Authors: Sharon Woods Hopkins
Killerwatt (15 page)
I tracked down who administered the barbiturates. It
was a second-year intern, and we are in the process of questioning him about
it.”
Marinthe withdrew a small sheaf of papers from his
pocket, examined the top page, and continued. “I have also located the
technician who withdrew Mr. McCarter’s blood sample when he was in the
emergency room. We are trying to solve the riddle of how the blood sample was
pulled.” He replaced the papers into his pocket. “All I can tell you at this
point is that we are questioning two people about what happened to your
husband. I will tell you more when I know more.”
When Rhetta started to thank him, he held up a hand
to stop her. “Please understand that I don’t want you to say or do anything at
this point. I am telling you this, perhaps prematurely, since the investigation
isn’t yet completed, so that you won’t worry about leaving your husband in our
care without bringing someone else to watch over him.” He glanced sideways at
Woody while he spoke. Woody returned his gaze.
“You do realize, Doctor Marinthe, that my husband is
facing a DUI as a result of that blood test?”
“I do. That’s why I am investigating this along with
the barbiturates.” He handed her his card. “Please call me if you have any more
concerns.”
Rhetta nodded and tucked the card into her purse as
the slightly built French doctor walked to the door, his left leg dragging
slightly.
Woody let out a low whistle. “What do you suppose he
thinks is going on?”
“I don’t know, but for some inexplicable reason, I
trust Doctor Marinthe.”
Randolph said, “What’s going on, Rhetta? What’s that
about the blood test?”
Rhetta hadn’t told Randolph about the need to use an
iodine scrub to pull blood for a blood alcohol level test. When she told him,
Randolph examined his own arms.
“No trace of iodine,” he said and met his wife’s
gaze.
“Right.” She peered at Woody, who sauntered over to
peer over her shoulder at Randolph’s arms.
“Look, guys,” Rhetta said, glancing from Randolph to
Woody, “the court will use the test they pulled. However, if we can prove they
took it incorrectly, then the test should be thrown out, and there goes any
proof that Randolph was drinking.”
Woody inspected his shoes, then examined his
fingernails. He looked everywhere but at Randolph.
“I wasn’t drunk, Woody,” Randolph said.
Woody glanced up. “Sure. I know.” He shoved his
hands into his pants pockets.
Randolph sighed and reached for Rhetta’s hand. She
wrapped both of hers around his.
“Woody doesn’t believe me,” Randolph said to Rhetta.
“I…it’s just that, you know, it’s hard to believe
that in a hospital somebody messed up these tests, but I believe you,” Woody
said. He began pacing and repeated, “I do believe you. Especially now, after
this incident with the barbiturates. I guess anything can go wrong anywhere,
including at a hospital.”
Rhetta stretched across the side of the bed and
planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek.
“I’m going outside to call Billy Dan. I’ll be back
soon.”
Woody gathered up the wrappers from his breakfast
and deposited it all into the trashcan. “I’m going to head to the house. Jenn’s
mom and brother, and his new wife are coming by today for a cookout. I need to
get home, and get stuff ready.”
“Thanks for coming here, Woody,” Randolph said,
extending his hand. Woody shook it, gave a little wave over his shoulder and
left.
Randolph said to Rhetta, “Babe, can you change it
back to Court TV?” before lying back on the pillow and closing his eyes.
*
* *
Rhetta
found Billy Dan’s landline number in her contacts list and dialed. She counted
eighteen rings without an answer or an answering machine. She disconnected. The
time on her iPhone read 10:35. She’d call him back at noon.
*
* *
The
rattle of the food trays coming down the hall ended Randolph’s nap. He appeared
delighted to discover real food on his meal tray, even if it consisted of fruit
Jell-O and soup. Rhetta had to smile. He was not normally a fan of Jell-O.
She fluffed pillows and adjusted Randolph’s bed
upward, which made it easier for him to eat. “I can’t believe everything that’s
happened since I found the schematic, including your accident, is all
coincidence. Especially, Peter’s death.” Rhetta shuddered, recalling the image
of Peter lying dead on the floor of his apartment.
They were interrupted by the booming voice of an
overweight man in an ill-fitting suit, shuffling uninvited into the room. “How
are you feeling, Judge McCarter?” the man said and stopped by the bed. Randolph
made no effort to accept the business card the man held out. “I just want you
to know I’m available to help you with your little, ah, problem, Judge.” The
unkempt man with hair overdue for an oil change dropped the card on the nearby
tray table, then produced an oversized handkerchief and mopped his sweaty
face.
