“But how could a man in a wheelchair hit someone over the head and then get him into a six-foot-tall Dumpster?”
“Good point. Maybe he had help.”
“It’s possible. I can’t imagine Mrs. Linder being involved, but we haven’t met her husband.”
“Maybe the Yancys helped him.”
“Still, I just don’t see it happening. He hands the candlestick to Mr. Yancy and says, ‘Would you mind braining our investment counselor? And I could use a little help getting the body out to the Dumpster when you’re done.’ ”
Nate laughed, a deep belly laugh that sent a current of warmth through me. “No, I can’t quite see it. Maybe we need to take a closer look at Mr. Yancy, though.”
“Or Bruce, the contractor next door. He and his wife were investing, too. Or maybe there’s another angle we haven’t even looked at. Lauren said he wasn’t seeing anyone, but maybe he was. For all we know, it could have been a crime of passion.”
He took a last swig of his Coke and glanced at his watch. “It’s almost two o’clock. What shall we do next?”
I glanced at my half-eaten sandwich. “Let me finish eating, and we’ll talk.”
As we climbed back into the car fifteen minutes later, the CD switched to “Eleanor Rigby,” the violins dipping into a minor key and singing of death. Tears pricked my eyes, and I swallowed hard. “Nate, what do you say to picking up Rafferty and going to visit Tess?”
He glanced at me. “I know I agreed to this earlier, but isn’t Rafferty an Airedale?”
I nodded.
“And isn’t Tess in the hospital?”
I nodded again, and my heart squeezed. I didn’t know how many days she had left, and if I didn’t do something soon, she might never see Rafferty again.
He reached over and took my hand. “You don’t let anything get in your way, do you?”
We had just turned south onto I-35 when my cell phone rang.
“Kitzi?”
It was Jacqueline. “How’s it going? Did you make any headway?”
“I don’t know if it helps, but I just looked up the registration records on the boats registered to High Jinx Charters. They haven’t changed ownership in five years.”
“So?”
“So the foreclosure sale you told me about never happened.”
“What does that mean?”
She took a deep breath. “It means your friend’s investment firm never bought the boats.”
Twenty-two
My pulse quickened. “Did you find out who owns the company?”
“Something called A.C. Investments in Corpus Christi. The owner of record is a guy named Alexander Corcoran.”
Well, that explained the A.C. “Is there a business phone number?”
“I called it. It goes to an answering machine.”
“I guess we can try it tomorrow. Anything else?”
“That’s it for now.”
“Thanks, Jacqueline. You’re a wonder.”
“Any time,” she said. “I’ll probably have more info tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to you later in the week, and we’ll set up dinner.”
“I’m looking forward to it!” she said.
I hung up and told Nate what Jacqueline had found out. “So I’m guessing that all the money Andrew’s clients contributed didn’t get them squat,” I said.
“But what about the renovations Lauren was talking about?”
“I’m betting Andrew used his clients’ cash to refurbish the boats so that whoever owned them could resell them,” I said.
“Or reopen the charter service. So who owns the boats now?”
“A company called A.C. Investments run by an Alexander Corcoran.”
Nate sighed. “Sounds like Andrew was getting into some pretty dirty business. Should we call Lauren?”
I hesitated. “I think I’d rather wait.”
Nate’s brow creased. “You think Lauren’s involved?”
“I don’t know. I’m just curious to see what kind of information she calls with.”
“Maybe we should go down and join her.”
I stifled images of Nate and me, out on the beach, the sun sparkling on the waves, strawberry margaritas in our hands . . . “I just wish we didn’t have the Bead Tea still going on.”
“On the plus side,” he said, “we have another lead to follow. Now, where is Rafferty?”
A half hour later we pulled up outside of Tess’s neighbor’s house. Marie greeted us at the front door, with Rafferty bounding up behind her. She grabbed his collar and pushed a lock of blonde hair from her pink face. “How are you going to get him in?”
“We’re still working on that,” Nate said.
