What is Love?

by Saks, Tessa

  ***

  The next thing Sam knew, she was in the hospital with an IV in her arm. She saw Patty standing over her. “How long have I been out?”

  “A few hours. You sure had us worried.” Patty rubbed her arm affectionately.

  “Was it food poisoning?” Sam asked in a broken voice as her throat burned.

  “It appears to be. A bad case of salmonella or something, I imagine.”

  Sam tried to sit up. Her stomach hurt more than after the tummy tuck.

  “Get some sleep. You’ve been through a lot. Your blood pressure dropped so fast, lucky you called the medics. You could have died of shock.”

  “She died from barfing.” Sam smiled. “What a way to go. The society pages would eat that up!”

  Patty laughed, shaking her head from side to side. “Well, I would miss you.”

  Sam flashed back to a conversation about dying with Rory, her mother and Bob. They had joked about how to put a hit on Ellen. Her stomach twisted. “Could I really have died?”

  “Yes, if you had gone into shock.”

  Patty leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek. “You get some rest. I’ll come by and see you tomorrow, that is, if Jonathan can’t come to get you.”

  Sam waved a limp goodbye and leaned back against the pillow. They had talked about a poisoning. Rory saw it on TV or something. Her mom, Bob and Rory—they all talked about it. They were driving and laughing about how it would solve all of her problems with Johnny. Get rid of the wife and he gets everything. Sam felt her chest tighten. It hadn’t occurred to her that they would even consider it. But what if all the methods that they talked about and laughed about that night were true, and they did plan something? Her head hurt as she tried to remember the details of their conversation. If so, then she was in danger, big danger, and how could she stop it?

  Don’t be so paranoid, she scolded herself. It was just a joke. We were all drunk and it was a big joke. She hoped she was wrong, but couldn’t shake the feeling, the sick sense that this was no mere accident, that someone was up to no good—completely unaware of precisely who they were now hurting.

  ***

  It was late when Jonathan arrived at the hospital. She smiled as Jonathan leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You had us worried,” he said and gently squeezed her hand. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, much. Still weak though—and my stomach still hurts.”

  “What did you eat?”

  “Salad, chicken and potatoes. Maria made them,” Sam added.

  “Must have been the chicken,” he said as he pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

  “Can they tell? You know, do tests?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I guess. Why bother?”

  “I want to know what it was.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “A lot. If Maria did something, I want to know,” Sam demanded.

  “You can’t think it’s Maria’s fault?”

  “She cooked it.”

  “Yes, so she cooked it. It happens sometimes, nothing to get alarmed about.” He patted her hand with reassuring condescension.

  Sam pulled away. “She poisoned me!”

  “Calm down. She didn’t mean to. It was a mistake.”

  “I want her fired!” Sam yelled, crossing her arms.

  “Ellen. You’re overreacting—let’s talk tomorrow—”

  “No! I thought about it all evening, I want her gone. I don’t trust her.”

  “She’s been with us sixteen years. You’re joking …”

  “Johnny, I know you won’t understand, but someone may be trying to kill me.”

  “To kill you?” His face tightened, making him look old and cranky. “Ellen? What are you saying?” He shook his head. “Why, that’s ludicrous, come now—” He put his hand on her arm.

  Sam pulled it away. “No. I don’t know for sure—but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  “And who is doing this?”

  “It’s her—her family or her friends … Rory maybe.”

  Jonathan laughed and stood. “I’m going to pretend I never heard that. You may change your mind overnight, when you realize just how crazy that sounds. You should rest.”

  “I’m not crazy.” Sam crossed her arms again.

  Jonathan leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Ellen,” he said, patting her shoulder like a puppy. “When your head has cleared and you are feeling yourself again.”

  A doctor in green scrubs appeared, pulling the curtain around them. “You’ve had quite the scare. I see your electrolytes were dangerously low. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, but I think you need to check to see about the poison. I want to know what kind.”

  Jonathan touched her arm. “Darling, let them do their job.”

  “But what happened … I could have died, right?”

  “In certain cases, but thankfully, you’re fine. Going into shock is always dangerous. It’s even more dangerous because it appears you overtook your diet pills and calcium. We need to screen you for diabetes, as your blood sugars are very high. I think you must avoid exercise for at least two months until we get your blood sugars under control and your prescriptions set.”

  “Great. How can I ever get rid of this blubbery fat suit?”

  “I’m increasing your medication for your blood pressure pills but no more diet pills. They’re hard on your heart as well as being powerful diuretics. We didn’t find any unusual amounts of bacteria in your blood work.”

  “But you did find some, bacteria that is?”

  “Yes, but not enough to be concerned.”

  “But you found some?” Sam looked at Jonathan. “See, I told you.”

  The doctor closed the file and took his leave.

  “I’ll let you rest.” Jonathan kissed her cheek, then followed the doctor out of the room.

  She watched him walk away into the bright hallway. Sam looked around the dimly lit room. They won’t get me, she thought. I’ll stop this and they’ll never get me. Somehow, though, her words were no comfort as she tried unsuccessfully to sleep that night.

