Lady Blues Read online

  “Okay, Gus. Let’s take a look at your test results.” Doc sat at his desk and studied the numbers.

  “Hmm. Better. But you’re not there yet. You still need to get below 200.”

  I nodded absentmindedly; glad to hear I’d made progress. But Kip had been on my mind all morning, and I found it hard to focus on my blood levels. “Doc? Can I ask you a question?”

  “Huh?” He looked up from my chart. His glasses slipped down, and he nudged them back in place. “Sure, Gus. Shoot.”

  “What do you know about Novacom and Memorphyl?”

  His pen stopped. He closed the chart and pushed it away. “Why do you ask?”

  I leaned forward. “I’ve met a friend at Bello Mondo. He started on the Memorphyl—the first formulation, the pink pills—then they changed them. They’re yellow now. Since they’ve switched, everyone’s forgetting again. And they’ve got flu-like symptoms.”

  “Whoa.” He rolled back from the desk and stretched his legs out. “So the rumors are true.”

  “Rumors? You’ve heard about this?”

  He opened his laptop. “Yeah. Look.” He brought up a website featuring Memory Management Centers. “Here’s one’s in Mobile, Alabama. Called ‘Yesteryears.’”

  “Looks a lot like the Bello Mondo building.”

  “Right. And take a look at this one.”

  He clicked again, and brought up a facility in Juneau, Alaska. “Take a gander at this. Look familiar?”

  I stared at the picture. Same building design. Same lousy landscaping.

  He clicked a few times on “About us” and “Our mission,” and finally came up with an address.

  “Now, if I plug this address into Google…” He copied and pasted it into the search window. “Here’s what we get.”

  A professionally designed webpage emerged, complete with scrolling windows and beautiful photos of elderly people in a chapel, a sunroom, and a dining room. Across the top floated the words: Novacom. Your link to the past. Rekindle memories. Reconnect with family. Novacom. We’re here for you.

  I sat back on the windowsill. “Novacom owns these memory centers?”

  He nodded, and clicked on the Memorphyl link.

  Advanced memory disorder treatment. A miracle breakthrough, brought to you by the specialists who understand memory disorders better than any research group in the world. Connect to your past, through Memorphyl.

  It started to gel.

  “Novacom owns the memory centers. The patients are prescribed Memorphyl. Great chunks of money flow into Novacom. Their expertise grows, people talk. More patients are referred to them.”

  He nodded. “Right. Rather a conflict of interest, wouldn’t you say?”

  “But why change the meds that are working? What I witnessed was nothing short of miraculous, Doc. My friend Kip was nearly cured. I’d say the same for most of the other patients. They were starting to be discharged, just this week.” My voice trailed off as the light dawned. “Wait a minute. They were losing patients because Memorphyl works too well. So they changed the formulation.”

  Doc looked at me over the top of his glasses with a grave expression. “You have to get samples of both pills. Pink and yellow.”

  I nodded. “I know a nurse on the inside who will help us.”

  “Good. I’ll get them to my chemist. And we’ll have to report it to the government. The FDA, the FBI, and… ” His eyes glazed over as he planned the attack. “Get me those pills, Gus. We need evidence.”

  ***

  Before I headed for the university, I dropped by Bello Mondo to check on Kip and speak with Debbie. A strange woman sat at the reception desk. It put me off kilter for a minute, but I walked through and nodded to her without asking permission to enter.

  Debbie was rolling the med cart down the hall when I caught up with her just outside Kip’s room.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked.

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not good. The fever’s down, but he’s completely disoriented. Just like…before.” The words twisted in her mouth.

  “Can we talk somewhere?”

  She pushed the cart forward and looked behind her to be sure we were alone. “I’m on break in five minutes. Meet me in the sunroom. But don’t let on that you’re suspicious. Play the piano or something. They’ve just threatened to fire me if I question Memorphyl one more time. I’ve been reprimanded and put in my place. I’m just a stupid nurse, you know.” She rolled her eyes and continued on her way.

  I stepped inside Kip’s room and pulled the door closed. No need to attract attention now.

