Death Comes For Christmas

Chapter 3 ~ December 18

Chapter 3 ~ December 18 FramilyCamelia had barely begun working when her mobile phone buzzed: Rita Becker. Despite the weight of work, her face broke into a smile for her second cousin and lifelong friend.

“Rita! How’s my favorite cuz?”

“Hey Cam, is now a good time?”

Camelia assessed the stack of work in front of her.

“Absolutely.” She wished it were true. “Now is perfect. Way better than this stack of pleadings.”

“Sorry, you’re at work? I thought you’d be home packing. Don’t you guys leave tomorrow?” Rita asked.

“No, Sunday.”

“Okay, well, I’m just calling to nail down some time together before the entire holiday gets sucked into the Swenson vortex...” Rita said.

“And the Belmont vortex, too. Leon’s mother is over-scheduling, as usual.”

“Okay, let’s be real. I just want to make as many plans as possible so I can avoid being one-on-one with Mum and Kenna for more than an hour at a time,” Rita giggled.

“I do love my feisty Freda, but then she’s not my mother,” Camelia said. “As for your baby sister? Yeah, count me out. I can’t take the drama.”

“Speaking of drama, have you talked to Mum? She called this morning, going on about what to wear, and the Boxing Day menu. Again.”

“No, I haven’t talked to her. And if I’m gonna get out of here any time soon, I need to get my butt in gear,” Camelia said. “I’m way behind thanks to a huge s**t show I had to deal with on Monday.”

“Ooooh. Details, please!”

“Okay, the short version. I represented the wife at a hearing, kind of a high profile case. Lawyer husband is a big swinging d**k in litigator circles, represented by Spencer Ashcroft the third, and you know how I feel about Numeral Men,” Camelia said.

“Oh yeah, I remember a certain Jeremy the Fourth,” Rita said, laughing.

“Ashcroft is no better. Anyway, Wife is a scorned socialite. But, to be fair, I like her. She’s not your typical sucked and tucked Scottsdale bobble head. So, the case is barely a minute old, and I stepped in for a routine scheduling hearing,” Camelia said, relishing the retelling. “Just before the hearing kicks off, Ashcroft pulls me into the hall to make some bullshit settlement offer. And before I can even respond, here comes the wife, freaking out, saying the husband is having a heart attack,” Camelia said.

“Whaaaat?”

“Right? Then here come the deputies and the medics, clearing the area. Meanwhile, husband is down for the count...”

“Wait, he died right there?” Rita said.

“No, he lived, but he collapsed in the courtroom. And get this,” Camelia took a sip of coffee. “When the medics wheeled him out, I saw a Narcan box on the gurney, and he was purple. Looked like they just pulled him out of a snowbank...”

“Cyanosis...” Rita said.

“You’d know better than me. But, Narcan. He obviously OD’ed on something. And the wife is a nurse, or she used to be, so I expected her to be doing CPR or something instead of freaking out. It was a mess.”

“Jeez. Sounds like it. Did she slip him a little something to speed up the divorce?” Rita laughed. “Even compared to hospice—I mean, people die at my work every day—this sounds pretty crazy.”

“Well yeah, people go to your office to die, not mine! And these two are high rollers, at least by Phoenix standards. By the time I got back to the office, the media were all over us, so on top of having my hearing blow up, dealing with the cops, and managing my client, I gave my first press conference. All this on a Monday, for god’s sake,” Camelia said.

“Wow, look at you! Where can I watch it?” Rita asked.

“I’ll text you the link,” Camelia said. “Anyway, the husband lived and they’re saying it was a heart attack, but that open Narcan box makes me wonder.”

“Hmmm,” Rita paused. “My first guess would be cardiac arrest secondary to opioid overdose.”

She delivered the information so nonchalantly, Camelia thought she was kidding.

“Oh yeah, right. Mr. Litigator snorting oxy before a hearing? I kinda doubt it,” Camelia said, laughing.

“Or fentanyl. If he was purple, had a heart attack, and there was a Narcan box on the gurney...” Rita said.

“Really? I mean, he’s super successful, so why would he risk it all for something like that?” Camelia said.

