Serenity Avenged Page 2

  “Like shit.”

  “I imagine so. The little fella’s trying to break out early, huh?”

  “We don’t know it’s a boy,” Helen said. “I’m still pulling for a girl.”

  Shelby huffed but said nothing.

  Leslie nodded. “Yeah, it looks that way. They did an exam. My cervix is thin, but holding so far.”

  “Good news, right?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Helen moved around the bed to sit next to Leslie. “I’m impressed, Shelby. There was a time when talk of any female anatomy other than breasts would send you running from the room.”

  Shelby considered being offended but remembered why he was there. And the smile on Helen’s face seemed genuine and without malice. “Maybe I’m capable of change after all.”

  Helen laughed. “There must be a God, because I’ve witnessed a miracle.”

  “It’ll be a miracle if I get out of here without having this baby,” Leslie said. Her voice was a little too loud and Shelby suspected her of intentionally changing the subject. “I thought for sure it was going drop out onto my apartment floor.”

  “It’s good the ambulance got there in time,” Shelby said.

  “I didn’t take an ambulance. I drove.”

  “You what?”

  “She’s her father’s daughter,” Helen said.

  Shelby shot her a look. Helen noticed and clamped her mouth closed. Shelby still didn’t see the familiar look in her eyes that signaled she was trying to start a fight. But maybe she’d gotten better at hiding it.

  Leslie coughed. “Anyway, it turned out okay. They met me at the front of the ER with a wheelchair and got me up to L&D in record time.”

  “Sounds like they have a good team here.”

  “They’ve been great.”

  “A bit slow with test results,” Helen said, “but I suppose that’s the case with all hospitals.”

  “Every one I’ve been to,” Shelby said. “To the patient, their problem is all-important. To the hospital, you’re only another patient. Unless you’re bleeding out all over their tile floor, you’re in for a lot of waiting.”

  Leslie tried to stifle a yawn.

  “Tired?” Shelby said.

  Leslie nodded. “A little.”

  “Why not go to sleep? You must be exhausted.”

  “But you just got here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Take a nap while you can. The doctors and nurses will be in here bothering you soon enough.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Shelby leaned over and hugged Leslie, who returned it without reservation. The warmness filled Shelby again and he felt a stab of emotion in his throat. He coughed to cover it up.

  Helen got up from the chair and fluffed the pillow. “Sleep tight, dear. You want me to turn off the overhead light?”

  Leslie nodded weakly, already half asleep.

  Helen flipped the switch, throwing the room into sickly shadow.

  Shelby’s stomach rumbled.

  “Have you eaten?” Helen asked, on cue.

  “No. I was in too big of a hurry to get here.”

  “I think the hospital has a café.”

  “Sounds good. You want something?”

  “I could stand a bite.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Helen proved herself more capable of navigating hospitals than Shelby. At least, she was much more confident about it. They found the café with no trouble but were disappointed to find it was closed.

  Shelby read the sign. “They closed at four. Now what?”

  “I suppose we could venture out, although I don’t really want to leave the hospital while Leslie’s here.”

  Shelby looked around and saw a row of vending machines. “Care for a candy bar and a soda?”

  “That’s a horrible dinner.”

  “Show me a better option and I’ll take you up on it.”

  “Milky Way?”

  “You got it.”

  They purchased a variety of snacks and then settled at a small table to eat. Helen watched, smiling, as Shelby divvied up the loot.

  “You remembered what I like in junk food.”

  “I ought to. Remember when we first married and we would walk to that little convenience store at night?”

  “We’d stock up and then stay up late watching horror movies.”

  Shelby grinned. “Fun days. If I ate that way these days, my heart would explode.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t still eat that way.”

  “My diet wouldn’t win any awards, but it’s better than that.”

  “You were never any good at taking care of yourself.”

  “I’ve survived.”

  “Yes,” Helen said. “Yes, you have.” She munched solemnly on a chip and took a drink of soda. A shadow passed over her face. “I’m sorry, Shelby.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “Everything. How it all turned out. How we turned out.”

  “The end of a relationship takes two. We both had something to do with it ending.”

  “And I’m sorry for my part in it.”

  Shelby shifted in his seat, acutely uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. He should have expected it. After all, this was their first meeting in years. Perhaps Helen was right to clear the air, if it needed clearing. But Shelby couldn’t forget what Mack had told him on the phone the other day when his friend had called to share the news of his own break-up with his wife Gloria. Much like Mack and Shelby, Gloria and Helen were long-time friends and stayed in touch after Shelby and Helen divorced. According to Mack, Gloria had recently gotten tipsy on wine and during a major blow-up with Mack had claimed Helen saw Shelby as a meal ticket, and was even planning to use Leslie’s baby as a bargaining chip to get back into his good graces. Shelby knew Helen’s second marriage had ended badly and also knew—from Mack—that she was struggling financially. Shelby wasn’t wealthy, but he’d made decent money and lived simply. As a result, he was comfortable. Of course, Helen couldn’t know the exact state of his bank account, but he couldn’t help wondering how much of what Mack had told him was true. His friend wasn’t one to spread rumors, but the information had originated from an angry, soon-to-be ex-wife, a notably unreliable source. Even with all this in mind, it colored Shelby’s perception of Helen’s apology. Was she trying to clear the air or laying the groundwork for some larger plan?

