Memories

After a lengthy examination period, the orderlies wheeled Betty’s hospital bed to a private room. Stephen Robson entered the room a short time later.

“Is there anything I can get you, young lady?” he offered.

“Actually, yes,” Betty replied in a weak voice. “I think this bed rises up, but I’m not sure how to go about it.”

“My unfortunate familiarity with these hospital beds makes me an expert in this field.” Stephen chuckled as he stepped up to her bedside and reached for the control pad. A whirring motor kicked in as the upper portion of the bed raised Betty into a sitting position.

“That’s good,” she said. “Makes me feel almost human.” Betty squinted from the morning light that washed the room as Stephen occupied a visitor’s chair next to her bed. “Thank you again for being here, Stephen,” she offered meekly. “I know how valuable your time is.”

“And that time could not be spent in a more deserving way,” he replied without hesitation. “Your worth to our team—and to me personally—is, and always has been, quite priceless.”

Betty stifled a groan. What Stephen said was indisputable, but it was never expressed so openly.

After an awkward silence, the elderly lawyer cleared his throat. “How are you feeling, my dear?” he asked uncomfortably.

For some unknown reason the “my dear” gave Betty the chills.

“I’ve got a dull headache, and I’m dying of thirst. All they’ll give me are these damned ice chips. They say I’ve got everything I need in the IV drip.”

“I’m sure the medical team knows what’s best, Betty. But what I’m asking is…are you up to talking about the event that put you here?”

“I’m perfectly up to it—there’s just one problem. I don’t have any recollection of an ‘event’ that put me here. Not even a clue.”

“That’s understandable. The doctors say that the trauma to your brain did some damage. Their hope is that it is temporary.” Stephen paused to let Betty absorb that unwelcome bit of news. “Listen,” he continued at length, “maybe you can recall your activities leading up to the incident. Whatever happened occurred three nights ago. It was a Friday, so you were working in the office that afternoon. I saw you last when I left around 4:30 p.m. or so.”

Betty was a bit mystified at Stephen’s acute interest in her “event,” but she submitted to his inquiry nevertheless. “I remember working on some assignments that you gave me, and I got a phone call from that tribal cop Eduardo Cruz—not much after that.”

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” said Stephen. “Can you recall what you discussed with Officer Cruz?”

“Something about the Kenny Armenta case, but the particulars are pretty blurry.”

“Try to remember the details, Betty. What did he say?”

“We both know that he was convinced that Kenny did not kill his wife, and I think he was following some alternative lead. What that lead was, well, I’m not sure if he even shared that with me.” Betty’s eyes glazed over, and she shook her head. “I’m drawing a blank.”

Stephen Robson frowned. “I don’t want to plant speculations as fact memories, Betty, but I’m going to divulge some bits and pieces that I know to perhaps help jog your memory. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes…I guess…I guess so,” Betty stammered. “I mean yes, of course.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Take your time,” Stephen attempted to calm Betty.

“Intellectually speaking, I want to remember, of course. But deep down inside, I feel some resistance. It’s like a part of me does not want to remember.” There was a slight tremble in Betty’s voice. “I have to tell you, Stephen, this is beginning to feel more like an interrogation than a conversation.”

“I do apologize for the tone, my dear.” (Betty experienced another chill at “my dear.”) “I’ve cross-examined too many hostile witnesses through the years. It’s become habitual.” He forced a comforting Perry Mason sort of smile and continued. “Once I’ve divulged my own information, you’ll understand the gravity of the situation.”

“Then, please, let’s continue,” Betty conceded.

“All right then, I’m going to suggest that when you got off the phone with Officer Cruz, you drove your car out to the reservation,” Stephen said.

“Why would I do that?”

“To meet up with Eduardo Cruz, is my guess.”

“Whatever for, and how…how do you know this?” Betty stumbled over her words.

“What your reasons were I hope to eventually hear from you. I don’t have the vaguest notion what they were. What I am certain of are your movements that evening, at least up to a point.” Stephen paused in anticipation of Betty expressing some recollection. Her extended silence, however, compelled him to press on. “My certainty derives from a conversation I had with your sister, and also the fact that your abandoned car was discovered by the side of County Road 144, about a half mile west of Highway 75.”

Betty suppressed a slight resentment that Stephen had gone so far as to question her sister, but she continued to work with him.

“If I left my car out there, how did I get here?” she asked with great wonder.

“That’s an entirely different mystery. But let’s stay focused on your rendezvous with Officer Cruz first.”

“I think maybe you’re stretching just a bit with the ‘rendezvous’ reference, Stephen.” She made no effort to hide her indignation. “If I was meeting Officer Cruz, it was part of an assignment that you gave me.”

“Of course that’s the case, and I apologize for my poor choice of terms. But let’s not mince words. Do you remember any of this?”

Betty frowned, as if the effort to recall was painful. But then her face brightened.

“I do recall driving now. I’m going really fast down an open stretch of desert highway. It’s like it’s late afternoon or evening—almost sunset, in fact.”

“That’s good. Now, do you remember anything about meeting Cruz?”

“No—what makes you so certain that I met him at all? And what does he have to say about all of this?”

