The four women in the hospital beds were still asleep. Greg, Cynthia, and Elmo were standing, handcuffed to the bed guardrails. Macy, Mallie Mae, and Carsie were standing near the doorway to the bathroom. Carnie and Sylvia were across the room.
“I’m sorry you were hurt when Morford and I started dating,” said Mallie Mae to Sylvia. “I had no idea.”
“That’s hard to believe. I would have still had a chance when he got tired of you—if you hadn’t pulled him into bed and got yourself pregnant.”
“I didn’t mean to get pregnant. It was an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was your way of stealing him away from me—forever.”
“But he never went out with you. I’ll bet he didn’t even know you were interested in him.”
“He would have gone out with me. But then he had to do the right thing and marry you.”
“So, what do you want from me?”
“I had a beautiful plan. Carsie would seduce Elmo, make him fall in love with her and they would get married.”
“I really do love you, Elmo,” said Carsie.
“Shut up, Carsie,” said Sylvia.
But Carsie went on. “I was acting at first—but then I really feel in love with you. And I tried to get my grandmother to forget about her plan, but—”
“—I said shut up!” Sylvia paused for a moment to regain her composure. “And of course, Elmo would love Carsie so much that he wouldn’t bother with a prenup. But then, after a few months, Carsie would turn into an unlovable witch and make him miserable.
“In the meantime, Carnie would take a nursing job at Coreyville General under one of her many assumed names. She would bump into Elmo at the hospital and go after him with her incredible sex appeal, and eventually make him cheat on Carsie.”
“You don’t know Elmo—he would never do that,” said Mallie Mae.
“Really? He was about to marry Carsie. We were so close. Anyway, after Elmo had cheated on his new wife and she had found out, she would have divorced him and bled him dry. Then my granddaughters and I would have enjoyed the dividends of our success.
“So, you see, my plan was to make your son miserable and poor, and thereby, make you miserable, Mallie Mae.”
“You should have left Elmo out of this. I’m the one you hate.”
“Yes, but he’s the one you love.”
“But your plan failed,” said Mallie Mae. “Elmo was about to break up with Carsie. He’s in love with Macy.”
“No, he’s not—he loves me! Don’t you, Elmo?” said Carsie.
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Carsie,” said Sylvia. “I have a new plan. A much better plan. We’re all gonna stay right here until Monday morning. Then Elmo’s going to the bank to liquidate all his and Mallie Mae’s assets. Then he’ll wire the money to my bank account in Grand Cayman. And if he contacts the police or tells anybody what’s really going on, he’ll never see his mother or any of the rest of you again. At least, not in your current state, with heads attached.”
Cynthia listened in silence. She was a vice president First State Bank where the Mobleys had their accounts. She knew there was no way Elmo could go into the bank and wire all their money to an offshore account without arousing suspicion. She could offer to go to the bank with Elmo. But that would still leave her mom and Greg and everybody else in jeopardy. Should she speak up?
Carsie pointed at Cynthia. “And that woman should go to the bank with Elmo.”
“Why?” said Sylvia.
“Because she works there. I went to the bank with Elmo one time and I remember her. She’s some kind of loan officer or something.”
“Is that true,” said Sylvia to Cynthia.
Before she could speak, Mallie Mae said, “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have any money. At least, not the kind of money you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Mallie Mae. Carnie, would you like to come over here and shoot Elmo in the leg?”
“Wait a minute. Let me explain,” said Mallie Mae. “We used to have money. Until Morford quit his practice and built this underground hospital.”
Sylvia studied Mallie Mae’s face. “I don’t believe you, Mallie Mae. But it’s a long time ‘til Monday morning and I am curious. Why did Morford build this place?”
“It was the early 1980s and Morford was trying to help some men who had AIDS. And everybody was so afraid of the disease back then. People didn’t even want you driving through their town if you had it.
