Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

by Mary Daheim

  crazy. I guess he was in a pretty bad way, but the surgeon who worked on him was some kind of wizard.”

  “Dr. Garnett?” Judith put in.

  Mike shrugged. “Whoever. Anyway, they moved

  him out of intensive care last night.”

  “We know,” Renie said dryly. “We thought he’d

  been kidnapped. Or worse.”

  “What else did he say?” Judith asked eagerly. “Does

  he know who stabbed him?”

  Mike shook his head. “I didn’t want to wear him out,

  so we didn’t talk much.” He paused, his gaze wandering around the room. Maybe, Judith thought, Mike was

  aware that since her marriage, he and Joe didn’t ever

  talk much.

  ‘So,” Mike went on, “I left and came down to this

  floor. Whatever they were doing here was over by then,

  and I was able to see you. But you weren’t in your

  room, and somebody told me they thought you’d gone

  to the shower.” He shrugged again. “That’s where I

  went, and found Aunt Renie. I feel bad that I scared

  you.”

  “It’s been a scary kind of hospital stay,” Renie said.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Mike looked unsettled. “Do I want to?”

  “Probably not,” Judith said with an ironic smile.

  “It’s a long story, and really doesn’t have anything to

  do with us. I don’t think.”

  SUTURE SELF

  285

  Mike eyed both Judith and Renie curiously. “What

  does that mean?” Mike asked.

  Judith winced. “Nothing. Have you had lunch? It’s

  almost noon. How are Kristin and little Mac? Will you

  take me to see Joe?”

  Mike grinned at the onslaught of queries. “Kristin

  and Mac are great. I’ll get some lunch in the cafeteria.

  I didn’t have much breakfast this morning because I

  wanted to get an early start.” He hesitated and grew serious. “I don’t know if I can take you to see Joe. I had

  to sort of sneak in to see him myself.”

  “Why?” Judith demanded. “Is his condition still

  critical?”

  “No,” Mike responded, “it’s not that. It was more

  like a question of security or something. In fact, there

  was a cop outside the room. Officer Boxx, I think his

  name was.”

  “Woody!” Judith grinned. “That must have been his

  doing, thank goodness. But Officer Boxx let you in

  when you identified yourself?”

  “Not at first,” Mike replied. “I had to prove we were

  related, and having different last names didn’t help, so

  I—”

  Torchy Magee appeared in the doorway. “Mrs.

  Jones? I got a crazy question for you.” He glanced at

  Judith and Mike. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  “What kind of crazy question?” Renie asked.

  Torchy laughed. “I know Jones is a real common

  name, but all the same . . . This sounds stupid, but . . .”

  “But what?” Renie was impatient.

  “We’ve been clearing off the cars in the parking lot

  this morning,” Torchy explained. “We can’t get into

  most of them, so we don’t know who they all belong

  to. But this one car, a beige Toyota Camry, had a work

  286

  Mary Daheim

  order from the dealership on the front seat that had the

  name Jones, William on it. Any relation?”

  Renie was speechless.

  After Renie got her keys out of her suitcase, she insisted that Torchy Magee take her to the parking lot.

  The security man wasn’t happy with the idea.

  “I want to make sure it’s our car,” Renie insisted.

  “Too risky,” Torchy argued. “The lot’s real slippery.

  You might fall and hurt yourself. Let me take the keys.

  I can check the registration.”

  “But is Cammy okay?” Renie demanded.

  Torchy looked puzzled. “Cammy?”

  “That’s what we call our car, dammit,” Renie

  barked. “Has Cammy suffered any damage?”

  “Not that I can see,” Torchy replied, bemused.

  “Come on, let me go check and save you a nasty accident.”

  Renie relented. As soon as Torchy had left, she went

  to the phone and called Bill. Judith and Mike kept

  quiet while Renie spoke with one of her children.