Stephen scowled. “Now, you’ve forced me to get to the heart of the matter.” Once again, the elderly lawyer paused before continuing, as if hesitant about what he was about to disclose. “Betty…um, Cruz was murdered out there where you two met up.”

“Oh my God—no!”

“I’m afraid it’s so. In fact, his corpse was found on the hood of your car.”

“Jesus, Stephen…”

“That’s not the half of it. You see, Cruz’s body was nearly burned beyond recognition, and the coroner could find no other cause of death. In other words, someone drenched him in gasoline and set him ablaze. Betty, Eduardo Cruz was burned alive! Is that what your mind refuses to remember?”

The image of the hideous death mask from her previous nightmare flashed before her, and she immediately pushed it into a place beyond recollection. Suddenly, she began to sob, uncontrollably so. Stephen offered her the box of tissues that housekeeping had left.

“Betty, I’m sorry to upset you like this, so soon after your own traumatic episode. You must think I’m being terribly insensitive, but I just want you to be prepared.”

“Prepared?” Betty choked. “Prepared for what?”

“Consider it all: a reservation cop is murdered in a particularly heinous way, and you were likely the last person, besides his assassin, to see him alive. Now, once the Gila River police find out you’re awake and aware—let’s just say you’re going to get some visitors pretty soon. They’re going to be pretty eager to get this resolved quickly, before the feds get involved and the press comes sniffing around.”

“They wouldn’t suspect that I had anything to do with this, would they?” Betty’s tone shifted in an instant. An attitude of self-defense so quickly supplanted her prior grieving that the reversal made Stephen blink. “I mean, we’ve both seen what can happen in a rush to judgment—innocent people get convicted for expediency’s sake,” she continued.

“They’re certainly not going to charge you with anything—they don’t have any evidence. But they are going to be more aggressive with their interrogation than I was here. And, as much as I sympathize with your memory loss, it’s not going to play too well with them. I’m afraid they’re just going to see it as an evasion, my dear.”

There it was: “my dear” again.

“The doctors will corroborate my condition. Besides, if they’re not charging me, I don’t even have to answer their questions.”

“I like that you’re thinking like an attorney, but don’t behave like one in front of them. I’ll be here to take that role. Right now, the presumption of your innocence depends on your willingness to cooperate. We just need to anticipate what they’re going to ask you—besides what I’ve already presented here—and how you’re going to respond.”

“Once again, I am at a disadvantage, Stephen, because I don’t recall the incident. What’s more, I don’t know what information they have or what approach they’re going to take.” Betty’s exasperation was obvious.

“My guess is that they’re going to be most interested in your mysterious escort.”

“Mysterious escort?”

“Your knight of the dark realm, Betty—your deliverance.”

“I’m starting to get tired of the cryptic innuendoes, Stephen.”

“Sorry. I hoped that the hinting might stimulate some recollection.”

“Well, it’s not working. I certainly don’t know what you mean about a ‘mysterious escort,’” Betty said.

“No, I don’t suppose you would, all things considered. But the Pima police have already heard the stories, and they’ve probably already jumped to some hasty conclusions about the mystery man who brought you here.”

“Naturally, I would assume that an ambulance brought me here, given my condition. Apparently, that’s not the case?” Betty asked.

“No, not at all. It seems you got here under the strangest of circumstances. The way the orderlies tell it, a big black luxury car pulled up on Friday night and parked in a dimly lit spot in the lot adjacent to the emergency entrance. The driver never got out, but instead leaned on the horn until the aides came running. As they tell it, the rear door was already open when they reached the car, and you were lying on the back seat, unconscious. Of course, they rushed you into the ER. However, one of them lingered behind to get the info on your condition.”

“But?”

“But, unfortunately, the driver tore off before he could get a name or description,” Stephen said.

“So, nobody got a look at this shadowy stranger?”

Stephen shook his head. “Not even a fleeting glimpse. And, needless to say, someone who goes to such pains to hide his identity is going to draw suspicion to themselves.”

“And then to me as well—if only by association…” Betty mused.

“Too true.”

“I won’t be much help with this little enigma either. I don’t even know anybody with a black luxury car—at least not since Will died. But, to me, it doesn’t add up that someone would burn Cruz alive, then go to the trouble of saving me at the risk of being identified. If I were the rez cops, I’d try to focus on whoever wacked me in the head. That should be their most likely suspect.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Unless or until you can ID that person, however, their attention is going to be on you.” Stephen turned his palms up and nodded. “You now know everything I do. At least you won’t look completely like a deer in the headlights when they come to question you. And, given my connections with the tribal council, I’ll be sure they contact me before they come. I won’t act as your attorney—at least not yet. But I will be here to advise you during their questioning.”

“Thank you, Stephen,” Betty said with a sigh. “That’s a great comfort to me. I know how busy you are.”

“It’s the least I can do under the circumstances, my dear.” Again, the “my dear” made Betty shudder inside. “If you begin to recall any of the details relating to Friday night’s events, call me. Now, is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”

“Yes, Stephen, there is one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“Say ‘my dear’ again.”

“Whatever you say, my dear.” Stephen complied, a little puzzled.

Betty winced, but then a light came up in her eyes. “Now say, ‘We’ll have to take a rain check on our little date, my dear!’”