The Perils of Panacea

Chapter 4

4

Ben snorted. I was surprised there was no laughter bubbling up in my own chest, but I felt perfectly calm. Maybe because my backseat was finally safe. I turned to Officer Driscoll.

“I think she’ll be all right now,” I said.

“I dare say she will.”

Thankfully, I couldn’t make out visual details, just a sour stench and the mass of lighter color in the darkness. Driscoll's left shoe had borne the brunt of the attack, and he tilted that foot back and tapped his toe gently on the grass. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. I turned my head while he tended to what remained with much more dignity than I could have mustered.

“Ma’am.”

I turned back, hoping it was safe to look again. Renee had pulled her head back in the car and was already making soft snoring sounds. Driscoll stepped back the exact distance needed for clearance and closed the car door firmly. I would have whacked myself in the thigh with the door for sure. Must be something else they teach at the academy. Then he held out a card. It was in his right hand (not his shoe-cleaning hand), but I still couldn’t help taking it gingerly between index finger and thumb. I wondered what he had done with his handkerchief.

“Make sure you ice your head tonight or it’ll raise a hell of a lump. If you have any more problems, give me a call.” Thus the card.

I thanked him and began walking back around to the driver’s side as he returned to his own car. It seemed the three of us were driving away with nothing more than an amusing anecdote and the feeling of having dodged a big one, so when he called out to me again, my chest clutched.

“Ms. Brennan?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I don’t think it would hurt your friend if you were stingy with the aspirin tomorrow.”

He tilted his head back far enough that I could make out his smile in an anemic streetlight. I hoped he could see mine as well. I’d already decided: if Renee wanted anything to ease her pain, she’d have to crawl to the drugstore to get it.

“Well, gee, that was fun,” I said in my finest hale and hearty voice. “So, tell me, Ben, how long has she been pulling this s**t?”

We sat in Ben’s kitchen. It was the first time I’d ever been in his house, and I’d practically gotten the tour—helping Renee clean up in the bathroom, finding her an oversized T-shirt to sleep in, and tucking her in bed. She’d fallen asleep almost instantly, and I’d left a suspiciously spotless bucket by the bed just in case.

Ben rose and reached into the lowest cabinet for a couple of glasses. There weren’t any dirty dishes in the sink, and the trash wasn’t overflowing. He’d probably been taking care of the domestic details lately, as best he could, but when he opened the refrigerator it was practically empty.

“What do you want to drink? All we have is this diet crap, but I can get you some water. I think we have ice cubes.”

“Nothing, thanks.”

I could have used something to get the aftertaste of cheap beer out of my mouth, but neither diet soda nor water would do the trick. And I’m a big believer in the Band-Aid approach to unpleasant things—just rip it off quick. An instant of indignant pain rather than tiny tugs and prolonged suffering. Ben must have felt my impatience.

“Just give me a minute, Syd. Okay?”

His voice shook a little, and he sounded as if he were pleading with me. Not to give him space, but to tell him it would be all right. He dropped a handful of ice cubes and they scattered on the soft, faux tile flooring.

“Dammit!” he said. There was too much anguish and not enough anger in the soft outburst. He flinched when I put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’ll get it. Just sit down.”

He avoided my eyes but didn’t argue. By the time I’d cleaned up the mess and poured him a diet soda, he’d regained his composure. I sat across from him at their small, four-seater kitchen table. There were water rings on the wooden surface, all at my place setting. Great. The little psychologist on my shoulder didn’t like sitting in Renee’s seat, but it was too late now.

“I’m not sure when it got bad. She used to ‘date’ a lot of guys,” he used his voice rather than his fingers to make air quotes, “but not like this.”

“So what does ‘like this’ mean, and how long has it been this way?” I asked.

“You know.” No matter how much Ben affected indifference, he didn’t want to bad-mouth his mother by telling me more. “Like tonight. And I said I don’t know how long. It wasn’t sudden. I just noticed her out more, and out later, and eventually not coming home at all. And she started drinking here when she’s not going out.”

Thus the ice, diet coke, and water rings.