  Kip lay in bed, an IV attached to his arm. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. I walked to his side and rested my hand on his arm. “Hey, Kip. Just wanted to stop by and let you know I was thinking about you.”

  No response.

  “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

  A heart monitor beeped with a rapid but regular rhythm. I looked out the window and saw the birds we’d watched together just a few weeks ago. My own heart sank.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll be back tomorrow. Hang in there, my friend.”

  His eyelids flickered briefly, and stilled.

  I backed out of the room and passed several unfamiliar groups of doctors. Novacom calvary?

  I found my way to the sunroom and joined Debbie who already sat at the piano with an elderly lady who seemed to be in another world. She plunked on the B-flat key, over and over again.

  “Good job, Eileen,” Debbie said. “Now try this one.”

  I recoiled in shock and stared at the woman who had passed me the other day in her white wool suit and heels. Now, she wore a loose housedress and her yellow robe, her hair pulled back in a ponytail with ugly barrettes securing the short pieces.

  “Debbie,” I whispered. “I need samples of the pills. Pink and yellow. Can you help me?”

  She smiled at Eileen. “Good job, sweetie. Now let’s try a C.” Under her breath, she said, “Yes, but we have to be very careful. They’re watching. I don’t know who to trust.”

  I pretended to help Eileen. “When can you get them to me?”

  She leaned forward and faked a cough, mumbling under her hand. “Noon. Meet me in the Aldi’s parking lot, around the back. Where we can’t be seen from the main road.”

  I gave a slight nod. “Okay. See you then.”

  ***

  Leaning on the steering wheel, I stared through the bright noon sunlight at the access road to the parking lot. Five past noon. No sign of Debbie.

  Restless, I opened all four windows and enjoyed the breeze washing through the car.

  Ten past.

  Still no Debbie.

  Nervous and worried she wouldn’t show, I fiddled with the CD player, forgetting which disk was in each track. I changed them frequently, and never remembered what was where. Some day, there would be a new design, where the titles of each CD would show on an LCD panel. It sure would simplify the search. I pushed the first button.

  Carmen.

  Just listened to that a few days ago.

  I tapped my fingers on the dashboard and pushed the button for the next CD.

  Ella Fitzgerald, The Intimate Ella. The first track, Black Coffee, poured from the speakers. I sank into the seat.

  The music soothed me, healing my frayed nerves. I couldn’t help but think of Bella, and suddenly remembered the CDs I’d bought. I had never listened to them, but had left them at home, so I’d have to wait until later. Maybe Shelby would like to listen, too. She’d probably love them.

  The song finished at quarter past, just as Debbie pulled up head-to-toe in an old yellow Dodge. She rolled up beside me so our windows faced each other. “Hey, Gus. Here you go.” She scanned the parking lot nervously, then tossed a small pill bottle through the window, as if it burned her fingers. It landed in my lap.

  “Can’t stay. And please try not to talk to me too much tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m going to lose my job.”

  She rolled up her
window and drove off so suddenly, my mouth dropped open.

  “Thanks,” I said to myself. I put the car in gear and called Doc to alert him. If I pushed, I’d be on time for my one o’clock class.

  I made it to Doc’s clinic in four minutes.

  His receptionist, Ginny, motioned for me to go back. “Go on. He’s expecting you.”

  Doc opened the door before I reached it and waved me in. “You got them?” he said, excitement in his eyes.

  “Yeah. Right here.” I fished the pills out of my pocket and handed them over. He spilled them onto his paper blotter and separated them by color.

  “Good. Six each. Enough for the analysis, with room for reps.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “For statistical validity. You know, repetitions?”

  “Oh. Okay.” I pretended I understood. “Listen, I’ve gotta run back to teach a class. Call me as soon as you hear anything. And do whatever you think is necessary to stop these bastards.”

  He cast me a somber look and put the pills in his desk drawer, locking it and pocketing the key.

  “Will do. I’ll call you in a few days when we get results back. But I want you to keep it quiet, Gus. Don’t tell your family. Don’t tell anyone.” He lowered his head and peered at me under his bushy eyebrows. “This could get dangerous. When the stakes are high, people become desperate. And I don’t want them taking this out on you. Especially if we shut them down.”

