Authors: Joan Hess
A Diet to Die For (15 page)
I squinted at this one but could see no one inside it. A dead battery? A worried owner, holed up in a back room with the accounts? A secretary who’d stayed late and was now being rewarded with dinner before being returned to her car and admonished to drive safely? A burglar casing what I thought was
either a chiropractor’s office or a family dental center? I wasn’t sure what one would steal from a chiropractor, but dentists’ offices were stocked with controlled drugs for pain and that wily gas that makes root canals so hilarious.
either a chiropractor’s office or a family dental center? I wasn’t sure what one would steal from a chiropractor, but dentists’ offices were stocked with controlled drugs for pain and that wily gas that makes root canals so hilarious.
I was having so much fun I almost slid off the hood when a voice said, “Claire?”
“Yes,” I said cautiously, staring at a red eye glowing in the shadow of the building.
Jody Delano came forward, took a final draw on his cigarette, and flipped it into the parking lot. “I didn’t intend to startle you. I have to sneak outside for a cigarette, just like when I was a kid in junior high, because the fitness freaks would be harder on me than my old man ever was. He couldn’t say much. Emphysema. What are you doing out here?”
“My daughter and a friend are trying the teen class. I’m not a heavy metal fan, so I thought it prudent to wait outside. How are they doing?”
He gave me a crooked grin. “The two wearing T-shirts and shorts? They may be in deeper than they bargained for; Bobbi goes bonkers with this group, and they don’t get a break for sixty minutes straight.” He took the pack from his pocket, took out another cigarette, and lit it. “I called the hospital before I came outside,” he said. “I wish to hell they could do something for Maribeth. I’m sick of this crap about guarded conditions and monitoring vital signs. Why can’t they wake her up somehow?”
“I’m sure they would if they could,” I said gently. “You two seem to have become close friends since she started coming here so often.”
“She always gave it her best. There were plenty of times I’d warn her to slow down, take it easier, walk
instead of jog, but she wouldn’t pay any attention. Her face’d turn redder than a beet and she’d sound like a steam engine going up a mountainside.”
instead of jog, but she wouldn’t pay any attention. Her face’d turn redder than a beet and she’d sound like a steam engine going up a mountainside.”
“Shouldn’t you have insisted she stop?”
“Naw, the Ultima people are supposed to make sure everyone in the fatties’ class is okay. ’Course, most of them didn’t work like Maribeth. Sometimes we’d sit in the Jacuzzi until she felt strong enough to get dressed by herself.” He threw the cigarette down and ground it out with his heel. “Now she can’t do anything for herself, damn it! For all those overeducated, underbrained doctors know, she’ll be in a coma for years and years, while her bloodsucking husband enjoys her family’s money. He’ll have himself a big time, screwing everything with a crotch, drinking champagne on first-class flights to Paris, buying a snooty law firm so they’ll have to put his name on the stationery.”
His words were passionate enough, but I kept hearing the same siding salesman pitching the same once-in-a-lifetime special. “What would you do in Gerald’s position?” I asked.
“I’d sure as hell make sure they did everything possible to bring Maribeth out of the coma. There’s probably some clinic in Switzerland that has a miracle cure.” He ran his hand through his hair, stared at the darkening sky, then nudged my arm and gave me a comradely wink. “But who’s to say, after I’d done everything possible for Maribeth, that I might not have a little fun. But I’d be discreet about it, so that if she woke up, she wouldn’t hear any ugly gossip about her old man fooling around.”
“One of these days she’ll wake up and make a decision,” I murmured. “The day of the accident she
implied there would be some major changes in her life.”
implied there would be some major changes in her life.”
“Did she say anything about me?”
“No, she talked about finishing her degree, then perhaps traveling or opening an art gallery. Should she have said something about you?”
His teeth glinted in the darkness, but I couldn’t tell if he smiled or sneered. He lit another cigarette, discarded the matchbook, and blew a column of smoke into the sky. “Naw. I just thought she might have. I’ve gotten fond of the girl. She’s kinda helpless and clumsy, and her husband didn’t help, neither. She told me how he used to bring home all this fattening food and leave it all over the house so no matter where she looked it was candy or cookies or cake. He was doing it on purpose, too. I wouldn’t treat her like that. No, sir, Joseph Delano wouldn’t treat his woman like that.”
