I must be the cause of this. 'Did I scare you?' I asked.
Arrow laughed. 'No, I did this just before you rang. I had dinner at my parents' house last night and my mom gave me some leftover stew. I thought it would be good for breakfast so I heated it up. When I started to take it out of the microwave my grip on the dish slipped. I was afraid it would spill and scald me so I stepped back. This caused it to tip even more. Meanwhile, I lost my balance. I managed to direct most of the contents away from me before I sat down, but I still got stew all over me, which is why I couldn't answer the door right away.'
'Did you get burned?'
'Fortunately, no. The bulk of the hot sauce went on the floor.'
'I'm sorry. I'll help you clean up,' I said, awkwardly.
Arrow laughed again, with a trace of bitterness. 'Believe it or not, I was pretty self-sufficient before you came along. I didn't get drunk and I didn't make messes all over my kitchen. I'll tell you what. I'll do the actual cleaning if you will feed me wet towels.'
She got down on her hands and knees and started wiping up the conglomeration of beef cubes, carrots, onion and meat sauce. The aroma that reached my nostrils suggested that it would have been delicious. I rinsed the towels she dirtied, under the tap, and handed them back them to her.
The only problem with this arrangement was that her bathrobe didn't completely cover her bare butt, but she was so engrossed in the cleanup that she didn't notice. I tried not to look. A young, heterosexual male shouldn't be put through trials like this.
Arrow eventually cleaned everything up to her satisfaction. She stood up and said, 'Now I'll make you a real breakfast. It's the least I can do after all the crap I've put you through. But first I need a shower. Would you like to come upstairs and talk to me while I shower?'
'No!' I said, too quickly and too loudly. It sounded so incongruous that I laughed along with Arrow. 'I'll…wait here.'
'Of course I meant through the bathroom door, but suit yourself. While you're waiting you can drink some orange juice. You put me on to drinking orange juice, you know.' She got a pitcher out of the refrigerator and poured me a large glass. Then she disappeared in the direction of the stairs.
While Arrow was taking her shower I remembered why I was there. I found a pencil and paper, sat at her table and made notes. By the time she returned, wearing white shorts and a blue T-shirt, but still barefoot, I had created a to-do list for myself.
'I haven't told you why I came,' I said, gingerly. I don't like to deliver bad news.
'You came to help me clean up my mess,' Arrow said, gaily, bustling around in the kitchen.
'No. It's about my father-Richard. He's had a stroke.'
Arrow reacted as if she's been shot. She gasped, put her hand to her mouth and couldn't speak for a few seconds. Then she said, 'How bad…how is he?'
'He should be okay. He's in the hospital.'
She sat down with a thud on one of the wooden chairs at the table. 'But he's so…healthy.'
I filled her in on the details, trying to place a positive spin on them. I hadn't known she would take it so hard. After a few minutes she had somewhat recovered; I told her I would help her make breakfast.
While I sliced ham for an omelet, I asked Arrow who should be notified at Dionysus. She started making her own list.
Over breakfast, I said, 'I think we need to do something about Buchanan and his alleged takeover attempt of Dionysus while Richard's sick.' Calling my father Richard kept his illness from being too personal. 'I suspect that Buchanan was a contributing factor to his stroke.'
'What can we do?' Arrow asked, through a mouthful of toast with strawberry jam on it.
'Buchanan can't gain absolute control of Dionysus without either the stock owned by Richard or Elma. Richard's stock is safe, of course. But what about Elma? In a proxy battle, would she vote her shares for Richard or Buchanan?'
'Richard, I assume. Why wouldn't she?'
'I don't know. That's why I want to talk to her.'
'When?'
'Why not today?'
'Today?'
Arrow was still in a state of shock. I wanted to snap her out of it and get moving. She finished her breakfast, took a sip of coffee and said, 'Let me make some phone calls-to John, Richard's admin and some others. Then we can see about Elma.'
'I need to call some of Richard's relatives,' I said. My relatives, too.
'Use my cell phone. It gets charged to Dionysus.'
While Arrow used her house phone I called my aunt and my grandmother on the cell phone. Fortunately, they were both down-to-earth people who had listed phone numbers (I got the numbers from Information) and who wouldn't start screaming hysterically. They asked for information about the hospital so they could send flowers and call Richard when he felt well enough to talk.
When Arrow had finished her other calls she called Elma. She told Elma about my father's stroke. They talked for about five minutes. After she hung up she said, 'Elma wants to see us now.'
Chapter 15 ELMA-1
The Mackay house was in Manhattan Beach, less than 15 minutes away from Arrow's condo in her car. With only the narrow Hermosa Beach in between Redondo and Manhattan, the distance was short.
Parking was the biggest problem and Arrow had to squeeze into a space on a narrow street up the hill one block from Highland Avenue. She proved she was adept at parallel parking.
The house itself was comfortable but not huge; beach lots, even several blocks up from the beach where this house was, tended toward postage-stamp size. Many of the houses completely filled their lots. This one had a modern, cube-like design, and was at least two stories high, maybe more-it was hard to tell at first glance-since it was built on the side of the hill that led down to the ocean.
The house fronted on one of the numbered streets that banned cars. We walked a short distance uphill on this street and then up a flight of steps to the front door of the house. Not for the mobility-challenged.
The woman who answered the door to Arrow's ring didn't look like the wife of Ned Mackay. I guess I was expecting someone who resembled Ned, but where Ned had been short, Elma was tall, probably as tall as Ned; where Ned had been stocky Elma was slender-too slender to have borne three children; and where Ned had been tending toward baldness Elma had short but very red hair. She must have been a beauty when she was younger-she was still a beauty. She wore a blouse and a skirt; both had some green in them. They weren't clothes of mourning.
She invited us in with a quick smile, shook my hand at Arrow's introduction and said to me, 'Don't mind the mess. I didn't have time to pick up.'
I didn't see a mess, especially compared to my place. I said, 'I'm so sorry about Ned. He was very helpful to me.'
'Yes, you were with him when he died, weren't you. I would like to ask you some questions. But first, my condolences on your father's illness. Richard is a very dear friend. Dionysus can survive without Ned, but it can't survive without both Ned and Richard.'
Elma had us sit down in the living room. The large corner windows overlooked the ocean, or at least a small slice of ocean, between the houses in front of us.
Elma offered us coffee or tea; I chose herb tea. Arrow took coffee. No children were in evidence. She told us she was planning for Ned's funeral service on Tuesday. She spoke with what must be a Scottish lilt, but it was barely detectable. When I apologized for interrupting her she said that the plans were pretty well set. His body had