  “Okay, Doc. Thanks.” With thoughts of righteous retribution, I jogged back to my SUV and returned to school, just in time to meet with my class and regale them with opera stories from the nineteenth century.

  Maddy fussed at me between classes, talking nonstop about Freddie and Adam, and the memories they’d lost by eloping. I kept my mouth shut and just nodded my head. I really didn’t care one way or the other, but I sure wasn’t up for argument today.

  By the time I headed home, a little later than usual, I’d talked to Mrs. Pierce twice about the menu. Since Dr. Kwon would join us tonight, our mother hen became excited and went all out. The menu consisted of spicy chicken legs, sliced potatoes baked with paprika and olive oil, homemade pear sauce, steamed broccoli with Hollandaise sauce, salad with mandarin oranges and almond slices, and a homemade chocolate velvet cake with white chocolate icing.

  My stomach growled in anticipation. I stepped on the gas and made it home in ten minutes.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  While driving home, I realized with a start that the whole family wouldn’t be at dinner. The children were still at Adam’s parents. I’d begun to miss them with a deep ache. Of course, I missed Freddie, too, but there was something about those sweet little faces, their soft hands and kisses, their incessant noise and joyful shrieks that made me feel whole and alive. I missed the silly chatter Johnny and I would engage in nightly, the belly laughs, and the simple pleasures of imaginative play. I’d called a few times and spoken with Johnny and the twins, who all seemed perfectly happy without me.

  “We went to Chuck E. Cheese!” Johnny shouted. “And a play museum.” I’d heard Mrs. Knapp gently correct in the background, “The Strong Museum of Play.” The babble of little girl voices had filled the air, and Mrs. Knapp had explained they were finger painting, so they couldn’t talk long. I imagined a paint-stained phone receiver and laughed to myself, in spite of a ridiculous stab of jealousy that hit me after we’d hung up and I realized the Knapps would become the “other” grandparents now. I begrudgingly accepted the strange feeling, realizing I’d have to get used to sharing my grandchildren.

  When I pulled up to the house, I saw an unfamiliar metallic red Toyota Corolla parked by the barn, beside Camille’s VW bug and Siegfried’s Jeep.

  Dr. Kwon?

  I checked my watch. Only five o’clock. If she had arrived an hour early, Mrs. Pierce had probably panicked.

  I grabbed my briefcase and strode to the porch, where Max greeted me as if I’d been gone for weeks. He stood on his hind legs and danced around me, licking my hands and practically jumping into my arms, an impossible feat, since he weighed forty pounds.

  “Hey, buddy. What’s going on? Have we got company? Huh? Is that why you’re so excited?”

  I put my briefcase on the porch and rested on my haunches, ruffling his ears and accepting doggy kisses on my cheek. His tail wagged furiously and he kept thrusting his nose under my arm, nearly knocking me over.

  “What a good dog. Yes, you are. Good boy.”

  We continued with the enthusiastic greeting, until he finally settled down and followed me to the kitchen, sticking to my side like a burr. I realized he probably was upset because so many family members had just “disappeared.” Johnny, Marion, Celeste, and Freddie had been gone for days now, and this constituted a major change in his world. He’d probably wondered if I’d come home each night. Poor guy. I wished I could explain to him.

  I found Camille, Shelby, and Mrs. Pierce in the kitchen, each involved in a separate task.

  Mrs. Pierce stirred the pear sauce at the stove, adding a dash of nutmeg when I entered. “Well, finally,” she said.

  Shelby sat at the table, folding Vanity Fair napkins into fancy shapes. “You’re late.”

  I leaned down and pushed back her dark curls to kiss her cheek. “Only a few minutes, silly. Besides, Dr. Kwon wasn’t due until six.”

  Camille stood at the sink, holding wine glasses up to the light. “She called and asked if she could come a little early. They’re outside now, walking up to the hill where Sig’s building his cabin.” She frowned and squirted liquid soap on a glass, then rotated it beneath the steaming tap. “These glasses are covered in spots. Gus? Did you put vinegar in the dishwasher last time?”

