Miss Julia to the Rescue (8 page)

She put me on hold while I wondered whether it was her way of getting rid of me. Still, she’d stayed on the line longer than the operator at our hospital would have. So I waited.

She came back on. “You still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. Will you just tell me one thing—is Mr. Pickens a patient there? His wife is most concerned because nobody will tell us anything. And they have little twin babies who’re crying for their daddy and it’s all so pitiful.”

“Well,” she said, “I guess it’s all right to say that I got no Pickens on my list. But
somebody
’s a patient here, but he’s down as a John Doe. First time we ever had one of them, but whether he’s who you’re looking for or not, I don’t know.”

“John Doe?” I couldn’t believe it. How could they not know who he was? Or was it him? I didn’t know what to ask next. “Well, could you tell me how Mr. Doe is doing and what’s wrong with him?”

“We can’t give out that information to just anybody,” the operator said, somewhat sorrowfully. I had begun to hear a little sympathy in her voice. “Would you happen to be a member of Mr. Doe’s family?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, chagrined that I hadn’t made that clear in the first place. “I’m his … ah, mother?”

“Well, in that case, I guess I can tell you that he’s doin’ as well as can be expected with a gunshot wound.”

“
What!
You mean he’s been shot? Where? How bad is it?”

“That’s all it says here and, uh-oh, I didn’t see this. Says here anybody askin’ is supposed to contact the sheriff. Honey, I wish I could help, but that’s all I can tell you. And here comes another call, I gotta go.”

I sagged against the head of the bed. Mr. Pickens shot? No wonder he didn’t sound like himself when he called me. No wonder he’d wanted Sam or Coleman, or both. The man needed help.

Standing up, I dialed Coleman’s cell phone and caught him as he was leaving home to go on duty. I told him what I’d learned and that I was going to Hazel Marie’s right away.

“Can you meet us there, Coleman?” I asked. “I think your being there will give her some reassurance. We can decide on our next step.”

“I’ve got to go to roll call, then I’ll come over.”

Lord, I thought as I began dressing, Hazel Marie will climb the walls. She was already worried enough, a condition plain to see the night before. However much the babies and Latisha held our attention during and after supper, the unsaid concern had been present in her eyes.

Hearing Lillian come in downstairs, I quickly dressed, although my shaking hands fumbled with the buttons and I almost walked out in my bedroom slippers.

“What you doin’ up so early?” Lillian asked before I could speak.

“Problems, Lillian.” Then, seeing Latisha coloring in a
Princess Coloring
Book
at the table, I said, “Good morning, Latisha. Would you like to go into the living room and do your coloring on the coffee table?”

“No, ma’am,” she said, pressing down with an orange crayon. “I’m fine right here where Great-Granny can make me some breakfast.”

“Oh, well, all right. Lillian, let me show you something in the dining room.”

I walked out with Lillian behind me, then I turned and said, “Mr. Pickens is in a hospital somewhere in West Virginia, except they’re calling him John Doe, so we don’t know if it’s him or not. But I think it is, because the highway patrolman told Coleman a
private investigator was in that hospital. So how many of those could there be? Anyway, Lillian,” I said, my voice catching in my throat as I clasped her arm, “anyway, I talked to the operator and she let it slip that Mr. Doe, who just
has
to be Mr. Pickens, is in the hospital with a gunshot wound.”

“Oh, Law,” Lillian said, her hand going to her throat. “What we gonna do?”

“First thing is to go over and tell Hazel Marie. I want you to go with me because we can’t keep this from her any longer. Lloyd spent the night with her, so he’ll be there. He and Latisha can entertain the babies while we talk it over and decide what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am, let’s us go now.” She started back into the kitchen, then stopped. “What about everybody’s breakfast?”

“We’ll let James worry about that. I’ll need your help with Hazel Marie.”

We herded Latisha and all her crayons out to the car, while trying to answer her questions without really answering them. She was happy enough to go, settling down in the backseat, especially after we told her that we needed her to babysit for a little while.

“I can do that,” she said in her sharp, piercing voice, completely confident in her ability. “I can take care of them babies jus’ like they my very own.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Don’t be thinkin’ nothin’ like that. You got a long road ahead of you ’fore you havin’ any babies.”

Latisha’s little legs stuck out over the seat as she rummaged through her pink backpack, making sure that all her necessities were in it. “That’s why I’m doin’ all my practicin’ on Miss Hazel Marie’s babies, so I be ready when the time come.”

“Have mercy,” Lillian mumbled.

I quickly drove the four blocks to Sam’s old house, parked at the curb and climbed out. Latisha dashed up the sidewalk and onto the porch.

“You jus’ wait a minute, young lady,” Lillian called. “Don’t go ringing that bell. Them babies might still be asleep.”

“No’m, they wide awake. I hear ’em bawlin’ in there.”

And sure enough, so could we as Lillian and I approached the door.

“Oh, Lillian,” I said, “I dread this.”

“I do, too, but it got to be done.” Lillian rang the doorbell and, thank goodness, Lloyd came to the door.

“Uh-oh,” he said as soon as he saw us. “Bad news?”

“Not good,” I said, “but maybe not terrible, either. At least as far as we know. Your mother busy?”

“Yes’m, she’s feeding my sisters. Come on in, they’re in the kitchen.”

Hazel Marie looked up with a surprised smile on her face as we trooped into the kitchen. She was still in her bathrobe, spooning baby cereal into two eager little mouths. The babies were each strapped into a carryall, and cereal was smeared in their hair and all over their faces.

