by Mary Daheim
The question caught Judith off guard. “What? No,
I . . . ah . . . I guess I was too focused on my husband’s condition to think of it.”
“You can hardly be blamed for the oversight,” Mr.
Mummy allowed. “You mustn’t fret too much and
make yourself ill. I’m sure Mr. Flynn is getting the best
of care.”
“It’s very kind of you to look in on us,” Judith said,
trying to smile. “We hope you have a good night, too.”
The obvious, if tactful, dismissal seemed to hurt Mr.
Mummy’s feelings. “Really, I didn’t mean to intrude.
Or to upset you. I had no idea that the Mr. Flynn who
was—”
“Forget it,” Renie said with a wave of her hand. “See
you in the morning.”
Mr. Mummy, with a rueful expression on his round
face, nodded and left. Judith turned to Renie. “He was
right about contacting the police. I should have done
that right away. But I’ve been too worried about Joe to
think logically.”
“You probably won’t learn much even if you call,”
Renie pointed out. “Unless, of course, you could talk
to Woody.”
“Woody.” Judith pressed her palms together, as if in
prayer. “Of course. I’ll call him at home.” She reached
for the phone.
SUTURE SELF
235
Sondra Price answered right away. “Judith?” she
said in surprise. “How are you? How’s Joe? I’ve been
afraid to call the hospital.”
“You know?” Judith asked, giving Renie a high sign.
“Yes,” Sondra replied. “When Woody heard what
happened, he demanded to be assigned to the case. Do
you want to talk to him?”
“Of course,” Judith said. “I’m so relieved that
Woody’s involved.”
“How are you? ” Sondra inquired. “I tried to send
flowers yesterday, but nobody’s delivering until the
streets are clear.”
Judith informed Sondra that she was doing all right.
Sondra, sensing Judith’s urgency, put Woody on the
line.
“I don’t know much,” Joe’s former partner admitted
in his mellow baritone. “Joe had talked to me about
the previous homicides involving homeless people,
but there wasn’t much I could tell him. I hadn’t
worked either of those cases, so all I could do was
look over the reports the other detectives had filed.”
He paused, then his voice turned apologetic. “Joe may
have mentioned that, as a rule, indigent murders don’t
get a high priority. It’s a terrible shame, but with such
a shortage of personnel these days, that’s the way it
is.”
“Were there any leads at all?” Judith asked.
“Not really,” Woody answered. “When the first one
occurred a month or so ago, one of the other homeless
persons told the detectives that he’d seen a guy in a
raincoat hanging around late that evening. Two of the
killings took place at night, you see, when everybody
was asleep. Have you heard anything new on Joe?”
“No,” Judith admitted. “I keep waiting for word. To
236
Mary Daheim
be honest, I’m scared. Someone meant to kill Joe, I’m
convinced. What if they try again? Plus, Renie and I
think someone searched our room last night. It’s occurred to me that we might be in danger, too.”
Woody didn’t answer at once. “Well,” he finally
said, “maybe I can get a patrol officer to watch out for
you folks. Though if Joe was stabbed in a homeless
camp, I doubt very much that his assailant would show
up at the hospital. Whoever it was probably wouldn’t
know where he’d been taken. Not to mention that the
attacker may assume Joe is already . . . ah . . . dead.”
Judith winced at the word, but Woody continued:
“As for you and Serena, I wouldn’t worry too much.
Was anything stolen?”
“No,” Judith admitted.
“Then,” Woody said, “whoever searched your
room—and he or she might have been just a compulsive snoop—did you no harm. It’s doubtful that this
person would come back.”
“You may be right,” Judith allowed, though her concern ebbed only a jot. “I guess it’s just that my anxiety
over Joe makes me more sensitive to potential peril.
The uncertainty about whether Joe will recover may
have addled my brain.”
“Joe’ll be fine,” Woody said, and Judith hoped that
he had a good reason for the confidence in his voice.
“When he comes to, he may be able to give some sort
of description.”
“They said he was stabbed in the back,” Judith said,
having difficulty getting the words out. “I have a feeling he never saw his assailant.”
“That’s possible,” Woody said. “But Joe might have
seen someone suspicious before the attack. I imagine
that the members of FOPP will be very concerned
SUTURE SELF
237
about this. They wouldn’t have hired Joe if they
weren’t serious about making the homeless camps
safer.”
“It’s a worthy cause,” Judith said, though when it
came to Joe’s welfare, FOPP’s anxieties couldn’t possibly be as serious as her own. “Who are these people,
anyway?”
Woody chuckled faintly. “Are you thinking of suing
them?”
“It crossed my mind,” Judith confessed. “But Joe
took on the job, and thus assumed the liability. I doubt
that we’d have a case.”
