FIFTEEN
They were still in the lot outside Toth's long low office, engine idling, air roaring to combat the sun beating down on the back of Spence's neck. Spence sat staring down at the motorbike, gripping tightly on the handles and catching Kathryn's subtle perfume mixed with the fresh afternoon air. Behind him, Kathryn was staring into his back, motionless. "Tell me something, Spence." she looked up. "Why do you care so much."
-- Dr. Toth was still pretty uptight about confidentiality issues but she was still unusually nervous about the fact that Kathryn, a lawyer, was back in her office right after the funeral so she gave up Ms Nightshade's address and accompanied it with the phone number. To Kathryn, Spence seemed ashen after the mention of the name Nightshade that all he did was stare at a diagram of the lung as Nadine went on about what the two women did. A few minutes later, Kathryn was shaking hands with the doctor. "Thank you very much, we appreciate all your help." the doctor smiled and nodded. Spence was coughing rather loudly, and when he talked, he was wheezing a bit. "You alright, dear? That cough sounds bad." Dr. Toth said. Spence shook his head,
"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."--
Spence slowly let go of the handles and straightened up. He didn't want to talk to anyone about this. Especially not to her…
"Because…"
…Never to her…
"This feeling your feeling right now is just as illusion…"
-- Spence sat in the waiting room, doing exactly what it was built for-- 'waiting'. Beside him, one man started to light a cigarette, hiding it behind a magazine. Spence grimaced, leaned over and pulled the cigarette out of the man's mouth, holding it in front of his face, "Lung cancer." he said before throwing it out the window, "Really sucks when you have to clean blood from your bathroom."
Kathryn held the receiver by her ear. It rang for a long time, and then a woman's voice answered. "Yes?" the voice said, hesitantly.
"Ms Nightshade?"
"Yes?" the voice said again, wavering --
"Because what, Spence?"
-- "I am deeply sorry for your loss, Ms. Royals. She was a very good person and I'm afraid she was really my last hope." the way she said it, it sounded like she meant it. Her voice was low. There was resigned fall at the end of the sentence, a sort of tragic cadence, like she'd given up on something long cherished and anticipated. Kathryn pictured her, a pale woman in her thirties, holding the phone up to her face, a wet tear on a thin, pale cheek, held by a trembling hand.
"I'm a lawyer. I can help you. I…I have a friend. His name is D'Angelo Spencer and maybe he can help you."
There was silence on the line. Just a faint hiss.
"…I think I just found my 'hope'." --
"Because her husband…Daniel Nightshade…is my step-brother."
"…so don't think much about it."
But I love you…
Conan used the tip of his hook to press the intercom buzzer on his desk. Leaned forward and called through to his receptionist. He used her name, which was unusual intimacy for Conan, generally caused by stress or that pain in the ass he had just gotten when his step-son waltzed into the room, wanting 'out'. Who the hell wants out when your in? That's why you were 'in' in the first place. No backing out when you're in. Damn, persistent son of a bitch. "Call Carl, will you Janet?" he said. "We need to talk."
"That's not a problem, Mr. Nightshade. He's right here."
Carl came in and threaded his way around furniture to one of the arm chairs placed right in front of the desk. Conan shrugged and raised his hand in question, "So?"
Carl sighed in exasperation, "They're going to find out sooner or later. And when they do, they're going to take you down…and I even bet that your step-son will help out."
Conan was nodding. His head was moving in and out of a thin shaft of light that picked up the crude grey tufts of his hair. "I can't believe some ordinary housewife knew all that shit, but I accept that she was once in the military and that she had sources. I had too, you know. But she took sick and died. The stuff she knew died with her because that's how it's supposed to work, dammit!" Conan banged his fist on the table, "Life sucks and then you die and rot in hell. That's how it fucking works…and it should fucking stay like that. It died with her. Otherwise, why would her daughter resort to some half-assed, drifter dick? And the worst part of it is that Royals' daughter is actually that fucking lawyer! And I can't run away either, because that son of a bitch son of mine will be too damn soft to stick with the Royals' thing. I mean, I can't give that up to him…you can see that, right? It's a large thing--"
"--Massive--"
"--Colonial! You see? I can't leave. Just give me a week. Call it a week…then we can walk away from this place."