Once again I could hear the promise of a maintenance-free exterior for life. “Did she seem upset the last week or so about her difficulty in sticking to the program?”
There was a long silence, during which he presumably was collecting his thoughts. I warned myself to wait patiently, in that he was using a sieve at best. At last he let out a lungful of smoke, and in a pensive voice said, “Ya know, she was kind of upset, now that I think about it. There she was, going up and down like a yo-yo, and lying about it, telling everybody she was shedding pounds faster than a snake sheds its skin. I knew she wasn’t doing so hot ’cause I’d catch her weighing herself on the scales in the weight room and looking gloomy about it.”
“She had me fooled,” I said truthfully. “Even with
the radical mood swings, she sounded as if she believed she’d lost seventeen pounds the day of the accident. But according to her records, it was fourteen, with a half-pound gain the day before. I suppose she was nibbling at night.”
the radical mood swings, she sounded as if she believed she’d lost seventeen pounds the day of the accident. But according to her records, it was fourteen, with a half-pound gain the day before. I suppose she was nibbling at night.”
“Damn husband’s fault.” He pulled out yet another cigarette, fumbled in his pocket, and said, “Be back in a minute; Bobbi’s probably got some matches in her purse. Her boyfriend smokes more than I do, if you can buy that.”
When he opened the door, the music roared out like the sweeping fiery wind that leveled Hiroshima. I was still reeling when the door again opened briefly, then closed, mercifully cutting off the music. Jody rejoined me, and when he’d lit the cigarette, said, “Those two girls of yours are sitting on the floor, fanning themselves and looking miserable. They might do well to start in a low-level class, like the one you came to at four-thirty with Maribeth several weeks ago. You’re welcome to come with them.”
“Thanks; I’ll keep it in mind,” I lied smoothly.
“If you want, I can give you a deal on a family package that’ll entitle you to use the toning machines. I got to make some calls now and stuff, but I’ll look forward to seeing you.”
I made a vague noise. As he opened the door, I heard Bobbi yelling, “Go for it! Higher! Harder!”
Caron and Inez staggered out half an hour later and collapsed into the car. “I wanna go home,” Caron said in a hollow voice. Inez repeated the sentiment in a mumble.
“Did we have fun?” I asked as we drove across the parking lot. The car at the far end was still there; as we passed it, I noticed it was the red sports car I’d
seen earlier and that the surly man, most likely Bobbi’s boyfriend, was still surly. He did not smile. I did not wave.
seen earlier and that the surly man, most likely Bobbi’s boyfriend, was still surly. He did not smile. I did not wave.
“Yeah, it was real fun,” Caron said. “It was like we’d been dropped into a boot camp for Marine cheerleaders. Everyone else thought it was so much fun to do hundreds of sit-ups and jog in place for hours. You should have heard the shrieks and squeals. It was disgusting.”
“You’ll get used to it after a few months of classes,” I said with an evil smile. Neither responded, but I’d had enough fun and allowed them to subside into muffled groans and sighs.
My two days of mandatory bed rest were over the following day, and the Book Depot looked very good, although the overall decor was dustier and my office more chaotic than I remembered. I waltzed around with a feather duster, thumbed through a bunch of boring correspondence, and had a futile telephone conversation with a woman in the distributor’s office who insisted I was in Arizona, which coincidentally was where the shipment of books was.
All the while, however, I kept thinking about Maribeth and her untimely heart attack. She was overweight and therefore at risk, but supposedly she’d had an EKG and blood work before she began the Ultima program. After the fainting episode she’d said she didn’t have a local doctor anymore. Had she lied to Candice and Bobbi—or had she lied to Peter and me?
The previous evening I was certain she wasn’t able to have the tests for financial reasons, but now I began to wonder if there might be another reason, one that involved the unspecified problem in college that forced her to drop out of school. I doubted I could
ring up the college infirmary and ask about medical records from seven or eight years ago, especially since I didn’t know the name of the college and was bereft of credentials. Gerald didn’t seem to know, or at least didn’t seem inclined to tell me.
ring up the college infirmary and ask about medical records from seven or eight years ago, especially since I didn’t know the name of the college and was bereft of credentials. Gerald didn’t seem to know, or at least didn’t seem inclined to tell me.
