Running on Empty (11 page)

'Take that flagstoned walk to the house,' Bobby's mother said. 'The stairs to the
first deck will be on your right, and then you'll have to cross the bridge.'

'When I come to it,' AnnaLise muttered, as she climbed the steep flight of steps.
She'd been a flatlander long enough that the elevation of Sutherton, around four thousand
feet above sea level, could literally took her breath away.

Ashamed to be laboring, she grasped the stair rail for assistance. The wood under
her hand looked like mahogany, but the spindles below were iron, as in black and wrought.
Some might say
over
wrought, for the setting. Sure was nice, though. And sturdy.

The deck AnnaLise reached from the staircase had replaced the simpler one she remembered
being off the living room's French doors. Pausing to catch her breath, she looked
around. Where Bobby's fishing rods and other outdoor gear — always banished from the
house in AnnaLise's memory — had nestled, a wall of cabinets now stood neatly labeled
with a brass plate centered on each door: 'Fishing', 'Hunting', 'Hiking' and — who
doesn't
have one of these? — 'Miscellany'.

Except at my Wisconsin apartment, AnnaLise thought, it's called 'junk', lower case.
And it's a single drawer, not a mahogany cabinet.

But this was, after all, Bradenham. The new deck had a trellis overhead to support
the leafy vines that shaded the big sunken hot tub and all-weather kitchen. The whole
arrangement just cried out for a party. But why would someone who never entertained
and, according to Bobby, disliked crowds, need or want such a space?

Other than to impress those boating by it. Or, in this case, bicycling.

AnnaLise patted the giant, stainless steel grill on its shiny hood. 'If I owned you,
you'd already have a lovely sheen of barbecue grease, and margarita dribbled down
your front control panel.'

The bridge that connected the 'house deck' to the 'lake deck' was about five feet
wide, with high wrought-iron railings on each side, presumably for safety. The bridge
then opened onto a round platform, planks set at a diagonal to the bridge. The railings
were lower here and airier, so they almost disappeared into the foreground when you
looked out onto the lake.

'Breathtaking,' AnnaLise said. Mrs. B was resplendent on a chaise that up close looked
like something Cleopatra would have owned if she'd had it custom-made in North Carolina
and God had financed the lay-away plan.

No pearls and Hermes bag today. Bobby's mother was wearing a pair of walking shorts
and a crisp, tailored white blouse. As she stood up, she slipped her feet into woven
sandals with kitten heels.

'It is a glorious view, is it not?' She waved AnnaLise toward a table where a tray
with glasses and a pitcher of iced lemonade stood. 'Please, help yourself.'

Does the woman sit here every day, AnnaLise wondered, a full pitcher of lemonade and
glasses on the table, in the event she has a visitor not immediately deemed banishment
material? Perhaps a 'gentleman caller', as in
The Glass Menagerie
?

Seemingly reading her mind, the older woman said, 'I am expecting Bobby and his friend,
Ichiro, any moment now. They will be so happy to see you.'

Nice. Not only had AnnaLise forgotten the planned luncheon Bobby and Ichiro spoke
about just yesterday, but she'd been unkind to Mrs. B, if only in her thoughts. 'I'm
so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your Sunday.'

'Oh, not at all, dear,' Mrs. B said, gesturing her toward a chair. 'They want to talk
to me about their restaurant venture.' She lifted her eyebrows or, given her cosmetic
work, tried to. 'I have my doubts about sushi in Sutherton, but then what do I know?
I have only lived here for most of my adult life.'

'So you are not from Sutherton originally?' AnnaLise asked, unintentionally mimicking
the other woman's speech pattern.

'Heavens, no — wherever would you get that idea?' Mrs. B actually 'harrumphed', something
AnnaLise had previously seen only in print. 'My father was in the foreign service,
so, though I was born in the South of Florida, I traveled extensively throughout Europe
and Asia.'

South of Florida
? Like the South of France? And AnnaLise was pretty certain 'foreign service' would
translate more into 'army brat', but who was she to say? Her international travel
extended as far as Toronto, Canada, just over the US border to the north and Tijuana,
Mexico, ditto to the south.

'What brought you to the High Country?' AnnaLise asked, raising her voice to be heard
over a passing, reverberating waverunner.

'Sorry, my dear,' Mrs. B said, turning to glare at the offending speed demon. 'I told
Bobby he needs to ban those annoying machines.'

Ema Bradenham wasn't alone in her feelings. In fact, Sheree Pepper might best have
expressed local opinion on personal watercraft that buzzed around Lake Sutherton like
giant mosquitoes: 'Can't kill 'em, can't stick 'em up their asses.'

AnnaLise wasn't much of a fan either, but Mrs. B's tone did smack a bit of 'if I were
king'. Or, more precisely: 'if my son was mayor — which he is'.

'You were saying, dear?' Mrs. B was looking at her expectantly.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I was asking you why you moved to Sutherton.'

'Work, originally,' Mrs. B said, an unexpectedly nostalgic cast to her face. 'In fact,
your dear mother was my very first friend here.'

'Really?' The intonation rang wrong, as if Daisy had told her daughter otherwise,
so AnnaLise muddled on. 'I didn't know you were so new to town when the two of you
met.'

'Oh, yes.' Mrs. B looked lost in thought for a moment. Then: 'How
is
your mother, Little One? I hate to ask her directly, lest she think I...'

