Springsummer Johnsons 7 Creams Hospitalized.

Springsummer

Johnsons

7 Creams Hospitalized.

Jamal scrambled to finish up at the office, at least to the extent that his professional life ever had a start or finish. His wife, Cynthia, insisted on a three day weekend at the pricey but good Sand Trap Resort in Corpus Christi. On this Thursday evening Jamal struggled with the routines of an ever-growing law practice:  Payroll, accounts payable, accounts receivable…

Meantime, the Johnson Family issues absorbed even more of Jamal’s time and attention.  90 hours a week plus homework had become the norm. This summer, Jamal had hired his cousin, Reginald Green, as a chauffeur so that he could make better use of commute time.  Johnson and Associates had purchased a lime green Grand Marquis that matched Jamal and Cynthia’s twin lime green GM’s.

Every morning, Reginald would pick up Jamal at home and transport him as the attorney pecked at keyboards in the backseat.  On most days, Jamal went directly to what he now referred to as the clown office. Reginald would then park the GM and hike two blocks to Championship Gym, where he worked as a personal fitness trainer.

At the end of Jamal’s workday, Reginald would drive his employer home as he talked on phones and fielded multiple devices.  A weekly addition of 10 to 15 hours of productive labor, depending on traffic. Reginald had arrived early to the clown office for the return commute and played Long Putt on his phone as Jamal worked at a frenzied pace. Health insurance. Professional liability insurance. Third party benefits coordination. Required signature.  Required signature. Required signature. Required signature.

When Jamal was younger he fantasized about wealth and leisure. He had made progress on the first objective but time would be greedier than money. Cleopatra, his wife’s nickname since she was four years old, had made vague threats of “making changes” if she had to cancel yet another family getaway. Jamal took her threats seriously.

Jamal glanced at his cradle of six mobile phones, positioned on his chestnut desk next to the landline. An instant later, a seldom-used Paramount phone chirped the opening of “Edelweiss.”  Jamal always answered the “Edelweiss” phone immediately.  “Detective Jackson!  Are you bringing me good news for a change?”

“It could be worse. Is Curtis Cream your client?”

Jamal paused before answering in the affirmative.

“Are you aware that Special Agent In-Charge Cream and Mrs. Cream have both been hospitalized?” The detective asked flatly.  

Jamal was unaware of this development and Detective Jackson brought him up to the minute. Jackson had returned from vacation today to join an ongoing investigation. He learned that the Creams had been hospitalized Sunday night. Jackson’s colleagues had already compiled a lot of information.

Hair analysis revealed that both Mr. and Mrs. Cream had ingested arsenic on an identical schedule. Jackson was “one hundred percent certain” that remnants of the notorious Stems were behind the attempted homicides. In their heyday, the detective explained, they had access to more reliable toxins but they sometimes used arsenic to make it look like a family member was the culprit. In this case, the Stems were trying to frame the eldest Cream daughter.

Jamal’s mind briefly drifted into what kind of gift card to send Detective Jackson. Didn’t he and his wife buy a new home last year? Jamal would look up his courier’s mailing address as Jackson provided more details. With ear to phone, Jamal removed his wallet from his front pocket and liberated five Ben Franklins. He intended on giving the money to Reginald with instructions to purchase a Home Depot gift card and get it mailed by noon tomorrow.

Detective Jackson saved the best for last. Both parties were recovering nicely from their ordeal. Jamal thanked the caller profusely and notified his cousin of the change in plans. They would visit Saint Elizabeth Hospital prior to driving home.

Guided by marital experience, Jamal knew better than to notify his wife of any change in plans until he was on his way home. Instead of slinging data in the backseat, Jamal slouched in the front passenger seat and talked to his twenty two year old cousin as they snailed their way through traffic. Reginald was resistant to going to Home Depot and then to a Post Office. He listed a half dozen easier ways to send cash or gift certificates with just a smart phone.

Jamal could not inform the son of his wife’s Uncle Earl and Aunt Cynthia that he and his fellow Johnsons kept a surplus of cash that had to be decompressed from time to time. Cousin Reginald had been given five hundred dollars and he had to follow Jamal’s instructions explicitly.

In standstill traffic Reginald informed his employer that he had never stepped foot in a Post Office and he had never mailed a paper letter. Can you go to any old Post Office or is it like when you vote at a designated location? Do you have to be a member? Do you have to make an appointment? Can you get the stamp at the Post Office? What kind of stamp do you need to mail a gift card? What about the envelope? You got to go somewhere else to buy the envelope? But you can get the stamp at the Post Office? Just one stamp? And you put the gift card in the envelope? And then you lick the envelope? What it taste like?

