Tall for her 10 years of age, Amy Scottsadoon was a
slender, elegantly postured girl with short cropped blond hair framing a strong
featured face, self confidence beaming from a set of piercing blue eyes. Like
most children Amy loved to run which she did with an unconsciously sinuous
grace combining remarkable speed with agility and quickness.
Unusual for one so young, Amy was quiet - without being shy
- even moving without the slightest sound so that she often surprised others
who had no idea that she was nearby or had entered a room without their notice
– catlike - it seemed - appearing almost as if from nowhere. More than once Amy
had startled visitors - even her mother and father – by her sudden and
unexpected appearance often wearing a long, bright yellow paisley dress
complemented by her happy smile and a chuckle of amusement, usually – if you
were her friend, that is! There were many of those friends for Amy was a bright,
cheerful and friendly girl.
The yellow paisley dress was Amy’s favorite mostly because
it had been made by her mother and was, therefore, very sturdy. It was a great dress
for her to run in because the hem ballooned far from her ankles allowing full
freedom of movement for her feet flying like the wind. Somehow, the dress seemed
never to fade or even to get dirty no matter how far or how much Amy ran in it.
Downtown, late one day, line #1 on Jennifer Bowen’s phone
in the Claims Division of Cosmopolitan Life Insurance lit up. Heavy of heart
Jen’ noted the caller ID as the General Hospital and picked up the receiver
with a resigned sigh.
“It’s Dr Picketts office,” spoke the voice on the other
end, “can you come down to Grace’s room right away?”
“OK, yes,“ Jen’ murmured, softly hung up the phone,
gathered her things and headed for the elevator. “Well, it’s time,” she thought
to herself – “it’s time.”
Jen’s mother, Grace Bowen, was suffering from Systemic
Lupus, an almost always fatal condition, with treatment involving massive and
continuous dosages of cortisone which placed her at risk of serious bacterial
infection. This, in turn, required her to be placed in the hospitals securely
guarded isolation ward. Grace had been at end-stage of the disease and was
comatose most of the time, lately unable even to respond to her daughter’s
loving and yearning touch unmindful of her tears and sorrow. On her way to the
hospital Jen’ finally resigned herself to the necessity of planning the next
steps of her mother’s passing and remembrance.
Emerging from the hospital elevator Jen was so immersed in
her own sadness that she was slow to notice a group of people chattering
cheerfully at the door to her mother’s room and that the usually stern and somber
Dr. Pickett was actually smiling. Puzzled Jen’ glanced into the room and there
was her mother actually SITTING UP IN BED?? Actually TALKING with the nurses??
Momentarily, Jen’ was too stunned to comprehend as her mother’s gaze fell upon
her and Grace broke out her classically beautiful smile that Jen’ had treasured
for a lifetime, then had lost. Flabbergasted, Jen’ could only stare,
uncomprehending.
“We don’t know what happened,” exulted Dr. Pickett, “except
that this morning your mother hit the nurses call button and asked about
breakfast.” “We’re doing tests now, he went on, “but Grace seems much better,
is obviously conscious and most importantly, is passing fluids at a great rate.
She’s a trifle disoriented at the moment blathering on about some little girl in
a yellow dress in her room last night when we all know that’s impossible
because the isolation ward is secure. Besides, no one else here saw anyone or
anything.”
Downing a sterile isolation suit and mask Jen moved quickly
to the bed taking her mother’s hand in her own gloved one. “Oh, Jennie,” her
mother said, “at first I thought it was you last night. But your eyes are brown
and the others were blue. So deep blue it was like peering into eternity with
so much strength and energy flowing from them and into me that we both knew I
would come back and so, here I am!”
Suddenly, from the hallway a loud voice demanded, “excuse
me Doctor; Detective Lynch here – Peter Lynch - Metro Police –What’s this about
a girl and a yellow dress?”
“Why do you need to know?” inquired Dr. Pickett taking a
step backwards from the large, pugnacious cop.
