Thanks to God and Fluffy kitty 12 who inspires me to fight harder.
Hi everyone, I want to learn how to write better. If you have a scene you like or don't like, tell me what worked or didn't work for you. Thanks. God Bless.
Chapter 15
POV Frank
I messed up. Joe was the only one who sensed I was in trouble. My brother talked me off my psychological ledge, but he paid the cost. Seeing my brother collapse is something I will never forget.
Lying on my bed, Joe looks bad. He's pale, taking short breaths and gritting his teeth. All signs he is pain. Pain I caused. I called Dr. Tager, when Joe begged not to go to the hospital.
"You ok?" Joe asks and cracks open one blue eye.
Me ok?
"You look scared," Joe says.
Got to keep this light. I have to be strong for Joe.
"The only thing that scares me are your Christmas decorations," I say.
Joe loves Christmas…and decorating for Christmas. After Thanksgiving Joe considers it open season for Christmas decorating. Last year he hung lights on my condo fridge and my desk at work. Somehow he even triggered an annoying Christmas decoration to play "The 12 Days of Christmas" whenever I sat in my desk chair. Still haven't figured out how he did that…and it annoys me.
Joe even put a red Rudolph nose and brown fabric antlers on my black BMW. I was not amused. Joe claimed he was innocent. Fortunately, I got his prints off the Rudolph nose.
Last year, I hated Joe's Christmas decorating. This year I'd give anything if he was healthy enough to do any decorating vandalism.
"Hey, when you decorating for Christmas?" Joe asks.
Never.
Fox Haven only allows a green wreath with a red or gold bow on the front door. Other decorations are prohibited.
Since I don't decorate for Christmas, I don't care. But Joe will. He is the poster child for Christmas. Joe thinks I'm the Christmas Grinch, but he's wrong. I love Christmas.
My problem is Callie loved Christmas too. The holiday season brings back too many painful memories of the woman I still love. Unfortunately, she married someone else.
But it's not fair to ruin Christmas for Joe.
"Decorate anything you want," I say.
Seems like a safe offer, given Joe's current condition.
"Thanks," Joe whispers.
I grit my teeth picturing the gaudy inflatable sleigh with Santa that Joe loved. The thing even played music…out of tune. Losing that horrible decoration was the only good thing about Joe's beach cottage getting shot up. The bullets from the hitmen blew Joe's boxes of Christmas decorations to smithereens.
How much Christmas decorating can Joe do when he feels this bad?
"What happened?" Dad asks.
I can't find the words to explain. How can I tell him Joe sensed I was building another mental wall? That I was going to block everyone out, until Joe called me on it.
"D-dad?" Joe whispers.
"Right here," Dad says and puts his hand on Joe's shoulder. "What happened?"
"Ran into a wall," Joe says.
"Looks like the wall won," Dad says.
"Frank, who won? Me or the wall?" Joe asks.
"You," I say.
"You know son, you're starting to crimp my retirement," Dr. Tager says as he walks in with his black medicine bag.
"My bad," Joe says.
"So what part of bed rest didn't you understand? I thought it was self explainatory," Dr. Tager says as he takes out his stethoscope.
"Been resting for weeks," Joe says.
"Then you crashed a motorcycle," Dr. Tager says.
He listens to Joe's heart.
"Hey, they say any landing you can walk away from is a good one," Joe says.
"That's for planes," I say.
"I don't think your body agrees," Dr. Tager says. "I need two bags of frozen vegetables."
Dad goes downstairs.
Dr. Tager checks for broken bones. Joe winces and I step closer. Why did I let Joe talk me into calling this guy? X- rays would be so much more complete.
Dad returns with two bags of frozen peas. Dr. Tager puts one on Joe's shoulder and the other on his eye.
As Tager examines Joe's skull, I decide Joe is going to the hospital. No more medicine from the Old West. I only have one brother.
Doc takes out a small vial. He rolls it on the pillowcase by Joe. The smell of lavender floods my bedroom.
"I need some hot washcloths," Doc says.
I go to my master suite off the bedroom.
"Dizzy? Headache? Nauseous?" Doc asks.
"No. No hospital," Joe whispers.
I walk in with four hot washcloths.
Doc puts them on Joe's knee, arm, chest and forehead.
