“Your client went to see her boyfriend this afternoon,” Sid said. “Because Stan made us promise to keep somebody on her for protection, Vern Hargis followed her there.”
Jill frowned, studying the picture. Her heart was pounding out a dirge-like rhythm, and she wanted to cry. But that wouldn’t do. “There’s an explanation,” she said weakly.
“Oh, yeah? Did you know she was goin’ to see him?”
“No, but I’m sure…”
“That’s cause she’s fleecin’ you, too, Jill. Wake up, woman.”
Jill studied the picture and realized she couldn’t see either of their faces. Just Celia’s ponytail and Lee Barnett holding her. How could she have gone to see him in broad daylight, and necked with him right out in the open? Did she want to get caught? No, she told herself as reason took over. Something wasn’t right.
She got to her feet and grabbed her briefcase with one hand and the snapshot with the other. “Excuse me, Sid. I need to go speak to my client.”
“Be my guest,” Sid said. “But don’t eat nothin’ she feeds you.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Stan was crushed when he realized that Nick had not been to see Celia since this whole ordeal had begun. He clutched the phone to his ear and tried to speak clearly. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You call yourself a preacher? My wife has been arrested for attempted murder…and you…you don’t even visit her?”
He knew his words were too harsh, but he was too tired, too weak, to choose them any more carefully. Might as well just say what he thought. And what he thought was that Nick Foster had let Celia down.
“Stan, you’re right. I should have gone. It’s just that I didn’t know if she wanted company…”
“That’s lame, Nick. She needs support. Half this town probably thinks she tried to kill me. I never imagined you’d be in that half.”
“I’m not! Stan, listen to me. I’ll go right now. I do believe in her innocence. And you’re right, I should have gone. I don’t even know why I didn’t. But I was working at the fire station, and then last night we had services, and—”
Stan knew he needed to calm down. His heart was beating too fast, and with all the medication being pumped into him to battle the effects of the arsenic, he couldn’t afford to get too excited.
An orderly dressed in scrubs, with his surgical mask still up and his hat still on, came in and motioned for him to keep talking, so Stan didn’t get off the phone.
“I’m sorry I jumped you,” Stan said to Nick as the orderly went to the foot of the bed and checked his chart. He was holding an IV bag, and it hung from his finger as he flipped through the chart. “I just don’t like having my wife treated like this. If there’s even a chance that you believe she’s guilty, or if she thinks you think she’s guilty, so help me, Nick, I’ll change churches so fast—”
“Stan, come on. I’m a preacher, not superman. I’m doing the best I can. I didn’t know how to handle it. I’ve been praying for both of you, though. Stan, if you want me to go over to Aunt Aggie’s, I will. I’ll go tonight, wake her up, if you want.”
“I do want,” he said. The orderly came back around the bed and began changing the bag.
“So you want me to tell her to call you?”
“Yes, if the switchboard is still open. If it’s not, tell her to answer it when I call. I think she and Aunt Aggie might be just letting it ring. If I don’t hear something in the next half hour, I’ll call her again.”
“All right, Stan. Just relax, all right? I’ll take care of it.”
Stan hung up and regarded the bag the orderly had hung. “That bag wasn’t empty, was it?”
“No, but it wasn’t dripping right. I was told to change it.”
Stan glanced at him. He was wearing big black glasses, and that mask made him nervous. He never liked not being able to see someone’s face. “You just come out of surgery?”
The man shook his head and checked the drip. “Nope. They just made me wear the mask my whole shift tonight because of my cold. Don’t want me passing any germs along.”
He went back to the chart, made a notation, then started for the door. “You’re all right now. Why don’t you go to sleep?”
“I will,” Stan said.
He lay there and let his eyes close, but as tired as he was, he didn’t want to sleep. Not yet. Not until he heard from his wife. Not until he talked to Celia.
In the waiting room, Aunt Aggie saw the orderly leave the room. Vern had sat back down now and was reading that magazine again. As fidgety as he was, she finally realized that he wasn’t going to smoke. He was too loyal to Stan. Celia would have to do the nurse bit and take her chances.
She got up from the vinyl sofa. Slumped over and leaning on her cane, she shuffled down the hall to the stairwell four rooms down from Stan’s room.
Celia was sitting on a stair, waiting for her, and when Aunt Aggie stepped in, she sprang up. “Is he gone, Aunt Aggie? Is he smoking?”
“He ain’t gon’ smoke. He wants to, but he ain’t gon’ do it.”
She took a deep breath. “Then I’ll just have to pretend to be a nurse.” She touched her red wig and straightened her glasses. “Will he recognize me, Aunt Aggie?”
“Not if you walk fast like you b’long there. He’s readin’ a magazine. I was you, I’d say hey to him and give ’im long enough to see your badge, then hurry past him. Don’t look ’im in the eye. Jes’ look up the hall like you’re lookin’ for somethin’.”
She took in a deep breath. “All right. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
She started out of the stairwell and didn’t see anyone except Vern in the hall. Just as Aggie had told her, he was reading that magazine.