“Albert Claymore. My wife, Rhetta.” Randolph nodded
toward Rhetta.
“Pleased, I’m sure, ma’am,” answered the unkempt
man, whose foul body odor permeated the room. He offered her a stubby hand with
ragged fingernails. Rhetta glanced at her husband, then back at Claymore. She
accepted his handshake but quickly removed her hand, fighting an urge to run to
the bathroom and scrub up.
“I won’t need your services, Albert. Have a nice
day.”
“If you change your mind….” The grubby man lumbered
to the door.
As soon as the hulk cleared the doorway, Randolph
said, “Not even if hell freezes over.”
“Who in God’s name is that creature?” Rhetta called
from the bathroom as she washed her hands.
“That’s the one and only Albert Claymore, attorney
at law,” Randolph answered.
“Did he want you to hire him?” Rhetta returned to
Randolph’s bed, where she picked up the card by its edge and examined it.
Randolph said, “He’s an ambulance chaser. From what
I know, he specializes in representing drunk drivers. He checks the hospital
records daily to see who’s been admitted with a possible DUI.”
“That’s disgusting,” Rhetta said, pumping a generous
dollop of antibacterial gel into her hands from the dispenser on the bedside
table. She massaged her hands vigorously.
“I wouldn’t hire him if he were the last attorney in
the county, or on the planet, for that matter,” said Randolph and reached for
the ramekin of fruit-flavored gelatin cubes.
Rhetta whispered, even though no one else was in
the room. “I’m worried about Billy Dan. I can’t reach him.”
Randolph grimaced before he swallowed a bite of the
red gelatin. “Billy Dan gets up at the crack of dawn. He’s probably already had
coffee and breakfast in town and is out fishing on that big lake of his.” Billy
Dan’s house nestled deep in the woods, within casting distance of a well-established
fifteen-acre lake built fifty years earlier. It brimmed with bass, channel
catfish, bluegill, and crappie.
“His voicemail doesn’t even pick up.” Rhetta reached
for her phone, peered down the hall to be sure no one was approaching, then
speed-dialed Billy Dan’s number again.
When he still didn’t answer, Rhetta opened the
drawer on the bedside table and rummaged around until she found what she
wanted. She thumbed through the phone directory and found the number for Merc’s
Diner. She couldn’t help feeling uneasy about not reaching Billy Dan. With
everything that had happened to Randolph, she hadn’t called Billy Dan earlier.
Now she chided herself for not calling him. Billy Dan saw the schematic and was
with Randolph just before the accident. Her gut told her Billy Dan could be in
danger, too.
Again making sure no staff was approaching, since
she’d been clearly informed by Nurse Ratched not to use her cell phone in the
room, she dialed Merc’s.
A woman answered. “Merc’s Diner, this is Krista.”
Typical kitchen sounds filled the background. “Can I help you?”
Rhetta spoke up louder, so that Krista would hear
her over the restaurant noise. “This is Rhetta McCarter, and I need to reach Billy
Dan Kercheval. Is he there?”
“No, ma’am, he’s not here. As a matter of fact, I
haven’t seen Billy Dan all morning,” said Krista. “Do you have his cell
number?”
“No, I don’t,” Rhetta answered, fumbling for a pen
and slip of paper. She located a pencil and notepad in the drawer. She
scribbled the number the girl rattled off and repeated it before hanging up.
Once disconnected from Merc’s, Rhetta tapped in the
number for Billy Dan’s cell. This time, the call went straight to voice mail.
She left her name and number and asked Billy Dan to call back right away.
Rhetta frowned, and Randolph spoke before she could
say anything. “It’s not like Billy Dan not to be at Merc’s first thing in the
morning. That worries me.”
“Why don’t I go out there?” Rhetta said, already
gathering up her purse.
Randolph agreed. “You should do that. I’ll be fine.
I need a nap anyway after that big meal.” He jutted his chin toward the empty
Jell-O dish.
She glanced up. The clock above the door said 1:15.
Remembering the schematic and the misfortune that
befell everyone who had seen it made Rhetta’s stomach flutter. She urgently
needed to know if Billy Dan was all right. Before reaching the door, she
stopped. “I turn left at County Road 1140, don’t I?”
