Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 03 - When the Carny Comes to Town (8 page)

Aunt Madge came out of her bedroom, her now auburn hair released from its soft French twist and flowing around her shoulders.  “I locked her in there.”

Uh oh
.  “I’m sorry,” I almost stammered.  “I forgot to tell you I couldn’t get her back in the bedroom, and I wanted to get back to the hospital.”

“I guess I’ll forgive you.  She always wants in there, so I left it opened and she wandered in.” 

I stooped down again to be sure Jazz had not peed under the sink.  Thank heavens for big favors. 

Aunt Madge started to turn to go back into her room, but turned back and leaned on the arm of her sofa.  “Penny was pretty drunk when she got here.  I had to help her up the stairs, and I put her in the room next to yours.  I want her as far from any potential guests as possible.”

She must have read my sullen look.  “And you aren’t a guest.”  She gently tugged Mr. Rogers from his goal to smell every inch of me.  “I want you to keep an eye on her.  I don’t want her wandering around much.  She used to have a reputation for being light fingered.”

I shed my jacket and sank into a kitchen chair and put my head in my hands. 
How could this be happening?
  Scoobie still hurting and his drunk-ass mother sleeping in the room next to me.

Aunt Madge put her hand on my shoulder as she sat next to me.  “When I said you aren’t a guest it wasn’t a comment about you being here, you know.”

I sat up fully and kissed her cheek.  “Hadn’t crossed my mind,” I said, and forced a smile.  “I’m just tired and I hate the thought of that awful woman bothering Scoobie.”

“You better hope she doesn’t vomit in the bathroom either,” she said.

CHAPTER SEVEN

AS FAR AS I KNOW Penny didn’t vomit anywhere.  I heard her fumbling around in the room about six-thirty Monday morning.  I could tell every time she bumped into anything because she cursed a blue streak.  Quietly I used the half-bath in the hall.  I was not about to share a bathroom with her and was glad I had moved my toiletries into my bedroom for the weekend.

As I was coming back down the hall, the door of Penny’s room opened and she literally stuck her head out.  Her hair was combed, but looked as if it needed a wash. 

I bet she doesn’t know how she got here.
  “Good morning, Penny.  Hungry?”

At this she stepped into the hallway.  “A bit, yeah.”

She was wearing the same clothes that she had on yesterday, and they were much the worse for wear.  “I’ll put my bathrobe on and walk downstairs with you.  Aunt Madge is an early riser, so she probably already has a pot of coffee on.”  I opened the door to my room and Jazz ran into the hallway.

Some people are suspicious about black cats.  They may tell you this or they may give a piercing scream.  Penny would be in the latter category.

“It’s okay!”  I yelled as I heard Aunt Madge coming up the steps way too fast.  I walked toward Penny who was leaning against the door jamb with her hand over her heart.  “She’s a sweet cat,” I said.  “She won’t hurt you.”

Aunt Madge got to the top of the steps and Penny had the good sense to look sheepish.  “I’m sorry, Madge.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Aunt Madge’s tone was formal, and I saw her visibly try to look friendly, which I don’t think I could have done.  “Come on, Penny.  Coffee’s on and I was about to scramble some eggs.”

They started down the steps and I looked down to see Jazz had just sat on my foot.  This is her ‘I’m scared’ spot, so I picked her up and rubbed her head as we walked back into my room.  “I don’t like her either,” I whispered into Jazz’s ear.

I TOOK A TWO minute shower and threw on jeans and a yellow knit shirt.  No makeup.  It didn’t seem fair to leave Aunt Madge alone with Penny.  She invited her.  Yes, but she did it for Scoobie.

The dogs were sitting by the sliding glass door that leads to the small back yard.  They looked as if they were on full alert for a squirrel sighting, but they were all eyes on Penny, who was holding a mug of coffee with both hands as she slowly took a sip.  My eyes met Aunt Madge’s for a second and I walked to the counter and pulled the toaster toward me.

