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Florida Trips Magazine™ Mini Mystery
DNR-Do Not Resuscitate
by SueAnn Carpenter
I eyed the familiar note as I passed by on my way around the house.
Sam’s crude black lettering on the piece of white paper was taped to his
front door as it had been for months: GO TO THE BACK DOOR FOR ANY
DELIVERIES. SCREEN DOOR IS OPEN. I’M CRIPPLED. I sighed deeply and
headed for the back yard.
“Hi Sam,” I called out. “The mailman just delivered.” I waved the
handful of junk mail in one hand as I opened his screen door. “Turn down
your TV so I don’t have to scream over it,” I yelled. The patio door
banged shut as I walked over and laid the mail on the table next to the
red folder with the large-lettered label saying DNR-DO NOT RESUSCITATE.
Sam’s yellow legal pad with dates, times and notations lay beside it. My eyes were drawn to notes enclosed with angry red circles. “So what’s going on?” I tapped a finger on an upside-down entry.
“Trouble, Jane.” Then Sam grasped the pad and wedged it between his
thigh and the wheelchair, clutching the binoculars on his lap with his
other hand. “You woke me up. I was asleep and dreamt I was running. You
should have seen me…I could do anything.” He gulped a huge breath. “The
only time I’m really free anymore is in my dreams.” The air seemed to
slowly seep out of him. His face was scruffy and his mouth turned down
even more than usual. When his chin fell to his chest, the cap on his
head declaring “Iwo Jima Survivor” obscured his face. “All I want to do now is sleep. It’s the only time I feel good… trouble is I snooze all day, then I’m awake all night.”
“You’re just down.” I rubbed his bony shoulders. He visibly relaxed. I
wondered what had caused his latest problem. Sam was our neighborhood
curmudgeon. He was known to shake his fist and yell threats if a dog
wandered into his yard. Loud music and noisy neighbors irritated him,
and he hurled epithets at anyone who drove a Japanese car. “Is the
trouble you’re referring to your neighbor’s wife? Have you heard about
that? Mr. Grimsley said he she had been threatening to leave, and she
hasn’t been home for a couple days, so he filed a missing person report.
That’s why the police were over there—I guess they took a statement…
about an hour ago…you didn’t notice?”
Sam squinted at me, as if he wanted to say something. He fingered his
binoculars nervously. I glanced around, taking in the view he had from
his wheelchair out these three glass-enclosed sides of his patio. The
tinted windows made it possible for him to watch the comings and goings
of his neighbors, while they couldn’t see him. It was cheap
entertainment. Since he could no longer drive, there was little else he
could do. I was sympathetic, but at the same time an uneasy feeling
swept over me.
“I wish I could go now. I’m ready, you know. Ever since the missus passed away, I’ve been ready.” Unblinking, Sam stared at me.
Trying a little levity I blurted, “I know someone that would kill you:
my mom. She could talk you to death. How ‘bout that?” I winked and he
snickered. “It’s ironic, huh? She’s 95 and says she plans to live to 100
if it kills her, and here you are talking crazy. Think you might hold
out for a piece of chocolate cake? I’m baking one tomorrow.” Sam smiled
and nodded as I waved and walked out the door.
The next morning, March 6, the EMS arrived about twenty minutes after I
called them, but I knew Sam was gone. It seemed strange that the
special pillow for his head that always hung on the back of the
wheelchair was lying the floor. When I grabbed the DNR folder on the
table to give to one of the paramedics, the legal pad I’d seen the day
before fell onto the floor. I retrieved it and returned it to the table.
The paramedics were much too busy to notice, hoisting Sam’s limp body
onto the gurney, and futilely slipping an oxygen mask on his face, but
the red circles around the notations flashed in my eyes like neon
warning signs.
October 29, full moon:
4am-Grimsley fights wife. Binoculars—strangled??
5am-G digs in backyard. Drags…the Mrs.??
9am-G
left in his truck. Returned-11am. Unloaded 10 stepping stones and a
concrete bench in the backyard. Placed pots of impatiens around stones
holding the bench over the hole he dug this morning. THIS IS WHERE TO
LOOK!
3PM-Police at G’s. 4pm-Leave. G walks them to their car and shakes their hands.
5pm-Jane brought my mail and said G reported wife missing.
10pm-I call G and tell him what I saw. IT WON’T BE LONG NOW!
That was Sam’s last entry. I looked up when I heard the patio door
open. Grimsley poked his head in and asked what happened. I told him Sam
was dead. His eyes watered up as he told me Sam was his dearest friend.
“Mine, too.” I clutched the legal pad close to my chest as I brushed past and out the door. “Excuse me Mr. Grimsley,” I said. But I’ve got to make an important call.”
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October 2012 Vol. 2 Issue 10