The Dead Don't Get Out Much. Mary Jane Maffini
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think she'd prefer to be in her own home.”
“For sure.”
“Between the two of us, and a bit of help, we could probably manage for a few days. What do you think?”
“Damned straight. Wait a minute. I thought you were taking a vacation with Ray Deveau.”
“That can wait.”
* * *
Not everyone was enthusiastic about the idea of postponing a vacation. By not everyone, I mean specifically not Ray Deveau.
I said for the second time, “I know you're upset, but there's nothing I can do about it.”
A long silence drifted down the phone line. I hate long silences. Unless they're my own.
I said, “I realize you're excited about this trip.”
“It's our kick at the can, Camilla. If we're trying to build some kind of life together, this isn't the time to start postponing it.”
“As romantic as that may be, we'll have to kick that particular can some other time.”
“This is the only time my sister can come down here to stay with the girls.”
“I'm sorry. I just can't go to Mexico and leave Mrs. Parnell alone. We don't know what kind of convalescence she'll have or how long it will take. I'm asking you to wait a bit until we know.”
“Can you get someone else to look after her? Just for two weeks?”
“Maybe you can find someone else to look after the girls later?”
“You don't know a lot about teenagers, do you?”
I hate it when people snort. “I rather hoped that was part of my charm.”
“Well, it's not. So back to my suggestion. Why don't we try to find someone else to take care of Mrs. Parnell? From where I sit, I think little old ladies are easier to handle than teenagers. Even tough and stubborn old ladies, in case you're planning to mention that.”
“In most cases, I'd agree.”
I suppose I should have said I know how much this trip means to you. I know about all the planning and the deal-making and the books you've read and your total effort to make this be a wonderful holiday. This is a major chance to get to know each other better in close quarters without either of our families spoiling the mood and murderers muddying the waters. In retrospect, perhaps I might have said how much I valued Ray and our new relationship.
I didn't say anything. The trouble is, I am lousy at relationships. I'd had nearly ten years to get used to the idea of my husband, Paul, being killed by a drunk driver. It was past time to move on. I couldn't imagine anyone better than Ray to move on with. I just needed to work on some new habits.
“Okeydoke,” Ray said, eventually. “New plan needed then.”
What the hell did he mean by that?
* * *
A couple of words about emergency departments. Don't think anyone you care about is getting in and out of one quickly. It was evening before I was able to trap Dr. Hasheem in another corridor. I didn't waste time on false pleasantries.
“It's been hours. Why keep my grandmother here, where we can't even see her? What is this, the Gulag?”
“For observation and stabilization. Your wait is not really out of line. We have to check her thoroughly.”
“Wouldn't she be more likely to recover in a room?”
“Yes, she would.”
“Then why isn't she?”
“They must be waiting for a bed to become available.”
“Unbelievable. How can she get better in this chaotic hellhole?”
His eyes flashed darkly. He was definitely beautiful when he was mad. “I'd like to see you do a better job with the same resources.”
“Okay, I realize you have resource problems. My job is to make sure Mrs. Parnell doesn't get lost in the system.
“Mrs. Parnell? I thought she was your grandmother?”
“She is my grandmother. I'm calling her Mrs. Parnell so you'll know who I'm talking about. Anyway, what I call her doesn't matter. The important thing is to get her out of this hellhole and into a room.”
His skin paled to light coffee colour. “She's not in a corridor?”
“I don't know where she is. I think you should.”
“I haven't seen her for…” He frowned in a way I didn't care for.
“I'll double-check,” he said.
“Double-check what?”
He raced down the corridor until he gave me the slip.
Something was very, very wrong.
21 Frank Street
Chesterton, Ontario
October 10, 1942
Dear Vi,
I hope England is everything you thought it would be. I am quite envious! I know there's a war on, but still you will see lots of London! We've been getting news about the Blitz on the radio. It's hard not to think of you and worry. Be careful with those flyboys, I hear they're all scamps. I know that you are used to scamps, especially growing up around Harry and Perce. I hope you have a chance to meet up with them. Are there lots of dances? When you get back, you'll have to spill the beans!
Things have changed a lot here. It's hard to get anything. I left the kettle on the stove too long and burnt the bottom out of it. Mum was very understanding, although we haven't been able to find a replacement. As for the old Ford, it's hard to get gasoline. Everything has gone to the war effort. Never mind, walking is good for the figure.
Mum has decided to let the upper floor to tenants. It is hard for people to get a place to live. Even in Chesterton, it's a problem. Mum says we should think about others less fortunate than ourselves. We have more than enough room downstairs. I suppose I am less likely to break a leg going out the downstairs window!
Harry Jones's father was kind enough to make some renovations for us. He seems lost in his own world. It must be very hard for him, losing his wife two years ago and now having Harry overseas. I bet Harry's having adventures too, even though there's a war on. If you see him, say hello from me. Tell him I think you make the perfect couple.
I have some grand news! I was able to get a job at the Court House as a court stenographer. Who ever thought all that shorthand and typing would be useful? It's very interesting, the judges are real gentlemen. Judge Stiles especially is quite handsome, and I get to wear lovely hats to work. We can use a bit of money. This old house is hard to keep up, and we still need the kettle. Movies are expensive too, but worth it. I just loved “Sergeant York”. You never know who is going to be a hero (like you, Vi!).
Love from your best friend,
Hazel
P.S. I hope you find someone to help you with your hair since I'm not there!
Three
What do you mean gone?” I yelped at Dr. Hasheem. Alvin gripped my hand.
“Gone where?” I pried Alvin's fingers from my hand while continuing to block Dr. Hasheem's getaway.
“Lord thundering Jesus,” Alvin moaned.
“Try and control yourself, Alvin. Make it part of your voyage of self-discovery.”
The doctor said. “Apparently, she just walked out. We don't know where.”
“You were talking about potential heart attacks. You can't let her scamper off.”
“Actually,