“White bread or whole wheat, Penny?”  I asked.

“Don’t matter,” she said.  “What’s your name again?”

“Jolie,” I said.

“Weird name,” was her comment.

Aunt Madge deftly slid scrambled eggs onto each of the three plates she had placed on the counter closest to the stove.  I got a sudden urge to cry, remembering how much Scoobie likes her scrambled eggs. 

“Do you have a suitcase in the car?” Aunt Madge asked as she placed a plate in front of Penny. 

She sat up straight.  “Where is my car?”

Aunt Madge nodded in the direction of her small parking lot.  “Corporal Johnson drove it home for you, and helped you in.”

“Crap.  Did I get a ticket?”

“I think they got to you before you started to drive,” Aunt Madge said, dryly.  “They’re fond of Scoobie, but I don’t think you’ll get a second break from them.”

Fond of Scoobie is a stretch.  But if you were comparing it to Morehouse or Dana’s view of Penny, then Morehouse might be about to propose to Scoobie. 

Penny stared at Aunt Madge and downed the rest of her coffee.  “I gotta check to see if my stuff is all there.”  She stood, a bit more steady than she was when she left the hospital yesterday.

“I can keep your eggs warm…”  Aunt Madge began. 

“I don’t eat nuthin’ in the morning,” she said, not bothering to look at us as she walked through the swinging door to the guest breakfast room and out the side door to her car.

It was a couple seconds before I moved to look at Aunt Madge.  “Who taught Scoobie how to talk?” I asked.

She put a bit of eggs on the piece of toast I had put on her plate.  “She didn’t raise Scoobie.  Books did.”

The door to the parking lot banged and there was a plop as something hit the floor just inside the door. 

“Shit,” Penny said.

“Go help her,” Aunt Madge said.

My bet is Penny would have gone back to bed, but Aunt Madge and I each carried a bag and walked upstairs with her, Aunt Madge letting her know that if she needed shampoo or anything she could ask.

Please let her take that hint.

The small suitcase I carried was surprisingly heavy.  It was the old-fashioned, hard-sided kind I recalled my mother called a cosmetic case.  I set it on the bed and, after a scowl from Aunt Madge, moved it to the small antique washstand.  Aunt Madge pulled a luggage rack from the closet and hoisted the slightly larger bag onto it.  Apparently not one to take a hint about what Aunt Madge wanted on the quilt, Penny sat her large purse on the bed.

“I’m going to finish getting dressed and head over to the hospital,” I said, making for the hall.

“What are you gonna do over there?”

I glanced at Penny, who looked genuinely puzzled.  “They let us into his room for a bit every hour.  I like him to know someone who cares about him is there.”

She bristled.  “You saying I don’t care?”

Before I could say anything, Aunt Madge said, “Of course not, Penny.  Now why don’t you get yourself together and you can go over a bit later.”

WHEN I WENT BACK to the kitchen a few minutes later, makeup on and ready to leave, Aunt Madge just gave me a silent head shake.  The dogs were at her feet as she rinsed the breakfast dishes.  She never lets them be in the way.  I wondered who was getting the most comfort from the deal.

“I forgot to tell you, Sgt. Morehouse has warned the hospital staff about Penny,” I said.

All she said was, “Good to know,” so I blew her a kiss and headed out.

The air was crisp for a morning in May, and I breathed in deeply, catching the scent of the ocean for a couple of seconds.  As I unlocked the car door I glanced back at the house.  Penny was in an upstairs window, staring down at me.

“Creepy woman,” I muttered, starting the car. 

It was just a little after seven-thirty, not quite what passes for morning rush hour in Ocean Alley.  As I turned onto D street to head to the hospital I saw a dark blue Ford Taurus sitting on a side street, one block down from the Cozy Corner.  As I got closer, the window came down and a hand waved.  Instead of continuing on down D Street I turned and pulled up next to it.

“Hey Jolie,” Dana said.