  “What do you mean, Anne? Your father went

  where? ”

  There was a long silence, then Renie shook her

  head. “I don’t believe it. He’ll freeze. He’ll wear

  himself out. It must be four or five miles from our

  house to the hospital.” She paused, apparently for

  Anne to reply. “Okay, I’ll try not to have a nervous

  breakdown. Thanks, and let me know if you hear

  from your father.”

  Replacing the receiver, Renie stared at Judith and

  Mike. “Bill took off for the hospital about an hour or

  more ago. He decided to come in person to try to find

  out what was going on with Joe.”

  SUTURE SELF

  287

  “He’s walking?” Judith said, incredulous.

  Renie nodded. “The buses haven’t started running

  again, and you know how Bill likes to walk. But it’s a

  long, long trek and it’s cold and the streets are slippery

  and . . .” She fell back against the pillows.

  “Maybe,” Mike offered, “I could take my vehicle

  and try to figure out what route Uncle Bill would follow. Then I could meet him and give him a ride the rest

  of the way.”

  “That’s sweet, Mike,” Renie said, “but not very

  practical. I imagine a lot of the streets are still closed

  to traffic. Bill can walk anywhere he wants, but you’d

  never get through to collect him.”

  Unusual noises in the hallway distracted the trio.

  Mike got up to find out what was happening.

  “They’re moving somebody into the room across the

  hall,” Mike said. “It looks as if whoever it is has just

  come from surgery.”

  The cousins exchanged puzzled glances. “Mr.

  Mummy?” they chorused.

  Mike moved farther into the hall. “Is that his real

  name?” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yes,” Judith replied. “Don’t you see it posted next

  to the door?”

  Mike disappeared briefly. When he came back into

  the room, he shrugged. “There’s nobody named

  Mummy—what a goofy name—listed outside the

  room. It’s some other person—Randall, James. Does

  that sound familiar?”

  Judith and Renie were dumbfounded. “What,” Judith asked, “happened to Jim Randall that he required

  surgery? I thought we heard somebody tell him he’d

  gotten good news. And where is Mr. Mummy?”

  288

  Mary Daheim

  Renie simply shook her head. “This place keeps getting crazier. How the hell did our car end up in the parking lot at Good Cheer?”

  Judith shot Renie a sharp look. “That may not be as

  crazy as it sounds.”

  “What do you mean?” Renie demanded.

  “Let me think,” Judith said, frowning. “I wish my

  brain wasn’t still addled from that blasted anesthetic. If

  I could just put everything in logical order, I might be
<
br />   able to figure this out.”

  “Figure what out, Mom?” Mike asked, looking bewildered. “Say, wasn’t that football player who died

  named Randall, too?”

  “Oh, Mike.” Judith’s expression was pitying.

  “There’s so much you don’t know, that you don’t need

  to know . . . Except,” she went on, suddenly looking

  panicked, “if Joe’s in real danger. Can you go upstairs

  and stay with him?”

  Mike was clearly perplexed. “Isn’t that Officer

  Boxx’s job?”

  “Officer Boxx may have to go to the bathroom, get

  some lunch, whatever,” Judith said, still speaking rapidly. “I want you to go up to the fourth floor now and

  make sure Joe is okay. Will you do that?”

  “Sure.” Mike stood up and gave his mother an offcenter smile. “Why wouldn’t I? After all, he’s—”

  Corinne Appleby entered the room, looking harried.

  “Sorry about the shower,” she said to Judith, then noticed Mike. “Oh—I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “I’m just leaving,” Mike said with a wave for Judith.

  “Relax, Mom. I’ve got it under control.”

  Corinne’s gaze followed Mike out of the room. “Is

  that your son?”

  “Yes,” Judith said. “He’s a forest ranger.”

  SUTURE SELF

  289

  “He’s a nice-looking young man,” the nurse remarked. “I admire the color of his hair.” Corinne

  twirled one of her own red locks. “He must get it from

  his father.”