  CHAPTER 27

  Sam sat reading the latest issue of Vogue when Jonathan burst into the conservatory, his face flushed, his eyebrows tight with tension. “Ellen, we have an armed guard at our front door. What the devil is going on?”

  “I need protection,” Sam said, in a casual tone, ignoring the anger in his voice. She continued reading the magazine. She had tried explaining her concerns to Johnny the night she came home from the hospital and all day Saturday, always with the same results: his denial of any remote possibility and his refusal to address a solution.

  “Protection?” Jonathan’s face twisted, making him look even older.

  “From the killers.”

  “What are you talking about?” He grabbed a nearby chair and placed it in front of her.

  “They want to kill me.”

  “Who does?”

  “The hit men.”

  Jonathan sat down across from Sam. She looked up from her reading and studied his face for a moment. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “I’m having a tough time with this.”

  Sam set the magazine aside and took off her reading glasses. “It’s because of my—er, Sam’s family. Her mom and her mom’s boyfriend, they are behind this—maybe even Rory. He was there, but I don’t think he could really do anything like this. Now Bob, he sure could.”

  “Bob?”

  “Mom’s—Sam’s mom’s boyfriend. A former drug dealer, killed some guys in a drug deal that went bad—that was a long time ago, but he still has his connections.”

  “How do you even know about these people? I don’t even know about them.”

  Sam sat for a moment trying to come up with a reason for Ellen to have this knowledge. She squirmed in her chair until it finally came to her. “The private dick’s report. He told me.”

  “And why would anyone want t
o kill you? These people don’t even know you.”

  Sam stared at him. “Are you really that dumb?”

  Jonathan looked intently at her, not moving, not responding.

  “Well, to get me out of the way, of course,” she said and picked up the magazine, opening it again. “So you and Sam could be together and have everything. By eliminating Ellen—I mean, me—you would get all the money and have no problems.”

  Jonathan jumped to his feet and leaned over her. “You think I would be a part of something like that?” His voice boomed, reverberating against the glass walls of the conservatory.

  Sam shut the magazine and threw it aside. “No, not you dummy—them!” She waved her hand, pointing toward the south wall for emphasis. “They think they are helping me—her, Sam—you see? It’s crazy, I know.”

  “I’ll say it is. And what proof do you have of this crazy scheme?”

  “Nothing, just my poisoning and a strong hunch.”

  Jonathan sat again, his head hung down, slowly shaking it from side to side. “That was food poisoning, Ellen. An accident. I thought we went over this after your release from the hospital. It was all due to your prescriptions.” He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “Don’t you see how crazy this is?”

  “I didn’t think you would be so unsupportive.” She looked away as her eyes stung.

  “But you’re accusing someone of attempted murder—and for no reason.”

  “I just told you why—weren’t you listening? It’s as if you want—”

  “The police phoned me.”

  “Why?” Sam felt a rush of excitement. “Did they find something?”

  “No, damn it,” he shouted, then stood and pushed the chair away with abrupt force. “No, because my wife called them and accused two complete strangers of attempted murder, for no apparent reason—that’s why. What on earth do you think they thought after this absurd act of yours, not counting the last time you called them with an absurd accusation?”

  “That I am in danger and they want to try to help me.”

  “Ellen,” Jonathan said and sat down again, taking her hands into his. “Ellen, you have to stop this—they think you’re crazy. I—”

  “I’m not!” She pulled her hands away. “This is real. Why don’t you see? Don’t you care?”

  “Ellen, no one is trying to kill you. We are together now, why do you think such things?”

  “It’s because we are together!” Sam yelled in an exasperated tone. “God, that’s the whole friggin point. They want us to split—so you and Sam can be together. Ellen—me, I’m in the way … only they don’t realize—” Sam stopped and tried to imagine how her mom could possibly know who she was actually killing. She felt a cold chill race through her at the thought that her own mom would be responsible for her death. It would break her mother’s heart if she knew she killed her daughter by mistake. “Only they don’t realize who they are really hurting, because if they did, they’d never …” Sam’s voice trailed as tears formed in her eyes.

  “Darling, you are afraid, aren’t you?” Jonathan put his hand on hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “No one is doing anything.”

  “They will—I need to stop them, before they …” She pulled her hands from his grasp and wiped her eyes. “I hired a detective to find out who exactly is involved. I’m guessing they hired a contract guy to do the work.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “This is madness, Ellen, don’t you see?”

  “It won’t be madness if they succeed,” Sam said, crossing her arms. “What then?” She looked at him and her face tightened at the sudden realization. “Oh, yes, of course. If I’m gone, all this will be better for you, won’t it?”

  “Darling,” Jonathan said, patting her arm. “I’ll let you keep the guard if you meet with Dr. Sutton. I think he can help you deal with this better than I can.”

  “No! I don’t want to—”

  “Damn it Ellen!” Jonathan yelled, jumping to his feet. “Then I’ll cut you off and cancel the guard.”

  “I have nothing to say to Dr. Sutton.” Sam leaned back and picked up her glass of soda.

  Jonathan stared at her for a few minutes, his hand covering his mouth, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. “I’ll go with you,” he said in a pleading tone and moved closer to her. “You can explain it to him. Perhaps he will have some better ideas of what we should do.”