I put down my window.  “I heard you were a Good Samaritan yesterday,” I said.

“Hardly.  Listen,” she paused as if thinking, “I’m supposed to let Lt. Tortino or Sgt. Morehouse know when his mother leaves, so Morehouse can go talk to Madge.”

“Can’t he just call?”

“Doesn’t want Penny to know he’s filling you guys in.  We found out what part of “upstate New York” Penny was in for the last couple years.”

“Uh, okay…”

“A medium correctional facility in Bedford Hills.  She was serving a five-year sentence for home burglaries, a boatload of check kiting, and other variations of identity theft.  Got out early because there’s so much overcrowding.”

“Damn it!”  I hit the steering wheel with both hands.  “Scoobie doesn’t need this.”

“No,” she said in a very matter-of-fact tone, “he doesn’t.  If she’s just here to see him and move on we’ll leave her alone, as long as she behaves.  Doubt she will.”

My shoulders relaxed.  “This might be the first time Scoobie’ll be happy about police activity.”

“She drinking yet today?” Dana asked.

“Not that I know of.  And Aunt Madge gave her coffee.”

“Great.  A wide-awake drunk.”  Dana raised her car window.

AS I PULLED INTO the hospital parking lot I thought about how to deal with Penny if she made it to the hospital.  She did come when she heard Scoobie was hurt.  I decided to tell the nurses we should only do only five or ten-minute visits.  I was pretty sure I’d heard somewhere that people in comas later say they were aware of people talking.  I didn’t want Scoobie to have to listen to Penny very much. 

The nursing staff sympathized, but said they couldn’t treat her differently than they treated Ramona and me.

“But he hasn’t seen her in years, for good reasons,” I said.

Nurse Ratched was having none of it.  I glanced at her name badge.  I’d thought of her only as the rigid bitch.  “Listen, Susan, I heard Sgt. Morehouse talked to you guys about Penny.  She, uh, has a lot of problems.”

We were standing at the nurses’ station just outside of Scoobie’s small room.  She was on the opposite side of the counter and I felt like a kid looking across the teacher’s desk. 

“I am aware of her issues…”

There was a remarkably loud belch behind us.  Nurse Ratched froze mid-sentence, staring behind me.  I turned. 

Today Penny had on skin-tight white pants that left no doubts about her panty lines. 
There’s a reason people shouldn’t wear white until after Memorial Day.  I shouldn’t have to look at this for another two weeks.

“Penny,” I said, “this is Nurse Ra..
.
Susan.  She’s been with Scoobie a lot.”

“Hmm.”  Penny looked at both of us for a couple seconds.  “Well, where the hell is he?”

“I’ve got this,” I said to Susan and a couple other staff who were busily doing something and listening to every word.  I said nothing as I led Penny into the room.

Scoobie actually looked a bit better.  His skin tone was almost his usual, and his face was relaxed.  Still it had to be hard for any mother to see her son with two IVs, a cervical collar, a bandaged head, and a deep bruise down the side of his face.  Any mother except Penny, I guess.  She stared at Scoobie with an impassive expression, and walked out.

Let her go, let her go.

I followed her out, barely able to keep up as she pushed through the door that led back to the waiting room.  “Penny, did you…”

She turned.  “I’m headin’ out.”

“Out?”

“Like outta town, maybe not too far.  Listen,” she turned to face me directly, “I don’t know where I’m gonna be the next couple weeks.  You think it’ll be in the paper if he checks out?”

“They don’t usually list when people get out of the hospital…” I began.

She gave an impatient wave, barely two inches from my nose.  “Check out, like permanent.”

“You mean die?”  My voice was about an octave too high.

“Yeah.  I’d probably come to the funer…”

“Get the hell out of here!”  I yelled.

“Jeez.”  She hitched her ugly purse onto her shoulder.  “You got a nice aunt, but you’re a bitch.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I GAVE MYSELF FIVE MINUTES TO calm down and then walked toward Scoobie’s room.  Dr. Cahill stopped me as I walked by the nurse’s station. 