She walked quickly, and he looked up just as she drew near. She muttered, “Hey,” and glanced up the hall.
“Hey.” He glanced at her badge. Then he went back to reading.
She was inside Stan’s door before she knew it.
She saw him lying there, with that IV in his arm and that oxygen tube under his nose, resting with his eyes closed, and that phone beside his head on the pillow. Who had he been talking to?
Her heart burst, and her eyes filled with tears, and she stepped closer to the bed. “Stan?”
His eyes opened, and he looked up at her.
She took off her glasses, and pulled the wig off, revealing her blonde bun. “It’s me, honey.”
He caught his breath and reached up for her, and she slid her arms around him and began to weep.
His embrace was weak, but his love wasn’t, and as she pulled back to look at him, she saw the tears in his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
“You’re the one in a hospital bed.” Her eyes filled again. “Are you in any pain?”
He ignored the question and touched her face. “They accused you.”
“I didn’t do it, Stan.”
“Shhh, I know you didn’t. We’ll convince them. But you have to be careful. They’re out there…”
“You don’t know who did this?” she asked him. “You don’t remember who gave you the poison?”
“Can’t imagine.” He wiped her tears from her face. “But we have to find out.”
“We’re trying. Jill’s trying. But Stan, I have some good news for you. You’re not going to believe this.” She was crying harder and could barely speak, but she forced the words out.
“Good news?” he asked. “Good news that makes you cry?”
“My emotions are on a roller coaster,” she whispered. “Mostly down…but this news…”
“What are you doing?”
Celia swung around to the voice and saw Vern standing in the doorway. “Vern, please. I just wanted to talk—”
He shot across the room and grabbed her as he called for help on his walkie-talkie. She tried to wrestle free, but before she knew it he had the handcuffs snapped on her. “Vern, please. I didn’t do anything. I just wanted to talk to him.�
�
“You’re under arrest again,” Vern said. “You have the right to remain silent—”
“Vern, stop it!” Stan cried. “Let her go! She didn’t do anything.”
More security people came in, and Celia’s face was raging hot as tears ran down her face. “What do you think I was going to do? Kill him? I just wanted to tell him something. I wanted to see him!”
Some nurses and a doctor ran in. “Mr. Shepherd, did she give you anything to eat?”
“No! Let her go!”
She was screaming and wailing now, and trying to fight free. “Please. Why would I kill my husband? Why would I want to kill the father of my baby? I’m pregnant, Stan! That’s what I wanted to tell you!”
“Pregnant?” The word was weak, breathless.
“His blood pressure is dropping!”
“What?” she asked. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Who changed this bag?” the nurse demanded. “Did you do it?” she asked Celia.
“No! I don’t even know how!”
“Someone changed this bag! It was half full a little while ago when I checked it. Now it’s full.”
“It was the orderly,” Stan got out weakly.
But his words were lost in the chaos that followed, and Celia realized that something was wrong. Had he been poisoned again?
“Help him!” she cried. But Vern wrestled her out of the room. And as tears streamed down her face, she realized she might never see her husband alive again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When Jill had failed to find Celia at Aunt Aggie’s, or anywhere else, she’d been ready to erupt. She had finally given up and come home. The classical music CD piping through Jill’s house calmed her spirit somewhat, though the questions of the day still churned in her mind. She made herself a sandwich in the kitchen, a dollop of peanut butter between two slices of bread, then realized that she needed something healthier, something warm. But she’d had no time to go to the grocery store, no time to do any cooking.
Again, she walked to her answering machine and checked the messages to see if Dan had called. There was nothing there. Had he forgotten her in her busyness, she wondered? Was he still mad at her for the things she’d said last night? Was he waiting for her to call him?
He certainly had a reputation for arrogance, yet she couldn’t help wondering after spending so much time with him if it wasn’t a reputation built on fear. Something told her that Dan was afraid of rejection and abandonment, that his detachment from women had more to do with his own insecurities than with his desire to be alone. It was an insight that had come after a great deal of thought. She wasn’t sure he would agree with her. She wasn’t even sure she was right.
But she supposed that she should be thankful that they had been out more than his usual three times, and that he continued to show interest. At least, he had until last night.
She went back to her briefcase and looked at the notes she had taken today when she’d visited Celia. She had been working around the clock to solve this case, racking her brain to figure out who could have poisoned Stan and Nathan. Now to learn that Celia was sneaking around, hiding things from her, was more than Jill could stand. She needed to talk to someone.
She thought of calling Allie, but she didn’t want to cast more bad light on Celia. Besides, she had no business sharing the case with anyone.
She needed a friend. Just someone to eat with…
Deciding to swallow her pride and take a chance, she picked up the phone and dialed Dan’s number. He answered quickly.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dan. It’s Jill.”
She could hear the sigh in his voice. Was it relief, or dread? “Jill.”
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” she said. “I wanted to apologize for last night. You’re right. I was strung a little too tight. I was edgy, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
She sat there for a moment. Was he going to make her grovel? She began to get angry. “That’s what I said.”
“Okay.”