Carl nodded. Leaned forward, relieved at the prospect of action. "What about this 'drifter dick'? The Spencer guy? He's still a loose end."
"Oh, I'm sure his brother has a separate plan for him."
"We won't find him," Carl pointed out. "Not just the two of us. Not within a week. We don't have the time to go out hunting for this selfish prick."
"I see that…hmm…but what about this 'Hannibal'? Spence might ask him for help and we can't have that. You know how easily he took Kip out." Conan reminded him.
"Fuck Hannibal, Spence is the problem here. We need to find this little shit."
"No…we don't."
Carl stared at him. "We do, uncle…he's a loose end, right?" Conan shook his head, then he dropped his hand away from his face and came out from under the desktop with his hook. "No, no. That's where your wrong, Carl…There's no reason to waste my energy finding him." Conan smiled.
"I'll let him find me."
Spence killed the motor and they got out in the silence. She had found the correct mailbox. It was set on a wooden post that the weather was rotting and the frost heave was canting forward. Vigorous green vines and thorny creepers were twisting up around it. It was a large-size box, dull green, with the house number painted on the side in faded but immaculate freehand script. The door was hanging open, the box completely stuffed with mail. Kathryn watched silently as he took the mail and squeaked the door closed revealing the name painted on the front in the same faded neat hand: Nightshade. The house had a dull brown truck parked under a new basketball hoop on the garage gable and children's bicycles and toys were sprawled on the lawn. A persuasive evidence that humans lived here. The house was a low one-storey, running away from them to the west towards the river. It was the same colour as the car, ancient boards and shingles with the yard as a riot. It was what a tended garden becomes in a few untouched years of wet springs and hot summers.
They walked slowly up the narrow path running like a gangplank with encroaching brush. Kathryn was a few steps behind Spence and she didn't dare talk to him. In times like these, with people like Spence, you best keep your mouth shut if you wanted to avoid the whole scary speech. But Spence didn't seem angry. In fact, ever since he came back, he was just nice…but he's still not telling me everything, She thought. He made it to the door, with the brush grabbing and snatching at his ankles. There was a bell-push, but it was rusted solid. He leaned forward and rapped on the wood with his knuckles. By then, Kathryn was right behind him. There was no response. He rapped again. He could hear the jungle seething behind him. Insect noise. He knocked again. Waited. There was the creak of floorboards inside the house. The sound was carrying ahead of somebody's footsteps and spilling out to him. The footsteps halted on the other side of the door and the door opened, and a pale young woman peered out. "Yes?"
Leslie Nightshade.
"Spencer," he said softly. Behind her, Kathryn heard panicked scurrying in the brush. Furtive animals were fleeing. Leslie looked at him for a long time before closing the door. Stiff locks were turning and bolts were eased back and the door creaked open. Darkness inside. He stepped forward into the shadow of the eaves and saw her waiting. She was a beautiful, pale brunette wearing a faded floral print dress, with a dull-looking apron around her waist. She wiped her eyes and smiled weakly, "I didn't know you'd come soon…" she turned and stood aside, "Please come in…" He smiled back, the same sad smile, and followed her inside with Kathryn right behind. "I brought your mail." he said. "Your box was full, Mrs Nightshade." he handed over the thick stack of curled envelopes and she thanked him, insisting that they just call her Lee, short for Leslie.
She went to put it away in the kitchen and they followed. The hallway was a dark space, panelled in gloomy wood, old toys scattered everywhere. The kitchen was worse. It had a tiny window, glassed in with yellow reeded glass. There was a collection of freestanding units in the muddy dark veneer, and a curious old enamel appliances, speckled in mint greens and greys, standing up on short legs. The whole room smelled of warm oven, but it was clean and tidy. She put the stack of mail next to a mug on the counter. "Would you like a piece of chocolate cake?"