In the last couple of years, she and Randolph had
been out to Billy Dan’s fishing several times. Although she was sure she knew
the way, she occasionally mixed up County Road numbers. She wanted to be sure
she had the correct route in mind before heading out. Her Google map wouldn’t
help her much unless she knew the road number. Rural Bollinger County addresses
didn’t appear on her iPhone map.
Randolph nodded. “Yes, that’s his road number.” He
reached for her hand. “I love you. Be very careful.”
Rhetta grasped his hand, and leaned in to place a
kiss on his still-swollen cheek. “I’ll call you when I know Billy Dan is okay.”
Randolph caressed her cheek with the back of his
hand. She turned his hand over and kissed his palm. “I love you, too.” She
swept out before Randolph could notice the extra moisture in her eyes.
A brisk wind blew as Rhetta pushed the revolving
door leading out to the parking lot. Leaves from the nearby trees fluttered to
the sidewalk and swirled with the dust devils. From all appearances, a summer
thunderstorm was marching in.
Rhetta emerged from under the emergency room porte-cochère
to fat, cold raindrops smacking her in the face. She broke into a run, reaching
the covered parking garage just as a torrent of rain descended. By the time she
reached her car, she was drenched.
She grabbed more baby wipes for the second time that
day and wiped off the splashes. She turned up her nose at the lingering baby
powder smell. “I’ll have to treat these seats with Armor All.” After their hard
work replacing the interior in Cami, she didn’t want to suffer stains on the
immaculate upholstery.
While the car idled, she snatched her phone and
scrolled to the weather application. She hadn’t recalled any rain in the
forecast. Then she realized that she hadn’t even heard a weather forecast for
several days. Sure enough, AccuWeather displayed little lightning streaks
indicating severe thunderstorms for the afternoon. It also predicted a clearing
by early evening.
If Billy Dan was indeed fishing as Randolph
suggested, he should have sought cover, probably in his house, when the storm
erupted. She scrolled through her recent calls to Billy Dan’s number and called
it again. Still no answer.
He probably went into town for coffee.
Before she could put Cami into gear, an old man
shuffled in front of her car, stopped, and placed a hand on the hood. He stood
there, palm still on her car, staring at her through the windshield. Her heart
pounded. The man seemed familiar. Or did he? A former customer? No, she didn’t
know this guy. She threw open the door and got out, staying behind the big door
for protection.
“Hey mister, I think you need to move. I’m kind of
in a hurry.”
“Hello, Rhetta,” the old man said. His raspy voice
tugged at dark recesses in her memory. She stared at the man coming toward her.
He was much older now than he was in the only picture she had of him, the one
with him smiling and an arm draped across her mother’s slender shoulders.
He stopped when he reached the door. She stared into
the green eyes she’d inherited.
Her father.
Rhetta’s mouth went dry and her hands began to
sweat.
“Do you know who I am?” her father asked, his hands
dropping to his sides. He stood there, a shriveled old man in faded blue jeans
and a tattered blue T-shirt. His thinning white hair stood askew from the gusts
that swept through the garage.
The way he spoke, along with the realization that
the man she most hated in the world was inexplicably standing in front of her
car, made a long-buried fury rise from the depth of her bowels.
“I know exactly who you are. You’re the son of a
bitch that walked out on us. Get the hell away from me.”
The old man reached a trembling hand into a shirt
pocket and pulled something out. He walked to the driver’s door and offered it
to her.
Rhetta didn’t look at it, didn’t take it.
“Get out of here. Get away from me!” She began
pulling the car door closed. He touched the door. With surprising strength, her
father held the heavy door firmly. “Please take this. It was your mother’s.”
Rhetta stared at his hand. In his palm nestled a
gold, heart-shaped locket on a thin, gold chain. She reached for it and closed
her hand over it.
“Where did you get this?” Rhetta popped the catch
with her thumbnail. The heart split open, revealing a faded black-and-white
picture of her beautiful mother holding a towheaded baby.
She stared at her beloved mother, smiling. Tears
filled Rhetta’s eyes. Memories of her mother washed over her.
“I’m sorry, Rhetta.” The old man shook his head. “I
know you can’t forgive me. I’m sorry I wasn’t part of your life.” He looked
down at the concrete floor. “I loved you both.”
“Loved us? You had a peculiar way of showing your
love, Daddy dear. What do you call that? Love by absence? Where the hell have
you been all my life?” She trembled with long-buried fury that bubbled to life.
