Not My Business
In which Lorraine share a few pointed thoughts with the officers
Chapter Fourteen — Perry
In the ambulance, the EMTs asked for his wife’s cell number, and he watched as one of them left a voicemail. Janelle would get the message and meet him at the hospital. But she didn’t. The local police met him instead, and he was questioned until a doctor made them leave. Tested, poked, and prodded, Perry wanted to be left alone in his embarrassment. He was covered in cream for his burns and bites and hooked up to an IV for dehydration and exhaustion. A nurse brought his normal meds.
Janelle should have been here by now to handle all this. Where was she?
He woke from his nap, finding he had slept the day away with only darkness out the half-opened blinds in the hospital room. The television was on, the sound muted, the remote attached to the right-hand rail of his bed. He rang the bell for the nurse.
“Everything all right, Mr. Hoggue?” The woman was clad in blue hospital scrubs and pronounced his name like “hog.”
“It’s pronounced with a long o like a boat.” He could tell that went right over her head. “Yeah, I’m fine, but is my wife here?” He needed a new nurse. This girl had no training, he was sure. Couldn’t even pronounce his name correctly. He’d have to talk to the doctor when he came back around.
“We’ve been unable to reach her at all. Are you sure you gave us the right number? It goes to voicemail, and we’ve left message after message, I promise.” She raised her right hand as if swearing in a courtroom.
He almost rolled his eyes, but instead recited the number again. The nurse confirmed it was the same one she had on her clipboard.
“There’s a phone on your side table. You can try calling her again if you’d like. Dial nine to get an outside line.” She checked his vitals, prodding the round disks and wires stuck all over his body, checking the clip on his finger. Once she left, he picked up the tan desk phone, hit the 9 key, and punched in his wife’s cell number.
No answer. Her voicemail was full. Now what? Tired, he rolled over to go back to sleep. He was sure she’d come to the hospital tomorrow. If not, he’d find a pretty little nurse to give him a ride.
Chapter Fifteen — Lorraine
Lorraine had an inferno in her driveway. But she had to admit that the woman had a backbone. She called the fire department as a precaution before the fire got out of hand with all the wind. Standing on the front porch, Lorraine waited as Janelle prepared to leave, mentally wishing her good luck. She would need it once that man caught up with her.
A fire truck blocked Janelle as she pulled toward the street. While the firefighters put out the blaze, two policemen arrived and headed for Janelle’s Honda. Lorraine could hear them over the firefighters' noise.
“Step out of the car, ma’am.” Janelle put her head down on the steering wheel, and Lorraine could see she had begun to cry. Scooting down the porch steps before things could get out of hand, she headed toward the officers. After all, women had a duty to help each other.
“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming so fast with the fire department.” Her shout redirected the officers’ focus to her and off Janelle. Darn it, were all of them new? She didn’t see a familiar face; they were getting younger each year. She caught the eye of one of the men and walked toward him. “It was an accident, I’m sure. I called because I didn’t want the house to catch fire. I’m sure glad you got here so fast.”
“Ma’am—oh, hey, Miz Lorraine—you might want to wait there. We will talk with you in a minute.” The police officer raised his hand for her to halt, and she recognized Betty’s grandson, Chip. She waited, feet spread, her hands on her hips. Men—did they all think they had to rule the world? That boy was still a child! She waited, tapping her foot on the driveway while the officers questioned Janelle.
Lorraine slid closer to be within hearing distance. Interrupting the questioning, she called out to Chip. “At least let her come sit while you ask your questions. You can see she’s upset.”
Janelle’s tear-stained face glanced toward her, but the officers didn’t move. Lorraine felt the throbbing in her temple, a sure sign her blood pressure was up from being ignored. One of the police officers conferred with the other before approaching her. Her right foot continued to tap the sidewalk as he walked toward her.
“Ma’am, how are you tonight?”
“I’m fine, Officer Bledsoe. I was trying to tell Chip that this was an accident.” She smiled up at him like an innocent grandmother. “There’s not going to be any trouble here, is there, son?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what you know, please, ma’am?” He said, scratching his head with one hand, resting the other on his gun.
Lorraine wanted them all gone. She was sure Janelle had a long drive ahead of her, wherever she was going. And besides, her favorite TV show was on.
“Her husband went fishing, the boat was brought back this afternoon in a big truck, and she packed up and started to leave. Something must have sparked somehow for the boat to catch on fire.”
The young officer grimaced. “Ma’am, she admits to pouring gas on the thing and setting it on fire. Did you see her do it?”
“No, I didn’t see anything. But I don’t think I’d blame her.” She realized she might put her foot into it and backed off. “Anyway, that’s not my business. They are temporary vacation renters, that’s all. She’s a nice woman. Let her be.”
“Did you see her do anything?”
“I told you I didn’t, young man.” She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, searching over Bledsoe’s shoulder as Janelle pulled something from her pocket and held it out to Chip. The one in front of her turned to see what had captured her attention.
“Give me a minute, please, ah, Miz Lorraine, ma’am.” He went and took the paper from the other policeman, read it, then returned it. He shuffled back up the driveway to Lorraine.
The officer said, “Ma’am, the boat is jointly owned by the Hoggues. Would you like to press charges since she set it on fire in your driveway?”
“Well, the fire department put out the fire, and there doesn’t appear to be too much of a mess. Why would I press charges?” She tried her sweet face again. Maybe it would work better this time around.
He wasn’t having any of it. “Because she could have set your house on fire, ma’am, never mind half the neighborhood.”
He could use a little practice in patience if you asked her. His exasperation would not help him in the police world.
“No, I’m not pressing charges,” she huffed. “She will have enough problems dealing with her husband. You boys go on and leave her alone now.”
Officer Bledsoe sighed, shaking his head at her. “If he—the husband, I mean—shows up, give us a call. She says he’s got a gun. He was picked up by the Coast Guard yesterday morning after being stranded on the boat. He’ll come back here at some point and will be mad about all this. That’s what she says, anyway. I would be.”
“Thank you, son. I’ll call you if I need you. Now you let her go. Deal with him about all this. Something tells me he deserves it. The fire’s out now. Everything’s fine here.”
The officer studied her briefly before leaving her standing on the sidewalk. Janelle returned to the driver’s seat, her face grim. The police cars moved away from the house, down the street to the right, followed by the fire truck. As Janelle started her Honda and pulled out of the driveway, she stopped and rolled down the window. She mouthed the words “thank you,” and with a slight lift of her hand, she drove away.