In Sickness And In Death Part 21

I stood and tipped my head to see behind the bedroom door.

Erica.

She wore tattered jeans and a pink sweater, her feet bare, her tangled blonde hair covering her eyes.

I crept closer, pushed the door aside, and knelt in front of her. "Erica? Sweetie?"

She pulled her feet closer to her body.

I reached out and smoothed the hair from her face.

Her eyes were puffy and red with mascara circles the size of mini donuts. She held a hank of hair in her fingers as she sucked on it.

"Oh, Erica."

She didn't acknowledge me.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Dr. Albert's emergency number. He said to bring her in as soon as possible.

I sat cross-legged in front of her and took her free hand in mine. It was like ice. I rubbed it gently. "Everything will be fine. Don't worry. We'll take care of you."

She let out a sigh and murmured something.

"What? I didn't hear you."

Her gaze met mine. She pulled the hair from her mouth.

"Mom said you would come."

I rode in the backseat with Erica. Maury drove his Honda Prelude. Dr. Albert met us at the door of the psych center. He touched Erica's shoulder, then mine, joining us in a pseudo triangle. "I'll take her from here. Everything's going to be fine. She'll call you in a few days."

Where had I heard that before?

The last five times I'd checked her in.

I kissed Erica and ran my hand down her cheek before the attendants rolled her away. She sucked harder on her hair.

Maury started to chase after her. The guard blocked him. "I'm sorry, sir. You can't go with her."

He looked at me, bewildered and forlorn. "I'm her husband."

I slid my arm through his and tugged him in the direction of the cafeteria. "Let's talk about that."

While Maury purchased coffee for himself and a Snapple iced tea for me, I dialed Cory to let him know everything had gone according to plan. Then I dialed Ray and filled him in. He was more concerned about Maury than Erica.

"How's he behaving?"

"He's lost, Ray. He's the same geek he was in high school, just taller and better looking."

"Where were they?"

I described the apartment to him. From my brief glimpse, the furniture had been old, the carpets threadbare, and the housekeeping less than desirable, but I wouldn't say dirty, just used. "He still claims they're married."

"Ask to see the marriage certificate. We can verify with the officiant and witnesses."

I rushed Ray off the phone because Maury appeared with our drinks in hand. He set mine in front of me, put his down, and reached for mine again. He took off the shrink wrap and popped the cap before returning it to me.

He smiled as he sat. "I don't want you to chip a nail."

I was torn between "Aw, shucks, how considerate" and "Do I really look like I'd care?" I settled for a simple "Thanks."

He sipped his coffee and glanced around the room, which had only a few other occupants seated on plastic chairs. "Is this where Erica will eat?"

"She'll eat in her room."

"Is the food any good?"

"It's pre-chewed. You know, mashed potatoes, Jell-O, pudding. I'm not sure why. The patients have mental problems, not gastrointestinal."

"She hates it here."

I took a long swig of my iced tea while I tried to formulate a response he might understand. He hadn't spent the last fifteen years coping with Erica's issues. I had.

"Sometimes she's been known to think of it as a resort and spa. When her life doesn't go the way she wants, she'll do ... something to get herself admitted."

His eyes told me he was wounded. "She was happy with me."

I couldn't argue. I didn't know for sure. "She has to take her medicine every day, Maury, or she starts to act differently. Sometimes she's wild and takes too many risks, and sometimes she's like this. Without the medication, she's unpredictable." I decided not to mention "suicidal." I still wasn't sure of the reason behind all of her suicide attempts. Some had been pretty lame for a girl of her ingenuity. Of course, Dr. Albert didn't agree with me on this, and he was the expert. I only knew Erica needed professional help.

"Is it because of your mom?" He stared at his coffee cup, twisting it between his hands. "Because she killed herself? Is that why Erica acts this way?"

Life should be so simple. "Erica has been diagnosed as bipolar. That's why she takes the medicine. I'm sure our mother's death created issues for her, too. She didn't always get along with our father, and she had difficulties with school. I can't really categorize all her behavior for you. I'm not even sure Dr. Albert can, but maybe you can talk with him later and see what he says. She's ... unpredictable, like I said. But loveable."

His eyes met mine. "I love her. I've always loved her, even in high school."

"I remember all the times you asked her out."

He blushed and cast his eyes on his coffee cup again. "Erica didn't want to go out with me then. She said I was too short, but I think it was because I was a geek." He looked up at me through his eyelashes as if waiting for me to respond.

I didn't know what to say.

He pulled himself taller in the chair and squared his shoulders. "But I grew. I wear contacts now. I look good."

I had to smile. "You do look good, Maury." His dark hair had a fashionable cut, tight on the sides, spiky on the top. His skin was clear, which it didn't used to be. But then, in high school, whose skin was? No longer hidden by thick gla.s.ses, his brown eyes didn't look as fearful as they used to. Of course, the football team wasn't here. He might still jump in a locker to avoid them if they appeared. "Do you have a job?"

He slumped again. "Not at the moment."

"Are you really married to my sister?"

"Yes! We went to Niagara Falls. It was very romantic. I have pictures."

I didn't like the sound of Niagara Falls. That's where my parents went on their honeymoon. It would be just like Erica to follow in Mom's footsteps. "Do you have a marriage certificate?"

"At the apartment. Why? Do you want to see it?"

"Yes, Maury, I do."