“Did you just say that out loud?” Rita laughed. “Ever hear of addiction? Opioid crisis ring a bell? You’d be surprised who’s using. It’s everywhere.”

Camelia scribbled on a fresh legal pad: Anders / Fentanyl / opioid overdose?

It seemed so unlikely, so farfetched. But if Aaron Anders was using opioids, she could credibly argue he wasn’t competent to be running a law firm with access to millions of dollars of client money. With the new state rules about law firm ownership, Suzanne could end up running the firm.

“Yeah, I suppose, huh?” Camelia made a note to subpoena Anders’ medical records. “Anyway, enough about me, what’s going on with you?”

“Oh, you know, I see dead people,” Rita laughed. “It’s a one-eighty from working in Emerg, where you’re fighting tooth and nail to save everyone who walks in the door. Now I’m not saving... anyone.”

“It sounds like you kinda miss the ER.”

“I miss the comradery and the hustle, but I do not miss 12 hour shifts on my feet with no pee breaks and having drunk people vomit on me. Palliative care is just so different. I mean, we call it palliative but really I do MAID service.” Rita half laughed, but Camelia could hear a pang of sorrow in her friend’s voice.

“Huh?”

“It’s a joke. M-A-I-D. Medical Assistance in Dying. Maid service, get it? I know, I’m going straight to hell,” Rita said.

Camelia snorted. “Got it. Very clever. And you’re not going to hell, just a mild purgatory. It’s where all the best people are,” Camelia joked. “I always forget you guys legalized the act of dying. Very civilized.”

“That’s exactly what Mum says. When I talked to her this morning she told me for the 47th time that we are not to let her linger. Like that would happen,” Rita laughed. “Ben would unplug her if she had a hangnail!”

“Yeah, your brother’s not exactly the sentimental type. God, I hope she’s not sick? She would tell you, wouldn’t she?”

“I’m sure she’s fine. You know how she is when she gets an idea in her head, and Mum’s always been terrified of being bedridden, like her mother was at the end. And even though I do this for a living, it’s still weird to discuss end of life arrangements with her,” Rita said. “Plus, she doesn’t understand how strict and convoluted the rules are, and honestly, I don’t think she cares. I mean, it’s hard enough explaining it to my patients, never mind getting the point across to my mother. But, it’s my job now, right?” Her voice sagged into the phone.

“If it helps, I can talk to her about it. You know, as the lawyer in the family,” Camelia said.

“Well, she’s always listened to you more than the rest of us.”

“Isn’t that always the way?” Camelia asked, with a laugh.

“Yeah, pretty much. We can talk about it next week. What time do you guys land in Regina?”

Rita and Camelia compared calendars.

“We’re still on for New Year’s Eve, right?” Camelia asked.

“Yep. Do you guys want to go out, or stay in?”

“We’re gonna do a little of both.” Camelia paused. “Okay, I can’t keep this secret another minute. We have a little surprise Christmas gift for you and Dave.”

“Oh? I thought we weren’t doing that...”

“I know. No gifts. But this is different. We got tickets to the Colin James New Year’s concert at the old Trianon Ballroom. Can you believe it?” Camelia said.

Rita squealed. “Oh my god. Are you kidding? Dave will be over the moon! But how on earth did you get tickets? I thought they sold out ages ago!”

“They did, and I’m as shocked as you that I managed to get such great seats. So, Merry Christmas!” Camelia said.

“That’s a helluva Christmas present! I can’t wait to tell Dave,” Rita said. “Can we get together on the 27th, too? Just the four of us? We’ll come to you for a break from the family. We’ll no doubt need it after the Boxing Day party,” Rita said, laughing.

“Hey, I’m family too,” Camelia laughed.

“No, hon, you’re framily, and that’s completely different,” Rita said. “And promise me, next year, we go lay on a beach somewhere, okay? Now, get back to work and I’ll see you next week.”

Camelia’s mood had lightened with something tangible to look forward to: enjoying time with Rita and Dave, people she could relax with, away from the rest of the family. Almost like a real vacation.

But first, this godawful pile of paperwork.