Long Memory

LONG MEMORY

CHRISTA MAURICE

LYRICAL PRESS

http://lyricalpress.com/

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

To Papaw, whom I already miss.

Chapter 1

“Nonie?” Beth pushed open the basement door and peered into the kitchen. The light over the sink was still on, but it had been for about three years. “Nonie?”

Three o’clock in the morning and here she was breaking into Nonie’s like a burglar because she heard footsteps overhead. Good thing there was no school in the morning or she’d be toast.

“Nonie?” Beth slipped through the door. Nonie never got up at night. Beth always made sure she was safely in bed at eleven, with the remote in hand, before going down to her basement apartment, and Nonie never stirred except to go to the bathroom. But someone had been walking back and forth for the last half hour, and the old lady’s dementia was getting worse. Not to mention she had a ton of stuff worth stealing in the house. Beth hefted the baseball bat in one hand and her cellphone, finger trained on the emergency preset, in the other as she padded around the armoire in the kitchen. “Nonie?”

“Hello?” Nonie’s voice sounded more fragile than usual.

“Nonie, it’s Beth. Everything all right?”

“Beth?”

“Beth from downstairs. Are you okay?” Beth stepped around the antique table and paused at the end of the hall. She hated to invade Nonie’s privacy, but the old lady got even more confused at night and who knew what was happening in that room.

Nonie wasn’t answering. Beth slipped down the hall toward Nonie’s bedroom door. “I’m coming in, okay, Nonie?”

“I’m all right. I just have a little nosebleed.”

Beth pushed open the door. A little nosebleed? Nonie and the bed were dark in places they should have been white. “Jesus.”

“Don’t blaspheme,” Nonie snapped.

Beth dropped the bat and the phone, rushing forward. “Pinch your nose closed.”

Nonie pinched her nose, then took her hand away from her face and looked at it. “I think I have a nosebleed.”

Beth tried to lurch backward for her phone while lunging forward to pinch Nonie’s nose closed again. She expected to rip in half someday. “Nonie, you need to hold your nose closed so it will stop bleeding. Do you have it closed? Keep it pinched.” Beth kept her eyes on Nonie while crouching and reaching back for her phone. The moment she stopped reminding Nonie to keep her nose pinched, the older woman would forget what she was doing. That would make talking to the 911 operator tricky. “Do you have your nose pinched good and tight? Remember, just like you did for Bobby Simmons. He used to have terrible nosebleeds because he picked his nose all the time.”

“Picked his nose?” Nonie asked. “That’s a filthy habit.”

Beth found the phone. It had snapped closed and she had to open it again, but her fingers found the preset button without a problem. That was a regular facet of her life lately. “You just keep your nose closed so it will stop bleeding.” Beth flicked on the light. The room looked like a slasher flick gone wild. How did such a tiny woman lose so much blood?

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

“Hello, this is Beth Wilson at thirty-two ninety-one Irvin Street in Weaver’s Circle. My neighbor Nonie Bennetti has a– No, Nonie, don’t take your fingers off your nose.” Beth juggled the phone to her other hand and pinched Nonie’s nose closed herself. “Has a severe nosebleed. I need paramedics to get her to the hospital.”

Nonie tried to turn her head to escape Beth’s hand.

“Nonie, sit still or it’s going to keep bleeding. Mrs. Bennetti has dementia and she’s–Nonie.”

“Ma’am, paramedics are on the way. Will they be able to get into the house?”

Beth grabbed Nonie’s head with both hands, trying to keep her from escaping. The phone dropped to the floor but didn’t snap shut. She missed real telephones that you could pin between your cheek and shoulder. These flat little sci-fi communicators were great for shoving in a pocket, but they absolutely sucked for talking on when you needed both hands. How was she going to get the front door unlocked? She couldn’t even talk to 911 on the phone without Nonie losing track.

“What’s going on?” Nonie demanded. Her voice rang with panic.

“Don’t worry, Nonie. The guys are going to take you to the hospital. I have to open the front door. Can you hold your nose, please?”

Nonie got a grip on her nose and Beth grabbed her phone off the floor.

“I’m sorry, I dropped the phone,” Beth said into it, jogging through the house and flipping on lights on her way to the door. “I’ll get the front door open.”

“Does she have any other problems we should know about?” the operator asked.

Other problems? For eighty-six, Nonie was in excellent health. She just couldn’t remember anything that had happened within the last thirty years or so, including the last five minutes, and the last five seconds. “No, she’s just very old and has dementia.” Beth flicked on the porch light and opened the door. The air was cool for July. An ambulance swerved around the corner, lights flashing. “The paramedics are here. Thank you.” Beth snapped her phone shut and stuffed it in her pocket.

