The Case of Dixie's Christmas

I guess I wasn't being very good company. Melody asked what was wrong. I was telling her when Carla returned from refilling her drink. Her mouth fell open when she heard me say "Dixie Montgomery".

"You had Dixie Montgomery in your office? Are you certain it was her?"

"Well, I guess it was. That's what she said her name was anyway. She said she lived on Englebrook Road. You know her?"

"I know of her. What in God's name was she doing in your office at two in the morning?"

I related the story and asked Carla if my Dixie could be the same woman she knew.

"I said I knew of her, not that I knew her. She's one of the most powerful women in Nashville, if not the most. I don't know what she'd be doing in a nursing home."

"So she is well off, just like she said?"

Carla chuckled.

"No, Jase. I'm well off. Dixie is... well, two years ago, I chaired a committee to raise money for a children's charity in Nashville. Dixie came to the dinner and dropped a check for a hundred thousand in the basket. I doubt she even thought much about it. She owns about half of the office buildings in downtown Nashville and a bunch more in Atlanta and Memphis. Her husband was big in real estate and did very well. When he died, Dixie took over his interests. She turned a nice set of income properties into a financial empire."

"Does she have a son?"

"I remember hearing something about a son. She had him late, and he'd be about thirty-five, now, I think. The way I heard the story, he's not much. She's been supporting him most of his adult life."

The party broke up about one. Melody had left earlier. She was driving to Knoxville to visit her sister and wouldn't be back until the day after Christmas. Carla put on her coat and came over to say good-bye. I knew Joyce and Sheryl still had to exchange their personal gifts, so I walked Carla to her car. She leaned back against the door and pulled me against her.

"Jase, honey, if I didn't have to go see mother tomorrow, I'd drag you all the way to your apartment and rape you. Just get some rest, OK? I think you're going to need it when I get back."

She kissed me softly, then parted her lips and devoured my mouth. Kissing Carla is almost as good as making love to any other woman. She gave me a hug, wished me a Merry Christmas, and then drove off. The walk home seemed a lot longer than two blocks.

I had nothing to do on Christmas day except watch TV and relax. The problem was, I couldn't relax. Detectives love puzzles, and once they find one, they can't rest until they've solved it. Dixie's story was such a puzzle, and it wouldn't let me go. I finally sat down at my desk and started writing out everything I knew, just as I would for any case. There wasn't really very much to write other than what she'd told me. All I had were questions. Did her son really put her in Collingswood against her will, or was Dixie like many other older people, and had lost touch with reality? If she had truly lost the ability to care for herself, why didn't she have a private nurse? Surely, with her money, she could afford one.

I hadn't liked Dr. Winston's voice, either. He'd been just a little too commanding for somebody who cared about Dixie. Maybe that's how he talked to all his patients, but I still didn't think it sounded right.

After lunch, I decided I'd go talk to Dixie again. Maybe she'd tell me more. At least she might enjoy the visit.

The little blonde desk nurse was all smiles when I explained who I was and asked to see Dixie.

"I'm sure it would make her happy to see you again. Dr. Winston said she seemed to like you a lot. She's in room 135, just down that hall. Don't be worried if she seems a little out of it. Sometimes Dixie has trouble sleeping so Dr. Winston prescribed some medication."

"I see, and thank you for the information. By the way, is Dr. Winston in? I'd like to ask him if there's anything else I can do for her."

"No. He's gone for the holidays. I can page him if you'd like."

"That's alright. I'd hate to take him away from his family just for that."

Dixie seemed a pretty groggy, but she did recognize me.

"Oh, it's you, Melvin's friend. You're the one who called them, aren't you? Are you happy with yourself, young man?"

"Actually, no. I've been thinking about last night, and some things just don't sit right."

Dixie instantly changed from groggy to bright-eyed and alert.

"Thank God somebody finally listened to me. Have you come to get me out of here?"

"No, not yet anyway. But I wanted to talk to you some more about what happened. I don't think you belong here either, but if I'm going to help you, I have to know what's going on.

"Go ask Vicki. I'm sure she's behind it all. John wouldn't do this to me. He's a pretty poor excuse for a man, but I'm his mother and he'd never hurt me."

