Jim Cheevers nodded. “Exactly. But the disease can occur in adults, too.”
Lieutenant Aaronson stepped away from the monitor. “Excuse me for interrupting, Mrs. Ives, but I think I can respond to that. We don’t know why, but this condition is becoming increasingly common with older adults. And if you’ll allow me to climb up on my soap box for a moment, it’s very often misdiagnosed as senile dementia or even Alzheimer’s disease because of the symptoms. We get it with the veterans all the time.”
“What kind of symptoms?” Paul wanted to know.
Lieutenant Aaronson ticked them off on her fingers. “Headaches, nausea, vomiting, blurred vision, fatigue, irritability, incontinence, personality changes, and problems with coordination. In advanced stages, it can even cause paranoia.”
I couldn’t believe it. Dorothy Hart was a textbook case, a poster child for the disease. We’d mistaken her symptoms for the side effects of chemo. “Can it be treated?” I asked the nurse.
“It’s amazingly simple. Doctors install a shunt in the brain that lets the excess fluid drain away, thereby relieving the pressure.”
“So Mom will be cured? Once a shunt is installed she’ll be completely normal?”
Lieutenant Aaronson nodded. “More than likely, she’ll be completely normal.”
Normal. Everyone in the room kept silent while the significance of that word sank in. How could anything be normal when you were being accused of murder?
After Lieutenant Aaronson left the room, Cheevers got to his feet and approached Kevin’s bed. “She’ll plead not guilty by reason of insanity.”
Kevin nodded.
“We’ll waive a jury trial,” Cheevers continued. “We’ll let the judge decide, but, yes, I believe she’ll be acquitted.”
“Do you think Mom will have to spend any time in jail?”
“A hospital, maybe, but just until the court determines that she’s no longer a danger to herself or to society.”
Kevin relaxed against his pillow. “Good. That’s good.”
“Not so fast, young man.” Jim Cheevers raised a cautionary hand. “There’s still the matter of the attack on Hannah.”
I flashed back to the time I had spent in the jail cell, the hours that dragged on like eternity, and I didn’t wish it on anyone, especially someone who had been legally insane at the time. “I’m not going to press charges.”
“You may have no choice, Hannah,” Cheevers interrupted.
“It was an accident,” I insisted. “Dorothy and I were dismantling the sets, she dropped the box cutter and it fell on my arm.” I glanced from my husband to Dorothy’s lawyer, searching their somber faces for any sign of support. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
Paul’s mouth gave a twitch of a smile. “Right.”
Cheevers adjusted his tie, a masterpiece in bright blue, decorated with battleships, circa World War II. “An accident.”
That “accident” had required fifteen stitches. With my bandaged arm, I saluted Kevin’s bandaged cheek. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
Kevin grinned.
“How’s the eye, Kevin?” Paul asked.
“Absolutely A-okay, Professor. The antibiotics are doing their thing. The IV comes out today, then I’ll have to take pills for a while.” He tapped his temple with an index finger. “The doctor says the eye will be good as new.”
“I was thinking,” Emma said from her perch at the foot of Kevin’s hospital bed. “It’s just like Sweeney Todd.”
Cheevers, who hadn’t seen the musical, asked, “In what way?”
“Well, you know at the end, where Sweeney kills the poor, mad beggar woman he didn’t recognize as his wife? Kevin’s mother spiked Adam’s Dr Pepper, thinking that he’d be drinking it, but she ended up drugging Kevin instead.”
Emma was right, I thought. Sweeney was blinded by revenge, and in the end destroyed the one person in the world that his poisoned heart still loved. And Dorothy? In her obsession over her son’s career, she nearly took it from him.
I stepped forward and joined the huddle of people gathered around Kevin’s bed. “Kevin, I’ve been puzzling over something. On the day of the matinee, you went to Mahan, drank the Dr Pepper, went down to the makeup room and then went out and got in your car. What the heck did you do that for?”
Kevin smiled. “It sounds a bit weird, doesn’t it? It’s like this. I was eating Sunday dinner at my sponsors’ when I got the call that I’d be going on in Adam’s place, so I high-tailed it over to Mahan and got into the Beadle’s costume.”
“It’s my fault, I’m afraid,” another voice interrupted. Professor Medwin Black, swathed against the February cold in wool from head to foot, bustled into the room, instantly bringing Kevin’s visitor count to three over quota. “You may recall that Adam Monroe played the Beadle bald. We had such a good bit of stage business going with it that I insisted Kevin wear a pate.”
“Pate?” Paul’s handsome brow wrinkled attractively.
“A bald wig,” Kevin explained. “We couldn’t get it to fit right,” he said, continuing the story. “I looked like a kid wearing a Halloween costume from Kmart, so I said the hell with it, I’ll just go back to the Hall and shave my head. That’s where I was going when the wall ran into me.”
Emma rested her hands on her hips. “So, how come you drank Adam’s soda, Kev?”
“I figured if I had his part, I could have his stupid soda, too.”
“I’m glad you didn’t shave your head, Kevin,” Emma said, giving him a sisterly peck on the cheek.
“I don’t know about that.” Kevin grinned. “Simone might find it very attractive.”
“Who’s Simone?” I asked.
“My nurse. She’s hot.”
I remembered the attractive blonde who had just left the room after recording Kevin’s vitals, and although I suspected my advice might fall on deaf ears, I said, “Kevin! You can’t date a lieutenant. She outranks you.”
“My God, Kev, they’ll fry you for frat!”
“What she said,” I agreed, pointing a finger at Emma.
Kevin threw me an exaggerated wink. “If you don’t ask, Mrs. Ives, I will never, ever tell.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To the real-life Pair-o-Docs-Barry Talley and David White-who together have produced musicals that have thrilled, delighted, and astonished Annapolis audiences for two decades. Thanks for agreeing to go on sabbatical for the duration of this book so those two other guys could direct Sweeney Todd.
To Helen Arguello for help building sets, and Ensign Paul Wood, USN, producer of the 2004 Glee Club musical and backstage guide extraordinaire. From the dressing rooms below to the dizzying heights of Mahan Hall’s amazing clock tower… ooooh, thanks, especially for manning the camera while I was cowering on the balcony. And to Randy Martell, who has all the keys.
To Vice Admiral Ronald A. Route, Naval Inspector General, for advice on Navy policy and procedure; Capt. Keith Bowman, USN, who responded to my request for information by inviting me on a tour of the Pentagon; Lt. Jonathan Glass, MC, USNR, for valuable help with the medical bits; and Special Agent Marina Murphy, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Annapolis Regional Authority, who answered a bazillion questions about FBI investigations. If I got it wrong, it’s my mistake, and not theirs.
I have been overwhelmed by the generous outpouring of support from my Naval Academy friends-midshipmen, faculty and staff, both past and present. I based all the cool characters on you, of course. The rotten ones I made up.
To friend and fellow mystery author, Donna Andrews, who was nearly arrested while checking out a location for me in Fairfax, VA. Be careful where you point your camera, and of course I would have bailed you out! Does Homeland Security take VISA?
To Luci Zahrey, the “Poison Lady” who would be very, very dangerous should she ever turn to crime.