Brainstorm (24 page)

“Two boxes?” he asked. “Almost twenty pounds worth?”

I tried to look sad, and disappointed in him. “You
believe me, right?”

He hesitated, but then said, “Of course I do.”

Lisa said, “We
both
do,” and she put her hand on Jack’s arm, so easily, so familiar, that I knew in
an instant it wasn’t the first time. Lisa had fallen for Jack.

I worked with Dr. Collins two days a week, and with a
psychiatrist who had wormed his way into our sessions, three days a week. I
finally told Dr. Collins all about the fire. She in turn tried her best to
convince me that it was a terrible accident and that was all.

“You may have been suffering from a form of
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder all of these years, Audrey, and not knowing the
details about the fire has kept me from delving into that with you.” I almost
felt sorry for her, knowing that although she considered my big revelation to
be a major breakthrough, she would never get at all of the deep, dark secrets
that comprised my past.

I had worked my way down to low doses of my meds by lying
to Dr. Collins, and struggling with my demons on my own as best I could. Then
came the day that I was to be released from the loony bin into the wild. Dr.
Collins brought in an outfit she’d purchased for me to wear home, so I didn’t
have to put my wedding dress back on. I collected my personal effects,
including my engagement ring and locket that they’d held for me in a safe. I
agreed to a therapy schedule, said my goodbyes, and called for a taxi, even
though I didn’t know where I would have it take me. I hadn’t called Jack or
Lisa to tell them I’d been released – that was over now. The two of them could
maybe have a normal life together, free of me; they both deserved that.

Now that I was “out,” and finally free to be me, as they
say, excitement rushed through me; I dabbled in hope that a bright new future
was possible. I greedily filled my lungs with the afternoon’s fresh air,
delicious after the stinging antiseptic smell of the hospital, and reveled in
the warm sunlight, a luxury after having lived under the harsh glare of
fluorescents.

I gave the cabbie directions to Krabby Kirk’s, thinking
that maybe the plans for the billiards room had been scuttled and I could have
my old place back. I didn’t really believe that, but needed to at least start
out on familiar turf. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get into the new efficiency
apartment.

I had to live as simply as I had in the past, not like I
had a fortune stashed away. Harley and I would need to be careful and resist
the temptation to start spending. I wondered how long it would take for her to
get in touch with me, to let me know where she’d put our money. We’d decided
that it was best for her to stay away from the hospital, so no one would get
the idea we were becoming friends again and raise suspicions; no calls or texts
that could be traced.

Soon I was in front of Krabby Kirk’s, relishing the
sights and sounds and aromas I knew were waiting for me, and I was looking
forward to sinking my teeth into a bison burger and sipping a cold beer. I paid
the fare, climbed out of the cab, and was walking up the sidewalk when I heard
a car pull up behind me. I turned to see a police car, and an officer I didn’t
recognize, got out. “Audrey Dory?”

“Yes?”

“You’re under arrest for possession of stolen property
and for shipping a large sum of money across state lines.” He handcuffed me and
proceeded to read me my rights.

I knew immediately what had happened. Harley had moved
the money all right. And my guess was that she had taken one of the boxes and
left the other one in the storage unit for the police to find. Goddamn her.
She’d probably called in one of her anonymous tips to lead the police right to
it and left the key for them. She’d been the last person I’d wanted to put any
amount of trust in, but she was the only one I had left to turn to. And now she
was gone who-knew-where, with $450,000.00, and I was going to jail for having
the rest. I’d bet my life on it.

My court-appointed attorney, who gave me the news that no
charges would be filed against me in Miller Crawford’s death, managed to have
the current charges against me dropped. In a nutshell (no pun intended), I
didn’t steal the money from the bank. There were no witnesses to my taking it
from Harley and I couldn’t be made to testify against myself to say that I did.
Yes, one box of bills turned up in my storage unit, but on balance, I’d worked
with the police to find Harley in California, and in the process, turned up
Ferdy for them. And because I am being treated for a mental disorder, and
because the bank robbery was so old, and the bank got its money back (save for
the $100,000.00 that Simon Barr lost in Vegas and the $450,000.00 Harley made
off with), they didn’t want to bother pressing charges against me. I’m glad – I
heard the toilets in jail were right out in the open.