“Why, Miss Julia,” Hazel Marie said, a full spoon suspended on its way to an open mouth. “What are you doing out so early? And Lillian? My goodness…” Her face fell as she realized that our unusually timed visit did not bode well.

James turned from the stove, where he was frying bacon, a dripping fork held in his hand. A distressed look spread across his face. “Miss Lillian, what y’all doin’ here? Something happen to Mr. Sam?”

“No, no,” I said, “not that. Hazel Marie, we need to talk to you, honey. Are you about finished feeding the babies?”

“Oh,” she moaned, her hand beginning to tremble as she realized that we had not come on a casual visit.

“Here,” Lillian said, taking the spoon from her, “let me finish that. Miss Julia, you take her an’ Lloyd on to the livin’ room. I get these baby girls all done.”

“I can help, Great-Granny,” Latisha said, “soon as you clean that stuff off of ’em. They too messy now.”

“Come on, Hazel Marie,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulders and leading her to the sofa in the living room. “Lloyd, sit there by your mother.”

“What is it?” Hazel Marie asked, her face becoming ashen as she realized that bad news was coming.

“Now listen, Hazel Marie,” I said, as soothingly as I could. “We don’t know a whole lot, but it seems that Mr. Pickens has been injured in some way—a small way, I’m sure—and it seems that he’s in a hospital somewhere in West Virginia. Now before you think the worst, it’s not confirmed that the injured man
is
Mr. Pickens. They’re calling whoever it is John Doe, so it might not be him. Coleman is trying to learn more, as we speak. But we thought you needed to know that it might be.”

Hazel Marie wrapped her arms around herself and swallowed hard. “How … how do you know all this?”

I told her of Mr. Pickens’s phone call, looking for Sam or Coleman, and our further efforts to discover his location. “Those people, whoever they are, certainly play things close to their chests. We’ve not been able to speak to anyone with the authority to disclose any information. But, Hazel Marie, we are going to get to the bottom of this. We just didn’t want to leave you in the dark while we do it.”

To tell the truth, I had not known how Hazel Marie would take the news. I’d thought she might lose all self-control—cry, scream, throw herself around, go half crazy—who knew? But I saw none of that. Instead, she seemed to sink in on herself, growing smaller as her face became drawn and her eyes larger. It was as if she’d been struck a mortal blow.

“It’ll be all right, Mama,” Lloyd said, hugging her. “J.D. knows how to take care of himself. He’s not going to let anything bad happen.”

Hazel Marie’s body began to tremble as she sat on the sofa. “I should’ve known,” she mumbled, as she gazed down at her clasped hands. “It was all too good to last.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say that.” I sat down beside her and held her hands. “Don’t even think it. Look,” I urged, “we don’t know if it is him. And if it is, why, he was able to call for Sam, so he can’t be too bad off. I think it’s that sheriff up there who’s holding things
up, and as soon as Coleman reaches him, why, then, we’ll know more of what’s going on. So you just hold on and be strong.”

Tears were flowing down her face by this time, but there was no sobbing or gasping. Tears simply ran down her face as if her eyes could no longer hold them.

The doorbell rang then, and I jumped up. “That’s Coleman. Maybe he’ll know something.”

Lillian walked in as I went out into the hall. “The babies in they cribs,” she said, and went to Hazel Marie. Gathering her up in her arms, she crooned, “Come here, little girl. It gonna be all right. See if it won’t.”

Hazel Marie clung to her as I ushered Coleman into the room.

“Here he is, Hazel Marie,” I said, beginning to tremble a little myself. Anxiety is catching, you know.

Coleman pulled a chair up close to Hazel Marie as she released herself from Lillian and looked at him.

“Hazel Marie,” he began, as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I talked to Sheriff Ardis McAfee in Crayton County, West Virginia, a few minutes ago, but I didn’t get all the information I wanted. Apparently, a man they’re calling John Doe was found out in the woods somewhere and he was brought to the hospital with a gunshot wound. The sheriff assured me that the wound is not life threatening, but by the time he was found, it had gotten infected. When they brought him in, he was running a fever and appeared confused and unable to give them any information. He had no identification of any kind on him, which is why they’ve labeled him a John Doe. So listen now,” Coleman said, hunching forward and taking her hand, “it may not be J.D. The sheriff said they’re getting the infection under control, and the man in question is telling them that he’s a private investigator, but the sheriff said he didn’t know what a private investigator would be doing in their neck of the woods, so he’s not inclined to believe him.”

“Why not?” Lloyd demanded. “If it is J.D., he’d tell ’em his name and everything, wouldn’t he?”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” Coleman said, somewhat hesitantly, “what I just told you had to be pulled out of the sheriff—he was not the most cooperative person I’ve ever dealt with. I don’t know what’s going on up there, but the sheriff said that in the absence of proper identification, the man stays on the books as a John Doe.”

“Maybe it’s not him,” Hazel Marie said. “J.D. didn’t say anything about going out in the woods, so it could be somebody else. Couldn’t it?”

“It could,” Coleman said, nodding. “Because if it is J.D., I’d think he’d be calling you.”

“No,” I chimed in, “there’re no telephones in the rooms in that hospital. That’s what the telephone operator told me. So if he can’t get out of bed, he can’t call. And if they’ve taken his cell phone, he’s up a creek.” That didn’t come out right, so I added, “As far as getting in touch with us, I mean.”

That brought things to a standstill as we all wondered what kind of hospital it was. At that point, James reappeared to say that breakfast was just about cold and we’d better come on and eat. Lillian guided Hazel Marie to the dining room while she protested that she couldn’t eat and Lillian telling her she had to. Lloyd, looking wan and worried, held his mother’s hand and went with them.