“For some reason, Adam’s blood pressure was all over the map last night.  Dr. Nobles and I think we’ll wait until late this afternoon or early tomorrow to reduce the sedation.  Assuming he has a good day.”  She saw my worried expression and smiled.  “This is not uncommon.  Overall he’s doing very well.”

I sat with Scoobie for a few minutes, and then touched his hand.  “Hey, I know y
ou’re in there.”  No response, o
f course.  “I’m going over to “Harvest for All” for a bit.  Need to put in the order to the food bank in Lakewood.  Ramona’s coming over about eight-thirty.  I’ll be back about ten.”

I looked at him, wishing there was a way to know if he heard me at all.  “Scoobie, we’re thinking of changing the food pantry name to Nuggets for Nourishment.”

Nada.

I WAS GLAD TO GET TO the pantry before it opened.  I could work on the order to the food bank without having to talk to anyone.  I’d been there an hour when there was a click in the lock of the door that leads to the street in front of the storefront-style pantry.  I looked up. 
Please don’t let it be Sylvia.

Thankfully, it was Megan and her daughter Alicia.  Megan stopped just inside the door.  “Jolie!  I’m so very glad to see you.  Is Scoobie better?”

I glanced from her to her daughter as she shut the door and was surprised to see a tear working its way down Alicia’s cheek.  I smiled at her.  The two of them had restocked the shelves together a lot in the hectic days before Christmas, with Scoobie helping and teasing.  I usually saw little from Alicia other than a mildly sullen attitude.  It was nice to see she cared.  “The doctors say things like ‘he’s doing well.’  And it doesn’t look like he’s in pain.  I mean, he’s not frowning or anything.”

Alicia started to cry hard, and Megan drew her in for a hug.  “She’s still so upset.”  This time Alicia did not deny it as Megan stroked the back of her daughter’s head.  “Reverend Jamison said with so many people praying for him all over town he’s sure to be okay.”

Alicia pulled back abruptly.  “I heard you the first time.”  She shrugged off her jacket, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and stalked behind the counter to take out the jar of pencils and sign-in clipboard from where they were stored under the counter.

Megan and I shared a quick glance, hers seeming to say something like “now what?”

I turned back to the filing cabinet I had been about to open.  A thought buzzed in the back of my brain, but I couldn’t quite grab it.  I took out a blank order form and put back the folder, and then turned back toward Megan and Alicia.  “They aren’t letting people up to see him except a couple of us, but everybody up there listens to Aunt Madge.  If you want to peek in for a minute I bet she could arrange it.”

Alicia had her back to me and turned slowly.  “How does he look?” she almost whispered.

“If I didn’t know how badly he was hurt I’d say he doesn’t look too different.” 

Alicia’s look of relief could only be described as enormous.  “I’m, I’m so happy,” she stammered.

Definitely something going on here
.  “Why don’t you guys give my aunt a call at the B&B if you want to go visit.”  I remembered Megan usually took the bus to volunteer at the pantry because she didn’t have a car.  “I can drive you if you want.”

“I may well do that,” Megan said.

We left it at that, but I knew Alicia was upset about something more than a recovering Scoobie.  I’d have to work out how to get her to talk about it.

I WAS GETTING USED
TO
THE hospital routine, enough that I was bored silly.  Jennifer came by at lunch time and I was actually glad to see her. 

“I’ve called and emailed anyone I could think of,” she said.  “And I said what you said, about he should get better and that people shouldn’t come over here.”

“That’s great.”  I didn’t know what else to say.  I wasn’t about to ask her how her appraisal business was going.  Jennifer now runs her family’s business, and they do most of the appraisals in town.

“You think he’ll be all right?” she asked.

“Everybody says things about how lucky he’s been.” I said.  “If he was going to be a mush melon they probably wouldn’t say that.”  As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them.  Scoobie would laugh at that, but hardly anyone else would.