I bent down and stroked Rafferty’s fuzzy head, and he looked up at me with wet brown eyes. “Ready, Raff?” He licked my hand, and I smiled at Marie. “Thank you so much for taking care of him. We’ll have him back in an hour or two.”
“Good luck getting him in,” she said. “Too bad Raff ’s not a toy poodle!”
Nate grinned at her as we stepped out the front door. “Or a chihuahua.” A moment later, as we loaded Rafferty into the backseat of Nate’s Navigator, he said, “So, Miss Kitzi. How exactly are we getting this dog up to Tess’s room?”
“Do you have a spare blanket in the back?”
“What do we need a blanket for?”
“Trust me,” I said.
Nate laughed. “Do I have a choice?”
By the time we pulled into the parking lot at Seton Hospital, Rafferty was stretched out on my lap, nose glued to the window. “I’ll bet you can’t wait to see Tess, can you, big boy?” At the sound of his mistress’s name, his ears perked up. I turned to Nate. “Would you mind pulling up near the emergency room?”
“The emergency room?”
I nodded, and he cruised to a stop near the sliding double doors. I untangled myself from Rafferty and turned to Nate. “Please park in the parking garage, and meet me on the first floor by the elevator. And bring the blanket.”
“Aye aye, captain.” I slid out of the car and shut the door, careful not to close it on Rafferty. As Nate piloted the Navigator to the parking garage, I slipped through the sliding glass doors into the waiting area for the emergency room. Only a few of the chairs were occupied, and the triage nurse, a slight redheaded woman, looked up as I approached. “Can I help you?”
“I hate to bother you, but I’m taking an old friend to visit a patient, and I don’t know if he’ll be able to walk up there.” I hadn’t told a lie—just exercised the sin of omission a bit. “Is there a spare wheelchair I could borrow?”
She glanced at the waiting area and said, “Sure. Things are pretty slow right now. Can you get it back in an hour?”
“No problem. Thank you so much. My friend will be so happy for the visit.”
The nurse smiled, and her face lit up like sunshine. I felt a little twinge at having misled her—but then again, she was bringing joy into a sick woman’s life. Even if she wasn’t aware of the number of hospital regulations I was about to break. Ignorance is bliss, or so they say.
Nate and Rafferty were waiting for me just inside the garage entrance. Nate’s eyebrows leapt up as I wheeled the chair up next to the elevator and patted the seat. “Hop in, Raff.” As the Airedale jumped up onto the vinyl seat, I turned to Nate. “Blanket, please.”
“You’re planning on taking Rafferty up in a wheelchair ?” He shook his head in wonder and handed me an orange fleece blanket.
“Well, it was easier to get than a gurney.” Rafferty shifted, and his tags jingled. “I should probably get rid of the collar, though.”
“Probably. Too bad his legs are too short to reach the footrests.”
“We’ll say he’s an amputee.” With Nate’s help, I removed the collar and arranged the blanket until the only thing visible was Rafferty’s wet black nose.
Nate stepped back to look at Rafferty’s nose protruding from the blanket. “And maybe the victim of plastic s
urgery gone wrong? I admire your initiative, Kitz, but I don’t think the nurses are going to fall for it . . .”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got a plan for that.”
His mouth twitched into a grin, and I had to resist the urge to kiss him. “Well, that’s a relief. Let’s have it, then.”
I told him what I needed him to do, and he nodded. “I’ll follow you in five minutes,” I said.
“I’ll do my best. Good luck.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. The tingle shot all the way down to my toes, and a delicious warmth rippled through me as I watched his long, lean body striding toward the emergency room doors.
Five minutes later, I arranged Rafferty’s blanket, gave him a few reassuring pats, and pointed the wheelchair toward the hospital. Within moments, the doors slid open, and a cool, antiseptic breeze enveloped us.
We were in.
I put my head down and walked briskly, heading for the elevator bank. Rafferty sat remarkably still for an Airedale, only his wet nose protruding from the blanket. So far, so good. We powered past the stuffed animals and balloons on display at the gift shop without running into anyone, and I hoped our luck would hold.
