Free Nervous Water by William G. Tapply Page B

“You’re a Crandall, huh?”
    â€œThat’s right. My mother’s side.”
    â€œYou used to visit Mrs. Crandall on Harrington Street in the summer sometimes? Came in that big black Cadillac with Massachusetts plates?”
    â€œGram Crandall,” I said. “My grandmother. Yes, I confess, that was our Cadillac. My father was a big-shot Boston attorney.”
    â€œI suppose that explains it,” she said. “I grew up down the street from the Crandalls. My mother used to suck her false teeth whenever she saw your car go gliding past our house. She’d say, ‘Just who do those people think they’re trying to impress?’ ”
    â€œWe pretty much got the same reaction in our neighborhood in Massachusetts,” I said.
    She smiled. “About your uncle. It appears that somebody punched him. Any idea who’d do such a thing?”
    â€œI should tell you,” I said, “that until last Saturday, I hadn’t seen Uncle Moze for about thirty years. I doubt if I’m going to be much help.”
    â€œLast Saturday, you say?”
    â€œYes. Went out on his lobster boat with him, helped him haul his pots, did a little trolling in the river. Then we went back to his house, had a beer.”
    â€œWhy?” she said.
    â€œWhy…?”
    â€œWhy after thirty years did you visit with him last Saturday?”
    â€œIt’s kind of a long story, Sergeant.”
    â€œWhy don’t you call me Charlene.” She smiled and sat down. “I’ll call you Brady, okay?”
    â€œGood,” I said.
    â€œSo tell me your long story. I’ve got time.”
    â€œI haven’t,” said Dr. Drury. He looked at Charlene Staples. “Anything else I can do for you, Sergeant?”
    â€œJust tell the nurses I’m going to want to try to talk to Mr. Crandall,” she said. “Thanks for alerting us to this situation.”
    He gave her a little two-fingered salute and turned to leave.
    â€œDoctor,” I said. “Would you do me a favor?”
    He stopped and looked at me with his eyebrows arched.
    â€œCould you ask the nurses to talk to me if I call on the phone about my uncle?” I said. “They were fairly uninformative when I tried this morning.”
    â€œAs they’re supposed to be,” he said. “Sure. I’ll tell them. Give me your number, why don’t you. If anything changes, I’ll call you myself.”
    â€œGreat,” I said. “Thank you.” I handed him one of my business cards. “You can call me anytime.”
    Dr. Drury left, and Charlene turned to me. “Okay. Let’s have your long story.”
    I tried to condense it, but it amounted to my family history, what I knew of it anyway, and it took a while. I ended by telling her what Moze had whispered to me. “It was Cassie.”
    â€œAnd you think he meant that it was Cassie who punched him?” she said.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “Yeah, I guess so. That’s probably what he meant.”
    â€œWould that make any sense to you?”
    â€œWhat would make more sense,” I said, “is that he’s just had a heart attack, he’s heavily medicated, he’s in a hospital for the first time in his life, he’s disoriented, probably hallucinating, he’s been thinking about nothing but Cassie for months…”
    â€œOn the other hand,” she said, “as far as we know, Mr. Crandall’s the only witness we have.”
    â€œIf you ask me,” I said, “he’s the least reliable witness imaginable.”
    â€œA lawyer’s opinion, huh?”
    â€œAnybody would see it that way.”
    She shrugged as if she didn’t necessarily see it that way. “Cassie Crandall was four years behind me in school. She had a reputation.”
    â€œThat was a long time ago.”
    â€œShe was gorgeous and sexy and smart,” she said. “Terrific