by Nancy Skopin
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll let Mrs. Peterson know you’re coming.”
“Great,” I said. I was really looking forward to seeing Mrs. Peterson again. “I’ll be back later to check on you,” I said to Cliff.
He dug in his pants pocket for his keys and looked confused when they weren’t there.
“I already have them,” I said.
I winked at him, slung my purse over my right shoulder, and went looking for Dr. Nahdi. I caught up with him at the nurses station at the end of the corridor. I waited until he had finished his conversation with a nurse who strongly resembled a bulldog, then asked him if he could tell me roughly how long the tests would take.
“Probably a few hours,” he said.
“Have you assigned him a room yet?” I asked.
“No. But he’ll be on the third floor. You can call reception and get the room number if you want to visit later.”
I thanked him and headed for the exit. I didn’t have a ride home, but before I did anything else I needed a cigarette. I had one in my mouth and my lighter poised before I made it to the lobby. I lit up as I passed through the automatic doors, and inhaled deeply as sunlight temporarily blinded me. I squinted up at the sky and noticed that the sun was in the west. I checked my watch. It was 4:10 p.m. I felt a rush as reality struck home. Just before the accident we had been driving north on El Camino and the sun had been in my eyes, but at two o’clock in the afternoon the sun is in the southwest, not in the north. My solar plexus tightened and I felt a little queasy. I fumbled around in my purse looking for the ever-elusive cell phone. Not as easy as it sounds with one arm in a sling and a neck brace inhibiting mobility.
Jim picked up on the second ring.
“Hi Nikki. How’s it going?”
“Not so good,” I said. “Cliff and I were in a head-on collision this afternoon. I’m at Mills-Peninsula without wheels. I was wondering if you could see your way clear to giving me a lift back to the house in Hillsborough sometime in the next hour or so.”
“I can be there in about thirty minutes. Are you okay?”
“I’ll live. I dislocated my shoulder and I have a little whiplash. I’ll give you the details when you get here.”
While I was waiting I located the hospital pharmacy and had both prescriptions filled. Jim was pulling into the hospital driveway just as I was coming out. I checked my watch. He’d made the drive in seventeen minutes, which is pretty damn fast, if you consider the time it takes to get to and from the freeway. As I stood watching his car approach my whole body began to shake, a delayed reaction, now that I no longer had to hold myself together.
As soon as he’d stopped the Volvo, Jim jumped out and hurried to my side. He carried my purse for me and put a protective arm around my waist. I had an interesting reaction to the attention and support. It made me feel like crying. I resisted the urge, but it wasn’t easy. Once I was situated in the car Jim placed my purse on the floor between my feet and fastened my seatbelt for me. Considerate males are a dying breed.
“Jim, you’re a dying breed,” I said, as he climbed into the car.
“Thank you, I think,” he said. “So what happened?”
I told him everything from the lack of bugs in Cliff’s suite of rooms to the position of the sun in the sky at the time of the accident. He took El Camino back to Hillsborough, driving slowly, and I pointed out the accident site as we passed it. We arrived at the estate just as I finished my story. Jim parked behind Lily’s van and turned in his seat to look at me.
“So the sun should have been behind you,” he said.
“Yeah, but I swear it was in my eyes.”
“Could have been reflected off the rear windshield of the car in front of you,” he said, stating the obvious.
“I don‘t think so,” I said. “Could it have been one of those microwave beams you were telling me about? Would that explain Cliff’s behavior?”
“It might.” He rubbed his five o’clock shadow pensively. “So you think someone was trying to kill the two of you?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe. I’m not convinced they knew I was in the car with Cliff. I was on the floor in the backseat. That’s the thing. If I hadn’t been in the car, there might not have been an accident. Cliff didn’t swerve into oncoming traffic until I tried to take control of the car.”
“Oh. I see your point. So what would the object be?” he asked.
“Another fugue state. More reason for Cliff to suspect he’s going nuts? Make him doubt his own sanity. Maybe make other people question his credibility. Or maybe they just want to discourage him from driving for some reason. Keep him isolated.”
“You want me to come in with you?”
“Would you? We’ll just say you’re my partner.”
“That’s close enough to the truth.”
CHAPTER 12
JIM HELPED ME OUT of the car and handed me my purse, which I slung over my good shoulder. I reached inside and located Cliff’s key ring. We were walking down the driveway when the front door opened and Mrs. Peterson stepped out onto the porch.
“Is Clifford all right?” she called out.
I was stunned by the possibility that she might actually be concerned about Cliff’s well-being.
“He seems fine,” I answered. “Just headachy and sore. They’re running some tests.”
“What happened?” she asked, as we approached.
“He sort of passed out at the wheel on the way to Burlingame,” I said. “The car swerved into oncoming traffic before I could get control of it.”
She gasped and placed her hand over her heart. I wasn’t buying it.
“I need to get some of my things out of his room,” I said, slipping past her and into the house. “This is Jim. He’s my business partner. Jim this is Mrs. Peterson.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jim said.
I turned at the foot of the stairs and watched Jim take Mrs. Peterson’s hand and give her his five thousand-watt smile. She visibly melted. I swear I could see her bones soften.