I turned the last corner jabbed at the elevator’s Up button, murmuring soothing words to Rafferty as we waited. One minute, two minutes . . . my body tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps. Just before they rounded the corner, the elevator dinged, and a woman with two small children spilled out of the furthest door.
As they passed the wheelchair, the younger child, a girl around Shelby’s age, peered at Rafferty. “Mommy, who’s in that wheelchair?”
“Someone who has a hard time walking, dear,” her mother replied. I smiled at the girl and pushed the chair into the elevator, pushing the Door Close button, praying it would work before whoever was coming down the hall turned up.
“But Mommy,” I heard her say as the door began its slow slide closed. “It didn’t look like a person. It looked like a . . .” Before she could finish, the door snicked shut, and I let out a long, slow breath. Close call. I stroked Rafferty’s head and told him we were almost there.
A moment later, the elevator door opened a mere ten feet away from the nurses’ station. Fortunately, Nate was in position, draped over the counter and entertaining the nurses. As I hustled past the station toward Tess’s room, the sound of women’s laughter followed me.
It was only when I reached Tess’s door that I remembered she had a roommate. I hesitated for a moment. Should I check first, to see if she was there? Maybe she would be asleep. If not, I could always disable the Call Nurse button.
After a moment of indecision, I pushed open the door and wheeled Rafferty through it. I needn’t have worried about Tess’s roommate, whose eyes hardly flickered from the program blaring from the television in the corner as I pushed the wheelchair past her bed. Instead of whining and complaining, she was listening to the television at top volume. Poor Tess. On the plus side, Tess’s roommate did look better today. Maybe she would be checking out soon.
As I rounded the curtain to Tess’s bed, my step light with relief, all the breath whooshed out of me, and the wheelchair shuddered to a stop.
Tess was hardly recognizable. In the twenty-four hours since my last visit, her eyes had sunken, and her pale skin looked stretched over the bones of her face. The IV was filled with red again—another transfusion—but it didn’t seem to be helping. I watched her shallow breathing for a moment, then pulled the blanket off of Rafferty, who leaped from the wheelchair to Tess’s bedside, propping his paws up on the edge of the bed and nuzzling his mistress’s face.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she lifted her head, staring at Rafferty in disbelief. A radiant smile transformed her hollow features, and for a few glorious seconds, I saw the woman I once knew and loved. Then her head dropped to the pillow in exhaustion and her face clouded with pain. My heart wrenched.
“Kitzi,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe it. You brought him here.” She patted the bed next to her. “Come here, boy.” Rafferty hopped up and lay down next to her, licking Tess’s gaunt hand and gazing at her with shiny brown eyes. “I’ve missed you so much, Raff.”
As he snuggled into her, the door opened again, and Nate walked around the curtain. “Hi, Tess,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m glad to meet you; I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. I’m Nate Wright, Kitzi’s partner in crime.”
Tess smiled. “It’s hard to keep up with Kitzi, isn’t it? I did it for years, and it just about wore me out.” Nate’s eyes darkened with worry as Tess laughed and then struggled to catch her breath.
“How are you doing?” I asked Tess, moving to the other side of the bed and squeezing her hand. My eyes drifted to her bedside table, where the Red Vines I had brought lay virtually untouched.
“Not so hot.” She stroked Rafferty’s head. The television droned in the corner, a woman wailing over a lost lover.
“I can imagine, having to listen to that all the time,” I murmured, jerking my head toward the television.
“Don’t they have rules about that?” Nate asked in a hushed voice. “Can we get her a headset?”
“Oh, that doesn’t bother me. It’s better than listening to complaining. Besides, I can sleep through anything these days.” She gave me a weak smile. “The trouble is staying awake.”
I eyed her gaunt frame. “Do they have you on new medication?”
She shook her head. “They’re doing everything they can,” she said. “But you know how this disease is. The test results didn’t come in too well.”
“What’s wrong?”
