Crush. Candy. Corpse. Page 9

  Santa Elvis sang that he would be home for Christmas, then he revisited some more traditional tunes — “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” “O Come All Ye Faithful,” “Silent Night.” One song after another. Between sets, Christmas-tree raffle winners were announced over the intercom. Cole won the Snoopy tree he had decorated.

  “You bought a ticket for your own tree?” I asked.

  “Five actually for each of mine. I was worried everyone else would buy tickets only for the ones you decorated.”

  I shook my head at him and smiled. “Silly.”

  Finally most of the food was gone and one by one the residents were by themselves. When the leopard lady and her family left, I took Marlene by the hand and brought her back to Fred.

  He asked me if I was Diane.

  “Wasn’t Diane just here?” I asked, thinking the younger woman at the table might have been his daughter.

  “Darn. I forgot to ask her. I need to find my car. I don’t know where I left it. It needs a part.”

  “Well, do you want to go for a walk with Marlene?” I asked, but he stood before I finished the sentence and took her hand.

  You don’t have to forgive when you have Alzheimer’s, because you always forget. Marlene acted as though they had never been apart. Away they went.

  That left Cole and me alone with two catatonic seniors. “Wasn’t that a great party, Grandma?” he said.

  She didn’t answer, but she smiled.

  “Are you happy to be home, Johann?” I asked my senior.

  Nothing. No response, not even an eye blinked. Was this better than having him yell all the time? I wasn’t certain.

  It was time to go. Cole and I said our goodbyes and he removed a sparkly gold wrapper from a candy and slipped it into his grandmother’s mouth. We didn’t wait to see if she chewed or sucked at it. No big deal, we just left.

  On the way out, Cole picked up his prize. “Here, I want you to have this. Merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you.” I took the Snoopy-covered little fir and then reached over it to kiss him. It was supposed to just be a friendly peck. But somehow my lips landed directly on his and stayed there. The spiced candy cane mint kiss tingled on my lips long after I pulled away. That kiss should have told Cole how I felt, even if I never got the chance to.

  chapter thirteen

  The next witness for the Crown is Claudine Demers, Cole’s mother. This shouldn’t be a shock to me. My lawyer has a list of all the people the prosecution will use on the stand, and Cole’s mother is on it.

  Still, I’ve never met her and there she stands, Cole’s mouth and eyes set in an older person’s face. The wrinkles around them and the set of her face seem like a reaction to an ache. She uses the Bible to swear in. Good that she believes in God. That must have been helpful last year at this time.

  The Crown attorney smoothes his black feathers and asks her to explain her relationship to the victim.

  “I’m her daughter-in-law, but I also had power of attorney for finances and personal care.”

  He lifts his beak hopefully. “Isn’t this unusual? Shouldn’t it be her son, your husband, who holds this power?”

  Claudine’s mouth purses with a long-suffering air. “My husband travels for his work. Since I was the person most easily reached and available, Helen signed the papers over to me. We were quite close.”

  The buzzard nods. He’s so understanding and he talks more softly now. “How long has your mother-in-law had Alzheimer’s disease?”

  She frowns and shrugs her shoulders. “We don’t know for sure. She may have been having symptoms before but she was diagnosed by a gerontologist four years ago.”

  “And what was the prognosis for the disease in her case?”

  “The doctor had no predictions to make. We were just supposed to take it day by day. We did think that if she lived with us and we could administer the medications, it might slow the progression.”

  “And were you right?”

  Mrs. Demers frowns and shakes her head. “No. Or, well, maybe it did. Still her condition deteriorated rapidly. She started accusing me of stealing things from her. She also went for long walks and got lost all the time.”

  The buzzard shifts on his feet and raises his palm up to her. “So she lived in your home for as long as possible and then you placed her in Paradise Manor?”

  “It was after a car hit her.” She stops abruptly.

  Two bad accidents to people she loved. I feel a twinge for her again.

  She continues. “We felt we had no other choice.”

  The Crown attorney tilts his head, his hand still reaching out. “How would you characterize your son’s relationship with your mother-in-law?”

  “Even though Helen stopped trusting me, and blamed me for forcing her into the home, she still believed in Cole. They had a strong bond.” Claudine nods emphatically.

  “Do you feel she might have asked him to assist her to commit suicide?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The jury lady in the sweatsuit gasps.

  Cole’s mom quickly continues. “But that doesn’t matter. Cole understood that the request was from a woman who no longer had her reasoning. He knew it to be wrong. He would not have helped her.”

  “You’ve never met Sonja Ehret before this trial, but from what he said at home, how would you characterize Cole’s relationship to the defendant?”

  Mrs. Demers frowns. “He liked her very much.” She sounds sour about this as she continues. “He wanted her to be his girlfriend. On Valentine’s Day he had a whole romantic evening planned with her for after their visit to the Manor. He even had his hair styled for the day.”

  The buzzard furrows his brow, pretending to be puzzled on the behalf of all of us. “Instead Cole just rode his bike away from the Paradise Manor that day?”

  “I don’t know what happened exactly. But I’m convinced she broke his heart.”