Maribeth had mentioned a pediatrician, although she’d said he was ancient when she was a child. It occurred to me that he might have been aware of some medical condition that might have led to the college problem and even the heart attack. Children tend to view all adults over forty as ancient, over fifty as senile, and over sixty as ambulatory dead. If I could find the pediatrician, I might be able to persuade him to discuss any conditions from her childhood. A big if.
I took out the telephone book and ascertained there were only ten pediatricians in Farberville, the majority of them divided between two clinics. I contemplated the wisdom of calling each and demanding to know how old he or she was, but I decided the approach was less than tactful and waited impatiently until Caron and Inez dragged themselves into the store after school. It was their least dramatic entrance to date; I usually clutched the nearest inanimate object to steady myself when they exploded into my presence.
“Feeling a little sore?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Caron said with a telltale wince. She came around the counter to the stool and climbed on to it with a muted moan. “I lost three pounds and I feel great. Don’t you feel great, Inez?”
“Me, too, and I feel great,” Inez echoed obediently.
“I need you to watch the store until closing,” I said. “I’m going to visit all the local pediatricians.” They
were both gaping at me as I left, but I couldn’t think of a plausible lie and I didn’t have time for the truth.
were both gaping at me as I left, but I couldn’t think of a plausible lie and I didn’t have time for the truth.
At the first office I asked to speak to the resident physician and was told she was at the hospital. One down, nine to go. The second office was packed with runny-nosed toddlers, bawling babies, and devilish children beating on each other with wooden toys. As I approached the reception window, a young man with a stethoscope around his neck and dressed in a white coat splattered with vomit stomped into the inner office and snatched up a folder. Too young.
Four of the pediatricians were at the first clinic. I went to the window and politely inquired if any of them had been in practice twenty years ago. The receptionist looked at me as if I’d asked if any of them had orange and black striped tails.
“My child is ill,” I improvised blandly, “and I think she might be more comfortable with a grandfatherly type.”
“Where’s the sick child?”
“She’s … in the car, getting sicker by the second. Would you please tell me if any of the pediatricians are elderly?”
It was obvious she felt as though she was dealing with a demented psychotic stalking senior members of the medical profession. “We have a separate waiting room for sick children,” she said, then added loudly enough to be heard at the nearest SCAN office, “Do you really think a sick child ought to be left alone in the car?”
All the mothers in the waiting room turned to stare darkly at me, as did an eagle-beaked nurse armed with a clipboard. “Oh, she can’t reach the gas pedal,” I said
with a gay laugh. “But little Beatrice goes wild with fear unless she has a doctor who reminds her of dear old Granddaddy. She screams like a banshee, wets her pants, and begins to throw up. However, if you want to risk it …”
with a gay laugh. “But little Beatrice goes wild with fear unless she has a doctor who reminds her of dear old Granddaddy. She screams like a banshee, wets her pants, and begins to throw up. However, if you want to risk it …”
The receptionist regarded me for a long minute, making it clear she didn’t believe a word of my story and was quite sure I had an ax in my purse. “Our physicians are all in their mid to late thirties,” she said at last, “and would feel dreadful if they were the cause of little Beatrice’s hysterics.”
A young doctor wearing Mickey Mouse ears appeared from a corner of the office and said, “There aren’t any older pediatricians in Farberville. Too bad my father’s not practicing; he was seventy-three when he retired.”
“Could I speak to you in private?” I said. “It’s rather complicated, but it’s important.”
“For a moment.” He beckoned to a nearby nurse. “The Kerossack child is waiting for inoculations in room four. Use the straps if necessary, but this time nail him and nail him good. Little darling bit me again.”
He escorted me to his office and sat down behind his desk. “You’ve got a semihysterical sick child in the car, but you want to speak to me, right?”
I fumbled around in my mind, then took a deep breath and gave him an accurate if abridged explanation for my purpose in hunting down elderly pediatricians. “If I could have a word with your father, it might clear up some of this muddle,” I concluded with a beguiling smile.
“My father was the only pediatrician in Farberville twenty years ago, although a lot of families preferred
to use a general practitioner. As I said earlier, he retired when he was seventy-three. I failed to add that he died when he was seventy-five.”
to use a general practitioner. As I said earlier, he retired when he was seventy-three. I failed to add that he died when he was seventy-five.”
“Damn,” I muttered, then hastily said, “Sorry, I thought I’d finally made some progress. The comatose girl’s only twenty-nine, and she was beginning to truly enjoy life when the accident occurred.”
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