Kathryn glanced at the stove top. There was a china plate there, covered over with a worn linen cloth. "And some milk or coffee?" Lee offered. Next to the stove top was an a tall carton of milk placed on top of a fairy tale book. He nodded, "That would be lovely, thank you." he said. Kathryn smiled and nodded, and Lee nodded back with a contented smile, pleased. She led them through the hallway to a small room heavily furnished with armchairs and sofas and glass-fronted chest-high cabinets filled with china ornaments and shelves containing photographs. Opposite the sofa was a television. It was turned on and there was some kind of health show thing on. "I'll be right back…" Lee said and she swished slowly out of the room. Kathryn and Spence sat down in the silence, in small armchairs. Somehow, Spence found the show interesting…of course he would, he's a friggin' doctor. Kathryn thought-----
Interviewer, Cliff Curtis: "Are there any bone complications?"
Dr. Tina Young: "Yes. Absolutely. When lung cancer spreads to the bone it can cause severe pain and weak bones. But these bone complications can be treated and even prevented, making life a little easier for the person with lung cancer. Skeletal complications arise in any cancer really from hemtogenous spread of disease, which means cells breaking off from a primary tumor site and traveling through the blood stream, which enables them really to travel anywhere. For reasons that are really not clear to the cancer community, the bone is a very common site for cancers to spread--"
Dr. Norville Nielsen: "--If the disease has spread to the bone, then the goal of therapy is palliative care to minimize the complications of the disease and minimize the side effects of both the disease and the therapy. So, basically, the first sign that cancer has spread into the bones is…well…pain."
Cliff Curtis: "What happens when cancer gets worst? Do they…throw up?"
Dr. Tina Young: "That is likely to happen. I remember a person with lung cancer throwing up blood when I was a child. The pain is usually described as a persistent nagging, gnawing moderate or severe discomfort in one particular site of the body. The most important therapy that is almost always used for treatment of pain related to lung cancer metastatic to the bone, is opioid analgesia. Those are the pain medications like morphine and its derivatives--"
Dr. Norville Nielsen: "--One of the systemic treatments available are is a class of drugs called bisphosphonates. These are drugs that are available primarily intravenously, but also orally and that are commercially available and approved, indicated for metastatic lung cancer to the bone."
Cliff Curtis: "…what if the treatment fails?"
Dr. Tina Young: "…well…everybody wants a miracle. They will always try and try to fight a battle they can't win."
Cliff Curtis: "Okay. So, I'm in my early-thirties…say, I just found out I had cancer. How much years would I have left?"
Dr. Tina Young: "Not years…"
Dr. Norville Nielsen: "…months."-----
Months...
Lee called from the hallway, she was on her way back into the room with a silver tray. There was a matching china set stacked on it, cups and saucers and plates, with a medium-sized milk jug and a sugar bowl. The linen cover was off the platter, revealing a delightful looking sponge cake with pink icing. An old percolator was there, smelling of coffee.
"Not a lot." Spence said softly as the commercial started and Lee poured coffee into a cup, her thin wrist quivering with effort.
"How do you like it, Ms. Royals?"
"Milk, and one teaspoon of sugar, please." Kathryn said. Lee poured the coffee into a cup, her thin wrist quivering with the effort. The cup rattled in its saucer as she passed it across. She followed it with a quarter of the cake on a plate. Kathryn thanked her and Lee smiled before passing a glass of milk and a plate of cake to Spencer. She put the tray down on the small coffee table and settled in her armchair with a cup of coffee. "I thought I had everything." she said suddenly, her eyes clouded with tears and sadness. "I had the perfect husband. The perfect kids. Even the perfect house…He was just so happy. I didn't know he was sick…" she turned away and ran her glance along the line of photographs, "I didn't know he did all those things he did."
The room went quiet, like an observance. "I mean, we were just so happy…" she broke down into tears and Kathryn watched her with sympathy. Spence, with understanding. She wiped her eyes and apologized, "I'm so sorry. It's just that…Ever since the accident, he seemed more troubled. He couldn't sleep. He was always smoking…and…he would drink. I understand why…"
"What accident?" Kathryn asked.
Lee sipped on her coffee and swallowed hard, while wiping her eyes. "She was wonderful. She was so graceful, and she always wanted to help people." she looked up and met Spencer's eyes, she smiled and laughed slightly, "She wanted to be a doctor, you know. Dan couldn't talk her out of it. She already knew what she wanted to do, regardless of stress. She was a very smart kid…her siblings loved her to bits…" she glanced down at the carpet and her smile faltered, "…she was only eight-years old when it happened."