  3

  Jimmy tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids refused to respond, as if glued shut. There was a low humming sound, a monotone, and it took him a moment to realize he was moaning. His body pulsed with pain. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. They were crusty, and when he finally got them open, he looked at his hands—dried blood. Every movement was agony. His head pounded, his sides ached, his chest felt like it had caved in. It took him five minutes to stand up. Another five to reach the bathroom. He flipped on the light and peeked at the mirror. His face looked like it had been wadded up and shoved down a garbage disposal. Bruises, cuts, abrasions…he had them all. He slowly, mechanically wriggled out of his t-shirt and found his torso in little better shape.

  Then he remembered. Malone. Darkmore had set the big ape loose on him. They must have dragged him upstairs and tossed him into bed before leaving the premises. Jimmy felt lucky they hadn’t set fire to the house as they left. So this was Darkmore’s idea of a warning—Jimmy cringed to think what might await if he continued to let his boss down.

  Jimmy reached under the sink for peroxide and gauze, and began cleaning the cuts and scrapes. Within a few minutes, he began to look more like a living human and less like roadkill. The sharp stinging of the antiseptic sharpened his mind and dispelled much of the fog permeating his brain. He bandaged what he could and then made his way downstairs in search of ice for his swollen face. He took his time on the stairs, wondering throughout the lengthy, painful trip if this was what it was like to be old.

  �
�No wonder old people are so pissed off all the time, if they feel as shitty as this,” he muttered through split, puffy lips.

  He was out of ice. But that should be no surprise. He was out of most things. Darkmore had not been paying him lately, saying he didn’t reward failure. It had been a ramen and canned bean month, which had made it even more galling when he’d been to Darkmore’s lair and watched him dine on oysters and fine wine.

  Jimmy shuffled to a cabinet, got out a medicine bottle, and rattled four pain tablets into his palm. Then he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, popped the tab, dropped the pills into his mouth, and drank the beer. He leaned against the kitchen counter and tried to think. He was in deep shit, and he knew it. What he hadn’t mentioned to Darkmore was that he hadn’t failed to get the money because he was going soft and unable to put the squeeze on a woman.

  It was because the woman had disappeared.

  Three weeks earlier, Jimmy had broken into her home in the middle of the night and awakened her from a deep sleep. He’d scared the shit out of her, which had been the only reason she had handed over the money he’d been able to deliver to Darkmore. He’d given her an ultimatum, and she’d agreed to gather the rest of the cash, with regular five thousand dollar payments until she paid in full. Jimmy had been so pleased with the arrangement that he’d made the mistake of reporting it to Darkmore, who had seemed on the verge of having Jimmy killed then and there.

  “You negotiated what?” he’d roared. “A payment plan? What are we, American Express? You get that money, kid, or find yourself feeding the goddamn fish.”

  It hadn’t been easy, but Jimmy had convinced Darkmore to see the plan through, although as much for his sake as that of the woman. And then, a week later, she had dropped out of sight. For the last two weeks, Jimmy had seen no sign of her, even though he’d staked out her house as usual. Her life had been predictable, boring even, but then one evening, she simply hadn’t come home. And she hadn’t shown up since.

  It was time to step up his game.

  4

  The doctor arrived early the next morning and in a mood much too chipper for either the hour or situation. As he stood by Leslie’s bed, he moved up and down on the balls of his feet. In fact, his entire body seemed to be in constant motion. His hands fluttered, his mouth twitched, his eyes blinked. Shelby worried the man was about to burst out of his skin.

  “So, you’re certainly having contractions…Leslie, is it? But not to worry; you’re in an excellent place.”

  “When can I go home?”

  “We’re still waiting on a test or two, but assuming they come back okay, I think we can get your discharge started this afternoon. When you go home, however, you’re going to want to take it easy. No lifting, no exertion, stay off stairs whenever possible, and drink water. Lots and lots of water. Try to limit your activity to going to the bathroom, showering, and that sort of thing. Do you have someone who can stay with you?”

  Leslie glanced at Helen, who nodded.

  “Yes, I can stay with her. I’m her mother.”

  The doctor beamed. “Excellent! Well, this is working out famously. I’ll be going but will stop back by later once the final results are in.”

  Shelby watched him leave, expecting the man to break into an Irish jig at any moment.

  Leslie groaned. “A prisoner in my own house.”

  “He didn’t say bedrest.”

  “But he might as well have. Limit my activity to going to the bathroom and showering? That’s bullshit!”

  Shelby laughed. “He clearly didn’t know he was talking to the hyperactivity queen of the nineties.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Helen said. “I can stay as long as you need me.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Leslie looked at Shelby. “Mom’s been over at my place more than her own lately anyway. Where are you staying, Dad?”

  “I thought I’d get a hotel.”

  “That’s silly! You can stay at my place.”

  “I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “You won’t. Honest. My apartment has three bedrooms. I only have one guest bed, but there’s a killer air mattress.”

