Chapter Twenty-ThreeAnd that's how Beverly and I spent our first Saturday night together, organizing a shareholder's meeting at Shady Acres rest home where Alec Alameda lay confined to his bed. I felt some pangs of guilt doing this. It had only been a few days since Darlene had disappeared and I hadn't given her much thought. She deserved better. Her parents organized a memorial service called for in a few days time.
We had to bend the rules a little bit since residents are allowed only two visitors at a time. Crammed into the close space— myself, Bev, Delaney Truscott in his tuxedo, Frank Scopes, George Parkinson, Ricardo and Alec Alameda and Teddy—eight of us.
Alec Alameda lay in bed breathing heavily, labouring as if each draught of air might be his last. He'd shrunk to a reed and his