"Take these," Doc says and hands Joe two white pills.
I grab Doc's arm.
"Don't you need to know what medicines he is taking?" I ask.
"Anything you didn't write down on this list?" Doc asks. gc
I look at the list on my nightstand of Joe's medicines.
"No, that's everything," I say and let go of his arm.
"Good, I'm giving him Tylenol," Doc says.
Joe takes the pills and falls asleep.
"So you putting him on bed rest?" I ask.
"I told him to rest the last time I saw him," Doc says. "Didn't do much good."
Doc Tager and I walk into the hall. Dad stays with Joe.
"I want him checked over at the hospital," I say.
"He'll be in ER for hours. They'll take X-rays and blood tests. Then he'll be admitted," Doc says.
"Good," I say. "He'll get some rest."
"He'll be trapped in bed and his mind will go to the worst place it can," Doc says. "After my wife died, keeping busy was the only thing that kept me sane. But it's your decision."
I don't want Joe trapped in his worst memories.
"I'd rather have you watching him than the hospital," Doc says.
My Achilles heel. Nobody takes care of Joe as good as me.
"I'll drop in every morning around 8 am and at night around 7 pm," Doc says.
"If anything happens to him, it's on you," I say.
"OK, just one question," Doc says. "What was he doing upstairs? Climbing those stairs set him back."
Before I can answer, Dad interrupts.
"Frank, can I see you a minute?" Dad asks.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Doc says.
"You ok?" Dad asks when we are alone in the hall.
"I'm not the one who got hurt," I say.
Dad waits for me to say something. I wait back.
Then it pops out.
"I don't want the award," I say in a quick rush.
"Why?" Dad asks.
"Didn't do anything last year that deserved an award," I say thinking of my depression and the way I froze out everybody.
"But a committee of 14 detectives disagrees," Dad says. "They chose you for the award."
Silence. This time I have nothing to say.
"Frank, I know you're disappointed in how you handled last year," Dad says. "But you were depressed."
"I buried myself in work so I could forget about Callie," I say.
"Did it work?" Dad asks.
"Yes. I know I locked everybody out. Working with me was like working with a machine. But it kept me sane," I say.
"So why did you stop?" Dad asks.
"Joe needed me," I whisper. "I realized how much I hurt him."
"We're not that different, Frank," Dad says. "After Iola died, I spent every minute working cases. I stopped when Sam got shot. And Laura started talking about getting a divorce."
I stare at Dad.
"That's the year I won the award Frank," Dad says. "The year Iola died, Sam got shot and your mom threatened to get a divorce."
My mouth falls open.
"I never felt I deserved the award either," Dad says. "But your mother and Sam made me accept it. I promised myself I'd never risk everyone I cared about by making work my life."
Dad's cell phone rings.
"Hardy," he growls. "All the beach cottage plumbing has to be replaced with plastic piping for $20,000! Get a second opinion!"
As Dad goes downstairs shouting into his phone, I check on Joe.
"Frank, sorry to bother you," Sam says. "Con needs you at Police headquarters."
I run my hand through my hair. I don't want to leave Joe. But we have to catch Staris before he kills one of us.
"I'll keep an eye on Joe," Sam says.
I head back to my home office. I stare at the mess of broken table and computer parts. I shut my briefcase as I mentally figure out the new computer parts I need to buy.
Bats follows me down the stairs. He hisses and claws at me as I get my winter coat out of the closet.
We have to find a home for those cats.
POV JOE
Everything hurts. I lift my head off the pillow.
"Easy Joe," Sam says. "You need anything?"
"A new body," I say.
Sam laughs.
"Where is everybody?"
"Your dad had to work on something. Con wanted Frank at police headquarters."
"Hey, are you reading the newspaper?" I ask.
"Yes, you want the Sports section?" Sam asks.
"No. Are any decent apartments for rent?" I ask.
Frank can swing a $700,000 condo. Me, not so much. Before Sam answers, the doorbell rings.
Sam looks at his computer monitor.
"It's the women from the cleaning service," he says.
"That's great," I say. "I need a favor."
When Barb and Miranda walk in, I'm ready.
"How are you Joe?" Barb asks.
"Hanging in. Hey, where does Frank keep his Christmas tree and decorations?" I ask.