  I smiled sheepishly. Before Mrs. Pierce had come home, we’d been sharing dishwashing duties. The last time we’d served wine it had been my turn, and I hadn’t put in the vinegar, which worked to keep down the calcium deposits from our well water.

  “Oops. Think I forgot.”

  Mrs. Pierce tsk-tsked from the stove, confirming the fact that I had really messed up her kitchen.

  Camille laughed. “Aren’t you glad Mrs. Pierce is home?”

  I kissed the side of Camille’s neck as she bent over the sink. “You bet I am. Now, what can I do to help?”

  “Go get changed and washed up, then come back. There’s plenty of time before dinner. I think Mrs. Pierce wanted you to pick some flowers for the table.”

  Our mother hen looked up from the stove and nodded. “Get me something bright and pretty, Gus. And pick a few sprigs of nice fresh parsley while you’re at it, okay?”

  The dance of kitchen ownership was delicate in our house. On weekends, I owned the kitchen. I cooked, and Freddie, Shelby, and Camille set the table and washed the dishes. In between all this, Lily mopped the floors, when Mrs. Pierce let her, and did ironing, vacuuming, and picked up the kids’ messes. During the week, however, Mrs. Pierce reigned and we respected her role. Camille, whose place in the household was still relatively new, was a master at this art, and even though she was my wife and would officially be considered the mistress of the house, she didn’t really care and would much rather be shopping.

  I ran upstairs to change. In our house, changing for dinner meant getting out of our work clothes and putting on jeans and tee shirts. We didn’t stand on ceremony.

  After I slipped into more comfortable clothes, Max followed me outside, sniffing at the melon basket in my hand. Literally shaped like half a melon, it would hold armfuls of flowers.

  I headed for the tulip bed bordering the lilacs by the barn. Siegfried had helped me plant it last fall. Like colorful jewels, the nodding heads of satin-leaved tulips bowed and glistened in the late afternoon sun. Sunlight shone through the petals, creating a magical effect.

  I knelt in the grass beside the tulips, selecting a pallet of vibrant hues. Red, yellow, orange, white, pink, and dark purple flowers filled the basket. Max lay beside me, eyes shining and tongue lolling.

/>   “What do you think, boy? Is this enough?”

  His tail thumped the ground.

  I picked a few magenta tulips to round off the colors. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s get that parsley.”

  We headed for the main garden, where the peas had poked through the rich moist soil and had three leaves on each sprout. After checking them over like a father hovering about his children, I walked across the black plastic where the tomatoes had been last season, and finally located a few of last year’s parsley plants. They’d already produced six inches of fresh greens. Most years, they over-wintered successfully, especially when we received enough snow to insulate them from the cold.

  I pinched off three sprigs, and put them in the basket. “Okay, buddy. Let’s go. Don’t wanna keep the women waiting.”

  I turned to head back to the house, but stopped when I heard Siegfried hail me. “Professor!” He towered over the two women who flanked his sides. Siegfried’s rescue dog, Sheba, romped alongside.

  Lily’s eyes shone. She held Sig’s hand and trotted to keep up with him. Dr. Kwon strode briskly beside them, as I’d seen her do in the hospital hallways. I pictured her in her white coat holding her clipboard. Today, she wore olive khakis and a crisp white linen shirt tucked into the waist. Mud splattered her neat brown loafers and her straight black hair flowed loose about her face.

  “Professor LeGarde.” She thrust out her hand. “I hope it’s okay I came down a bit early. Siegfried and Lily offered to give me a tour of the grounds.”

  I shook her hand. “Of course it’s okay. You’re welcome anytime, Dr. Kwon.”

  She laughed. “Oh, please. Call me Rebecca.”

  We headed for the house, now followed by three dogs. Although the mood felt light and airy, I couldn’t help but wonder what dark secret Dr. Kwon—rather, Rebecca—would share with us.

  ***

  I scraped the last bits of chocolate from my dessert plate and pushed back from the table. “Delicious, Adelaide. You’ve outdone yourself.”

  A wave buzzed around the table as the family and Rebecca Kwon agreed, each expostulating over their favorite dish.