She sat there a little longer, holding the phone to her ear and seriously considering hanging it up. What did he want from her?
“So…did you get any sleep?”
The question seemed gentler, and her anger cooled a degree. “No, not really. And I’ve had a really rough day.”
“Uh-oh. Then I guess I’d better not suggest a late dinner. We might butt heads again.”
That balloon of anger seemed to deflate in her chest. “If I promise to behave better, would you go ahead and suggest dinner? I was just about to eat a peanut butter sandwich.”
“You can do better than that, Jill,” Dan said, all anger gone from his tone. “Let me take you out to eat.”
She hesitated a moment. “It’s after nine, and I don’t know if I’m really up to going out. I thought maybe you could come over and I could make something—”
Before she could finish the sentence, he cut in. “You’re not making anything, Jill. You’ve been working around the clock. I’ll tell you what. I’ll pick something up at Maison de Manger and bring it over. What would you like?”
She couldn’t think. Her brain was too tired. “Surprise me.”
“Will do,” he said. “I’ll see you in about half an hour.”
She smiled. The night was looking up after all.
Jill spent the next half hour in a whirlwind, cleaning the mess that had accumulated in her house since Celia’s arrest. She was not known for being a neat person. On a good day, she left her bed unmade, clothes thrown over a chair in her bedroom, and dishes in the sink. But in the past few days, dust had collected, dirty laundry had gathered in a heap on her bedroom floor, and stacks of unread mail spilled over her kitchen counter. She rushed as fast as she could to get the place clean before Dan showed up.
By the time he arrived, her house was passable, though not spotless by anyone’s standards. They ate together, talking quietly, and she enjoyed the warmth and sustenance of the food he had brought, for she hadn’t had a real meal since the last time she’d eaten with him. She’d have to watch it, she thought, or she would start associating comfort and well-being with his presence.
“So how’s the case going?” he asked.
She sighed. “Not good. I’m hitting a lot of dead ends. I’ve spent most of today going over depositions from the first trial and making phone calls, trying to track down people who knew anything about the Nathan case. It’s slow going.”
He touched her hand and fondled her fingers, sending a jolt through her body. She wasn’t used to affection of any kind. But she told herself that she could get used to it from Dan.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “I have a lot of faith in you. Your instincts are great.”
She sat there a moment, letting the words sink in. Her instincts. Weren’t those what were pulling her down now? She wasn’t sure whether her instincts were urging her toward trusting in Celia’s innocence, or sending up alarm signals in her brain. To her, doubting Celia meant failure. Celia had been a good enough friend to her to deserve her trust.
“What’s wrong?” Dan asked.
She met his eyes and wondered how much he could see. “I guess this case has just got me down.”
“You’re not worried, are you?”
She averted her eyes. “A little. There were some new developments today. I can’t really discuss them, but it doesn’t look good for Celia.”
Dan frowned. “You’re not starting to think she did it, are you?”
“No, not at all. Of course not.”
“But what?” he asked.
“But Sid does, and that’s important. It’s important for me to stand behind Celia and to do everything in my power to make Sid think twice about keeping her on the suspect list. But it’s getting harder all the time.”
“They’ve found more evidence?” he asked.
She stared at him, knowing she couldn’t elaborate, but needing so
badly to talk. Thankfully, the doorbell rang.
She got up and hurried to it, wondering who it could be, dreading the bad news that seemed almost inevitable. She opened the door and saw Nick Foster standing there. “Nick, hi.”
He looked worried, distracted, as if he hadn’t come to pay a social visit. “Jill, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” she said. She ushered him in, and he saw Dan and reached out to shake his hand.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m worried about Celia.”
Jill’s expression changed. “What do you mean?”
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Stan called me a little while ago,” he said. “He wanted me to go by Aunt Aggie’s and tell Celia to call him, because he really wanted to talk to her and they weren’t answering the phone.”
“Really?” Jill asked, her eyebrows rising. “That’s a good sign.”
“Of course it is,” Nick said. “Stan doesn’t think Celia had anything to do with this. In fact, as weak as he is, he had plenty of energy to lambaste me for not being there for her. And he’s right. I just…I don’t know what to think about her, Jill.”
Jill understood more than he knew. She touched his shoulder gently. “Nick, we all have to keep an open mind and just pray hard for Celia.”
“I know. And sometimes I really just have a hard time following the Spirit, and I wonder if I ought to even be in this profession at all.”
Dan got up from the table and set his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick, you’re a good fireman, but you’re the best preacher I know. Don’t start getting all down on yourself.”
“The best preacher?” Nick almost laughed, but he obviously didn’t find it amusing. “You haven’t had much experience with them, then, have you?” He sighed. “Well, anyway, that doesn’t matter. The reason I came is that I went by Aunt Aggie’s, and no one’s home.”
“Still?” Jill asked. “Are you sure?”
“That’s right,” Nick said. “I knocked on the front door, went around to the back door. There were lights on in the house, but no answer. I went to a pay phone and called, still no answer. Finally, I went over to Celia’s, thinking maybe she’d gone home, but there was no one there, either.”
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