He shuffled from one foot to the other. When he
spoke, his voice was raspy, like a man who smoked and drank too much. “When I
came back from my first tour in ’Nam, your mother had taken up with someone
else.” He let go of the car door and stepped back. “She told me never to see her
or you again. My heart was broken, but I had to go back overseas. I got shot in
my second tour and spent three years in and out of hospitals. After that, I
gave up, hit the bottle, and did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”
“I don’t believe you. Mama never married anyone
else. She told me you left us. And, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s been a
long damn time since Vietnam.” Rhetta spat out the words, fervently wishing
they were knife blades that would pierce his heart.
Rhetta shook, unable to think clearly. Why had her
father searched her out? And what lies was he telling about her mother?
“Your mother and I never divorced, Rhetta. We were
always married.”
That news hit Rhetta in the gut. She clearly didn’t
know anything about what had happened between her mother and father, but how
dare he stand there and lie to her?
It had to be about money. That must be why he was
here now. Probably wanted her to give him money. “What do you want? You think
there’s money since Mama’s gone? Well, think again, buster, ’cause there isn’t
any. Mama was broke when she died.” Rhetta clutched the gold locket to her
heart, her hands trembling. “And speaking of that, why didn’t you come to her
funeral?”
The old man’s eyes welled and he slapped away the
tear that threatened to fall. “I don’t want any money, Rhetta. I just came to
say goodbye.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t make your mother’s funeral because
they wouldn’t let me out to come,” he said, his bloodshot eyes staring into
Rhetta’s. “The only reason I’m here now is because I’m gonna die.” His mordant
laugh changed into a deep cough. He sucked in a wheezy breath before
continuing. “Prisons are too crowded. They need the space. They let me out.
Compassionate discharge, they call it. They kicked me out to die.”
Anger flooded into Rhetta, washing away any pity
that may have remained. “Get the hell away from me, old man.”
Slamming the car door, she dropped the locket into
her purse and sat, shaking. She stared at him, the tears blurring her focus
until her simmering rage exploded. She threw Cami into gear, and took off. An
unholy urge compelled her to turn around. She u-turned and aimed straight for
the old man—her father, a man she hated all her life. He stood silently, a
specimen of vermin that didn’t deserve to live another day. Cami’s brakes
squealed. Smoke spiraled around the hood as Rhetta came to her senses in time
to skid to a stop a scant foot in front of him. She threw open the door.
Jumping out, she found her trembling legs unable to support her. She slumped
back into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.
“Go ahead and finish it, Rhetta, you’d be doing me a
favor,” her father said, unflinchingly. He remained riveted to the spot.
“You aren’t worth getting my car dirty.” She spat
the words at him as she shifted Cami into reverse and spun out backward with
tires squealing. She swerved around him and raced down the ramp into the
street.
*
* *
Torrential
rain pounded the roof of her car, then cascaded down the windshield. Rhetta
sat, staring at watery images of swans paddling around the park pond as happily
as if the sun were shining.
When she left the hospital garage, she was too upset
to drive, much less head out in the raging storm. Instead, she pulled into the
park across the street and parked, turned off the engine, and stared out the
window. Gradually, she stopped shaking as the fury drained.
Hatred had nearly overcome her. She wanted badly to
run over the detestable old man who called himself her father. Her hands still
trembled. She gripped Cami’s steering wheel and tossed her head back and forth
in an effort to shake the entire terrible scene from her head.
Her purse lay on the passenger seat. Pulling it to
her, she fished around until she found the precious locket. Holding it against
her cheek, she let the tears flow unchecked.
Her father. The only person in the world she hated.
He was there. He told her things. Were they true? Who was her mother? The
strong woman that had raised her, who had worked nights, who’d saved up enough
money to buy a new Camaro, who’d taught her daughter to be independent. Was it
all phony? And, who was Rhetta herself? A crazy woman who’d just wanted to run
over her own father.
Rhetta wept for her mother, for her father, and for
herself.
She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.
Kissing the locket, she tucked it securely into a
zippered pocket inside her purse. Closing her eyes, she swayed slowly from side
to side, willing her emotions to drain, and her nerves to calm. She breathed
deeply, the way she learned in a yoga class.
Her senses and her life came back into focus.
Randolph. She had to get to Billy Dan’s.
Hatred had to wait until another day.