"He doesn't have any," Miranda says.
"Figures," I say. "My brother, the Grinch. If I give you $500, can you buy a tree and decorations?"
"Sure. What kind?" Barb asks.
"Martha Stewart for Frank," I say. "Anything that'll annoy Frank for me."
"Sounds easy," Miranda says. "We just stopped by to give Frank our cleaning schedule for next month. We'll be back in an hour."
"Thanks," I say and fight a yawn. I fall asleep smiling. Christmas is coming - as soon as Barb and Miranda return.
POV Frank
I sit in Con's office at Bayport Police Headquarters, waiting for Harrison, my least favorite officer. He is twenty minutes late.
"Sorry about Harrison, Frank. He's got an attitude problem. He graduated with the highest marks in the history of the Police Academy," Con says. "I'm hoping he'll decide to transfer somewhere far away….soon."
Before I can answer, Harrison arrives. He doesn't apologize.
"You needed me for the Staris report," Harrison says.
"Yes, I need to tape an interview about the Staris escape," Con says. He presses a button on the tape recorder on his desk. "One pm, Dec 20th. Interview with Frank Hardy and Officer Harrison about the Staris escape."
Harrison sneezes loudly.
"God bless you," I say.
Harrison ignores me.
"Frank, can you…." Con says.
"ACHOOO!" Harrison sneezes.
"Are you ok?" I ask.
"Yes, I just…ACHOO!" Harrison sneezes.
"Harrison, what's going on?" Con asks. "Are you crying?"
"No, my eyes are watering," Harrison says.
"You allergic to anything?" Con asks.
"Cats," Harrison says.
I open my briefcase to get Harrison a Kleenex. Tang pops out.
I will kill Joe for this.
"You brought a cat?" Harrison asks.
"I…uh…" I can't think of how to explain. But now I understand why Bats was so upset when I left.
"I'm leaving," Harrison says as he sneezes again.
"I didn't know you had a cat, Frank," Con says. He shuts off the recorder.
"I don't," I say, through grit teeth. "Joe does."
Tang digs into my business papers with his claws.
"What is he doing?" Con asks.
A moment later, Tang leaves a sizeable deposit in my briefcase. Con laughs so hard he can't talk. I put the cat in my coat pocket – head poking out. With as much dignity as I can muster, I close my briefcase and leave. Con's laughter echoes behind me.
POV JOE
When I open my eyes, two hours have passed according to the clock on Frank's nightstand.
I get up slowly and head to the bathroom.
Then I make my way cautiously downstairs. Frank's elegant gray and white living room is gone. Barb and Miranda have decorated a real Christmas tree. The tree fills the center of the room. I breathe in the scent of real pine and scented pinecones. On a side table sits the nativity scene, with baby Jesus in a manger. When I was a kid, I always wondered why the animals in the manger didn't eat him.
An evergreen garland hangs across the fireplace. Real boughs of pine decorate the mantle. Looks like the place fell out of a magazine, except for the howling coming from the hall closet.
I open the closet. Bats runs out and hisses at me.
"Yeah, good to see you too," I say.
The front door opens and Dad walks in.
"Joe? How are you feeling?" Dad asks.
Crap. Dad's here. Ever since Iola died, things have been weird between us. I feel like he's disappointed I'm not Frank. Honestly, sometimes I'm disappointed, I'm not Frank.
"Joe?" Dad asks.
"Yeah, I'm good," I say.
"Wow, Frank's condo looks like something out of a Christmas TV special," Dad says.
And awkward silence. God, I could use a little help here.
I spot a cloth angel sitting on the table next to the Christmas tree.
"Dad, could you put the angel on the tree?" I ask.
I remember Dad helping me put the angel on the tree when I was three. Then I took it off again so Frank could do it.
"Sure," Dad says.
He reaches up and puts the angel on the tree.
The peace of the moment surrounds us.
"Got some good news," Dad says. "Physical therapy starts today at 4 pm."
"Cool," I say.
I've done physical therapy before. I hate it, but I have to get my body back. Bedrest is killing me. Too much time for my mind to go scary places.
And I've got major cabin fever. Maybe I can sneak in some Christmas shopping.
"Joe, I'm sorry," Dad says. "I was wrong. I didn't realize you bought the beach cottage because of Iola. If I knew, I would have backed you."