"Who's Vicki?"

"She's my son's wife. He met her in Atlanta two years ago, and she talked him into marrying her."

"So what does Vicki have to gain by keeping you here?"

"The only thing Vicki's interested in is my money. I give John an allowance, but it's never enough for her. She's always complaining to him about needing more. I figure she's tired of waiting for me to die."

"OK, so she's after your money. Who handles your finances? Surely they'll keep her from getting anything. I'll go talk to them."

"Harry, Harry Cauldwell, the attorney I told you about. He'll try, but there's one thing I've learned about business. It's the smartest accountant with the smartest lawyer that wins, not the ones who are trying to do the right thing."

"Well, anything else you can tell me?

"Dr. Winston's in on it somehow, I'm sure. I have a physical every six months. Have had for the last twenty years." She giggled. "It's the only way I can get a man to touch me anymore. Anyway, my last one was just a week before Vicki brought Winston to the house. Doc Mitchell said I'm healthy as a horse. Winston wouldn't call Doc Mitchell. He just had his two goons hold me down while he gave me a shot. I woke up in here. Winston's got the staff convinced I'm nutty as a fruitcake so they won't believe anything I tell them. The phone doesn't work, and since I got out once, he's got them watching me pretty close."

"Anything else you can think of?"

"You might talk to Ling. He was there, that day, but I don't know if he saw anything. Just please find a way to get me out of here. I have to take about every other pill and act like I'm drugged or they'll get suspicious. If they manage to get two in me, you'll have to carry me out." Dixie gave me a sly wink. "I think I'd like that, but I'm pretty sure they'd notice."

On the way back to my office, I went over my conversation with Dixie. She seemed as lucid as about anybody, and there was nothing wrong with her logic. Money is the usual cause of most family problems with which I get involved. Sex is right there in a close second place, but money is definitely the frontrunner.

I'd just sat back down at my desk when there was a knock on the door. The woman who stepped into my office was a stunning blonde who introduced herself as Vicky Montgomery. The smooth accent of southern aristocracy dripped off every word.

"I'm sorry to bother you on Christmas Day, Mr. Conford, but I simply just had to thank you. If you hadn't found her, Mother might still be wandering around out there. In this cold, she probably wouldn't have lasted through the night. She's so frail, you know, and she forgets where she is. That's why John insisted we put her at Collingswood. We love her so much we couldn't bear to see her living by herself anymore."

"Well, actually, I just called the nursing home to tell them she was here, but thanks anyway. Glad I could help."

Honest to God, I couldn't help myself. I guess I'm just naturally suspicious and Vicki was just a little to thankful..

"By the way, who's Ling?"

I thought the hint of a wrinkle crossed her brow.

"He was Mother's driver. Why do you ask? Did she say something about him?"

"No, I gave her a shirt and a pair of pants to wear. She just said if Ling gave her clothes like that, she'd ship him back to China."

"Well, he belongs in jail, if you ask me, and if I could prove what I think, he'd be there. He talked Mother into buying him a car. God knows what else he's talked her into. A week before we put Mother in Collingswood, she told me Ling had started giving her massages. I think the man was probably molesting her, too. She's a dear old soul, but she's lost most of her sense. I doubt she'd even know what was happening."

"Did you ever tell the police about that?"

"No. Mother would have never said anything against him, and obviously, he wouldn't do anything to her when John or I were there. There was no way to prove it. We just fired him."

"The police can do tests that – "

Vicki's nostrils flared and a little of that polished accent went away. "I would never, never put Mother through that embarrassment. She hates going to doctors anyway. She'd die if she knew they were checking her for that." Vicki took a deep breath, and the smile and accent returned. "Mother will be comfortable at Collingswood, and that Chinaman can't get to her there."

"I've heard Collingswood is a nice place. Even if nothing was going on, it's probably best that Dixie's there. Last night, she seemed a little... I don't know, like she really didn't know what was going on. She couldn't even tell me her name."

"Mother forgets things like that. That's another reason we put her in Collingswood. We were afraid she'd wander away from the house and hurt herself."

Vicki stood up and smoothed the skirt over her tight little ass. She reached in her purse and handed me a small card with her address and phone number.

