MaryLou have enough clothes? Was she on any special diet? And a hundred more, all wrapped around the “Did you need any medications brought over?” that would tell Dolly what we were dealing with.
“I don’t know what I’m allowed to have,” MaryLou told her. One answer, covering all the questions with the same blanket.
“I’ll find out,” Dolly promised her. “And I’ll have everything ready for the lawyer tomorrow.”
“When I go to court?”
“Yes, honey. But when it comes to medications, just tell me your doctor’s name and I’ll get them to you before that.”
“Like what?” MaryLou asked, an edge to her voice that I could feel more than hear.
“Oh, like, if you were a diabetic. Insulin isn’t something you can—”
“Nothing like that,” MaryLou assured her, the edge gone from her voice.
“Honey, you know your friends are all behind you.”
“Yeah. And they all just want to know
why
, right?”
“That’s only natural,” Dolly told her, as if defending the motives of MaryLou’s friends. “And Megan was the one who got your parents to say I was your aunt Dolly.”
“No way Megan went over there alone.”
“She said she was with Franklin. I’ve never met him, but he must—”
“He’s my friend,” MaryLou said. “Maybe my
best
friend. If my father took one look at him, he’d give up whatever Megan asked him for.”
I hadn’t been planning to say anything more, but I could see this was starting to run off the rails. Too much talking. “Not now” is all I said.
I guess that was enough. They switched gears, but kept talking for another hour or so. I don’t know what about—I wasn’t there. Inside my head, I played out the little bit I knew: MaryLou wasn’t crazy. Which meant she had some reason for doing what she did. Especially the way she did it.
Killing the enemy? Sure, that made sense. But you don’t take them all out, throw away your weapon, then sit down and wait for their reinforcements to show up.
You don’t waste time covering your trail, either. They’ll know who killed their comrades. Your job is not being there when they find the bodies.
I ran through other things that might have explained whathappened, but I stopped when I realized MaryLou hadn’t saved one of the bullets for herself.
So not a planned suicide, with dead bodies serving as the goodbye note. And she’d only had the one weapon, so not a kamikaze move, either. Back to where I’d started—whatever mission she’d been on was over the second she was done shooting.
Dolly had contacts all over the place at the hospital, so I already knew that MaryLou’s tox screen had come back negative. They were probably looking for some sort of speed or hallucinogen, but the only unusual finding was her being way too over-percentage in red blood cells. That puzzled the hospital, so one of the ER nurses, a pal of Dolly’s, called.
Dolly had told her there could be a hundred reasons for that, leaving the door open.
When I came back from wherever I’d gone to, MaryLou was telling Dolly, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Dolly said, hugging her again. “And some of your friends, too. But I can pick one to sit with me. Do you care which?”
“No. But please tell Franklin—Megan has his cell—not to come. If he sees them take me away, he could get all … confused. Anyone else is okay, but I need you to make the pick, Dolly. Then nobody’s feelings get hurt.”
“I’ll handle it,” Dolly said. Nobody hearing her voice would have doubted that.
“W hat’s with the red blood cells your nurse friend told you about?” I asked Dolly on the drive back.
“If MaryLou had an infection—and there’s all kinds of infections women her age can pick up—you’d expect to see a high count on white cells, not red.”
“Maybe they should have looked for EPO.”
“I thought you never paid attention, Dell.”
She was talking about that Tour de France bicycle race they show
“I don’t know what I’m allowed to have,” MaryLou told her. One answer, covering all the questions with the same blanket.
“I’ll find out,” Dolly promised her. “And I’ll have everything ready for the lawyer tomorrow.”
“When I go to court?”
“Yes, honey. But when it comes to medications, just tell me your doctor’s name and I’ll get them to you before that.”
“Like what?” MaryLou asked, an edge to her voice that I could feel more than hear.
“Oh, like, if you were a diabetic. Insulin isn’t something you can—”
“Nothing like that,” MaryLou assured her, the edge gone from her voice.
“Honey, you know your friends are all behind you.”
“Yeah. And they all just want to know
why
, right?”
“That’s only natural,” Dolly told her, as if defending the motives of MaryLou’s friends. “And Megan was the one who got your parents to say I was your aunt Dolly.”
“No way Megan went over there alone.”
“She said she was with Franklin. I’ve never met him, but he must—”
“He’s my friend,” MaryLou said. “Maybe my
best
friend. If my father took one look at him, he’d give up whatever Megan asked him for.”
I hadn’t been planning to say anything more, but I could see this was starting to run off the rails. Too much talking. “Not now” is all I said.
I guess that was enough. They switched gears, but kept talking for another hour or so. I don’t know what about—I wasn’t there. Inside my head, I played out the little bit I knew: MaryLou wasn’t crazy. Which meant she had some reason for doing what she did. Especially the way she did it.
Killing the enemy? Sure, that made sense. But you don’t take them all out, throw away your weapon, then sit down and wait for their reinforcements to show up.
You don’t waste time covering your trail, either. They’ll know who killed their comrades. Your job is not being there when they find the bodies.
I ran through other things that might have explained whathappened, but I stopped when I realized MaryLou hadn’t saved one of the bullets for herself.
So not a planned suicide, with dead bodies serving as the goodbye note. And she’d only had the one weapon, so not a kamikaze move, either. Back to where I’d started—whatever mission she’d been on was over the second she was done shooting.
Dolly had contacts all over the place at the hospital, so I already knew that MaryLou’s tox screen had come back negative. They were probably looking for some sort of speed or hallucinogen, but the only unusual finding was her being way too over-percentage in red blood cells. That puzzled the hospital, so one of the ER nurses, a pal of Dolly’s, called.
Dolly had told her there could be a hundred reasons for that, leaving the door open.
When I came back from wherever I’d gone to, MaryLou was telling Dolly, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Dolly said, hugging her again. “And some of your friends, too. But I can pick one to sit with me. Do you care which?”
“No. But please tell Franklin—Megan has his cell—not to come. If he sees them take me away, he could get all … confused. Anyone else is okay, but I need you to make the pick, Dolly. Then nobody’s feelings get hurt.”
“I’ll handle it,” Dolly said. Nobody hearing her voice would have doubted that.
“W hat’s with the red blood cells your nurse friend told you about?” I asked Dolly on the drive back.
“If MaryLou had an infection—and there’s all kinds of infections women her age can pick up—you’d expect to see a high count on white cells, not red.”
“Maybe they should have looked for EPO.”
“I thought you never paid attention, Dell.”
She was talking about that Tour de France bicycle race they show
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