“That I can’t say,” Woody responded, his tone
solemn. “But FOPP’s members mean well. And they’re
building political momentum.”
“How is that?” Judith asked, not particularly interested. She suddenly felt as if she should get off the
phone, just in case she was tying up the line and making it impossible for Joe’s caregivers to contact her.
“FOPP’s president is one of the city’s biggest
movers and shakers,” Woody replied. “In fact, you may
know who she is. Does the name Blanche Van Boeck
ring a bell?”
FIFTEEN
“SO,” RENIE SAID after Judith had finished speaking
to Woody Price, “Blanche hired Joe?”
“Blanche or one of her minions,” Judith replied.
“She certainly does have a finger in every pie
around this town.”
“And now she’s going to try to run it,” Renie
mused. “As mayor, I mean.”
“Yes,” Judith said absently, then after a pause
turned to face Renie. “What if some political rival is
trying to discredit Blanche because she’s on the hospital board and her husband is chief of staff?”
“That’s a stretch,” Renie said, still thoughtful.
“On the other hand, if the current administration and
the board are so good at running this place, why
does Good Cheer have to be absorbed by Restoration Heartware?”
“Good point,” Judith responded. “Except that so
many hospitals can’t go it alone these days. Good
Cheer is owned by a
religious order. If Dr. Van
Boeck has been ineffective, why not just fire him?”
“Maybe the Sisters of Good Cheer are too kindhearted,” Renie said.
“The Sisters of Good Cheer are very sensible
businesswomen,” Judith asserted. “If they weren’t,
SUTURE SELF
239
they wouldn’t have been around for so long. It’s not
their fault that medical care in this country has gone
down the drain.”
Dr. Garnett entered the room so quietly that the
cousins didn’t notice him until he was at Judith’s bedside. “Mrs. Flynn?” he said as Judith gave a start. “I’ve
just come from the ICU.”
Judith tensed. “Yes?”
The bedside lamps left Dr. Garnett’s face in shadow.
“I thought that you and Mrs. Jones would want to
know that Dr. Van Boeck has been moved out of the
ICU and is spending the night in a private suite. He
ought to be able to—”
“What about Joe?” Judith interrupted.
“. . . return to the job in a few days.” Dr. Garnett
looked at Renie. “I didn’t want you to think you’d
caused any real harm to our chief of staff.”
“Thanks,” Renie said in a bleak voice. “But what
about Joe?”
“No change,” Dr. Garnett said with a shake of his
head before looking again at Judith. “You’ll make sure
you discourage all visitors to your husband, won’t you,
Mrs. Flynn?”
“Of course,” Judith said, trying to overcome her distress. “I doubt that anyone would try to come out to see
him in this weather.”
“We’ve already had at least one inquiry,” Dr. Garnett
said with a frown. “Most insistent, I understand. It’s
very important that Mr. Flynn is kept absolutely quiet.”
“Yes,” Judith agreed, trying to concentrate on the
matter at hand. “Who wanted to see him?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Garnett responded. “I believe
someone at the main switchboard took the call. Whoever this person was, I understand that he or she was
240
Mary Daheim
difficult to put off. You’d think people would know better. That’s what happens when these incidents get on
the news.”
“Joe’s stabbing was on the news?” Judith gaped at
the surgeon. “Oh, dear! I didn’t see that. I turned off
the news when dinner arrived.”
“Perhaps that was just as well,” Dr. Garnett said, his
expression sympathetic. “You shouldn’t become
overly upset so soon after surgery.”
“Upset?” Judith felt as if her eyes were bugging out.
“How can I not be upset when my husband is hovering
between life and death?”
“I meant,” Dr. Garnett said carefully, “that sometimes learning bad news through the media can be far
more disturbing than hearing about it from a friend or
relative.”
Judith glanced at Renie. “I still passed out,” Judith
said.
“Yes, so you did.” Dr. Garnett put a cold, dry hand
on Judith’s. “But you seem to be doing much better
now. I’ll see to it that the night nurse brings you some
more Valium so you can sleep.” He withdrew his hand
and headed for the door. “Please don’t distress yourself, Mrs. Flynn. You’ll hear immediately when we
have any news about your husband.”
“Wow,” Renie said in a dejected voice, “I’m racking
up some big scores around here when it comes to upsetting people, you included.”
“That’s not your fault,” Judith countered. “Somebody
had to tell me about Joe. I’d much rather it was you.”
The male night nurse, whose name was Avery, arrived with the Valium. Judith eyed the small yellow
tablet and told the nurse she’d take it a little later. It
was too early to try to go to sleep.
SUTURE SELF
241
After Avery had left, Renie gave Judith a suspicious
look. “Every so often, I can tell when you’re lying.