"Well, I'll not bother you any more. Just thank you ever so much for taking care of Mother last night. John and I feel that we should compensate you for your trouble. If you'll just send a statement with your customary fee, we'll be more than happy to pay it."

I closed the door behind her and sat back down at my desk. A lot of things bothered me about Vicki. She'd tried to impress on me that Dixie was some fragile old woman with one foot in the grave. The little woman who'd thrown herself on me to beg for help was anything but weak. Dixie had nearly knocked me down. She'd also walked a long distance in the cold with almost no protection, and I had to believe there was a lot of fight left in the old gal. At the nursing home, she seemed a little stiff, maybe, but not feeble. I sometimes woke up stiff from less than she'd been through.

Vicki had also stressed that Dixie had trouble remembering things. I've been around a few people with that sort of condition, and Dixie didn't fit the type. She'd rattled off her name, address, and the name of her lawyer without missing a beat. Everything she'd told me at the nursing home was a logical fit to what happened. I didn't think Dixie was having any mental problems.

When I'd mentioned Ling, it seemed to bother Vicki. I'd have to find him somehow. Maybe he did know something, like Dixie said. All in all, this thing was starting to smell. The fact that Vicki had tried to pay me didn't help. It was like she was trying to buy me off so I wouldn't get my nose into it any further.

Melody came back the next morning and I filled her in on what had happened. It took us all that day and part of the next to find Ling. Melody actually found him. She figured he'd try to find another job and called a friend of hers at the unemployment office. Ling had registered a couple weeks ago and was now cooking at a Chinese restaurant on Sixth.

Ling was a lot of help, although he didn't tell me all that much. Dixie had found Ling on a trip to Hong Kong. He was the desk clerk in her hotel, and had told Dixie he wanted to come to the States someday. She thought his English accent was nice, helped him get a visa, and then gave him a job. For the purpose of the green card application, he'd been employed as her driver, but basically, he ran her household. He ordered all the groceries, cooked for her, did the laundry, and watched over the grounds keepers.

Everything had been just peachy until the day Vicki showed up with a doctor and two male nurses from Collingswood. Ling thought the doctor's name was Winston. Vicki gave Ling five hundred dollars and told him he would no longer be needed and was to leave immediately. He didn't see what happened after that. Ling had tried to call Dixie several times, but all he got was her answering machine. I asked Ling about the massages, and he nodded his head.

"Mrs. Montgomery had become very interested in homeopathic medicine of late, and I learned a great deal of that from my father. He runs a Chinese pharmacy in Hong Kong. I just mixed a few herbs with some oil and rubbed it into her back. It seemed to help, so she asked me to keep doing it."

I had to ask him. I was pretty sure he'd lie if Vicki's suspicion was true, but I've gotten pretty good at detecting liars. It takes one to know one, as the saying goes.

"Dixie's daughter in law thinks you might have gone a little further than just a back rub."

"I should expect something like that from Vicki. Well, the answer is no. I don't expect you to believe this, but I love that old woman almost as much as I love my own mother. She brought me to the United States and she treats me with the same respect she gives her son. I would have to be completely balmy to make a mess of that, don't you think?"

That night, I called the number Ling gave me, and wasn't surprised to hear Vicki's voice explaining that Dixie was away on vacation and that all calls should be placed to her business manager's office. I called that number and heard Vicki tell me to call back between the hours of eight and five, Monday through Friday.

The next morning, I phoned the offices of Dickerson, Blakley, and Cauldwell, and asked to speak to Harry. The voice was the calm, resonate baritone you'd expect from one of the highest priced lawyers in Nashville.

"Yes, Mr. Conford, we represent Dixie Montgomery. What would be your interest in her affairs? If you're seeking a charity donation, you'll have to contact her directly."

"It's not about money, or at least I'm not looking for any. I met her the other night, and frankly, I'm worried about her. I really hate to discuss this on the phone. Would you have some time this morning?"

Harry's voice moved up a pitch or two, and he spoke quickly.

"You've seen Dixie? Where?"

"In my office on Christmas Eve. Now, can I come talk with you or not."

"In an hour. I'll tell the receptionist to send you up."