  Objection! Misunderstanding! I wanted to go out with Cole that night.

  But I can’t yell that out and, anyway, I’m not on trial for standing him up on a Valentine’s date. Still, the round juror shifts uncomfortably in his chair. You can tell he’s not happy with me. He’s frowning and wiping his forehead.

  “Do you feel your son might have extracted some promise from Sonja that she would help him in assisting your mother-in-law’s suicide?”

  “Objection!” My lawyer leaps up. “Opinions and hearsay.”

  “Sustained,” the judge says.

  “No, no, no!” Mrs. Demers cries out. “Cole wouldn’t do that!”

  “Mrs. Demers, you are not to answer that question. The objection was sustained,” the judge warns.

  “But it’s wrong! Cole wouldn’t dye Helen’s hair pink, either. My mother-in-law had no mind anymore. But that girl,” she pointed at me, “would have done anything she asked.”

  “Objection!”

  “Sustained.”

  “No further questions.”

  She hates me, she hates me. There are no do-overs in her regard. But she doesn’t know me. She should read my journal. She would know then that I never intended anyone any harm.

  The Thirteenth Visit — fourteen hours left

  Johann Schwartz died Wednesday, a week and a half before Christmas. Miss Halliday called and asked me to come on Friday for his “life celebration.” She wanted the chapel to look full for the family. This was my second funeral ever, Mr. Brooks. I helped wheel some of the seniors in, so this definitely counts towards my hours. I hate funerals.

  Cole’s number was easy to find on Canada 411 so I called him. He sounded thrilled to hear my voice and I felt bad giving him the news. He didn’t say a word. “So can you come with me? I’m really nervous that it might be open coffin. My grandma was in a closed one at the front of the room
and I couldn’t sleep with the light off for a year after. I don’t think I can handle this without you.”

  “I’m already going. Gillian called me too.”

  “Oh, good. Where do you live? I’ll get my brother Wolfie to drive us.”

  “Okay. Do you want to take down my address?”

  I wrote it down and Wolfie programmed it into our GPS Friday morning. Cole lived in an older part of town with largish houses and big backyards.

  When we rolled up, he was standing outside on the driveway dressed in a suit with a grey coat, unbuttoned, overtop. His hair was slicked back and he carried a red rose. He looked cute in an over-the-top, Sunday-best way.

  “Shoot, were we supposed to bring flowers?” I asked when he reached for the car door.

  “No, Sunny. I brought this one for you.” He handed it to me. “You knew Johann only four months but you made a connection. I thought the rose might make you feel a little better.”

  I closed my eyes, leaned the flower against my nose and inhaled the sweet, heavy perfume. The petals felt velvety against my skin. “Thank you.”

  The small card attached read “Sorry for your loss, love Cole.”

  Tears filled my eyes. No one had given me anything when Omi died. Of course, I had been only six years old. They probably hadn’t even thought of me. “You’re very sweet.” I would have kissed him if it weren’t for Wolfie, and the fact that I was sitting in the front and he was in the back.

  At the home, we signed in as usual and sanitized our hands. Then, along with Gillian and the new nurse, a short, stocky Mexican-looking dude, Cole and I wheeled and walked almost all the residents into the chapel.

  “Make sure none of them wander off during the service,” Gillian warned us as we took our own seats at the back.

  Two huge arrangements of flowers framed the aisle but no coffin sat at the front. I peered around for any sign of Johann, a portrait photo or maybe an urn sitting near the altar. Nothing. We’d lost the last bit that was left of him and now it was as though there was no trace or reminder that he’d ever lived.

  In the front row there was a huge man with a beard and long hair, all silver, like Santa Claus. Next to him sat a chubby lady with ruby-bright hair and lots of rings. The rest of the chapel was filled with the inmates in a variety of sleep stages.

  The minister giving the service was from Newfoundland and the only thing that kept my mind in the room while he spoke was his accent, the way he kept saying “byes” for boys and referring to “my son” when he was talking to everyone in general. He called for Johann’s son and up stood Santa. “And now Siegfried Schwartz will say a few words about his poppy.”

  That’s when the screen rolled down out of the ceiling and I noticed a computer on a chair next to the chubby lady.

  Siegfried used a remote control to flip the slides on a PowerPoint of Johann’s life. First he showed photos of Johann in his German uniform while he told us about his secret work helping Jewish families escape from Germany. He met and fell in love with Lydia, one of the girls he had assisted at a reunion of the seventeen families in New York City after the war. Siegfried showed a photo of the groom and happy bride.

  Lydia looked a bit like a tiny version of Alexis with her great golden hair and pale blue eyes. When she and Johann found they couldn’t have children, they adopted Siegfried, Rolf, and Helga.

  He flipped to pictures of Johann’s children when they were young and then when they were adults with their families. Unfortunately, they had all moved to Australia and couldn’t visit. A whole dynasty on another continent. The last slide was a photo of a different Johann, an older man looking at something in the distance. I dabbed at the corner of my eyes. I wished I could have known him then or that he could have remained that person with the sharp gaze.