“Oh dear…” she began.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put it that way.”

She actually patted my knee.  “You and Scoobie always have had your own…language.”

Fortunately, she didn’t stay long.  Ramona was coming after she got off work at five o’clock, so I spent the afternoon sitting with Scoobie and calling a couple people myself.  Reverend Jamison said everyone was praying for Scoobie, and Lance said he’d been by “Harvest for All” and I shouldn’t worry about things there for awhile.

“I’m not saying we could get along without you, but Sylvia or Dr. Welby or I could probably figure out how to do things like place orders with the Food Bank in Lakewood.”

“If I need you to do that I’ll let you know.  Right now, it’s good to have something else to think about besides Scoobie.”

“Never good to dwell on the negative,” he said, as he hung up.

I smiled to myself.  Lance might be about ninety, but I’d already learned he knew a lot about friendship. 
You could take some lessons.

RAMONA AND I WERE sitting in the ICU lounge when Dr. Cahill stopped by at five-thirty.  “We’re going to wait until at least tomorrow evening to reduce the sedation.”  Seeing our expressions, she added, “He’s continuing to do well.  We just want his blood pressure to be relatively consistent for twenty-four hours straight.”

Ramona and I talked again about the visit from Turk or Stefan or whatever his name is, and what to make of it.  “At least they’re out of town now,” she said.

“Do you know where they were going?” I asked.

“There was a small article saying Scoobie’s a bit better.  It also said the carnival was going to Asbury Park next.”

I nodded.  The early home of Bruce Springsteen was only about 20 miles or so north of Ocean Alley. “I suppose kids are still in school, so they only do weekends.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“Just glad to know they aren’t here, that’s all.”

But it wasn’t all.  After she left I kept thinking about what Scoobie didn’t like about Turk.  It could have just been a coincidence, but I didn’t think so.  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go by the carnival at its next stop.  I’
d need some sort of disguise…

“The hotel,” I said, aloud.  I had forgotten about the “sleazy hotel where the carnies stayed.”  Or however Morehouse had put it.  It could have been one of two, either “Stay at the Shore” or the “Ocean Alley Budget Inn.”  Maybe Scoobie had gone there with Turk.  It wouldn’t hurt to check.

“DID YOU SEE MUCH OF ADAM’S mother today?” Aunt Madge asked as I got back to the Cozy Corner about ten o’clock.

“She left the hospital almost as soon as she got there.  Sounded like she was leaving town.  She didn’t stop by here for her stuff?”

“She went upstairs late morning and came back down fairly soon.  All she said was she might stay somewhere else tonight, and asked if she could leave most of her things here.”  Aunt Madge was frowning now.  “I always respect my guests’ privacy, but in her case I made an exception.”

I grinned at her.  “You snooped through her stuff?”

“Some of it.  Just personal items and a couple ounces of pot.”

I made a mental note. 
How did Aunt Madge know what pot looked like?

“Since she put that smaller case on the closet shelf under the clothes she wore yesterday, I figured she wanted it out of sight.  I left it alone,” Aunt Madge said, and turned off the main kitchen light.

I shrugged and started for the stairs.  “She must still have friends here.”

“You’re kidding, right?”  Aunt Madge said.

“Oh.  Right.  It’s possible,” I said slowly, “that she got picked up for drunk driving.”

Aunt Madge stood up.  “Lucky you sleep upstairs.  I’d bet a month’s worth of muffins that she’ll roll in here about two A.M. and pound on the door.

CHAPTER NINE

I GOT UP TUESDAY MORNING glad Scoobie hadn’t had to deal with Penny.  Who knew where she was or why she showed up in the first place?

We were enjoying a Penny-free breakfast as we sat at Aunt Madge’s oak kitchen table eating toast and eggs, since Aunt Madge didn’t have to make muffins for paying guests.  I had even scrambled the eggs.

