he came in from his walk and he was all wild and panicky. He was as pale as a ghost, which is ironic I suppose, because he started ranting about seeing one, saying that this ghost was after him, that it wanted him dead.”
She pauses, taking another drink of her soda. Then she sets the can down on the counter and crosses her arms in front of her. “He kept saying that he saw someone get killed and didn’t do anything about it. And now the ghost of the man who was killed is haunting him.” She sighs and shakes her head, a mirthless smile on her face. “I tried to calm him down, telling him there was no such thing as ghosts, reminding him that I should know given my line of work.”
Devo looks at me, eyebrows raised in question.
“She works at the Olson Funeral Home,” I explain.
“I mostly do funeral planning,” Allie tells him. “You know, meeting with families to help them figure out the specifics. Sometimes it’s preplanning, older folks who come in and want to make arrangements ahead of time, so their family won’t have to deal with it. There’s a lot to it from choosing between burial and cremation, picking out a casket, deciding what clothes the deceased will wear, choosing the burial plot location, and of course, the fees associated with all of that. It can get intense at times.”
“I can imagine,” Devo says.
“Anyway,” Allie goes on, “I kept trying to convince Danny that whatever he had seen, it wasn’t a ghost. But he kept escalating, and then he started talking about needing to run and hide. The last time he said something like that he ran off and lived in the woods on the north side of town for two weeks. By the time we found him he’d been half-eaten alive by bugs, lost thirty pounds, and his illness was way out of control because he hadn’t been taking his meds. We had to have him admitted to a psychiatric hospital for three months to get him back on track, and I don’t want to have to go through anything like that again.”
“I remember that episode,” I say. “It was my first encounter with Danny. And Allie is right. He was in really rough shape that time.”
“Maybe he should have stayed in the psych hospital,” Devo says, sotto voce, glancing back into the living room. “At the very least he should be in a halfway house where he can be monitored and cared for by people who know what they’re doing.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Allie snaps at him. “I promised my parents that I would look after my brother if anything happened to them. That’s what I’m doing. Nobody knows him better than I do.”
I lean toward Devo and say, “Their parents died in that plane crash in Montana five years ago.”
“Oh, sorry,” Devo says.
Allie gives him a wan smile. “It’s been an adjustment, that’s for sure. I swear I’ve been on top of his meds. I set them out for him and check each day to make sure he’s taken them. I use one of those calendar pill dispensers with the days of the week on it to make sure he takes them all. He’s usually fine when he’s on his meds.”
“I remember him saying he didn’t like the meds the last time I saw him in the ER,” I say. “He said they made him too lethargic. I talked with his physician and asked if there was something different he could try that might lessen that effect. His meds were changed then, weren’t they?”
“They were,” Allie says. “And Danny was really happy with the new meds. I saw a difference in him. He was perkier and more animated.”
“It’s possible that the meds aren’t working any longer, or that his dose needs adjusting,” I say. “I think it would be wise to take him to the ER tonight and get him checked over. Maybe there’s something else going on. Physical illnesses can interfere with certain medications and you said he felt like he was coming down with something.”
Allie nods, looking concerned. “Think he’ll go without a fuss?” she asks.
I glance into the other room and see Danny and Roscoe stretched out on the floor together, Danny slowly petting the dog from head to tail repeatedly, Roscoe on his side, tongue lolling. Both look relaxed, happy, and serene.
“I think he’ll go along if Roscoe goes with him. Let’s give it a try and see what happens. Will you come with us?”
“Of course,” Allie says.
“Do you want me to come?” Joel asks Allie.
She hesitates a moment, and then says, “Why don’t you hold down the fort here at home for now. If I need you, I’ll call.”
“Okay,” Joel says, sounding dejected. He punctuates his comment with a long slug of beer.
I turn to Devo. “There isn’t room in your car for all of us to ride, so why don’t I ride to the ER with Allie in her car and Roscoe can ride in the back seat with Danny. You follow us and meet us there, okay?”
Devo looks unsure of this arrangement. “What if the guy goes off again?”
“He won’t. Look at him.” Devo does, and I can tell from his expression that he’s relenting. “It’s what, a five-minute drive at most? We’ll be fine, but you can stay right behind us just in case, okay?”
“Fine,” Devo says with lingering reluctance. “But you better be right about this. The chief said your safety is our responsibility, so if anything happens to you, my butt is in a sling.”
I see Allie give me a curious look. “Yeah, so why are you here with the cops?” she asks. “I mean, I’m glad you are but we don’t usually see you outside of the hospital.”
“I’m here because it’s part of my new job, a second job really, because I still work at the hospital. It’s a new program that the police department is launching called Helping Hands and it involves me and Roscoe riding around with them and offering up whatever services might be useful to the community at large, at least the parts of it that are dealing with the police. We can provide counseling, referrals, resources... that sort of thing.” I pause and glance into the other room at my dog, still stretched out alongside Danny. “And, of course, Roscoe provides his own unique service.”
“And a valuable service it is,” Allie says, walking over and looking through the doorway at her brother. She studies the tableau for a few seconds and then says, “I think the program is a great idea. And I think you’re the perfect woman for the job.”
“Yeah, if she doesn’t get herself killed,” Devo grumbles.
“My brother is not a violent person, at least not intentionally,” Allie protests, her hackles rising.
“It’s the unintentional that worries me,” Devo says.
“I’ll be fine, Devo,” I insist. “I took that self-defense class, and I have my pepper spray if I need it. But I won’t.” I’ve spent the past two weeks going through training for the new job: learning police procedures, taking self-defense classes, and getting taught basic safety measures.
Devo gives me his best skeptical look, one that says he’s smelling cow dung and lots of it. “I know you,” he says. “You won’t use that pepper spray with your dog in the car, so, don’t imply that you will.”
“If it’s a matter of life and death, I most certainly will,” I tell him in my most convincing voice.