The ambulance stopped in the driveway and familiar paramedics leaped out. “Hi, Beth, how’s Nonie tonight?” one of them asked.

“Nosebleed, Billy.”

“I heard.” Billy hustled past her with his partner on his heels. “You wash up and get her hospital kit. We’ll be ready to go in a minute. Hello, Nonie. Little nosebleed tonight?”

Beth pulled her phone out again as she walked down the hall to the spare room where she kept Nonie’s hospital kit. She needed to call the family. Shudder.

* * * *

James stopped on the quiet street in front of his grandmother’s house. He was a complete failure. Two months ago he’d been a highly paid accountant for one of the largest real estate companies in Georgia. His life could be described in three words: “wine,” “women” and “song.”

Then he’d discovered his boss had taken up a fun new hobby. Real estate fraud. He’d called the SEC about thirty seconds after the fraud became apparent. Everyone in the office hated him, including the two women he’d been flirting with and his weekend band. The loss of the band eliminated all the other women he’d been flirting with. That left him with wine, but his newly unemployed status limited him to the battery acid from the bottom shelf. Oh, and the added joy of having been on the news meant everyone in the grocery store knew his face, and many of them weren’t happy with him.

So now he was visiting family. Also known as moving in with his grandmother until after the trial when he might be able to get something resembling a life back.

He turned into the driveway and parked beside the garage. Grabbing his suitcase from the passenger seat, he walked to the front door and stopped. Once upon a time he’d have just walked in, but that was fifteen years ago, before college and Georgia. He knocked.

A little blonde wearing glasses and a pink tank top opened the door, frowning. “Yes?”

James frowned back. “Who are you?”

“Excellent question, but shouldn’t I be asking it?” she said.

“Where is she?” James reached in the house to hold the door open. “Nonie!”

The blonde fell back a step, allowing him inside the house.

His grandmother sat with her back to the door watching a dog training show on television. Something was wrapped around the back of her head like a gag. “Nonie?”

She didn’t respond. She didn’t even move.

James rushed around the couch, his heart doing a tap dance on his rib cage. She had a bandage over her nose and hardcover books spread open over her wrists on the armrests. Glancing at the blonde, he checked for a weapon. She still stood by the open door watching him, the picture of innocence, but getting angry.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but you’d better get out of here.” She held up a cellphone. “I have the sheriff’s department on speed dial.”

“I’m sure they would be interested in what’s going on.” James glanced around the Victorian decorated room trying to decide if anything was missing or how he was supposed to know. It had been over a decade since he had set foot in this house. Checking his grandmother again, he discovered she looked much smaller than he remembered. Nonie just stared at him like he was an alien.

“Beth?” she asked in a wavering voice. “Who is this?”

“I have no idea, but if he doesn’t get the hell out in about fifteen seconds, he’s going to be arrested.” The blonde had the phone to her ear.

“Grandma?” James asked. The pieces to this puzzle didn’t seem to go together. He was sure this was his grandmother’s house and the old woman resembled his grandmother, but the blonde didn’t fit and his grandmother didn’t seem to know him or even mind that she was tied to a chair. “Why do you have my grandmother tied to a chair?”

“I don’t have your grand– Hello, this is Beth Wilson. I have an intruder at Violet Bennetti’s house. I need– Nonie, don’t pull that off.” The blonde dropped the phone and lurched past him.

James looked down. His grandmother had been working the bandage off her face. The books that had been on her wrists were on the floor. The blonde pulled her hands away from the bandage and tried to secure it.

“You have to stop this. I don’t want to spend another night in the hospital,” the blonde muttered.

A siren wailed into the driveway. A few moments later, a portly cop filled the door. “What’s going on?”

“This guy forced his way in the house. I don’t know who he is,” the blonde said.

“Who is this woman? What is going on here?” James demanded over her.

“Why don’t you and I step outside?” The cop wrapped a meaty hand around James’s arm, pulling him back out the door.

“I belong here,” James protested. Inside he heard the blonde and his grandmother talking. The blonde’s voice was soothing, his grandmother’s panicked.

“I’ll need to see some ID.” The cop held out his hand.

James set his suitcase on the porch and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “I don’t understand this. I came to visit my grandmother. I called last week and told her I was coming.” He handed over his Georgia driver’s license. “I want to know who that woman is.”