“Call 9-1-1, Baby. Now!”
As Martha lifted the phone and pressed the numbers, Gus began slapping an open hand against the floor. Not finding his bottle of pills, Pearl leapt over him and dug into more pockets. When the emergency operator answered, Martha tried to speak clearly, but the operator had to ask her to repeat twice. “What is the nature of the emergency again?”
Martha spoke as clearly as she could. “Har attack!”
“ Heart attack?”
“ Yes.”
“ I’m sending help immediately. They’re on the way, Ma’am.”
“ Than’ you.”
The operator spoke calmly, “Please stay on the line.”
Pearl’s fingers found the tiny bottle of nitroglycerin, ripped it from Gus’s pant’s pocket, and dumped the tiny white pills on the floor. She’d witnessed many of her husband’s attacks over the last several years, but never one as bad as this. Grasping a single pill in her fingers, she lifted it to his mouth now clamped shut with pain.
“ Open your mouth!” His lips parted, but his teeth were clinched. She shook him. “Gus, open your mouth!”
“ Daddy?”
Gus’s eyes were hammered shut and his skin had turned gray. Pearl grasped his jaw and tried to open it, but he knocked her hands away. She slapped his face. “Open your mouth!”
Martha dropped the phone, rolled off the side of the bed, and dragged herself across the floor. “Daddy, open your mou’h!”
Pearl saw the terror of knowing he was going to die in Gus’s eyes, and realized her worst nightmare was becoming a reality. Her skin flushed. With perspiration pooling in the creases of her neck, she straddled him on her hands and knees and shook him. “Don’t you die on me, you you BASTARD!”
She cupped his neck, hooked her thumb in his nose, and wrenched his head backward forcing his mouth open. As Martha fell on his shoulder, Pearl dropped the pill under his tongue.
“ Don’t die, Daddy. P’ease don’t die.”
The nitroglycerin dissolved quickly and as it entered Gus’s bloodstream, his blocked arteries began to dilate, and the blood began flowing past the blockages. As his panic subsided, Gus relaxed, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath as Pearl planted a row of kisses across his forehead. Then the three of them lay on the floor until the ambulance arrived and took him away.
16
A WEEK EARLIER, I HAD SECURITY, a good reputation, and a thriving business. Everything except a woman to share my life. Then one stopped by. A woman. Just for an hour. But that’s all it took to destroy everything that had taken me a lifetime to build. One hour. One lousy hour. When will I get it through my head that women and I don’t mix?
I’d had no sleep, still wore the clothes I’d been arrested in, and was growing more panicked by the minute. What was taking so long? Why haven’t I heard from Joe? Finally, shortly before noon, he showed up and there was someone with him.
“ Scott McGillikin, Rich Baimbridge,” Joe said introducing us as a guard let them in. “Scott’s a criminal attorney.”
Scott extended his hand and, clearing his throat, waited for the guard to leave before speaking. “The Grand Jury just returned an indictment, Mr. Baimbridge. On what are they basing that?” he asked, his eyes cold, uncaring.
“ I was in her house the night everything happened and they found a spot of her blood on my shirt.”
“ How’d that get there?” he asked.
“ I have no idea.”
“ You have the victim’s blood on your shirt and you don’t know how it got there?”
“ I wish I did. It would answer a hell of a lot of questions.”
Taking a seat on the end of the cot, Scott sighed, propped his briefcase on his knees, and produced a tape recorder. “Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything.” I lowered myself next to him and for the next thirty minutes gave him the complete story. Scott’s eyes were dull and piercing—like Dad’s—and he didn’t seem to grasp the
As Martha lifted the phone and pressed the numbers, Gus began slapping an open hand against the floor. Not finding his bottle of pills, Pearl leapt over him and dug into more pockets. When the emergency operator answered, Martha tried to speak clearly, but the operator had to ask her to repeat twice. “What is the nature of the emergency again?”
Martha spoke as clearly as she could. “Har attack!”
“ Heart attack?”
“ Yes.”
“ I’m sending help immediately. They’re on the way, Ma’am.”
“ Than’ you.”
The operator spoke calmly, “Please stay on the line.”
Pearl’s fingers found the tiny bottle of nitroglycerin, ripped it from Gus’s pant’s pocket, and dumped the tiny white pills on the floor. She’d witnessed many of her husband’s attacks over the last several years, but never one as bad as this. Grasping a single pill in her fingers, she lifted it to his mouth now clamped shut with pain.
“ Open your mouth!” His lips parted, but his teeth were clinched. She shook him. “Gus, open your mouth!”
“ Daddy?”
Gus’s eyes were hammered shut and his skin had turned gray. Pearl grasped his jaw and tried to open it, but he knocked her hands away. She slapped his face. “Open your mouth!”
Martha dropped the phone, rolled off the side of the bed, and dragged herself across the floor. “Daddy, open your mou’h!”
Pearl saw the terror of knowing he was going to die in Gus’s eyes, and realized her worst nightmare was becoming a reality. Her skin flushed. With perspiration pooling in the creases of her neck, she straddled him on her hands and knees and shook him. “Don’t you die on me, you you BASTARD!”
She cupped his neck, hooked her thumb in his nose, and wrenched his head backward forcing his mouth open. As Martha fell on his shoulder, Pearl dropped the pill under his tongue.
“ Don’t die, Daddy. P’ease don’t die.”
The nitroglycerin dissolved quickly and as it entered Gus’s bloodstream, his blocked arteries began to dilate, and the blood began flowing past the blockages. As his panic subsided, Gus relaxed, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath as Pearl planted a row of kisses across his forehead. Then the three of them lay on the floor until the ambulance arrived and took him away.
16
A WEEK EARLIER, I HAD SECURITY, a good reputation, and a thriving business. Everything except a woman to share my life. Then one stopped by. A woman. Just for an hour. But that’s all it took to destroy everything that had taken me a lifetime to build. One hour. One lousy hour. When will I get it through my head that women and I don’t mix?
I’d had no sleep, still wore the clothes I’d been arrested in, and was growing more panicked by the minute. What was taking so long? Why haven’t I heard from Joe? Finally, shortly before noon, he showed up and there was someone with him.
“ Scott McGillikin, Rich Baimbridge,” Joe said introducing us as a guard let them in. “Scott’s a criminal attorney.”
Scott extended his hand and, clearing his throat, waited for the guard to leave before speaking. “The Grand Jury just returned an indictment, Mr. Baimbridge. On what are they basing that?” he asked, his eyes cold, uncaring.
“ I was in her house the night everything happened and they found a spot of her blood on my shirt.”
“ How’d that get there?” he asked.
“ I have no idea.”
“ You have the victim’s blood on your shirt and you don’t know how it got there?”
“ I wish I did. It would answer a hell of a lot of questions.”
Taking a seat on the end of the cot, Scott sighed, propped his briefcase on his knees, and produced a tape recorder. “Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything.” I lowered myself next to him and for the next thirty minutes gave him the complete story. Scott’s eyes were dull and piercing—like Dad’s—and he didn’t seem to grasp the
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