“Was it because of what happened at my house?”

A euphemism if ever there was one, and, typical teenager, Ben had little tolerance for indirect speech. “You mean when that asshole almost killed us?”

“Yes.”

He started to say something smartassed to me, but thought better of it. “No, I don’t think so. It started before that, and she actually straightened up for a while then and took care of me, stayed at home nights. But within a couple of weeks she was back at it.”

My relief was selfish but genuine; I was glad it wasn’t my fault. “Anything else? Anything different? Maybe a bad break-up, problems at work …”

“Nothing that I know of, not that she’d tell me, anyway. She did say a couple of times that money was tight. You know, when I’d need to get gas or something.”

I rolled my eyes at her letting him drive.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t start, Syd.”

He was right; being judgmental wouldn’t accomplish anything. “She say why she’s having money problems?”

“Nah, and I don’t really think money is the reason she’s been boozing. I’m sure it doesn’t help, but it doesn’t feel right. She might be acting like a flake now, but it’s been just the two of us forever. Mom can be a bit of a drama queen, but she’s not the kind of person to just check out because times are tough. At least, she never was before.”

“Is there anyone you can call to stay with tonight?” I asked.

“Syd, have you looked at the clock?”

The wood-framed, octagonal one on their kitchen wall read 3 a.m. “Mmm, good point. Would you mind staying at my house?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Look, I’m not going to strip her naked and beat her. I just need to talk to your mom about what’s going on, and I think it would be better if you weren’t here when I do it.”

And I wanted to search their house, which would also be easier if he weren’t here.

Ben still looked wary. If he developed a permanent squint and was mistaken for Mr. Magoo all his life, would it be my fault?

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I like insinuating myself into people’s lives so I can learn all their deep dark secrets. I collect them like insects on pins.” That knocked the squint off his face. “Ben, did you ever think I might be able to help?”

The poor kid was so exhausted, the brown of his eyes seemed to have leaked and smeared over the skin beneath. If he were a girl, I would have chalked it up to inexpert application of cheap eyeliner. It made me more determined to knock some sense into his mother. Probably metaphorically, but I wasn’t making any guarantees.

“Do you really think you can do something, Syd?”

“I can try.”

“It’s not just the drinking. I mean, that’d be bad enough, but she usually doesn’t drive. She takes the Ford so I can pick her up in the automatic—” I couldn’t stop a disgusted intake of breath at that.

“—or she gets a ride home.”

So that’s where Ben was headed. He picked at a splintering spot on the edge of the table, watching his fingers as if he were performing delicate surgery.

“I’m not stupid, Syd. If she keeps on …” He took a deep breath and forged on. “I started leaving piles of condoms on her dresser and her bedstand. Thank God somebody’s been using them. I don’t know where she thinks they all come from, if she even notices.”

“The Rubber Fairy?”

Ben looked up at me, and we broke into gentle laughter, dispelling most of the embarrassment. And most of my desire to shake the living s**t out of Renee. Most of it. Not all.

“So, just out of curiosity, who’s your supplier?” He looked at me guiltily, eyes wide and bottom jaw hanging low. “Come on, Ben. This is no comment on your personal need or desire for contraceptives. I just can’t see you walking into Walgreen’s every other day, facing a twenty-year-old cashier with three-inch long nails, carrying a box of condoms in your hand.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, neither can I. There’s a guy from school. He’ll be a senior this year, but we rode the same bus when I was a little kid, and he watched out for me. He’s pretty cool.”

I smiled at the image of a tall seventeen-year-old wearing canvas high-tops and a trench coat lined with condoms, full boxes on one side and singles on the other. “Do you need a key to my house?”

“No, you gave me one when you changed the locks.”

“Okay. Sleep wherever you want. You know where I keep everything. I’ll come get you in the morning when it’s safe.” I was gratified to see a small smile, perhaps of resignation, as he rose and walked to the door. “I wouldn’t count on it being too early.”

“You never know, Syd. She might surprise you.”

A hungover drunk surprise me, Sydney Brennan, investigator extraordinaire? Never.