The judge, who’d made it clear he could give me jail
time, said he felt that incarceration would not help the deeper problems he
thought I had. He was concerned that I’d been ejected from the psych ward too
soon, mostly because my involvement in criminal activity had not been known at
the time of my release. He said he hoped I could be helped.

Dr. Collins informed him that I’d previously been in her
care, as well as in the care of Dr. Steele, and that seemed to impress him.
They’d promised that although they would be returning to their practices, I
would be well taken care of in the facility. He’d spoken to me in positive
terms and his eyes had positively sparkled with optimism. I’d tried to sparkle
back, but it hadn’t been easy, knowing it meant I’d be subjected to more
sessions, if not with those two women, then with other shrinks who just
knew
they could set me right. They had
no idea who they were dealing with.

Jack was at the hearing, of course, with Lisa. At the
end, when I was given a few minutes to speak with them, I apologized to Lisa
and told Jack to forget about me; that I was never going to be okay enough to
be a wife and God forbid, a mother. He tried to protest, but the look on his
face told me that he knew I was right. I took off my engagement ring and
pressed it into his hand, and they watched as I was led away to the van that
would take me back to the sanitarium, which Dr. Collins was now trying to pass
off as some sort of a mental health spa. A look back confirmed what I’d thought
about the two of them, as I watched Jack wrap a sobbing Lisa in his arms. I
cried too, not only over lost love and lost friendship, but at the disappointment
and heartbreak I’d caused two of the sweetest people I’d ever known.

As time passed, I did some thinking about why I’d packed
up part of the stolen money and sent it to myself, and I managed to develop a
few theories. Maybe my judgment had been permanently clouded by all the crap
I’d endured in my life. Maybe I thought I deserved it for losing my business at
the hands of Danny, and Carl, and Ferdy, and most of all, Harley; for being
used and made a fool of by them. Maybe my thinking was skewed by my failed
relationships and for the years of mental problems I’ve lived with because of
the nightmare I call my childhood and oh, yes, the image of my mother burning
in her bed, that will not let me go.

Maybe I thought I could outrun it all with the money. Taking
it had certainly been an act of desperation; a decision that had to be made in
a hurry, before Harley returned from the pharmacy, or Ferdy came to. There’d
been no opportunity to think through what the consequences might be, or even
enough time to ask myself what taking the money would say about me personally.
I’d simply taken it.

Jack had said that all perps were caught because they
made one stupid mistake, but I’d made two, and they both involved Harley. I’d
taken the money from her, and then trusted her to help me keep it. But who else
could I have asked for help? I couldn’t have dragged Lisa or Jack into it and
asked them to move the boxes from storage – make them culpable. They wouldn’t
have done it anyway. Harley had been the only stinking choice I had.

What totally pissed me off, when it finally dawned on me,
was that I’d completely forgotten about the reward money; $100,000.00 from Sean
for finding Ferdy, and $200,000 for information leading to the capture of those
responsible for the robbery. I’d done both – so in the end, if I hadn’t fucked
up in California, I could have had all that money and Harley would have ended
up without a dime.

I received a postcard from her a few days ago. It was
mailed from Dallas, Texas, which assured me she was no longer there. She’d
written,
Ta-ta!
and signed it,
The New Separator
. Harley, the hippie
impersonator, was the one who had set me up and brought me down. Now she was
free, and I was sitting here in the booby hatch. What a world.

Today is Memorial Day, here in the “spa,” as well as in the
outside world. I closed my eyes and pictured the parade that should be in full
swing right about now, in front of my old apartment. A hometown showcase of
politicians, classic cars, emergency vehicles with their lights flashing, and
marching bands playing patriotic music. Kids’ baseball and soccer teams would
be throwing candy to the people lining the street, while men and women sold
balloons from bunches that were large enough, one would think, to carry them off
like extras in the movie UP. There would be scouts, Hibernians with kilts and
bagpipes, and a show of horses that was always followed by at least three men
carrying shovels.

I waved my arms in the air and silently cheered for the
marching bands; felt the beat of the drums in my bones. I wanted so badly to
march around my room, but I didn’t want anyone who might be watching to think I
was not in my right mind. I lowered my arms and sat quietly on my bed, smiling
like a fool.