  Shelby had no desire to stay in an apartment with Helen, especially given his new suspicions. But he had to admit he’d feel better staying with Leslie, in case something happened. He nodded.

  “Fine. It’ll save me the price of a room.”

  Shelby went out alone for lunch and took the opportunity to call Mack. He was considering driving over to Detroit for a quick visit but wanted to make sure his friend would be home and expecting him. Shelby had no desire to walk into the middle of a marital dispute.

  Mack answered on the third ring. “How’s Serenity? Serene for once?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m not there.”

  “Finally got sent to the big house, eh?”

  “Are you talking about jail or football?”

  “With your past? The next time someone tells you to assume the position, it won’t be to snap the pigskin, I can tell you that.”

  “It’s sad you think you’re funny, Mack.”

  “Well, my jokes are better than a kick in the ass.”

  “Barely.”

  “So if you’re not in that shitty little town of yours, where are you?”

  “Grand Rapids.”

  “You’re downstate? What brought that on?”

  “Leslie. She started having contractions and went to the ER.”

  “Well, shit. How is she?”

  “Better. Looks like they’ll send her home later today.”

  “Good news.”

  “Anyway, I was thinking of perhaps driving over for a few cheap beers and bad stories.”

  Mack fell silent.

  “Mack?”

  “Yeah…about that. I’d love to see you, Shel, but it may not be the best time to show up over here.”

  “Gloria?”

  “And company. Truth is, I was thinking of driving back up your way.”

  “To Serenity?”

  “The same. But if you’re not there, I guess that ends that idea.”

  “You could always drive over here. It’s closer. I’m sure we could find a place for you. If nothing else, grab a hotel room and I’ll pay half the bill. It would do you good to get out of that city for a while.”

  “You’re probably right. Why not? Other than the fact that you’ll be there, of course.”

  “Get the hell over here.”

  Leslie’s discharge was predictably delayed and she wasn’t delivered home until after dinnertime. Shelby and Helen got her situated on the couch, reclining on pillows with a fleece blanket over her legs. Shelby handed her the remote for the television and Leslie laughed.

  “I could get used to this. I haven’t been this babied since…hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been this babied.”

  Helen moved into the kitchen and began bustling. “What does everyone want to eat? I’m in the mood to make something.”

  Leslie grimaced. “I’m a little short on ingredients.”

  “I’m sure I can put something together. Maybe some spaghetti and garlic bread?”

  “I don’t have any pasta.”

  “Hamburgers?”

  “No ground beef.”

  “Grilled cheese?”

  “No bread.”

  “What the hell do you eat, Leslie?”

  “I cook, Mom, but I’ve been so tired, I haven’t been to the store.”

  Shelby bent over to glance into the refrigerator and was dismayed to see it was even more barren than his own. He closed the door and straightened.

  “Why don’t I go and pick something up. Olive Garden fine with everyone? Serenity doesn’t have one and I’ve been craving their breadsticks.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Leslie said. “Everybody tell me what they want and I’ll place the order online.”

  Helen grabbed her purse. “I can get the food. I need to go by the house and pick up a few things.”

  Shelb
y waved her off. “Nonsense. You should stay with Leslie. Give me a key and an address, and I can grab whatever you need.”

  “No, seriously, Shelby. I’d rather do it.”

  Shelby noticed a strange, desperate look come into Helen’s eyes.

  “Mom.”

  Helen glanced at Leslie, then back at Shelby.

  “Helen? Is something wrong? I don’t mind—”

  “No, it’s fine. Sure.” Helen reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. She removed one from the ring and handed it to Shelby. “That fits the front door. I have a bag mostly packed and sitting on the table. If you wouldn’t mind throwing my slippers into it—they’re in the bedroom—it should be ready to go.”

  She scribbled her address on a scrap of paper and handed it over—reluctantly, Shelby thought.

  “Sounds simple enough,” he said. “I’ll leave now and get the food on the way back so it’ll stay hot.”

  5

  Jimmy parked on the street and sat in his Chevy, chewing his nails and watching the house for signs of life. As had been the case for the last two weeks, the windows were dark.

  He punched the steering wheel. If only he’d been more decisive, more aggressive. Perhaps Darkmore was onto something when he accused him of going soft on a woman. Jimmy had always prided himself on adhering to the criminal code, but he hadn’t considered that gallantry might be part of it. Whatever the case, it was becoming clear the woman wasn’t planning to return on her own. And finding her was Jimmy’s only ticket to staying alive. Darkmore also had a criminal code, although it seemed to consist of a single rule: do whatever the hell he said or die.

  Jimmy unbuckled his seatbelt and felt inside his jacket for the pistol. He pulled it out and hefted the weight. It gave him a surge of confidence and calmed his nerves. There had to be something inside the house to give him a lead: receipts, phone messages (although those were rare in this day of mobile voicemail), signs of a hasty departure. If she’d travelled out of the country, he’d be out of luck.

  He put his hand on the door handle, and then saw a car pull up to the curb and park. A man got out and walked toward the front door, stopping once to check the house number.