Reginald put his phone to his lips and commanded it to find audio instructions for mailing letters. Dozens of videos and podcasts popped up on the screen. Reginald tapped a seven-minute Tyron Abdul vid and listened to the instructions with his earbuds as he focused his vision on the stalled traffic in front of him.

Jamal ignored messages from his wife until he was on the hospital grounds. Yes dear. You remember Curtis and Katrina Cream? Someone tried to poison them. Yes dear. Oh yes, I will be ready in the morning. You know me, darling. I don’t need a lot of sleep. Grilled cheese sounds perfect. I can’t wait to have dinner with you and Mitchell. Yes dear. Yes dear. Yes dear…

Jamal caught up with Curtis Cream on his floor’s visitor lounge where he was entertaining 19 patients, visitors and staff. Reenacting the shotgun blast that would have slayed a lesser-prepared individual. Spotting Jamal, he stopped mid-sentence.  “My attorney came to see me!” he wailed.

As the audience pivoted to see the lawyer in a Donatello suit and Houston Cougar tie. “Everybody give my attorney a standing ovation! Yo! Stand up! You ain’t that sick. Stand up, lady! You in the wheelchair, stand up. Help that man get to his feet…”

And Jamal blushed and waved and asked sick people to sit back down.”Yo! Attorney Johnson! Give everyone your card.”

Jamal demurred and Curtis persisted. “Give em your damn card. These people might require legal services. “And Jamal removed a jacket wallet that contained dozens of his keepsakes. He handed cards to the five people closest to him and then falsely stated that he had depleted his supply. Seeing that his client had returned to physical well being, he shouted, “I’ll call you tomorrow,” and darted out of the room.

Jamal wasted no time pursuing Katrina, who had been assigned a room on the fourth floor, one flight directly beneath her husband. He stepped off the elevator and soft-walked down the hall past a calm and subdued ward. At a corner room he spotted an obese African-American Houston policewoman sanding in command position.

“Hello officer, I am the Cream Family’s attorney,” he said, extending his hand to give her a card.

“I know you!” the officer shrieked. “You are Jamal Johnson,” she stated giddily, accepting the business card without looking at it. “You do a lot of good work for us.”

Jamal was unsure if she meant the larger black community, law enforcement officers or maybe Houston PD. “Thank you, Officer Taylor,” he said, reading her name tag aloud. “Do you mind if I have a moment with my client?”

“Of course, counselor. You go right ahead.”

Jamal slid past the sentry and entered Katrina’s private room. He planned to sit close to her, whisper quietly to let her know that they were onto her plan, that Walter Peacock had shot off his mouth about her scheme and that he had found himself a younger, saner woman and if she ever tried to hurt Curtis again…

Jamal had not counted on Katrina sleeping. He slid a vinyl-seat chair next to her bed and seated himself. He gently touched her right hand. “Katrina.”

Jamal shook her hand gently and then a little harder. “Katrina,” he said a little bit louder. He glanced at her monitor. The vitals look bad. Real bad. Jamal leaned back in his chair. Shouldn’t these paltry numbers trigger an alert somewhere? Shouldn’t someone respond?

Then it dawned on Jamal that the Katrina problem was almost solved. All he had to do was walk out the door, inform Officer Taylor that he did not want to wake his client, and calmly walk back to the air-conditioned GM.

Jamal  took a few steps toward the exit. He paused and glanced back at Katrina. He remembered meeting her at The Cimmaron Club. She was so perky and sweet but oh so dignified. He glanced again at the monitor. Her numbers had gotten even worse. 

Jamal took another step and froze. He turned once more to look at Katrina’s barely-breathing body. Back to the monitor.  Back to Katrina.

“Officer Taylor, I think we need a nurse in here!” Jamal found the oversized button on Katrina’s touchpad and pressed it repeatedly. A woman in scrubs walked briskly into the room, took a look at the monitor, and called for assistance.

Jamal turned his lawyer instincts on the nursing station. He approached a harried and distracted charge nurse, a rotund, mature white woman named Martha McGill. He presented his card and firmly demanded any and all records pertaining to his client, Katrina Cream.

Jamal would arrive home late with a stack of documents that might prove essential to promoting a wrongful death suit, should such a misfortune arise. Over a solitary dinner of reheated grilled cheese, Jamal reflected on the decisions he had made that evening. Yes, he probably saved a life but Curtis is his client and…

It would be a sleepless night that set the tone for an argumentative weekend getaway at the Sand Trap Resort.