“Got a report here,” Lynch stated forcefully. Girl in a
yellow dress may have been shot over to center city way – murder attempt on ‘at
reporter what exposed ‘at City Hall construction bribery scandal – girl may
have gotten inna way,” he bellowed mercifully ending his run-on sentence in
order to breathe. “Cain’t find ‘er”,
re-launched Lynch, “disappeared somewhere – maybe if she’s
shot, she’ll show up in the hospital – need ‘er as a witness to the murder
attempt – got the intended victim right here,” he concluded out of breath.
“That’s right” said a slightly built man with a camera on a
lanyard around his neck whom no one had thus far noticed. “Fred Smertz,” the
little man said by way of introduction, “City Trib’, Crime Beat.” I was in the
basement of City Hall taking photos of cement cracks and other shoddy work
being done. Suddenly, this huge man emerges from the shadows with a gun in his
hand. This’ll teach-ya to mess where ya don’t belong, the man snarled at me as
he raised the gun towards me.”
“I was paralyzed with fear,” continued Smertz, “I thought I
was a dead man for sure. I guess it was just before he pulled the trigger there
came the sound of running footsteps – tiny steps but, real fast. Too dark to
see, though, so both of us just froze for a second. Suddenly, from the shadows
a figure appeared. It was hard to see and everything happened quickly but, I
swear it was a little girl because she looked like one and, had on a bright yellow
dress that was easy to see even in the murky basement. Suddenly, the little
girl stopped – just like that – not even slowing down. She raised a finger and
pointed it at the gunman and then shook her head – ‘no!’”
Smertz continued, his voice shaking, “the creep swings the
gun over at the kid and fires. The smoke and noise was huge in the enclosed
basement. I just hightailed it out of there and down a hall where I ran into
two cops who had heard the shot and were coming to investigate. We went right back
but, there was no sign of the shooter or of the little girl but, she saved my
life for sure,” asserted Smertz.
“Well, all we have here are two stories,” concluded Dr.
Pickett, “and, no little girl in a yellow dress. If we’re done here I need to
get back to my patient.”
Lynch and Smertz departed for police headquarters in
Lynch’s City Car. Driving through a nice residential neighborhood they came
upon a large crowd all gazing upward into a tree. Ever the cop, Lynch screeched
the car to a halt causing everyone to look over their way. “What’s the problem
here,” Lynch demanded gruffly.
“Kitten up a tree,” responded an onlooker, “way up in the
tiny branches at the top and the foliage is too thick to get a ladder up.”
Pointing to a child of 5 or 6 years old sobbing in a woman’s arms, “the kid is
brokenhearted and scared about it but, we can’t think of anything to do,” said
the onlooker. Then, pointing up into the tree a neighbor suddenly exclaimed,
“look, there’s somebody up there now! How did that happen? There was nobody up
there before!”
Lynch looked up and sure enough there did appear to be
someone there and a flash of yellow was visible. Seeming to lose its fear the
kitten tentatively negotiated the small branches until it reached the larger
one on which the unknown person sat. Momentarily, branches began to move
further and further down the tree and soon it could be seen that the rescuer
was a young girl in a long and flowing, bright yellow dress, the kitten trustfully
clutching itself onto her shoulder. With incredible agility and athletic grace
the girl made her way down the tree lightly dropping the last few feet to the
ground then handing the kitten to the child in her mothers arms.
Turning to the Officer the girl said “Hello Detective
Lynch, my name is Amy Scottsadoon and I happened to be passing by. I hope I
haven’t caused any trouble here.” For once speechless, Lynch could only stare
at her flabbergasted – how did she even know who he was?
“What a great story,” rejoiced Smertz. Would you mind if I
took a few pictures of you? This would make a fine human interest piece for the
paper.” Smiling sweetly, Amy agreed and Smertz snapped several photos of her in
her yellow paisley dress from different angles.
Later, back at the newspaper, Smertz sent the film to the
lab’ for processing. The next morning the developed pictures were returned and
Smertz opened the photo envelope to remove the contents.
There was no one visible in any of the photos.
Richard Lee
C-406
