Clay approached his prey. He towered over the short, gibbering man like an avenging fury. Twisted by rage, his face was nearly unrecognizable. His eyes seemed to have absorbed the darkness, and concentrated entirely on the man who had raised his ire. He quickly pinned the younger man to the wall with his cane at the man’s throat.
Sputtering with fear and rage, he tried in vain to wiggle out of Clay’s iron-hard grip.
“If you don’t be still, I’ll strangle you, you cowardly, despicable lowlife.” He pushed harder, turning the sputters into wheezing gags.
Clay was transformed into a predator, preparing to slay his prey. Unconsciously, Althea braced herself for a howl of rage. The soft, controlled tones were somehow more menacing, and caused a chill of fear to trickle down her spine. “Be quiet and listen, you little worm. You’ll upset your mother even more with your pitiful mewlings.”
Surprisingly, the man stopped struggling. When Clay marginally loosened his hold on the man’s throat, he actually laughed from his uncomfortable position. “At first, I didn’t recognize you. I’ve seen you here. You’re nothing but a broken down old man, just sitting here day after day, waiting to die. And now, you’ve gone psycho, senselessly attacking the defenseless family member of a resident.” The mirth left his face as he snarled. “You are in big trouble. I’ll sue you and this place, and when I’m done, I’ll own whatever you have AND this nursing home! I’ll buy cars, luxury home…maybe even a boat.”
“You won’t sue me or anyone else. Don’t you know what you’ve done to your mother is abuse, and is a criminal offense? I have the legal and moral obligation to contact the authorities about it. With my testimony and Mrs. Flaxton’s supporting eyewitness account, you’ll be put away for a long time in an extremely unpleasant place.”
Clay shook the man and bared his teeth in his face. “You’re an unappetizing specimen, but I’m sure some big, brawny prisoner will take a shine to you while you serve your sentence. He’ll protect you from the really violent prisoners. For a price, that is...and unfortunately for your hemorrhoids, I don’t mean money.”
As the pleasant, misty vision of cars, boats, and luxury homes purchased with funds from a lucrative lawsuit faded from his mind to be replaced with a much darker one, the pudgy man began to struggle.
“However, Mr. Witherspoon, I think we could perhaps reach a mutually satisfying compromise. If Mrs. Flaxton and I kept our mouths shut, you’d have nothing to worry about.”
“Do you want money?” he gasped, his face flushing in anger.
“We have no interest in your money. In exchange for our silence and your continued freedom, you will become the model son. Under my personal supervision, you will visit your mother once per week. You will concentrate exclusively on making those visits happy for her. You will tell her, at length and in great detail, what a wonderful woman she is and how happy you are to be her loving son.”
Squirming and sputtering, Witherspoon wiggled helplessly. “That’s extortion! You can’t do that to me!”
Clay shook his head sadly. “Extortion. It is such a harsh word with negative connotations. I prefer to think of it as friendly persuasion.”
He glanced over toward the bed, still gripping the hapless Witherspoon. “I see the solicitous Mrs. Flaxton is blocking Mrs. Witherspoon’s vision of our—negotiations—quite effectively. Since Mrs. Witherspoon is rather hard of hearing, there’s no reason for her to ever know the details of our deal.”
The shorter man struggled against the hands holding him to the wall. “Why are you doing this? Why do you care?”
“I have many reasons, although I’m not sure how many, if any, of them you would understand. For one, every human being deserves to be treated with dignity and respect, regardless of his or her age. Secondly, I can’t sit idly by and