Extreme Justice

Chapter 37

BEN MET CHRISTINA back at the office and provided her with an update on his day. Afterward, they stopped by Ri Le’s for takeout and headed back to Ben’s place.

As they stepped inside the main corridor of the rooming house, Ben saw the light on in Mrs. Marmelstein’s apartment.

“Looks like she’s still up,” Ben said quietly. “I’d better check on her.”

“Couldn’t we eat first?” Christina implored. “My tummy is crying out for Szechwan noodles.”

“In a minute.” He knocked quietly on the door. “Mrs. Marmelstein? It’s Ben.”

“Come on in.”

He entered the small apartment, Christina close behind. Mrs. Marmelstein wasn’t in the living area. His nose told him to turn the corner, pass the Reader’s Digest Condensed Books and the twenty-four volumes of the Warren Commission Report and enter the kitchen.

“Fixing a late-night snack?” Ben asked.

She looked up, her face a mixture of dismay and despair. She was wearing a blue print dress, but the dress was overlaid with her underwear, all balled up and backwards. She was wearing socks with sandals. Her lipstick was a thick red smear across one side of her face.

“I just wanted a little breakfast. But I can’t get these fool eggs to scramble. I put in the milk and I stirred and stirred. I don’t understand it.”

Breakfast? It was practically bedtime. Ben took a few steps forward and looked into the frying pan. He saw the mixed and stirred residue of three eggs, shells included. Small wonder the eggs wouldn’t scramble.

“Mrs. Marmelstein,” he said gently, “I’m no cook, but I think you’re supposed to throw away the shells.”

“The shells,” she echoed. Her voice was a wispy nothing, caught in the air then quickly swept away. “I—” She stopped, either unable or unwilling to complete the sentence. As Ben peered into her eyes, he saw the dawning of the realization of her mistake. And the utter humiliation that followed.

“You know,” Ben said quickly, “I hate it when that happens.” He lifted the frying pan off the stove and turned down the heat. “I must’ve done this a thousand times. Any more, I just stick to Cap’n Crunch.” He opened the cabinet under the sink and poured the sticky remains into the trash.

“Those were the last eggs I have,” Mrs. Marmelstein whispered.

“Tell you what, Mrs. Marmelstein. Christina and I picked up some Vietnamese on the way home. There’s more than enough for you, too.”

She shook her head sadly. “I couldn’t—”

“Please.”

“No, I mean it. I couldn’t. Too spicy for me.”

“Oh. Well, I think I have some eggs in my refrigerator. Why don’t you let me get you some, then I’ll come back and—”

“No,” she said, wandering out of the kitchen. “That’s kind, but all of a sudden I feel very tired.”

Ben nodded. She was sundowning, he realized. At times she could still be perfectly rational. But after the Alzheimer’s kicked in, she had no idea what she was doing. “Why don’t you let me help you get ready for bed, then?”

“No, no, that wouldn’t be right.”

“Or Christina could do it. She knows all those girl-things, don’t you, Christina?”

Christina forced a smile.

Mrs. Marmelstein drew a hand to her bosom. “Thank you, no.”

“I hate to leave you here alone. Did you call that number I gave you?”

She looked at him sternly. “Benjamin, I’m an adult, not a child. I do not need anyone to take care of me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I still wish—”

“Benjamin, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get ready for bed.”

It was evident to Ben that his clumsy charity had served only to embarrass her. “If you need anything, call me, okay? You have my number. Or just let out a yell. I’ll hear you, I promise.”

“Good night, Benjamin.”

“Good night, Mrs. Marmelstein.” He escorted Christina to the door and left the apartment.

Ben noticed that Christina ate with great vigor, as usual, but didn’t speak a word to him, which was most unusual.

“Is something bothering you?”

She eyed him with great irritation. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Tell me.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know what your problem is.”

“I’m worried about Mrs. Marmelstein.”

“So am I. So why are you being hostile to me?”

“She needs help.”

“I know that! I’m trying to find a home—”

“You know that isn’t what she wants.”

“She needs someone to look after her.”

“She wants you.”

The room fell silent.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Ben said finally.

“I do. It would be difficult. Incredibly difficult.”

“Impossible.”

“Pardon my French—”

“I always do.”

“—but that’s bullshit! Ben, she needs you! She wants you to help her.”

“I have helped her—ever since I moved into this place. I’m the only thing that’s kept her out of bankruptcy court.”

“I know that, Ben. But people’s needs change. Now she needs more.”

“What are you saying? That I should just give up my life so I can babysit my landlady?”

“You wouldn’t have to do it alone. Joni and Jami would help. Hell, even I would help.”

“I can’t do that. I have an obligation to the band. We’re going on tour in five weeks.”

“Well, I guess that settles it.” She jumped out of her chair with such force that it fell to the floor with a clatter.

Ben also rose. “This is ridiculous, Christina.”

“It is not ridiculous!” Her voice suddenly caught, startling Ben. “And if you weren’t so busy running away from yourself, you’d see that.”

“Christina …”

She turned away. “I wish you believed in angels,” she said quietly. “I wish just once you could close your eyes and ask someone to help you find the way. Because I know you’re a good person, Ben. I know you are. And I can’t stand watching you screw up like this!” She raced out of the kitchen.

“Christina—”

He had just started to follow her when they were both startled by a crash outside Ben’s door.

“That was on the stairs,” Ben whispered. Without another word, he raced out of the kitchen, crossed the living room, and threw open the door.

Lying at the bottom of the stairs was the broken body of Sheshona Marmelstein, socks in sandals, underwear on the outside.