"What happened, Lee?" Kathryn asked again, while Spence remained quiet, watching and staring at the TV as the show came back on. Lee shrugged sadly, "Car accident…she was at a friends house and the mother was going to take her back before dinner. And there was this…drunk…and he crashed right at her car…they fell in the river and…and…" she started sobbing uncontrollably, and Kathryn put her hand on top of hers, patting it in a comforting way. Katy didn't need an explanation. She could already guess what had happened and she couldn't possibly imagine what had happened next. "I'm sorry." she whispered and Lee tried with great effort to stop the waterworks. Kathryn would have settled for just that but Lee continued on…
"He started getting calls from his stepfather. But it would always end the same way…"---
"Look, I don't care what you fucking want. Just…just…back off, you bastard!" he slammed the phone down and stood there, staring at it angrily.
"…and then, he would get more and more calls…he would either cry or drink himself to sleep every night…he would go out and come back home in the middle of the night and I would always find him passed out in the living room. I didn't know what happened, but one day, he just decided--"
"I want a divorce, Leslie." he said firmly.
"Your…your going to leave me?" She choked out as tears flowed from her eyes.
"I…"
"But why? What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong with you, Lee."
"THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LEAVING ME?"
"Because I love you…"
leave whywrong"He left me."---
"And then I asked help from your mother." She swallowed hard and a long silence passed between them.
"What did you want my mother to do?"
"…I wanted her to find him."
After that, the children had come home at last, exhausted from their day at the beach with their cousin, whom Leslie had trusted enough to take her children while she talked to her visitors. And as soon as the cousin had left, they were all silent in the living room. The children were playing and watching cartoons in their safe little corner, with Spencer, while the two women sat still in their seats. After the children came home, Leslie was done talking. She just turned and fixed misty gazes on the row of photographs on the mantel and Kathryn was left sitting in the silence. "Will you help me then? Will you help…us?" Lee asked through the silence, turning back only to look at her children who were giggling and playing with Spence.
"You bet."
The children managed to tear their eyes off the television and made it down to the hallway to see them leave. Leslie rustled along beside them, her skirt brushing both door jambs and both sides of the narrow passageway. Spence was absolutely silent the whole time, and Kathryn was starting to get worried. It wasn't like him at all. Whatever mood he had, he always came up with a comment with more or less sweetness in it. It was either that, or something life threatening. "It was a pleasure to meet you and your wonderful kids," Kathryn said, smiling wistfully, "Thank you…for the coffee and cake. And I'm very sorry about your situation."
Lee made no reply. It was a hopeless thing to say. Years of agony, and she was sorry about their situation? She just turned and shook her frail hand and stepped back outside on to their overgrown path.
Spencer really wouldn't talk to her, ever since they came in the living room. He wouldn't't even look at her. She only came up with one solution on why…but it couldn't't be. What if he actually remembered what she had said last night? And that he's just hiding it, pretending as if nothing has ever happened? He can't love her. Maybe he was just really drunk. All she knew was that she wasn't going to be hurt again, not by him…not by anyone else. She tried to distract herself from thinking about him and tried to think more about the 'situation'. Maybe they should try going to the cops, try to get a little more information about the crimes Nightshade committed. Why he did it. How. Things like that. She tried to recall the name of the officer that was in charge of Daniel's case but she had forgotten. And she didn't even want to ask Spence about it, she thought as they rode the motorbike down the road.
But she so wanted to talk to him, and as she thought more about it. She remembered those hurtful words she had said, "This feeling your feeling right now is just an illusion…so don't think much about it." But it hurt her. The things he said. Did he really mean what he said? Or was it just the beer talking? She couldn't afford to be hurt again. She wanted to cry but she knew she couldn't. What if? What if? Dammit, what if! But she knew…oh, she knew…that he was going to pack up and leave once this is over, if ever. She needed to make the most of it. "Where are we going?"
"To the cops." he said with a cough. Was he sick?
Of course he is, dear. Ask him yourself. He can't deny it.
"What was the man's name? The man in charge of Nightshade's case?"
Long silence…
"…King."