  Siegfried told one last story about how he once walked through a park late at night with his dad and they came upon a bunch of teenagers near a bonfire who were being questioned by a couple of police officers. The teens were mouthing off and the police shoved one to the ground. “Dad stopped when he saw the constable remove a club from his holster. He stepped closer to the policeman, and even though Dad was smaller than the constable, he placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Good evening, Officer. I hope you don’t mind if my son and I watch how our police services work in a democratic country. It will remind me of all the reasons I came to Canada.”

  Siegfried choked up at this point and with that last image still on the screen, the organ played something from Bach.

  I would have joined Siegfried’s silent weeping except at that moment Susan started laughing hysterically.

  “Shut up!” Jeannette elbowed her hard and Susan screeched.

  Gillian rushed to take her away.

  “Wow,” I said to Cole. “I can’t believe how sad I feel that I never met Johann before. What a wonderful person.”

  “But isn’t it great? He’s free. A man like that deserves to live out his last years with more dignity.” Cole grabbed the handles to his grandmother’s wheelchair.

  I nodded. I couldn’t feel sad about him dying, not in the state he was in.

  “See you in a bit?” Cole asked.

  “Yup. I’ll find you.”

  Siegfried Schwartz walked over just as I was helping Marlene and Fred to their feet. I picked up Susan’s baby doll from the floor, and found I had to screw its head back on.

  “Hello.” He held out his hand and I had to shift the doll to my other arm in order to shake it. “I understand you were very kind to my father and I just want to thank you for that.” He held onto my hand for a moment and I reached up to hug him.

  “I’m sorry for your loss . . . not this one. But the disease . . . you know?”

  “Yes. I’m glad my father is together with my mother once more. It’s a wonderful Christmas gift.”

  He introduced Linda, the red-haired lady, as his wife and she smiled and shook my hand too.

  They both strolled along with me to lockup as I guided another lady in a walker. Along the way, Siegfried thanked everyone for the good care they gave his father.

  It was lunchtime now and the chef had cooked a special turkey dinner for the day. I made sure Susan kept eating so she wouldn’t call out and annoy Jeannette.

  Afterwards Cole and I sat by the courtyard window with his grandmother and Jeannette. Cole gave them each a candy and it seemed to make both of them sleepy because next thing we knew, they had slumped in their chairs. Jeannette to the left, Helen to the right.

  “I’m jealous.” Cole told me when he saw the Schwartzes leave. “I thought Gillian was calling about Grandma on Thursday.”

  “How long do the doctors give her?”

  “They can’t predict. The average Alzheimer’s patient lives eight to ten years after they first get symptoms.”

  “From my project research, I remember even longer — fourteen years.”

  “I’ve heard of them living twenty years. Way too long. I remember when Grandma first got diagnosed, she cried and cried.”

  “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if someone told me I had it.”

  “That’s when she made me promise. Once she didn’t know anything about what was going on around her — I should help her ‘go.’” Cole stared down at his grandmother’s hands. One was gnarled tightly into a fist, the nails digging into the skin. He reached over and smoothed his hand over it, trying to loosen the fingers.

  “Oh, come on. How exactly are you supposed to do that? Bring in a gun?”

  He shook his head. “I think she hoped for some tube I could disconnect. Or some extra pill I could give her. I don’t know.”

  “Well, if there was something that easy, maybe . . .”

  “But my mother insisted on extraordinary measures.”

  “What does that mean e
xactly?”

  “It means if Grandma stops eating, my mother still wants a feeding tube inserted. If she gets pneumonia, she still wants her to receive antibiotics . . . My mother just can’t let her go.”

  “But she doesn’t even visit her.” I shook my head. “She shouldn’t have a say. Your grandmother should make the choices.”

  Cole was quiet for a bit. Then suddenly, he perked up. “Hey, do you want to come to a movie with me? That new Christmas one. It sounds sappy enough to cheer us up.”

  “I wish I could. It sounds like what I need.” Just go then, a little voice told me. “But I promised Donovan I would meet him at the mall. Wolfie’s dropping me off.”

  “Of course.” Cole stroked his grandma’s hand some more.

  Looking back now, I think everything could have gone differently if I had just listened to the little voice inside me.

  chapter fourteen

  My lawyer stands to question Cole’s mother now. “First, I’m sure I represent the entire court when I say we’re deeply sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Demers says.

  Michael bows his head, waits for a beat and then continues. “Earlier, Mr. Dougal asked you what the prognosis for your mother-in-law’s condition was, and I’m a little unclear on that. Would you kindly explain to the court what Alzheimer’s disease means in general?”

  “Certainly. Plaque builds up around the brain cells and the patient loses reasoning ability.”

  “Does it progress beyond that? I mean, the brain controls all our functions . . .”

  “Objection,” the buzzard calls. “The witness is not a medical expert.”

  “Your Honour, I’m not asking for an expert testimony. I only want to know the witness’s understanding of the disease. It could affect her attitude towards the defendant.”

  “Overruled,” the judge answers. “You may proceed, Counsel.”

  “Mrs. Demers, more specifically, is dementia the only symptom of Alzheimer’s?” Michael’s eyebrows are up and his head is tilted.