In my mind’s eye I saw the spectators – children lining the
street, mothers pushing strollers, and elderly citizens who could not stand for
the entire length of the parade, sitting curbside in folding chairs. Then came
Drs. Collins and Steele, atop of their very own float, tossing little pieces of
papers filled with psychobabble, to the crowd. Enlightenment shown in the
people’s eyes as they read their little snippets of wisdom, realizing that now
their lives would be perfect. But what was that? A spark at the back of their
float? Yes! Someone (me!)) had set fire to it, and I watched from the curb with
the old ladies, as the whole thing went up like the Hindenburg. Oh, how I love
a parade.

I laughed and shook my head, thinking that probably
wasn’t what the judge had in mind when he’d asked me to make some plans; to
envision my future back in society and all that. Long-range life strategies
were still difficult for me to consider, except for the one thing I knew for
sure. When I
did
get out of here, I’d
go looking for Harley.

I saw myself knocking on her door in some faraway exotic
place. She’d open it and I’d push my way in and shove her against a wall. And
that was just for starters. I’d tie her to a chair, cover her mouth with tape
like I’d seen on TV, and begin to separate
her
from every one of her fingers, and maybe, if she was still conscious, every one
of her toes. One-by-one. Knuckle-by-knuckle. Then I’d wave and say, “Ta-ta,”
and set her place on fire.

A woman knocked softly on the door. “Excuse me, Miss Dory?
Audrey Dory?”

I squinted at the shape in the doorway and managed to
say, “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.” My first thought was that she would turn
out to be yet another therapist who wanted to experiment with my gray matter.
I’d been treated by everything but a witch doctor. Maybe that’s what this one
would bring to the party; wart of toad, hair of rat, blood of swine. “What do
you want?”

She was dressed to the nines in a royal blue suit, belted
at the waist, hair perfect and starting to gray. Her heels clicked on the
linoleum floor. “My name is Elisabeth Ely, and I’ve been looking for you.”

“Get in line.”

She pulled the visitor’s chair up to the bed railing. “I
was your parents’ attorney; still am really, at least until this is finished.”
She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a large manila envelope. “I have
some paperwork here for you to sign.”

“I don’t think I’m legally supposed to sign anything.” I
tapped my temple. “Nuts, you know.”

She smiled. “You’ve been cleared by your therapists and by
the court. They have deemed you mentally stable…enough…to sign these papers.
And I believe Dr. Collins will be here shortly to tell you that you’ll be
released in less than a month.”

I sat up and tried to focus. “You’re kidding. So, where
are these magic papers?”

“I know that you never knew your father, but you did know
he was an investment banker; and he was quite a successful one. He’d started a
savings account for you when you were born and it’s been accruing interest
since then. There’s also the matter of his life insurance policies – one went
to your mother, of course, and there was one for you. Then there was
her
life insurance and the insurance
from the fire.”

I stared at her like she was the one who should have her
gray matter stirred and strained. “I was told the insurance money went into a
fund for my care when I lived with my grandmother and aunt.”

“Your father had also seen to both of
them
,” she said. “He was a generous man
who loved his entire family. And because of that, your grandmother and aunt had
plenty of their own money. Neither woman had ever dipped into the fund for your
care, perhaps out of appreciation.”

I wanted to yell, “Objection! Calls for speculation!” but
I just nodded instead.

“Don’t you want to know how much money these papers will
release to you?”

“Go for it,” I said, trying to hear her above all the
voices that were screaming inside my head.

“These papers grant you a grand total of
twenty-three-million dollars.”

“Why didn’t I know about this before?”

“Your father’s instructions were tightly written; you
were not to know about, or receive, any money until the age of thirty-four,
which you turned last month. I’m sorry it took me extra time to find you, and
then I had to meet with your therapists and the court.”

“Isn’t karma great?” I asked.

She looked concerned. “Excuse me?”

“You know,
karma
,”
I said. “The universe, the cosmos; all that crap. It’s great.”

“Well, sign these and I’ll leave you to it. You can come
to my office upon your release; we’ll meet with the financial advisor on my
staff and get you all set up. You’re a rich woman, Miss Dory.”

“No one else knows about this, right?”

“Just your therapists and one judge – and none of them
can say a word to anyone. Why, is there someone you want to surprise?”

“Oh, there sure is,” I smiled.

She handed me a pen and I signed for the unimaginable
amount. I’d forgotten about my birthday. I giggled to myself and thought,
when I get out of here, I’ll buy myself
something really nice. And then? Then I’ll go find Harley.