The Maze
Page 117
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"Your mother got by me, Lacey. One minute she was there watching a game show on TV, the next minute she was gone. I'd just gone down to the kitchen for a cup of tea."
She looked at her father. He seemed remote, watching the woman who had been his wife for nearly thirty years. What was he thinking? Did he expect her to say something against him when she regained consciousness? "Father, tell me what happened."
"I was backing out of the driveway to go to the courthouse. I heard this loud bump. I'd hit your mother. I never saw her. The first thing was to get her to the hospital, then I called the police. It was a Sergeant Dollan who found a witness to the whole thing. His name's Murdock."
"What did he tell them?"
"That she ran out into the driveway. He said he couldn't figure out why she'd do such a stupid thing."
She had to go talk to this Mr. Murdock herself.
"You don't believe your mother's crazy tale that I tried to run her down, do you?"
"No. You're not stupid."
He'd been tense before but now he relaxed. He even smiled. "No, I'm not stupid. Why did she do that?"
"Probably to get your attention."
"Now that's nuts, Lacey."
"Maybe more of your attention would be a good thing."
She looked down at her mother. She was so still. Here she was lying in a hospital bed with a squirrelly brain and no spleen.
"I'll think about what you said. Where are you going?" "To talk to Mr. Murdock. No, Dad, I don't doubt you. I just want to hear him tell it. Maybe it will help us both understand her a bit better."
Lacey left her mother's hospital room and stopped again at the nurse's station.
"Mrs. Sherlock will be fine," Nurse Blackburn said. "Really. She'll be asleep for another three or four hours. Come back to see her later, about dinnertime."
Lacey called the precinct station. Ten minutes later, she was driving to a Mr. Murdock's house, three doors down from her parents' home on Broadway. It was a fog-laden afternoon, and very chilly. She felt cold to the marrow of her bones.
It wasn't nearly dark yet, but a light was shining in the front windows of his house. A desiccated old man, stooped nearly double, answered the door just when she was ready to give up. Standing next to him was a huge bulldog. Mr. Murdock nodded to the dog. "I walk him at least six times a day," he said first thing. "Bad bladder," Mr. Murdock added, patting the dog's head. "He needs more potty time than I do." He didn't invite her in, not that she wanted to step into that dark hallway behind him that smelled too much like dog and dirty socks.
"You saw an accident, Mr. Murdock? A man in a car struck a woman?"
"Eh? Oh that. Yes, I did see the whole thing. It happened yesterday afternoon. This real pretty women I've known by sight for years is standing kind of bent over in the thick oleanders. I start to call out to her, you know, I thought she must have some kind of problem, when she suddenly just steps out into the driveway. I hear a car hit her. It was weird. The whole thing was weird. That's what my nephew said too when I called him about it. What do you want, Butchie? You got bladder needs again? All right. Go get your rope. Sorry, little lady, but that's all I know. Either the woman ran out into the , car's path on purpose or she didn't, and that makes it an accident, plain and simple."
Lacey walked slowly back to her rental car. Why had her mother done such a ridiculous thing? Was it really that she wanted more attention from her husband? That was far too simple, but maybe it was a place to start. She hadn't understood her mother for nearly all her life. Why should she begin understanding her now?
Her father came back to the hospital at seven o'clock that evening.
"She's just the same," Lacey said.
He said nothing, just walked to the bed and looked down at his wife.
He said, "Did that old man tell you that I didn't try to kill your mother?"
"Yeah, he did. Look, Dad, you know I had to go talk to him, hear everything in his own words."
"You're my kid. I can understand that. I called a new psychiatrist to come talk to your mother tomorrow. I told her what had happened, what you thought. We'll see. I'm glad you didn't think I was stupid enough to try something like that."
"Oh no."
"I've found myself wondering if I could have done it. Maybe, if it had been dark and we'd been in the Andes with no possible witnesses who spoke English." "You're joking."
She looked at her father. He seemed remote, watching the woman who had been his wife for nearly thirty years. What was he thinking? Did he expect her to say something against him when she regained consciousness? "Father, tell me what happened."
"I was backing out of the driveway to go to the courthouse. I heard this loud bump. I'd hit your mother. I never saw her. The first thing was to get her to the hospital, then I called the police. It was a Sergeant Dollan who found a witness to the whole thing. His name's Murdock."
"What did he tell them?"
"That she ran out into the driveway. He said he couldn't figure out why she'd do such a stupid thing."
She had to go talk to this Mr. Murdock herself.
"You don't believe your mother's crazy tale that I tried to run her down, do you?"
"No. You're not stupid."
He'd been tense before but now he relaxed. He even smiled. "No, I'm not stupid. Why did she do that?"
"Probably to get your attention."
"Now that's nuts, Lacey."
"Maybe more of your attention would be a good thing."
She looked down at her mother. She was so still. Here she was lying in a hospital bed with a squirrelly brain and no spleen.
"I'll think about what you said. Where are you going?" "To talk to Mr. Murdock. No, Dad, I don't doubt you. I just want to hear him tell it. Maybe it will help us both understand her a bit better."
Lacey left her mother's hospital room and stopped again at the nurse's station.
"Mrs. Sherlock will be fine," Nurse Blackburn said. "Really. She'll be asleep for another three or four hours. Come back to see her later, about dinnertime."
Lacey called the precinct station. Ten minutes later, she was driving to a Mr. Murdock's house, three doors down from her parents' home on Broadway. It was a fog-laden afternoon, and very chilly. She felt cold to the marrow of her bones.
It wasn't nearly dark yet, but a light was shining in the front windows of his house. A desiccated old man, stooped nearly double, answered the door just when she was ready to give up. Standing next to him was a huge bulldog. Mr. Murdock nodded to the dog. "I walk him at least six times a day," he said first thing. "Bad bladder," Mr. Murdock added, patting the dog's head. "He needs more potty time than I do." He didn't invite her in, not that she wanted to step into that dark hallway behind him that smelled too much like dog and dirty socks.
"You saw an accident, Mr. Murdock? A man in a car struck a woman?"
"Eh? Oh that. Yes, I did see the whole thing. It happened yesterday afternoon. This real pretty women I've known by sight for years is standing kind of bent over in the thick oleanders. I start to call out to her, you know, I thought she must have some kind of problem, when she suddenly just steps out into the driveway. I hear a car hit her. It was weird. The whole thing was weird. That's what my nephew said too when I called him about it. What do you want, Butchie? You got bladder needs again? All right. Go get your rope. Sorry, little lady, but that's all I know. Either the woman ran out into the , car's path on purpose or she didn't, and that makes it an accident, plain and simple."
Lacey walked slowly back to her rental car. Why had her mother done such a ridiculous thing? Was it really that she wanted more attention from her husband? That was far too simple, but maybe it was a place to start. She hadn't understood her mother for nearly all her life. Why should she begin understanding her now?
Her father came back to the hospital at seven o'clock that evening.
"She's just the same," Lacey said.
He said nothing, just walked to the bed and looked down at his wife.
He said, "Did that old man tell you that I didn't try to kill your mother?"
"Yeah, he did. Look, Dad, you know I had to go talk to him, hear everything in his own words."
"You're my kid. I can understand that. I called a new psychiatrist to come talk to your mother tomorrow. I told her what had happened, what you thought. We'll see. I'm glad you didn't think I was stupid enough to try something like that."
"Oh no."
"I've found myself wondering if I could have done it. Maybe, if it had been dark and we'd been in the Andes with no possible witnesses who spoke English." "You're joking."