“It’s Marjorie,” she said.
As they shook hands, I trudged up the stairs.
“You won’t be able to get in,” Mrs. Peterson simpered to Jim as he followed me. “The suite is locked.”
Now how would she know that unless she’d tried the door?
“Not a problem,” I responded, raising the key chain. “Cliff gave me his keys.”
The look on her face was almost worth the accident. I let myself and Jim into Cliff’s suite, then locked and bolted the door behind us, just in case Mrs. P. decided this was her opportunity to snoop.
I walked Jim through each room, showing him the door behind the fridge and where the video equipment was located. He approved of my paint and carpet selections, but was a little ambivalent about the water lilies and swans on the bathroom wallpaper.
I told him I’d had Cliff’s Lexus towed to the marina and asked him to take a look at it. I gave him my new bug detector to use on the car. He had one of his own, but it was back at his office.
Before we left Cliff’s suite, Jim closed and locked the bedroom windows for me. The fumes would be intense in the morning, but I wasn’t comfortable leaving them open overnight. I locked the door to the suite again and we headed back down the stairs. Mrs. Peterson was waiting in the foyer, her arms crossed.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to give me those keys, Nicoli,” she said.
“Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe this woman was trying to bully me in my fragile condition. I almost laughed at the attempt. Anyone who thinks I might be easier to push around when I’m not feeling well doesn’t know me at all.
“I can’t allow you to have a set of keys to this house.”
“These are Cliff’s keys,” I said, dropping them back into my purse. “I’m on my way back to the hospital now, and I plan to return them to him.” I strode past her and opened the front door.
She moved aside to let me pass, but kept her arms crossed. �
�See that you do,” she snarked after me.
Jim followed me outside. We were silent until the door to the house closed, and then I erupted. “Do you fucking believe that woman? What does she think I’m going to do? Break in and steal the silverware? Jesus tap dancing Christ!”
“Take it easy Nikki,” Jim whispered looking over his shoulder. “She’s just being protective. She doesn’t know you.”
I stomped down the driveway, unlocked the van, and set my purse inside.
“I’m going back to the hospital to make sure Cliff is okay,” I said. “I’ll try to get a copy of his EEG, not that I would know how to read one. Maybe we can locate an expert. Will you call me if you find anything in his car?”
“What are we going to do about tonight?” Jim asked.
“Spend the night in his hospital room?” I flinched in anticipation.
“Okay,” Jim shrugged. “I’ve got a new Connelly book that I haven’t had time to read.”
“Great.”
“I’ll talk to you later. Try to get some rest.”
He hugged me carefully, and although my back, neck, and shoulder were killing me, the human contact was comforting. “Thanks for being here for me, Jim,” I murmured into his shoulder.
“No problem,” he said. “You sure you can drive?”
“I’ll be okay. It’s an automatic.”
He took off toward Redwood City and the marina, and I headed back to the hospital in Burlingame. As I passed the accident site again I made a mental note to return tomorrow at 2:00 p.m. I wanted to see if the sun bounced off the rear windshields of the cars in front of me, and just what that would look like.
CHAPTER 13
WHEN I GOT TO THE HOSPITAL I asked the aide at the information desk to page Dr. Nahdi for me. After a few minutes he called, and I asked him where I could find Cliff. He directed me to the first floor MRI lab. I asked if the EEG been run yet.
“We did that first,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to thoroughly examine the results yet, but at first glance I did notice some irregularities.”
“Any chance I could get a copy of it?” I asked.
There was a moment of silence before he said, “Not without his permission.”
“Fair enough. Has he been assigned a room yet?”
“Thirty-seven seventy-one,” he responded. “It’s a private room with a view.”
Anna would have insisted on that.
I asked the aide for directions to the MRI lab, and promptly got myself lost. I was approaching a nurses station when I spotted Anna seated in a waiting area. She looked exhausted and worried, but her posture was perfect.
I took the seat next to hers and she looked up, clearly surprised to see me.
“Nicoli. Are they running tests on you too?” she asked.
“No. I just wanted to make sure Cliff was okay. How’s he holding up?”
She looked at me for a moment before answering. “You’re very kind,” she said. “He’s such a frail boy.” A tear crept down her cheek and she took a tissue out of her purse, dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Do you have children?”
“No. But I have a dog.”
After that we sat together in silence. At 6:02 a nurse wheeled Cliff out of the lab and Nahdi followed, holding a computer printout. He also had a large folder and a set of X-rays under his arm. Anna and I got up and joined them.
“No major soft tissue damage,” he said to Cliff, who was now wearing a cervical collar like the one they’d given me. “Thank goodness for seat belts and air bags. You’ll probably have a stiff neck for a few days, but the collar should help with that. No broken bones or hairline fractures. No concussion. I’ll need to take some time with this EEG.” He patted the folder. “But first let’s get you set up in your room.”
We all rode up in the elevator together. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to get Cliff alone long enough to ask him for permission to copy his EEG. Not something I could bring up in front of Anna.