I nervously lick my lips. Iola is something we never talk about. Her death haunts me. After Iola died, Dad disappeared. Maybe he blames me?
"And I wish after Iola died, I'd been around more to help you," Dad says.
Yeah, me too. But detectives have to travel to solve cases.
"After Iola died, I felt guilty," Dad whispers.
Dad? Guilty?
"I should have saved her," Dad whispers.
"Dad, you weren't even there when it happened," I say.
"People put a bomb on my car because I was a detective," Dad says. "That's my fault."
"Dad, you don't understand," I say. I feel the familiar pain in my chest as I drag out the story again.
"I was flirting with another girl. Iola got mad. She walked to the car. I ran after her, but the car blew up before I reached her," I say. My eyes are closed as I picture the scene.
Sometimes I get scared if I think about it too much, Iola's death will eat me alive. Like a prison I can't escape.
"Joe, it wasn't your fault," Dad says. He puts his hand on my shoulder.
"You disappeared after she died, I figured maybe you knew it was my fault too," I whisper.
"No, never," Dad says. Before I know what's happening, Dad has me in a bear hug.
"I left because every time I saw you, my guilt ate me alive," Dad whispers. "I worried you'd hate me."
"Hate you? Dad, you and Frank are who I want to be," I whisper.
"I never wanted to hurt you," Dad says. "But I can't fix it."
"You just did," I say.
The front door opens. Frank walks in. Bats runs to him. Frank lifts Tang out of his gray winter wool coat front pocket.
Bats licks Tang. Tang goes over to the food bowl and chows down.
"Sooo, you and Tang needed some quality time?" I ask.
"No," Frank says as he hangs his coat in the closet. "Tang fell asleep in my briefcase. I found him when I got to police headquarters."
"Wow, Frank. There's no excuse for that," I say. "You're a detective. What kind of observational skills do you have?"
"I observed Tang leaving a 'present' in my briefcase," Frank says. "And I observed Harrison has a severe allergy to cats."
"How severe?" Dad asks.
"He was sneezing, his eyes watered and I think he was breaking out in hives when he left the office," Frank says.
"That's great," Dad says and claps Frank on the shoulder.
Joe laughs. I smile. It is good news, even though it shouldn't be.
"What happened in here?" Frank asks.
"You said I could decorate," I say.
"How in the world did you get a tree, decorate it and trash my front yard?" Frank asks.
"Front yard?" I ask.
Frank opens the front door. Outside I see a blow up Santa on a tractor loaded with gifts.
I smile.
Until Greene bumps into me.
"You are violating the HOA Christmas decoration regulations!" Greene shouts.
He jabs me in the chest.
POV FRANK
Nobody touches my brother. Nobody.
I step between Joe and Greene.
"Here's your eviction notice and a violation notice for the Christmas decorations!" Greene shouts. He hands me two forms – one red and one green. At least the colors are Christmassy.
"Wait! This is my fault!" Joe says. "I didn't realize you had rules about decorations."
"It doesn't matter," Greene says. "You're out!"
"Good," I say. "I'm tired of living with so many rules. If you have time to decide what color the bow on my wreath should be, your life must be pretty empty. My lawyer will be in touch."
I slam the door.
"Joe has a physical therapy appointment in thirty minutes," Dad says.
I nod and speed dial a number on my cell phone.
"Marlow, I need you to represent me to the Fox Haven HOA," I say into my cell phone. "Take no prisoners."
"Who's Marlow?" Joe asks.
"My racquetball partner and the best attorney in the city. He's going through a rough divorce. Marlow has a lot of anger right now. This will be a good place for him to use it," I say.
One hour later, Joe's first session of physical therapy is done. I have a list of exercises for Joe to do at home.
Joe looks tired, sweaty and in pain.
My only job is to get Joe home.
"How you doing?" I ask.
"Never get a massage from someone named Thor," Joe says.
I laugh.
My cell phone rings.
"Hardy," I say.
"Look in the glove compartment or your dad dies," a voice whispers.
I pull over.
I open the glove compartment and find Dad's bloody wedding ring in a baggie.
"If you want to see him alive, come to the old Grady warehouse now. I'm watching you. Call anybody or stop anywhere and your dad dies."