“So, Morford knew the family name would forever be spoken with disgust if the townspeople found out he was treating those men. But he was determined to help them. So he built this underground lab and clinic to treat them. And he spent a lot of money doing it. Before long, his patients’ friends in San Francisco found out about Morford’s clinic and wanted to come here. But all he could handle was four patients. So, he sent donations—enormous sums of money, to help pay for their medical care. After a couple of years, we were down to a few thousand dollars.”
“But you still have this magnificent acreage and this wonderful house,” said Sylvia.
“Yes. Thanks to Elmo. After Morford died in the car accident, Elmo moved back home to support me and keep me from losing the house. He was so wonderful.” She smiled at her son and he smiled back.
Carnie stepped forward. “But what about the murders?”
“What murders?” said Mallie Mae.
“You thought nobody would ever find them. But you were wrong.”
Mallie Mae squirmed. “Find what?”
“The skeletons.”
Everybody in the room seemed surprised—except Greg, Cynthia, and Mallie Mae.
“Skeletons?” said Sylvia.
“Yes,” said Carnie. “I found four skeletons in a wooden box, buried under the floor in a room off that hallway.”
Sylvia stared at Mallie Mae. “Let’s hear it.”
“Those were Morford’s patients.”
“He murdered them?”
“They begged him to. He had done all he could for them, but they were all dying a slow death. Two of them were in worse shape than the others, but they all wanted to die together.”
Carnie was enjoying this part of the story. “So, what did he do? Blow their brains out? Cut their throats?”
“No. Of course not. He just upped their Morphine until they faded away.”
“Oh, that’s no fun,” said Carnie.
“What about their families?” said Carsie. “And what about the police? Didn’t somebody come looking for them?”
“No,” said Mallie Mae. “Sadly, nobody cared what happened to them except some friends in California. But most of them were dying too.”
Sylvia jumped in. “But it was still murder. Morford deserved to die in a car accident.”
“Actually, it wasn’t an accident,” said Mallie Mae. “I wanted everybody to think it was an accident because I didn’t want to have to tell the whole story. Somehow while he was treating those men he must have stuck himself with a needle. By the time he killed them, he had discovered that he had the disease too.
“So, he filled up two big gas cans and put them in the front seat of his car and then drove into a concrete wall at 90 miles per hour. It was suicide. Either he couldn’t live with the fact that he had killed those men, or he couldn’t bear the thought of putting his family through the torture of watching him die a slow, excruciating death.”
Elmo spoke softly to his mother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, isn’t that a sad story,” said Sylvia with a smirk. “I wish I had known about your suffering, Mallie Mae—so I could have enjoyed it. I could have basked in the glow of your agony. This is just another pleasure you denied me.”
“What a cruel, bitter old woman you’ve become, Sylvia,” said Mallie Mae. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Well, I can change that.” Sylvia turned around to face Carnie. “I think it’s time to start killing some people, Carnie.”
While Sylvia had her back to Elmo, he got Greg’s attention and pointed to the mechanism that locked the bed guardrail in place. Sylvia was obscuring Carnie’s view of Elmo. And Carsie was watching the exchange between her sister and her grandmother.
Greg understood Elmo’s message. The bedrail to which he was handcuffed could be released by flipping a latch.
Sylvia continued, “We’ll start with…Macy. Yes, let’s kill Macy first. That will devastate Elmo. Then we’ll do Elmo. After that, Mallie Mae will be begging us to put her out of her misery.” She laughed.
*
Hadley was just a few miles from home when the Buick began to sputter. He knew his car better than he knew his own body, and diagnosed the problem instantly as a clogged fuel filter. He had installed a new one just two months early. Must have picked up some dirty gas, he thought.
Fuel filters are great for protecting the carburetor by catching little bits of trash in the line. But after a while the trash buildup begins to choke off the flow of gasoline.
Hadley didn’t have a spare fuel filter in the trunk. He hoped he wouldn’t have to leave the car on the side of the road and walk the rest of the way—although, he was capable of making the walk. But it would take too long. He sensed his family needed him right now.
He was almost there. So, he would continue to push his old Roadmaster. It had always served him well.
Surely it wouldn’t fail him now.