Breakdown

Chapter 12

As I pulled up to BrightMornings, Zelda woke up, saw the sunlit sky, and said, “Good night.”

Sherry Andover was ready for us, clicking the gate open and telling me where to park. Zelda remained pliable as I drew her out.

“Hi, there, Ms. Chase. Welcome back.”

Without a word, Zelda trudged toward the building. Andover sprinted ahead and unlocked the door to Room Six.

The space was no larger than the cell Zelda had just left and was painted an eerily similar yellow. Two windows, both safety-grilled. Clean bathroom equipped with the basics of hygiene, nightstand, closet, one nature print on the wall — grouse in the heather. A change of clothes was folded neatly on the bed pillow. Other garments, including a pair of new sneakers, were visible in the open closet.

The outer surface of the door could be key-locked but no way to secure it from the inside. No guarantee of privacy but freedom easily obtainable.

Zelda lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Within seconds, her eyelids were ruffling again.

Sherry Andover said, “Glad to see you settle in easily, Ms. C.,” and we left.

On the way back to the Seville, I told her about Zelda’s request for candy.

She said, “You’re thinking junkie-jones?”

I said, “She’s had two days with no withdrawal symptoms. I suppose some of that could be the Ativan, but I doubt it could mask everything.”

“That’s been our experience, too. It calms them down but if they’ve got a serious habit they’re still throwing up and feeling miserable. I’ll keep an eye out.”

As I got back in the car, she said, “In terms of the candy, we try to keep the food reasonably healthy so the only sweets on hand are a big bag of those little Hershey’s Bars some nice person donated to us last Halloween and they’re probably stale. I’ll try to pick up some Mounds on my way home or tomorrow morning. Why not keep the populace happy?”

“Beyond the call, Sherry.”

“Look who’s talking.” She smiled. “I like coconut, probably steal a few. If she works out I’ll get her a roomie but I figured start as if she’s a newbie, even though she’s been here before. From what I just saw, she’s not big in the memory department.”

Amnesia could be another effect of the benzodiazepine in her blood. Of psychosis, as well. I said so.

“I don’t get into the pharm stuff,” she said. “I contacted the outpatient clinic, might be able to get a volunteer to take her the first couple of times. After that, she’s on her own.”

I thanked her again and started up the engine.

She said, “Candy and Mommy. Guess they’re the same to a baby... that’s kind of what people like her become, no? She mentions the kid, I’ll let you know. Ovid, huh? Naming him after a love poet. That took some imagination.”

“Once upon a time,” I said, “she was able to imagine.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon calling private schools, finally lost my ability to bullshit convincingly, walked to the kitchen and poured coffee. Caffeine was the last thing I needed and I ended up jumpy and wondering how to bleed it off. Then I remembered what Lou had told me about Zelda’s name change and began a new search.

No shortage of Jane Chases but none that matched Zelda. Then I realized I had no idea if she’d altered her family name, too, and put the issue aside.

Time to resume being a useful member of society. I scrounged up the fixings for a passable one-dish dinner: lamb shoulder, vegetables, Israeli couscous, everything sprinkled liberally with cumin and cardamom and chili powder. By the time Robin and Blanche came in from the studio, the pot was sizzling and the table was set.

Robin said, “You read my mind, just like they taught you in school. I’ve got sawdust all over, let me wash up. You’re a very nice man.”

No calls that night from Sherry Andover or Milo. From anyone except sociopaths trying to sell me term insurance, home security, and lawn care. I chose to interpret that as encouraging.

By eleven the following morning I’d taken on a new custody case in Superior Court, an evaluation on hold until the two children in question returned from Hong Kong. Meanwhile, the judge would email me background info, with my billable hours commencing upon receipt.

Just as I printed the file, my service put through a call from BrightMornings.

“Dr. Delaware? This is Carlos, I volunteer for Sherry at the shelter. Have you recently seen your patient, Zelda Chase? She left and hasn’t returned.”

“When?”

“Our gate camera has her pushing the button this morning at five-eighteen. Clients are free to come and go but Sherry decided to drive around looking for her because apparently Zelda has a history of wandering and trespassing and she figured she’d know where to find her. But she didn’t locate her and then she had to leave for meetings and she doesn’t talk on the phone while driving, so she asked me to call you.”

“Could I have Sherry’s mobile number, anyway?”

“She really won’t answer, Doctor. A fender-bender and three tickets.”

“I’ll leave a message.”

“Suit yourself, Doctor.”

I instructed my service to put Andover through immediately. An hour and twenty minutes later, they did just that.

She said, “Not a rousing success. No warning signs, she was starting to look a little more alert, took the initiative to shower, changed into fresh clothes. Grooming’s always a good sign but I guess not in this case.”

“Carlos said your camera picked her up leaving. What was her emotional state?”

“Can’t say, the images we get are distant and blurry, sometimes you can’t even identify who it is. I recognized her because of the clothes, I put them in the closet myself. That’s when I went to check her room. She even made up the bed.”

“Which way did she head?”

“The lens angle doesn’t capture that, just that they’ve triggered the gate and split.”

“Thanks for taking the time to search for her.”

“I figured if she was a creature of habit, finding her would be easy. Tough luck, but who knows? She wandered out, she could wander in. Wish it would’ve turned out smoother but at least I got her a Mounds bar. Left it right on her nightstand and she took it with her.”

I phoned Milo and told him.

He said, “That didn’t last long.”

“I don’t suppose Central Division could be asked to keep an eye out for her.”

“I could get them to say they will but it won’t mean much. She have any money for bus-fare?”

“No.”

“You think she’d walk all the way from Santa Monica to downtown?”

“Psychotics can cover long distances and she was busted twice downtown.”

“Let’s say they do find her wandering around Skid Row. Then what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Love your honesty,” he said. “Okay, I’ll put in a call but maybe she’s got homing instincts and you should start somewhere else. Like the last place she invaded — that house in Bel Air? Not a hop-skip from Santa Monica but a helluva lot closer than Central.”

“Good point,” I said. “What’s the address?”

“Not kosher, amigo. Let’s keep the investigatory process procedurally appropriate.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning see you in forty, and I’ll drive. You’re rescuing me from a shit-pile of paperwork.”