  Sam looked up at Jonathan and considered his offer. “Okay, I’ll go. Perhaps he can explain all this and talk some sense into you.”

  “Yes, perhaps he can,” Jonathan agreed, then turned and walked away.

  Sam watched him as he hobbled with a slight shuffle. He looked old. Poor man. He had no idea what was really happening, and she wasn’t in any position to convince him or help him see the danger.

  ***

  Sam sat before Dr. Sutton as his notebook filled with scribbles while he listened, nodding his head but never looking up. She tried to catch his eyes, but each time he looked at her, it was as if he was looking past her. He appeared hard and angular, like stone. His brows pressed together, creating a deep ridge up into his forehead and his thin lips locked into a flat line that appeared impossible to raise into a smile.

  Funny, Sam thought, I had thought you handsome before. Now, even his hands appeared rigid. There was no softness anywhere on this man. Sam studied the deep shadows cast on his angular face from the florescent lights overhead.

  “Mrs. Horvath? Do you believe that you are in danger?”

  Sam faintly heard his voice. “Yes, we have gone over this. I know what they are capable of—I’m not saying that for sure it could happen, of course—but there’s a very good chance they will—especially now—now that Johnny and I are back together. It’s even more dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? Describe the danger.”

  “I don’t know exactly. They want to kill me. They may try anything—cut the brakes, perhaps push me off a cliff—I don’t think they would try anything obvious, like shooting me. That would be too suspicious and take more brains to pull it off. They aren’t that smart—”

  “Continue.”

  “The whole idea is to make it an accident—subtle, so no one would even suspect—at least, that was how we talked about it before.”

  “Before? You spoke of this before—to these people?” His face tightened as his eyes narrowed.

  “Yes—no—I mean, I heard what they wanted to do, but I thought they were just joking around. I never really imagined they would actually do any of it, but now—”

  “Now what?”

  “Now that so much has changed—I’m with him now—but they don’t really know—”

  “So you spoke to these people … before?”

  “Yes.”

  “It states here in the private investigator’s report that they have never met you.”

  “Well, they haven’t really … they met with Sam, and she told me—”

  “Samantha Miller told you?”

  “Well, yes … in a way … yes, she did.” Sam nodded and turned away. Should I have said yes? How else would I know any of this?

  “And why would she tell you?”

  Sam was about to speak then stopped. This was getting confusing and hard to explain. Her brain was feeling like cotton candy, spinning round and round, growing more tangled as she struggled to think. “Well, to warn me.”

  “So, Samantha Miller, who you believe is behind all of this, told you that her mother, or her mother’s boyfriend, was trying to kill you or could be trying to kill you.”

  “Yes, yes, exactly.”

  “Now, Mrs. Horvath, Samantha Miller never spoke to you. Your husband read a statement from the police that states she doesn’t have any idea what you are talking about.”

  “She’s lying,” Sam insisted.

  “Nor—and it states here—does her mother.”

  “She’s lying, too! Maybe they don’t know the hit’s happening, but they sure as hell know about joking
about it. What about Bob? Her loser boyfriend—he’s such a weasel.”

  “Bob can’t hurt you; he’s in jail.”

  “Bob knows some very scary people. He might have talked to them. Jail wouldn’t stop Bob—hell, he has more connections in jail than out. You know, people will do anything for a bit of money—anything. I bet Bob did it behind Mom’s back—and besides, he wouldn’t do it himself, he’d contract it out to someone.” Sam looked away. “This could go pretty deep.”

  “Deep?”

  “Layers.” She turned toward Dr. Sutton and slapped her armrest. “So it can’t come back to him. That’s why we need to stop this. Once the order goes out, it’s almost impossible to stop.”

  “Why?”

  Sam shifted in her chair. Why was Dr. Sutton so dense? Didn’t he ever watch police stories, for Christ’s sake? “Because it goes so deep, past so many unconnected people, that no one actually knows who’s doing the hit.”

  ‘So, this is a hit?”

  “Yes!” Finally, you moron. Sam couldn’t believe how slow he was, considering he’s supposed to be smart. “That’s what I have been trying to tell you.”

  “And these people want you hit because—”

  “Because of Samantha Miller,” Sam interrupted.

  “But she warned you, correct?”

  “No, they want her to be with Johnny, and his wife was in the way.”

  “You. So, you were in the way?”

  “Yes, I am in the way.”

  “And when do you anticipate this hit?”

  “Anytime—maybe not right away, not now. They’ll probably wait, as they already tried once.”

  “The food poisoning?”

  Sam let out her frustration with a deep sigh. “Yes!” she said, emphasizing the stupidity of the question. “They were behind it. I know it. But it failed. I probably didn’t eat enough—”

  “Okay, so, anytime … you believe this might take place anytime?”

  “Yes. Now you see why I’m so worried. It could happen anywhere, anytime.”

  “And so you need protection?”

  “Yes! Yes, I do.” Finally, she was getting through to this blockhead. Sam turned and faced Jonathan, pointing to the doctor. “You see Johnny … he understands.”