Ding Dong Dead

37

The four women reflected on the stories about Flora’s son Richard related to them by Nora and Bea Wade.

“Does mental disease run in families?” April asked when the story was over.

“Genes account for so much,” Caroline said.

“That’s right.” Nina stroked Tutu from the canine’s seat of power on her lap. “Look at our family. We’re spiritual and we have special abilities.” She glanced sharply at Gretchen. “If only we’d accept them.”

Caroline, the oldest, was the most knowledgeable about psychiatric procedures practiced in the seventies and eighties.

“Shock therapy was big,” she said. “And could be given against a patient’s will.”

“I’ve seen it in movies,” April added. “Patients were strapped down to tables with no anesthesia and all those wires attached to their bodies. Then the seizures. I can’t even think about it without feeling faint.”

Caroline nodded. “Electroshock was used to treat depression.”

Gretchen had done her Internet homework. “And schizophrenia.”

Nina chimed in. “Anybody with emotional problems in those days was labeled schizophrenic.”

“That’s correct,” Caroline said. “The label was overused. But as far as electroshock goes, we learned at the library that over a million people each year still receive it. Of course, now the procedure is voluntary.”

“Who would do that?” April said. “How creepy.”

Gretchen was overwhelmed by the amount of information they’d discovered. “I think everything we’ve discussed tonight should remain between us.”

“What happens in the banquet hall,” April said with a grin, “stays in the banquet hall.”

“Seriously,” Caroline said. “Very soon, we’ll go to the police.”

“Where do we go from here?” Nina said.

Gretchen looked over at her mother. She didn’t like the plan they had concocted on the way over in the cab. It had been her mother’s idea, and Gretchen couldn’t really see the point, but she didn’t have a better idea.

“Here’s our idea,” she said, jumping into what she was sure would be extremely hot water.