Death By Drowning (2 page)

2

My name is Josiah Reynolds and I’m a retired art history professor. I keep bees now and sell honey at the local Farmers’ Market. I live in an iconic house called the Butterfly that was supposed to have been featured in
Architectural Digest
this spring. I guess that has been postponed. When I was flush with money, I collected Kentucky art and vintage movies.

Then my husband, Brannon, died and left all his money to his mistress, who was pregnant with his second child. He left his daughter and me nothing but a life insurance policy, hiding his wealth in secret accounts and what-nots. Because of it, I’m almost bankrupt. I didn’t think things could get much worse until Richard Pidgeon, a honey competitor at the Farmers’ Market, was murdered in my beeyard last fall, and then, I discovered that things could get much worse.

I now collect . . . trouble.

It was Hemingway who said, “The world breaks everyone. And afterwards many are strong in the broken places.” It was because of Richard Pidgeon that I am now broken myself.

I pushed O’nan, the investigating cop, off a cliff because he was trying to kill me, but he pulled me over with him. He deserved it. I didn’t.

I smashed into a limestone ledge forty feet below, while O’nan plummeted into the Kentucky River, which swallowed him. But that was after he shot my dog, Baby, and plugged a hole in Franklin, my friend. He did it because I got him pulled off the murder case of Richard Pidgeon, which he was trying to pin on me. I didn’t kill Richard Pidgeon, but I know who did.

I don’t like to discuss the details of my recovery, but it involved trips to Miami to visit plastic surgeons, dentists, innards doctors, ear doctors, brain doctors and leg doctors. I was poked, bled, stuck and scanned. I should have let O’nan just shoot me. It would have been less trouble for everyone.

Between the Miami trips were visits from physical therapists with their painful repetitive exercises. My face was ruined and, no matter how much therapy I endured, I would always walk with a pronounced limp. The fall had busted up my left ear but good, so I wore a hearing aid. My teeth were either broken or knocked out, so implants were installed but only after the wires for my broken cheekbone had been cut from the inside of my mouth. My beautiful red hair had to be shaved and had grown back gray. Not a pretty gray, but a lifeless dull color that reminded me of gristle. There’s more wrong with me, but it is too technical to understand without a medical dictionary.

On top of that, I had slipped into a severe depression, and felt there was no need to spend money on doctors and therapists who couldn’t really help anymore. Even Key West had lost its luster and the ocean no longer soothed. So you can imagine the fuss I put up when Jake informed me that several more months of therapy were needed before I could go home. Jumping Jehosaphat! I was done!

“Are you going to get out of bed today?” asked Jake, taking my pulse.

I shook my head.

“I need to make your bed,” he said, tugging on the sheets.

“Lea tit,” I mumbled. Now that the wires had been removed from inside my mouth, I could speak rather clearly if I took the time to enunciate carefully. I was still getting used to my new teeth. “’An I ’ave a fresh pain sot?”

“Nope, not time yet. We’re trying to wean you off some of the pain medication.”

“My doter gav instruckions . . . I was not . . be in pain.”

“Spoken like a true junkie.”

“Blow tit tout ur ass,” I said seething. I was tired of fighting the medical establishment for every hour of pain relief. Their constant harping on the amount of pain medication I was taking did not endear them to me, so I started to lie about it. They never cross-checked, but Jake knew the truth.

“Having a pity party all by yourself?” asked Jake. “You should be thankful that you’re alive.”

“Go soak ’our head.”

“Ooooh whee. I sure understood that.” He studied me for a moment. “Depression is part of the process, but you are taking it down to a whole new level. You’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?”

I didn’t reply.

“’Cause that would be like giving everyone the finger after all the time and money that’s been invested to bring you back from the dead. I don’t come cheap, which is why your poor daughter is sweating over a crummy case in Amsterdam so she can pay for all of this.” He waved his hand around the room.

I gave him a raspberry, but in the process just deposited spittle on myself.

Jake pointed a rust-colored finger at me. “You’re mad that she’s not here, but she can’t be.” He lifted some pages on the bed chart and quickly read through them. “I am going to go against the doctor’s advice here. I hope you don’t get me in trouble with the medical establishment.” He put down the chart. “Now don’t kick or I’ll drop you.”

“Wat . . . ’ou doin’?”

“If the docs have their way, they’ll just put you on more pills. I’m trying to get you off that crap. You need some vitamin D, so out in the sun you go.” Jake lifted me, speaking to me like one gentling a spooked horse, and strode outside to where a small pool with pink tiling beckoned. Walking down the wide steps of the pool, Jake eased me onto a floating chair. As I was only dressed in a hospital gown, my fanny felt the free exposure to the water as Jake pried my hands from around his muscular neck. I shielded my eyes against the intense Florida sun. I felt naked, but then I almost was.

“Nothing to worry about. It’s a beautiful day. Just relax and get some sun. And don’t pee in the pool. I might want to take a swim later.”

“Gonna pu sunscreen lotion on me?” I burned very easily, being a descendant of Vikings.