She looked away from me, out the window. “It’s spreading, Kitzi.” She swallowed hard. “And it’s inoperable.”
My heart felt like it was splintering in my chest. I squeezed back tears.
Tess took a shuddery, shallow breath and looked back at me. I could see the pain in her eyes, and more than anything, I wanted to do something to take it away, give her some hope, some peace. I couldn’t believe this once-vibrant woman was dying right in front of me. It wasn’t fair.
“There isn’t a whole lot anyone can do,” she said. “At this point, it’s mainly the painkillers that are keeping me going.”
I willed the tears away. “Oh, Tess. Can you get a second opinion?”
She sighed. “Three doctors looked at the tests. They’re pretty conclusive.”
I swallowed down the lump that had formed in my throat. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Tess hugged Rafferty. “You’ve already done it, Kitzi. You’ve already done it.”
We stayed for almost an hour, until Tess finally slumped back against the pillow and dozed off again, exhausted. Rafferty licked her face, but she didn’t stir. I coaxed him back into the wheelchair, arranged the blanket, and headed past the curtain to the door. As we passed the older woman’s bed, her sharp eyes flicked to Rafferty’s nose, which poked out from under the blanket.
“You brought a dog?”
I was about get down on my knees and beg her not to tell anyone when her hard face broke out into a sad smile. “I wish you’d told me. I haven’t seen my poodle Chamois for almost two weeks now.”
Nate smiled back at her. “I don’t think he can sit still long enough for another visit, but next time we bring him, we’ll make sure to include you.”
“Oh, I’m checking out the day after tomorrow,” she said, “so if you don’t come back soon, I won’t be here.”
As we hustled Rafferty back to the elevator, the awful thought occurred to me that Tess might not be there, either.
The nurses’ station was empty, and we slipped into the elevator without anyone noticing. Except for a touch-and-go moment when Raff spotted a stuffed squirrel in the gift-shop window, the rest of the ride to the parking garage went smoothly, and as Nate took Rafferty up the stairs to his car, I returned the wheelchair to the redheaded nurse.
“Did your visit go okay?”
she asked.
I smiled. “Yes, it really cheered her up. Thanks so much for your help.” I turned and left the hospital, with its smell of cleansers and sickness and death, and walked out into the hot June air. It wasn’t until I closed the door of Nate’s Navigator behind me that the tears came.
Nate’s warm arms encircled me as I sobbed, my chest heaving. “It’s just not fair,” I snuffled into his soft shirt. “She’s so young, so vibrant. And there’s nothing anyone can do for her.” He held me tight as the waves of grief washed over me, until finally the tears stopped coming. After a long time, I sat up and wiped my eyes. “Sorry about that. Our parking fee is probably in the triple digits now.”
“That’s the least of my worries,” Nate said, kissing the top of my head.
I snuggled into him. “Thanks so much for your help, Nate. I couldn’t have made it past the nurses’ station without you.”
“Anytime, Kitzi. Anytime.”
I reached for a tissue. “I hate this disease.”
“I know,” he said softly. “Me too.” I remembered that he’d been through this before. He had lost his mother to ovarian cancer.
As I wiped my eyes, Nate glanced back at Rafferty, who had started doing minilaps in the back of the SUV. As much as he’d enjoyed his visit with Tess, the strain of having to stay still for so long was catching up with him. “I think we’d better get this dog home. What do you say?”
I nodded and reached for a tissue. “Otherwise your leather seats are toast.”
As we pulled out of the parking garage, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and glanced at the number on the display. It was Gregg Jacques.
Twenty-three
I hit Talk. “Hello?”
“Kitzi?”
“Hi. Gregg?”
“The very same. I didn’t expect to be hearing from you so soon after our little rendezvous at the Texas hold ’em tournament the other night.”
“Thanks for helping me get out of there.”
“It’s not every day that I get a chance to help a damsel in distress. So, are you calling for poker tips? Although as I recall, you seemed to be holding your own just fine.”
Beads of Doubt Page 24