Once Cliff was settled in his private room with a view, Dr. Nahdi left us to go examine the test results. Anna took a seat next to the bed and Cliff started complaining about the windows. He didn’t mention the reason he objected to windows, but I instantly understood. He was afraid that if they could see him, they could hurt him.
I stood near the door and listened to Anna reassure her son that if he was unhappy with the room she had selected, she would arrange for him to be moved. That seemed to calm him down somewhat, knowing he had a choice. The conversation lulled for a moment.
“I’m going down to the food court,” I said. “Can I get you two anything? Coffee?”
Anna turned and looked me over appraisingly. My left arm was in a sling and I clung to my purse with my right hand. “How would you carry it?” she asked.
I ignored the question. “Cliff? You want anything?”
“I am a little hungry,” he sighed.
“Okay. I’ll see what they have that looks healthy. Back in a few.”
Once I’d located the food court, I went over a mental checklist of things I had to do. I needed to call Jim and let him know Cliff’s room number. Bill was bringing me the fingerprinting kit tonight. I’d dust the brass door handle tomorrow when Cliff was back at home.
I wondered how convincing my cover as an interior decorator would be with this sling on my arm. I wasn’t ready for Cliff’s family and Marjorie Peterson to know what I was really doing in their house, so I needed them to believe I was laying carpet and hanging wallpaper. Maybe I could tuck the sling in my purse until I got past Mrs. Peterson and into Cliff’s suite.
I also needed to call U.C. Berkeley and find out if they would release a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers of the students who were studying with Professor Matzek prior to his death. My body was a mess, but my mind was working overtime.
The food court offered a few hot meals that looked like crap, as well as Jell-O, salads, and pre-packaged sandwiches. There were vending machines with beverages, yogurt, and fruit. I opted for what aspired to be a chef salad, and got Cliff an apple and a container of yogurt with a plastic spoon taped to the carton.
When I’d eaten all I could stomach of the flavorless salad, I tossed the container and fed the beverage machine five quarters. I got a diet Pepsi, which I tucked into my purse along with the apple and the yogurt.
The elevator was filled with people who had arrived for visiting hours, but I managed to squeeze in. I was too tired and achy to face the stairs. I just hoped no one would jostle me causing my neck and shoulder additional pain.
When I entered Cliff’s room there was no sign of Anna.
“Where’s your mom?” I asked.
“She went home.”
“Is she coming back?”
“No. She asked if I wanted her to bring my pajamas and shaving things, but I told her not to bother.”
Atta boy.
“She also asked about my car,” he continued. “She wanted to know if I had it towed to the body shop she and Dad use. I told her I didn’t know where it was. Do you know where they towed my car?”
“I had it towed to the marina so Jim could check it for bugs.”
“Oh.” He seemed cheered by that bit of information, and sat up a little straighter in the bed. “Good thinking,” he said. “I guess we can have the insurance company tow it to the body shop later.”
“How are you feeling, Cliff?”
“I’m okay. I’m not sure why the doctor wanted me to stay overnight.”
“Probably just to be safe. Sometimes accident victims go into shock hours after the actual occurrence.” I was making it up as I went along, but I thought it sounded plausible enough.
He looked at me, then he looked at the windows, and then he looked down at his hands.
“I’m afraid something might happen,” he said. “I feel so exposed here.”
“Jim will be with you tonight.”
I noticed there was a curtain hanging from
the ceiling, which could be used to veil the bed either from the door and the hallway, or from the windows. I pulled the curtain all the way around to the window side of the bed so that Cliff would be hidden from anyone with strong enough binoculars to peer up at him from the parking lot.
“Thank you,” he said, looking relieved. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It hurts like hell.” I dug the Pepsi, apple, and yogurt out of my purse. “I hope you like vanilla. Oh, and here are your keys.” I set the keys on the bedside table and then thought better of it and tucked them in the top drawer of the nightstand under a bedpan while Cliff surveyed my purchases.
“Would you mind washing the apple for me?” he asked.
Actually I did mind, but I was being paid by the hour, so what the hell? I left Cliff to figure out how to remove the plastic spoon taped to the yogurt carton and took the apple into the bathroom. I rinsed it with hot water, grabbed a paper towel, and wiped it semi-dry as best I could with one hand. When I returned to the bed and offered Cliff the apple, he asked me to wash the plastic spoon. This was getting ridiculous.
While Cliff was munching his apple, I retrieved my cell phone from my bottomless bag and called Jim.
“Hi, Nikki,” said that dreamy masculine voice. “What’s the room number?”
I gave him the number and told him it was a private room on the 3rd floor, with windows.
“Don’t forget your book,” I added.
“What time do you want me there?” he asked.
“Soon. I’m heading out in about thirty minutes. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
When Jim and I disconnected I turned to Cliff who was picking at his teeth with a fingernail. Charming. If he asked me to go buy him dental floss, I might have to shoot him.
“Cliff, I need to ask you a few questions,” I said.
“Sure.” He stopped picking and looked up at me.
I sat down in the visitor’s chair next to the bed. “Right before the accident we were talking about your classes at Berkeley. You mentioned a professor named Leon Matzek.”