“Nope. I’ll be back in fifteen.”

“Jake, ’ou come back!”

He shut the glass doors to my bedroom, ignoring my pleas. Giving up my whining, I watched him put clean sheets on my bed. Finally checking his watch, he came out and jumped into the pool. After rubbing sunscreen on my arms and hairy legs, he placed a big straw hat on my head and handed me sunglasses. “That will keep you from burning. Now if you want out of this pool, you will have to take your flabby arms and paddle over to the shallow. Once you do that, I’ll come out to get you.” He pushed my chair into the deep end of the pool.

“I hate ur guts. ’Gonna repor’ ’ou.”

“Call me when you get to the shallow end. You gotta touch the rail.”

I watched my jailer make four long cell phone calls from the patio. I counted them. “Who ’ou callin’?” I called out.

“None of your beeswax, missy. Now, if you push yourself to the end of the pool, I’ll take you out to dinner. I’ll dress you in a pretty muumuu and set you up in your new wheelchair and take you out for a spin. Whadja’ say? I am bored stiff with my own cooking. Let’s go out. If you behave, I’ll watch one of those crappy old movies that you love so much after dinner.”

He knew what I was thinking. “Your face doesn’t look that bad. I’ve got some really strong makeup that will cover up those marks. I don’t understand why you won’t look in the mirror. It’s really not that severe.”

I took my time to speak clearly. “I’m jus not ready to see what I’ve ’come ’et. Understand?” I shyly fingered the red welts criss-crossing my face.

“A year from now those welts and cuts will be faded. You won’t be able to tell that your face was injured.”

I gave a Mona Lisa smile, which was all the movement that I was capable of at the moment, but I didn’t believe Jake. But for his sake, I would try.

It took an hour and a half, but we finally made it to the restaurant on White Street. I had garlic mashed potatoes, applesauce and a virgin appletini through a long straw Jake brought with him.

To my surprise, I realized that I liked being pushed in a wheelchair and having people open doors for me. It made me think I was Lionel Barrymore in the movie
Key Largo
. I sure wasn’t Lauren Bacall.

3

A few days later, I was doing my therapy of dog paddling around in the pool, as Jake had fired all the physical therapists, when Franklin casually sauntered out from the house and stood grinning at me. It took me a moment to recognize my friend who had been shot by O’nan that awful night of the policeman’s attack. Yelping for joy, I made big splashes rushing towards him. “What ’ou doing here?” I was still having trouble with my y sounds.

He trudged down the pool steps, and after giving me a big sloppy kiss, said, “I went back to work too early and reinjured myself.” He patted his shoulder. “I pulled something inside, so I am here to recuperate with you, if that’s okay?”

“Okay? It’s fantastic! What a wonnerful surprise.” I pressed his hand against my cheek and then remembering my ruined face, pulled away.

Franklin took no notice. “I brought your mail. You’ve got tons of it – cards, letters, notes, even all the newspaper articles about what happened. Matt has saved every scrap of paper about us. We’re famous. People buy me drinks at the bars. I got a bonus at work. I think it was a sympathy bonus, but who cares. It’s money.”

“I can’t wait to ree all of tem, but tell me how are ’ou, really?”

“As well as can be expected. The bullet went through the soft tissue. No serious damage like . . . well, I’ll heal okay. I had a cute doctor who flirted with me while I was in the hospital. Even Shaneika is sweet when she sees me.”

“Did she bi ’er horse?”

“Oh, my gawd, is he a bruiser.” Franklin playfully grabbed my arm, causing me to yelp. “Sorry there, old girl, I forgot. You’re just put together with a little bit of glue and thread, aren’t you.”

“It’s okay, Franklin. I’m doin’ fine.”

“Really? Because that Gestapo commandant who takes care of you called Matt, and said you were seriously depressed . . . like you might imitate a Norman Maine swim.”

“Wouldn’t tat be life im . . . tating art?”

“It would be life imitating
A Star Is Born
– every gay man’s fantasy.”

“No, just ’our gay Judy Garland fantasy,” I laughed.

“Matt and I decided that you are going to die an ancient lady in bed with us watching you take your last gasp. Anything other than that, it is unthinkable. Besides where can Matt live where the rent is so great?”

“There is no rent.”

“Like I said, where can he live where the rent is so great.”

“’Ow’s Matt?”

Franklin fingered the hem of the muumuu which I now wore every day, even when swimming. “Okay, I guess. He wallows in guilt, but I tell him there was nothing he could have done.”

“Really?”

“Matt’s not Matt anymore. He hardly talks to me. When he’s not at work, which is eighty hours a week just about, he putters on that crappy cottage and your house – like frantic. Says he needs to fix everything before you come home.”

“Want me to talk with him?” I asked, alarmed.

“No, please don’t. Just get well, Josiah. Really well and come home. Then everything will work out.”

I pounded on my legs in frustration. “If I just wasn’t still in that chair, I could be of more use,” I said, glancing at the wheelchair waiting patiently for me at the pool’s edge.

