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Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

Page 25

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.

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  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

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  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

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  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,

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  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

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  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.

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  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

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  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.

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  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

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  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

 

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