Aunt Madge kept going over why Penny had bothered to come at all.  “Maybe Penny saw that short piece on the early New Jersey news show on Sunday and came through town with her last vestige of maternal interest.”

“And then left for awhile so she didn’t have to deal with Scoobie?”  I asked.

“I doubt we’ve seen the last of her.  Maybe,” her face brightened, “she’ll get her things and leave without spending another night.”

I picked up our now-empty plates and carried them to the sink.  “How come you didn’t tell me you tried to get social services involved?” I asked. 

“I thought Adam should be able to tell you what he wanted.”  She put some honey in her tea.

For about the hundredth time I wished my dear aunt did not have such scruples about privacy.  Penny’s luggage aside.

I DECIDED TO HEAD FOR JAVA JOLT before going to the hospital.  I wanted something other than hospital coffee, and I thought if I told Joe Regan what Scoobie’s status was he could pass the news to anybody who asked. 

And I wanted to get on the Internet.  The Cozy Corner B&B does not have cable or Internet.  I suppose it’s to keep costs down, though Aunt Madge says it’s to give her guests a chance to fully relax.  Some agree with her philosophy, some don’t.  She does have a good antenna on the roof, so at least there are a couple TV stations available.

I was halfway up the steps to the boardwalk when I realized these might be the very ones Scoobie fell or was tossed down.  “Eeegh!”  I ran up them and was a few feet from the top of the stairs before I turned around. 

“Whaddya up to, Ms. Nosy Bird?”

I like Lester Argrow, really, but his choice of vocabulary is sometimes a mystery to me.  I looked at him as he walked closer to me on the boardwalk.  Lester is about five feet six, maybe less, and he often has a cigar in his mouth.  Today was no exception.  As he got closer I could see he had trimmed the hair in the mole on his cheek.  Always a good thing.

“Nosy Bird?”  I asked.  “You think I’m going to talk to you now?”

Lester barked his usual laugh.  “Ramona’s been telling me what’s going on with Scrubbie, Scoobie,” he said.  “Jeez, he almost bought it.”

I nodded and fell into step with Lester and continued toward Java Jolt.

“What was you squealing about?” Lester asked.

“Umm.”  I hesitated.

“Come on, Jolie, you know you like me to help you when you got a case.”

Lester is the only one who acts as if he thinks I think I’m some sort of detective.  I’ve told him at least five times that I just don’t like loose ends or unanswered questions, especially if they’re about a friend.  “Sgt. Morehouse said Scoobie fell or was pushed down some steps, and they found him kind of under the boardwalk.  I thought maybe it was those steps.”

“Coulda been, I guess.  Why was he on the boardwalk that time of night, anyway?”  He hummed tunelessly as he walked.

“Don’t know, but he could have been just walking back to his rooming house,” I said.

Lester opened the door to Java Jolt, and I was almost overcome by the smell of fresh coffee and chocolate chip muffins. 
I miss this place.

“Jolie!  Great to see you.  How is he?”  Joe displayed none of his mild heckling side, which he sometimes directs at Scoobie.  Instead, his Irish features sported a furrowed brow.

“Not much change, but that’s a good thing, you know?”  I picked up a large disposable cup and began to fill it from the thermos on the counter.  Once tourist season starts in earnest the thermoses come off the counter and everybody orders from Joe or a couple summer employees.  I knew I’d miss the comfy feeling that Java Jolt has in the winter.

“Jolie’s on top of everything,” Lester threw in.

Joe gave me a full-out grin.  “I don’t know, Jolie, you don’t always come out in one piece when you snoop.”

“I don’t
snoop
.  I just…check out stuff.”  I don’t understand why people insist on using that word.

Joe laughed and Lester snorted as he poured his coffee. 

“Cut it out, you guys.  We’re talking about Scoobie,” I said. 

Joe nodded and turned back to the latte machine, which he’d been cleaning when we walked in.  “Ramona’s keeping me up to speed.  You call anytime.”