“But ya are, Blanche. Ya are in that chair!” cried Franklin from the iconic scene in
What Ever Happened To Baby Jane.

I made a face. “Have ’ou been waiting to use that line?”

“Ever since I knew you were in a wheelchair. Come on, you gotta admit it was a pretty good Bette Davis and you make a good Joan Crawford.”

“It was scary.”

“It was good.”

“It was creepy.”

“It sounded just like Bette Davis. Sorry, but did you lose your sense of play in the accident? Hmmmm? Was it yanked out of your ass by mistake?”

“Okay, Franklin. It was good. Just like Davis. Now, did ’ou bring honey from home?” I didn’t want to explain that most things were not funny now. I was too busy waving off flashbacks of O’nan shooting my mastiff, Baby and me falling off the cliff with him – screaming.

“Gobs and gobs of it. What are you doing with all that honey we keep sending?”

“Eat it. Put on my wounds. Helps me heal faster and lessens the scars.”

“Isn’t it sticky?”

“Bandages absorbs honey first . . . and think it’s time bandages . . . changed.” I looked around for Jake.

“No, wait. Josiah, I’ve got something else important to tell you.” He gently held both my hands. “Now brace yourself. Did anyone talk to you about Baby?”

I stopped smiling. “Baby . . . never mentioned. Don’t want to know.”

“Well, I’ve got a good surprise for you. Let him go, Jake,” called Franklin, watching my expression.

Jake nodded and smiling, opened the patio door, calling to someone inside. Out through the door lumbered something that looked like a bewildered, tawny lion.

“Call to him, Josiah,” said Franklin. “Let him hear your voice.”

“Ba . . . Baby?” I cried, my voice cracking. “Baby, Baby!” I looked towards Franklin. “But ’ow?”

Franklin didn’t get a chance to explain as Baby turned to the sound of my voice and saw me struggling to get out of the pool. “Baby, come ’ere.”

Recognition dawned on the mastiff as he sniffed the air. Hurrying to the side of the pool, he ferociously barked. Jake rushed to help me out of the pool, but Baby, ignoring his dislike of water, brushed Jake aside with his massive body, trying to climb down the pool steps. Rushing to meet him, I threw my arms around the thick neck of fawn fur and began to sob loudly. I cried as though a great stream of pain coursing through my body found an outlet through my eyes. I cried for all that I had been through – the murder investigation, the loss of my meager savings, that awful night when O’nan attacked and I fell with him over the cliff, the physical pain I had had to endure since then, my ruined body. I cried because I missed my late husband. I cried for Tellie, Richard’s abused wife. I even cried for that jerk, Richard Pidgeon.

Through my hysterics, Baby patiently stood until I noticed his limbs were starting to quiver. “Sit, Baby, sit. Let me look at ’ou.” Baby gratefully sat with his massive tongue drooping from his mouth, drooling thick saliva on me. I explored him with my hands and eyes. “Oh Baby,” I sighed upon discovering his injuries. Baby had only one good eye and an ugly scar creased the right side of his skull. Another scar marred his fur on the underside of his carriage. “’Ou lucky, lucky dog,” I said, giving him another hug. I glanced fondly at Franklin. “He’s so big.”

“He weighs about one hundred fifty-five currently. Because of his injuries, the vet doesn’t know if he’ll reach the regular two hundred pounds. He limps somewhat, but the one eye doesn’t seem to slow him down.” Franklin rubbed Baby’s massive head. Baby turned his drooling tongue towards Franklin, licked him and slurped. He began panting in the hot Florida sun. Baby, not Franklin.

“You can thank Officer Kelly for saving Baby. Kelly was among the first cops to arrive and found Baby in the pantry. He got one of the paramedics to stabilize Baby until he could rush him to his own vet – a buddy of his. Josiah, Kelly has paid all of Baby’s vet bills and kept him after he was released. He even took him to obedience school, but Baby doesn’t know any commands cause he’s dumb as a rock. Yes, he is. Yes, he is,” Franklin said in baby talk, as he scratched Baby behind an ear.

Baby whimpered for more.

Franklin laughed. “You know how Kelly loves dogs, but he could never get Baby to bond with him.” Franklin patted my shoulder. “Baby loves you, Josiah. He needs to be with you, so I brought him. Besides, he’s eating the Kelly family into bankruptcy.”

Franklin’s statements only induced another wave of crying until an anxious neighbor called across the fence and asked if there was anything wrong.

Seeing that I was emotionally exhausted and wrung out, Jake ordered me to bed. He lowered it so Baby could climb on as well. Baby began licking his paws as I threw my arm over him. Usually restless with a few hours here and there of catnapping, I slept the sleep of angels until I awoke to the friendly patter of Jake and Franklin starting the grill. Baby’s massive legs and paws hung over the bedside while he snored contently. I listened to Baby’s soft grunts, the guys laughing, and the rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean’s waves. I felt different – better, like something inside had been mended a tiny bit. I could hope again.