Harry was worried too. He'd been trying to find her for a week. John and Vicki had presented him with a document assigning power of attorney to John and had informed Harry that all Dixie's business transactions were to go through them. He said the signature on the document looked like Dixie's, and a Dr. Winston had signed as witness. Harry was bothered that the signature was barely legible. It had smelled to him, too, so he'd questioned John and Vicki.

"Vicki was the only one talking, and she had a reasonably good story. According to her, Dixie decided to go to Tibet to see the Lost City, and signed the power of attorney so John could take care of her affairs until she came back. Now, Dixie's perfectly capable of deciding on a trip to Tibet at the last moment, but we already handle all her affairs. There was no logical reason for her to sign control over to her son. He's an idiot and she knows it. I can probably keep them at bay until after the holidays, but they could win this thing if I can't find Dixie."

"She's in The Collingswood Community, but I don't think she wants or needs to be there. I went to visit her. They're trying to keep her sedated, but she's been faking it when they give her the pills. She thinks Dr. Winston is in on it too, and I'm inclined to agree. As soon as he comes back from the holidays, he'll find out she's not really drugged. The only way she'll get out then is if somebody goes over and gets her out."

Harry shook his head.

"If what Ling told you is true, the only people who could do that would be John or Vicki."

"Well, they're not likely to let her walk out of there. If they can keep her quiet long enough, they'll get control of everything she owns."

Harry sighed.

"Then it'll take a mile of red tape and about six months. With that much money involved, they'll be able to produce two doctors who'll swear Dixie's senile for every one of mine who testifies she isn't. If I read Vicki right, she'll do whatever's needed to get to the money. On the other hand...

Harry cleared his throat.

"You seem genuinely interested in Dixie's welfare. If you were to ask me if it is legal to help someone escape from a nursing home, I'd have to tell you the courts take a dim view of that sort of conduct. Unless the patient is being held against her will – assuming, of course, she is, in reality, of sound mind and good health - it could be viewed as kidnapping. The person who helped her would probably be arrested.

"I'm certain if Dixie wanted to leave that place, she would find some way to ask a disinterested party - say some private investigator she just happened to meet – to assist in getting her out. If that same investigator believed her to be of sound mind, and had some evidence of her forced detention, perhaps a statement from her and her driver, it would be a simple matter to defend him in the event charges were filed. The only other thing an attorney would need is to have Dixie, fit and alert, on the witness stand for a few minutes. Now, mind you, this firm could never officially suggest that sort of conduct, nor would we ever admit to doing so if said investigator were apprehended."

Harry grinned.

"But, I'd sure as hell love defending the guy who gets Dixie out. I think Vicki's a money-hungry bitch, and John's about as pussy-whipped as they come. The kid always was a no-good. Been sponging off his mother all his life. You'd think an allowance of a hundred thousand a year would be enough, but she keeps writing him checks every month for more. It's no wonder she wrote him out of her will except to continue his allowance."

Well, I could pretty much deduce the rest. Vicki had figured out how to beat Dixie's will. With power of attorney, they could sell any or all of Dixie's holdings. All they had to do was keep her quiet to maintain the guise that she was mentally incompetent. My bet was that Dr. Winston was in for a slice in exchange for a diagnosis of mental incompetency and a few prescriptions. Sure, the money would still be in Dixie's name, but I figured they had a way to fix that little problem as well. When there's a lot of money on the table, any slick accountant can spin the wheel and make the cash turn up where he wants. As long as everybody in the scam gets their cut, nobody complains.

I figured I could trust Harry. He seemed to have Dixie's interest foremost in his mind. Of course, the handsome retainer his firm was probably getting would have something to do with that, but I thought Harry was genuinely concerned. He'd told me what I was about to do probably wasn't illegal as long as my impression of Dixie had been right. I hoped he'd be true to his word and get me out of the jam I was going to get myself in.

Nursing homes are designed to keep their patients inside the facility, but to also make it easy for visitors to enter and exit. Nobody wants to feel like they put dear old Grandma in prison just because she can't remember where she lives. All that would be required was a little shoplifting in reverse, and a diversion of some sort. I knew a very diverting young woman who'd probably jump at the chance.