What’s up, coz?”
“Nothing,” Judith replied. “Nothing concrete.”
Renie looked at her watch, which said that it was
eight-thirty. “Shouldn’t you let Carl and Arlene know
what’s happened to Joe?”
Judith shook her head. “It’s hard for me to pass the
news on. I’m actually glad I couldn’t reach Mike.”
“I’ll call the Rankerses,” Renie volunteered. “If they
haven’t seen it on TV, they’ll begin to wonder when
Joe doesn’t come home.” She picked up the phone and
dialed.
Just as Renie greeted Arlene, Judith’s phone rang.
She grabbed the receiver and almost dropped it in her
eagerness to hear if there was news of Joe.
“Mrs. Flynn?” said a familiar voice that Judith
couldn’t quite identify. “I just heard about your husband’s stabbing. Can you give me any details?”
“Who is this?” Judith inquired.
“Addison Kirby, your next-door neighbor. Excuse
my butting in, but you have to understand that it’s almost impossible for a reporter to lie here helpless and
not know what’s going on.”
“Oh.” Judith relaxed a little, then gave Addison the
bare bones of the incident.
“You say he was working for FOPP?” Addison said.
“As in Blanche Van Boeck’s do-good group?”
“That’s right,” Judith responded, trying to listen in
on Renie’s conversation with Arlene. “Do you think
Blanche is sincere?” Judith asked of Addison.
“Blanche is sincere about Blanche,” Addison said.
“Look, if some project polishes her image, she’ll take
it on. But I don’t think she gives a hoot about the
242
Mary Daheim
homeless or any other category—unless she can convince them to vote for her.”
“You may be right,” Judith said, again glancing at
her cousin.
“Honestly, we don’t know the details,” Renie was
saying on the phone. “Of course Judith’s upset. That’s
why she didn’t call you herself . . .”
“In the past few weeks, I heard some rumors around
city hall,” Addison said. “The first two homeless victims had just made some money. They bragged about
it, and that same night they were killed.”
“So call Herself if you want to,” Renie was saying to
Arlene. “Yes, she has a right to know, even if she is
sunning her body down in Florida . . .”
Judith stared at Renie. The mention of Joe’s first
wife’s name distracted her, and a sudden feeling of
resentment roiled up in the pit of her stomach. The
emotion was more from habit than any real threat
posed by Vivian Flynn. But Arlene was right; Herself
should be informed. She was the mother of Joe’s
daughter, Caitlin. In fact, Judith realized, Caitlin
should also be notified at her home in Switzerland
where she worked for an international banking firm.
Herself could make the call. Judith didn’t have
Caitlin’s number with her.
Getting back on track with Addison, Judith asked if
he thought the men had be
en murdered for the money
they’d acquired.
“That was the weird part,” Addison replied. “According to what I heard, at least one of the victims still
had the money on him. Damn, if only I could get out
of bed and use a different phone. I could do some
checking myself.”
“You’re using your phone now,” Judith pointed out.
SUTURE SELF
243
“I can only make calls inside Good Cheer,” Addison
grumbled. “I can’t get an outside line. And of course
you can’t use a cell phone in a hospital. They won’t
work and they can screw up the high-tech equipment.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Judith said. “Where did those
homeless men get the money? That’s very strange. I
wonder if this most recent man who got killed also had
cash on him.”
“I’ve no idea,” Addison replied. “I only heard about
your husband through the grapevine here. I won’t
watch TV news. Those so-called pretty-faced reporters
and anchors don’t know their heads from their hind
ends.”
“I appreciate your feelings,” Judith said as Renie
suddenly gave a start, apparently at something unexpected from Arlene.
“Judith doesn’t know anything about it,” Renie said,
wincing. “Are you sure?”
The comment rattled Judith, who decided she’d better terminate the conversation with Addison. “I’ll let
you know when I hear anything about Joe,” she said
into the receiver. “Thanks for calling.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Renie said to Arlene.
“We’ll let you know when we hear anything about Joe.
Bye.”
“What was that all about?” Judith inquired.
Renie gave herself a little shake. “Arlene sometimes
gets things mixed up, but she’s certain about this one.
She got a call at the B&B today saying that Federal
Express couldn’t make deliveries to Heraldsgate Hill
with all the snow, but they were holding two potbellied pigs for you in their warehouse.”
“Pot-bellied pigs?” Judith was incredulous.
“That’s what Arlene said,” Renie responded, looking
244
Mary Daheim
bewildered. “They’re in cages. Or kennels. Or something.”
“Maybe FedEx has the wrong address,” Judith said
hopefully.
“They can’t deliver the pigs—if they are pigs—until
the streets are clear,” Renie pointed out. “Don’t fuss