'… was concerned about the blood-drive incident?' AnnaLise set down her glass. 'You
have every right to be. Daisy made an awful mistake.'

The other woman waved the subject off like she had in Mama's restaurant the day before.
'Not at all, dear. But, Lorraine and I spoke yesterday and, frankly, she seems...
different.'

Lorraine. AnnaLise hadn't heard her mother's given name spoken out loud for years,
maybe decades. 'Different? She
has
had a couple of... I guess I'd call them spells, when she became disoriented. I phoned
Dr. Stanton to see what he thinks.'

Which reminded AnnaLise that she still hadn't gotten a return call from her mother's
physician, and that suddenly seemed inexcusable under the circumstances, even over
a holiday weekend. 'I'm hoping that he'll tell me it's as simple as a vitamin deficiency
of some kind.'

'Or mineral,' Mrs. B said. 'Even something as apparently unrelated as a urinary tract
infection can cause behavioral changes and delirium as we grow older.'

'But Daisy's not old,' AnnaLise protested. Or delirious either. At least not most
of the time.

'I know, Little One. I know. But chemical imbalances can affect us at any age.'

The more they talked about it, the more agitated AnnaLise was becoming. In fairness,
not because of Mrs. B per se, but because her questions indicated other people were
noticing Daisy's 'spells'.

Which meant they were real, not something vaguely imagined by AnnaLise or Mama.

AnnaLise had to talk to Dr. Stanton and soon, because she'd need to leave on Tuesday
at sunrise for the drive back.

While making the thirteen-hour trek to Sutherton in two days and leaving that last
stretch of rural and mountain roads for the morning of the second one made sense,
the return trip could be done in a single, albeit it very long, day. Once on the interstate,
AnnaLise would have straight sailing and be back in Wisconsin by ten p.m.

So today it was, and no physician excuses regarding availability.

'I understand Dr.. Stanton's bought a place in Hart's Landing. Do you happen to know
where?'

'I do not, but Bobby might. Would you like me to call him? I should find out what
is keeping them, anyway.'

'Would you? I didn't bring my cell.'

Mrs. B obliged. After the push of a no-doubt speed-dial button, she said, 'Hello,
Bobby?' A listening pause. 'Really?' Again. 'Well, certainly. I expect you for lunch,
with or without Mr. Ichiro Katou.' Another pause. 'Just leave him a message to meet
you here. If he... yes, of course. But listen, Bobby, I called for another reason.
AnnaLise is here... on her bicycle... well, I thought so, too... wait and I shall.'

She put her hand over the phone's mouthpiece. 'Would you join us for lunch, AnnaLise?
Bobby is on his way now.'

But AnnaLise had already risen to her feet. 'That's very kind of you, but I think
I really need to track down Dr. Stanton as soon as possible.'

'Absolutely, my dear. Very wise of you.' Back to the phone. 'Bobby, AnnaLise is looking
for Dr. Stanton. Do you know which of the condominiums... uh-huh, uh-huh... I shall
tell her. . . no, she cannot stay — ' a smile — 'I will tell her that, too. Goodbye,
dear, and see you soon.'

She set down the phone. 'Goodness, what a production. Bobby says that you know where
Mr. Katou lives, correct?'

'Correct.'

'Dr. Stanton's unit is on the fourth floor, right-hand corner as you face that same
building.'

'Got it,' AnnaLise said. 'Thank you so much for the lemonade. And the conversation.'

'My pleasure, Little One.'

AnnaLise was climbing onto her bike when she heard from on-high, 'Oh, and AnnaLise?'

'Yes?'

'When you reach Hart's Landing, would you knock on Mr. Katou's door for me and tell
him he is to meet Bobby here? To borrow your applicable phrase, "as soon as possible"?'

Not one to risk Mrs. B's wrath, the first thing AnnaLise did in Hart's Landing was
to try and figure out just how one knocked on Ichiro Katou's door.

She could toss pebbles at the window he'd filled, though the last time AnnaLise had
done something similar, it had ended badly.

So, putting the gravel option on a back-burner, AnnaLise's problem was getting there
from here, 'here' being the sidewalk on which she'd stood with Daisy just yesterday.

Storefront, storefront, storefront... ah, of course. The 'lobby' door she'd seen Bobby
use on Saturday. Trying the doorknob, AnnaLise wasn't surprised to find it wouldn't
turn, since Katou had buzzed Bobby in. OK, simple enough. She checked the list of
apartments and pushed the button next to the handwritten name, 'Katou'.

Nothing. She stepped back to look at Katou's windows. They looked like they had yesterday,
except the man himself wasn't conveniently framed in one. 'Ichiro!' she called up.

Still no response. Katou was probably en route and, like AnnaLise, had simply left
his cell behind.

Duty attempted, if not done, AnnaLise shifted her gaze to the corner unit Bobby had
identified as Dr. Jackson Stanton's.

No visible lights, though she wouldn't have expected them in the daytime.

'Hello?' she called up. 'Anyone there?'

No answer from that corner, either.

She pushed the button next to the 'Stanton' label.

In the distance, AnnaLise could hear sirens — likely the Sutherton Volunteer Fire
Department readying their trucks for the Labor Day parade. But here, on the island,
nary a sound. Nor a flicker of any other life forms.

If AnnaLise had her phone, she could have called Tucker at Torch to get his father's
number. But, of course, she'd left the cell at home. A lesson to be learned for both
AnnaLise Griggs and Ichiro Katou, it seemed.

She climbed back on her bike.