Left Field by Elizabeth Sims

Author:Elizabeth Sims [Sims, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780983663973
Publisher: Spruce Park Press
Published: 2014-12-25T22:00:00+00:00

18

Flora told me the Happy Van came around on Wednesdays, so the next Wednesday I fired up the Crown Vic and drove over to Palmer Woods.

I had hacked a copy of the DeMedHo logo, a person in a wheelchair with wings on it, from the city’s website. Not having a color printer, I used a Magic Marker to hand color it the correct bright blue. I glued on a spare passport photo and slipped it into a clip-on ID sleeve I’d kept from a press convention.

I cruised the streets until I caught sight of the Happy Van then tailed it in a lazy fashion. The neighborhood was so compact I only had to see it parked in front of a house, note the address, then go along and circle the streets until I saw it in front of another house. I collected five addresses this way in the space of two hours, then took off.

At home I put on one of my wrap skirts, returned to the neighborhood, saw that the Happy Van had moved on, and went up to the first house on my list, with my DeMedHo ID prominent on my chest.

I rang the bell and knocked an upbeat rhythm on the rock-maple front door. After a couple of long minutes, I heard the chain latch slide on and the deadbolt ca-chuck off. The door opened to the six-inch extent of the chain, and an emaciated, ancient face appeared. Man or woman? Hard to tell.

“Hello!” I said with a bright smile. “I’m Laura Henry, with DeMedHo? I’m here to see how you’re doing! May I come—”

“Go away!” The door slammed shut and the bolt shot home.

I stood there for a moment. DeMedHo is a caring organization. We’re the good guys, I thought, unconsciously in character.

At the next house, a friendly-looking woman answered the door. Behind her a man I assumed was her husband huddled in a wheelchair, framed by the kitchen door. I introduced myself, and she stiffened in an instant.

“May I come in?”

“Oh,” she said, “you’re not with the Happy Van?”

“No, I’m from DeMedHo.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think so.”

The man in the wheelchair shouted, “No!” in a froggy voice.

“Ma’am, please,” I said, my hands open. “What’s the matter?”

The man croaked, “Nobody from DeMedHo gets in!”

“You see,” she began, “we were told—”

“Shut the goddamn door, Frances!”

And that was the end of that.

When you’re gathering information, whatever you learn has value, even if it’s not what you wanted or thought you needed. Remember that.

I went home and founded a new organization called Shopping Carts for Seniors. Armed with a corresponding ID, I tooled into the outer reaches of the Meijer parking lot after dark, cut my lights, and set the brake next to a couple of shopping carts. I popped the trunk, jumped out, and keeping my face hidden in my hoodie, hoisted the carts in. I quickly laced the lid shut with a bungee.

“Hey!”

I turned to see a middle-aged cart boy running toward me. “Hey! Stop!” he shouted, red in the face.

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