Busted

It was late when the call came, finally pulling me away from my files. I’d been expecting it, but maybe not this soon. My stomach tightened and flexed as I picked up.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, still holding out hope that I was wrong.

“I think… You should come down here,” my mother struggled to say.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I said, already standing from my desk chair.

I practically ran to my car after hanging up the phone. I used my flashing lights, breezing through the streets with very few other drivers on the road. My tongue almost bled as I held it between my teeth. Tears were already building on the edge of my eyelids, but there was no way I could let them go right now. She couldn’t see me like this. She’d hate it. So, for her, I swallowed it down and forced deep breaths. In this moment, being familiar with most of the city was to my benefit and I made it to the intimidating building two minutes ahead of schedule, screeching to a halt in the closest parking spot. Nervous energy propelled me forward and I began to feel lightheaded. Especially, during the eternal elevator ride.

“Detective Silva,” one of the nurses called out when I arrived on her floor. “I’m sorry there isn’t better news.”

I knew much of the hospital staff. Not just because of my current family situation, but many of my cases brought me to the only hospital in our small town. I took the last opportunity to feel my apprehension before letting it out in a deep breath and walking into the room. My mom noticed me first, getting up from the chair next to the hospital bed.

“She’s been asking for you,” she said, hugging me.

Then, she walked into the hall to give us our privacy. When the door closed, I leaned over, kissing her forehead.

“Hi, Grandma,” I said, noting the uncharacteristic weakness in her eyes.

“You’re here,” she replied, throat sounding dry.

I reached for the cup of water on the bedside table and handed it to her.

“Of course,” I replied, sitting in the chair my mother had just been in.

“There are some things I have to tell you,” she said after a few sips.

“I don’t think… I mean, things can’t be that bad already,” I said, still fighting my emotion.

“Just listen to me,” she asserted. “Angie, this will probably be the last time I see you and I need to know that you and your mother are taken care of.”

“She’s got me. She’s as safe as she can be,” I assured her.

“You don’t understand,” she said, lightly shaking her head side to side. “Go to my bag.”

She darted her eyes toward the dresser where her purse sat next to a lamp. I got up and grabbed it, bringing it back over.

“What am I looking for?” I asked, popping it open on my lap.

“A small, black notebook,” she answered.

There were very few things in her bag and it only took me a second to find it. I pulled it out, setting the bag on the floor. When I opened it, there were just scribbled names, addresses, and other random identifying information.

“What is this?” I asked, flipping through what appeared to be years of data.

“The art.”

“Art?” I asked, confused.

“Your case,” she said.

I still wasn’t sure what the connection was because none of the conclusions I came up with made any sense.

“That’s all of the information I have on the missing pieces,” she admitted.

I laughed. Just a snort at first, but then I was hunched forward and tearing up.

“You know, it’s very on brand for you to prank me on your death bed,” I replied when I caught my breath.

“I don’t know what makes you think this is a joke,” she said, seriously.

“Grandma… You’re an 82-year-old retiree. No offense, but where would you get inside information about my most frustrating open case?”

“You’re the detective, dear. You know I volunteer at the museum.”

“So, what, you and your team sneak in after hours on ziplines?” I asked, amused.

“Don’t be facetious. This isn’t the Met. And I only give them information,” she deadpanned.

Then, she set down her cup as she struggled to turn onto her side. She was in so much pain and I hated to see it.

“I should get Mom.”

“You don’t believe me,” she said as I put the notebook back in her purse.

“How can I?” I asked, wondering why she was so committed.

I got up.

“Because this is what I’m deciding to tell you when I have only a few hours left on Earth,” she said coldly.

“So, why tell me at all? I mean, if that’s true, you’re confessing a crime.”

“No, I’m sharing a secret with my granddaughter. I didn’t tell you because I knew it would weigh on you. You’ve always done the right thing. Now, you don’t have to make that choice. And you’ll be a hero, recovering everything.”

“This is crazy,” I said. “Does Mom know?”

“No. And you can’t ever tell her. Promise me,” she said, seriously.

“Fine. I promise,” I said, still not even sure I believed her.

“Do you remember the bust in my office?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, having always been creeped out by it.

“There’s twenty-grand in there. Regardless of what you might think, I earned that money. It isn’t much, but I want you to take it and take care of your mother.”

“This is too much,” I said, shaking my head.

I was completely shaken by the overload of information. It made me question whether she was ever who I thought she was. Maybe things were worse than I thought. Maybe, somehow, the cancer was affecting her mind as well. But she seemed perfectly lucid and I struggled to accept that this was always going to be a part of my final memory of her.

“I know. But I know that you’re strong and you can handle it. Your mother can’t. You do what you can to make sure that your family is taken care of. I got the opportunity to do the same and I don’t feel bad about it. I’m just sorry if it makes you think differently of me,” she said.

She used some of her precious, remaining strength to reach out for my arm, squeezing it softly.

“I love you no matter what, Grandma. You don’t have to worry about that,” I said.

She’d always accepted me for who I was and that was the example I would always hold of her in my mind no matter what came of the information I learned today. I wondered if she would have mentioned it sooner if I wasn’t so concerned with doing the right thing. I didn’t even know what that meant in this moment. She coughed a little then, and her breathing became shallow so I ran to get my mother. We both stood on one side of the bed, my mother holding her hand while I brushed my fingers through her hair. The conversation clearly took a lot of her strength and she only got worse as the minutes passed. I turned off my phone and we both spent the remainder of the night in her room until the inevitable happened.

I still couldn’t cry because my mom needed me and I could hold on just a little longer. I was her only grandchild and among the devastation, I felt lucky that I got to have her in my life for so long while also feeling angry that it wasn’t as long as it should have been. When we finally left the hospital, I drove my mother home. Instead of going to my own place after, I drove to my grandma’s house. By this time, the sun was already up so I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. It felt strange being here, knowing that she would never walk through the door again, but feeling her in every square foot. This house was the only place I could cry because my wife was waiting for me at home and I wasn’t ready to say the words out loud yet. So here, I finally let go. For more than half an hour, I just sobbed, my back against her couch as I curled up on the floor.

Peering across the room from my vantage point under the coffee table, I saw the cracked open door to her office. At least I could find out the truth right here and now. I pushed myself up, walking over and pushing the door open the rest of the way. I approached the eerie statue, devoid of emotion, the very opposite of myself, and tipped it off of its place on the bookshelf. It fell to the ground, shattering. As the plaster dust dissipated, I could see the hint of green under clear plastic. I tried to convince myself that it had been a long night and maybe I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing, but when I picked up the bundle, I couldn’t ignore the thick stacks of cash. The cop part of me knew that this should be filed into evidence. And it wasn’t as though I needed the money. There was only one thing I needed in this moment so I took out my phone again and called my mother.

“Do you still have grandma’s purse? I need that little, black notebook.”