____.

About a mile away from the psych center, the spa.r.s.e homes in the surrounding area disappeared in the side view mirror, and I realized I was alone in a car with a man I'd thought had the potential to be a serial killer. Alone, and headed in the direction of an even more isolated place, his apartment. Worse, I hadn't told Cory or Ray that it would be necessary for Maury to drive me back to my car. It would take them awhile to figure out where to look if I didn't come home today.

I glanced at the side view again. No other cars in sight. At least I didn't have to worry about getting shot at, unless Maury had a gun. I had considered him a possibility for my a.s.sailant at the grocery store parking lot, and here I was letting him drive me around. I'd like to think I was brave, but I knew I was more like stupid.

I glanced at him.

His eyes were on the road, his posture rigidly upright, hands gripping the wheel firmly in the ten and two o'clock position.

Geek.

The hills and trees flew by the window. I had no idea where we were. I knew how to get to the psych center from Wachobe and how to get to Maury's apartment from there, too. But I had no idea how to get from the psych center to Maury's. He could be driving in the opposite direction. I wouldn't know. One stretch of farmland looked pretty much like the next.

Ray's words came back to haunt me. You have to watch out for the quiet ones.

My heartbeat accelerated. I felt my armpits dampen, then a trickle of sweat ran between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. A few more minutes and I'd be short of breath with a full-blown anxiety attack. I recognized the symptoms. I'd had a few over the past few months. And here I was ready to hyperventilate without a paper bag.

Maury made a right turn and his apartment building came into sight.

I took a deep cleansing breath like Dr. Albert had suggested. My heartbeat slowed.

Maury parked next to my Lexus. Why, in an otherwise empty lot, do we always park next to the one car in it? Are we so afraid to stand out from the crowd?

Maury got out of the car and took off at a fast pace for the stairs. He didn't even check to see if I was behind him.

Hard to believe he planned to attack me when he didn't even care if I came inside. I huffed and puffed my way up the four flights of stairs again, my knees snapping and popping as I tried to catch up with Maury. For thirty-eight, my body was sure going south, in more ways than one.

As we reached the top of the stairs, I could see the door to Maury's apartment stood open. We may have left it that way. Surely no one would want to steal any of his meager possessions.

He rushed inside and across the living room and began to dig through a stack of magazines and newspapers, leaving me to close the door behind us. I thought about leaving it open in case I had to scream for help, but with the empty parking lot, what would be the point? I closed it, leaning against it in case I needed to flee.

"Here it is!" Maury waved the white doc.u.ment in triumph. He strode across the room with more confidence and held it out to me.

It was all there in black and white. I repeated the clergyman's name in my head over and over, not wanting to pull out a piece of paper and write it down in front of Maury like I didn't trust him or something. After all, he was my new brother-in-law. He was family now.

What was the old saying? You can pick your friends but not your family? How appropriate.

"Congratulations." I hoped he didn't hear the sarcasm in my voice.

He beamed. "Thanks."

"I'll tell Dr. Albert to have Erica call you as soon as she's allowed." I glanced around the room, looking for a phone. "What's your number here?"

"I use my cell."

"Okay." I took out a piece of paper and wrote down his number. Then I quickly added the clergyman's and witnesses names, too, and shoved the paper back in my purse. "Well, I guess that's it. I'm sure we'll be in touch."

Maury blinked.

I opened the door and stepped out onto the landing.

"Hey, Jolene?"

I turned back.

He was leaning on the door frame, one hand in his pocket. "Is Erica allowed to get flowers? Do you think she would like roses?"

How special. I managed a weak smile. "Why don't you wait a few days? Maybe take something when you go to see her. But you know, Maury, that reminds me. Did Erica tell you about her friend Josie Montalvo?"

Okay, so I told a little white lie, but I figured he'd be more inclined to answer if he thought Erica was involved.

He shook his head. It was hard to tell for sure, but he didn't seem to recognize the name.

I tried again. "Actually, that's her stage name. Her real name is Jessica James. She was a stripper at The Cat's Meow."

His expression morphed into recognition. "Erica didn't mention her, but I know The Cat's Meow."

"Do you know any of the girls who worked there?"

"Not really."

"Do you go there?"

He stiffened. "Not anymore. I'm a married man."

I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. He'd as much as admitted to visiting the club, just "not anymore."

"Erica will be pleased you feel that way, but she doesn't have any objections to an unmarried man having a good time. Did you ever go there and ..."-how could I put this delicately-"have a good time with one of the girls?"

Revulsion washed over his face. He reached for the door. "Those girls are nothing but trash, Jolene. I wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot pole." He slammed it shut.

Revolting, untouchable trash. That's what he'd said.

How come his answer didn't make me feel any better?

I drove back to the shop, wondering about Maury's statements. It probably wasn't so unusual to be both attracted and repelled by the dancers at the club. Like Ray said, men liked to look. Most men might even want to touch, but if their brain could overpower their s.e.x drive, they probably wouldn't want to touch one of those girls, who, let's face it, had more fingerprints on them than a doork.n.o.b. If they did touch, they might feel remorse and shame afterwards. The few that teetered on the mental edge might want to stamp out the source of their shame-the girl. That was an old story, but history does repeat itself. Was it now Maury's story? Had Maury, unable to attract a nice girl even with attention and roses, succ.u.mbed to the temptations of a prost.i.tute, then killed her in a fit of disgust?

I tried to picture him doing that.

Instead, I saw the captain of the football team stuffing Maury in a locker while the rest of the team cheered him on. Erica had told me that story one day when she came home from school. She'd cried. She couldn't believe they had been so cruel. In fact, she'd been the one to release Maury from the locker. Erica had a kind heart.