it. You think I’m so nuts, why don’t you call Henry and ask him?”
“I didn’t say you were nuts. I know you better than that. I’ll think about it. We’re swamped right now at work and taking the time off would be a pain in the butt. I’ll talk to my boss and get back to you.”
Typical of Melanie, that was the last conversation we had for a month.
At 6:00 I walked up to Rosie’s and found Henry sitting at his usual table in the bar. I’d decided my sterling behavior entitled me to a meal out. The place was jumping. This was Wednesday night, which is known as “hump day” to working stiffs, the week being more than half done. Henry got up graciously and held my chair while I slid in next to him. He bought me a glass of wine, which I sipped while he finished his Black Jack over ice. We ordered, or, rather, we listened, while Rosie debated what we’d have. She decided Henry would enjoy her ozporkolt, a venison goulash. I told her about my nutritional goals, begging and pleading to be spared the sour cream and its many variations. She took this in stride, saying, “Is very good. No worry. For you, I prepare guisada de guilota.”
“Wonderful. What’s that?”
“Is quail braised in tomatillo-chili sauce.”
Henry shifted in his seat with a look of injury. “Why can’t I have that?”
“Okay. You both. I bring right away.”
When the food arrived she made sure each of us had a glass of really bad red wine, which she poured with a flourish. I toasted her and sipped, saying, “Oh yum,” while my tongue shriveled in my mouth.
Once she’d departed, I took a taste of sauce before I committed myself fully to the quail. “We have a problem,” I said, picking at the bird with my fork. “I need to borrow the key to Gus’s place.”
He looked at me for a moment. I don’t know what he saw in my face, but he reached in his pocket and took out a ring of keys. He worked his way through the circle and when he came to the key to Gus’s back door, he forced it off the ring and put it in my outstretched palm. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain.”
“Better for you if I keep my mouth shut.”
“You won’t do anything illegal.”
I put my fingers in my ears and did that la-la-la business. “I’m not hearing that. Could you ask something else?”
“You never told me what went on when you took him the soup.”
I took my fingers out of my ears. “That went fine, except she told me that his appetite was off and any kind of meat made him sick. There I stood having just given her the container full of chicken soup. I felt like an idiot.”
“But you talked to him?”
“Of course not. Nobody does. When was the last time you talked to him?”
“Day before yesterday.”
“Oh, that’s right. And guess what? She says Gus took to his bed because you stayed too long and he was exhausted, which is bullshit. Plus, she canceled Meals on Wheels. I called Melanie to tell her and that conversation went straight into the toilet. She implied I was making things up. Either which way, she feels Solana should have the chance to defend herself. She did suggest it would be helpful if I had a shred of proof to support my suspicions. Thus…” I held up the key.
“Be careful.”
“No sweat,” I said. Now all I needed was the opportunity.
I believe, as many people do, that things happen for a reason. I’m not convinced there’s a Grand Plan in place, but I do know that impulse and chance play a role in the Universe, as does coincidence. There are no accidents.
For instance:
You’re on a highway and your tire goes flat, so you pull over to the side of the road in hopes of flagging down help. Many cars go by, and when someone finally comes to your aid, he turns out to be the kid you sat behind in fifth grade. Or maybe you leave for work ten minutes late and because of that you’re caught in traffic, while ahead of you, the bridge you cross daily collapses, taking six cars with it. You might just as easily have left four minutes early and down you’d have gone. Life is made up of these occurrences for good or for ill. Some call it synchronicity. I call it dumb luck.
Thursday, I left the office early for no particular reason. I’d grappled with a lot of paperwork that day and maybe I was bored. As I rounded the corner from Cabana onto Bay, I passed Solana Rojas in her rattletrap convertible. Gus was hunched in the front seat, bundled into an overcoat. As far as I knew, he hadn’t been out of the house in weeks. Solana was speaking to him intently and neither looked up as I went by. In the rearview mirror I saw her stop at the corner and make a right-hand turn. I figured she was taking him to another doctor’s appointment, which later turned out not to be the case.
I whipped into a parking place and locked my car, then trotted up the steps to Gus’s front door. I made a show of knocking on the pane of glass in the door. I waved merrily at an imaginary someone inside and then pointed toward the side and nodded, showing I understood. I went around the side of the house to the rear and climbed the back porch steps. I peered through the windowpane in the door. The kitchen was empty and the lights were out-no big surprise. I used the key Henry’d given me to let myself in. The action was not strictly legal, but I put it in the same category as returning Gus’s mail. I told myself I was doing a good deed.