  “Yes,” Judith said in a weak voice. “Yes.” She spoke

  emphatically the second time. “He gets his red hair

  from his father, Joe.” Judith shot a quick, exultant

  glance at Renie. “There,” she murmured as Corinne

  left the room, “I said it.”

  “So you did,” Renie nodded with a smile. “But how

  does Corinne know about Joe’s hair?”

  Judith sucked in a startled breath. “You’re right—

  when did she see Joe? More to the point, why did she

  see Joe? There may be a logical explanation, but my

  logic seems to have stalled since the surgery.”

  “Which means you can’t figure out why Jim Randall

  is across the hall,” Renie noted as she got out of bed.

  “I’m going to take a peek.”

  It was a temptation for Judith to join her cousin, but

  she decided it would take too long to get into the

  wheelchair by herself. Almost five minutes passed before Renie returned.

  “I was getting worried about you,” Judith said.

  “What’s up with Jim Randall?”

  “That’s what I was finding out,” Renie replied, looking a bit rattled. “That helicopter—it was for Jim,

  bringing him new corneas for a transplant.”

  “Oh!” Judith was astounded. “But . . . that’s wonderful!”

  “For him,” Renie replied, sitting down in the wheelchair. “I guess you don’t have to be stone blind to receive a transplant.”

  “What happened to Mr. Mummy?” Judith asked.

  “Did they move him to another room?”

  290

  Mary Daheim

  “No,” Renie answered slowly. “Mr. Mummy was officially discharged late last night.”

  Judith didn’t say anything for at least a full minute.

  “I wish I could figure out what Mr. Mummy was doing

  here. I’m convinced he wasn’t a real patient. And why

  did Sister Jacqueline have that late-night closed-door

  meeting with him?”

  “He certainly was snoopy,” Renie remarked.

  “Yes.” Judith’s voice held a curious note. “He

  seemed driven to find out every little thing that went

  on in this hospital. Remember how he interrogated

  us—politely—about Blanche stopping by our room

  and some of the other seemingly small incidents. He

  tried to do the same thing with Addison Kirby. Mr.

  Mummy didn’t want to miss a trick. To what end, I

  wonder?”

  “A spy?” Renie suggested.

  Judith frowned. “Maybe. Industrial espionage.”

  Renie uttered an ironic laugh. “They call it keeping

  abreast. And it wouldn’t be industrial espionage in this

  situation. That is, nobody wants to steal trade secrets

  from Good Cheer. Hospitals aren’t creative institutions, like chemical or munitions companies.”

  “Maybe,” Judith said, “Mr. Mummy was spying for

  Restoration Heartware.”

  “He might have been spying for Good Cheer,” Renie

  offered. “He had to have the approval of the hospital

  administration. How else could he get himself in here

  with a fake injury?”

  Judith was pondering the question when the phone

  rang. It was Arlene, and she was highly agitated. “I

  hope there’s room for me in that hospital when I have

  a nervous breakdown in the next ten minutes,” she an-SUTURE SELF

  291

  nounced in a voice that shook. “Do you have any idea

  how worried I’ve been about Joe?”

  Judith hung her head. “I’m so sorry. But I didn’t

  know myself if he was going to . . . It’s only in the last

  few minutes that I got good news from Mike.”

  “He’ll live?” Arlene asked in a breathless voice.

  “Yes,” Judith replied. “He’s improved enought to

  complain. How’s everything at your end?”

  “Fine,” Arlene replied, the tremor no longer in her

  voice. “By the way, I got another call from FedEx this

  morning. I canceled the pigs, but now they have a fiftypound case of Granny Goodness chocolates awaiting

  delivery. They wanted to let us know that if the snow

  melts enough, they may be able to bring it to the B&B

  by late afternoon.”

  Judith was astounded. “I never ordered any . . .” The

  light dawned. “Mother,” she said under her breath,

  glancing again at Renie.

  “You ordered them for your mother,” Arlene broke

  in. “That’s lovely, Judith. So thoughtful of you to give

  her a little treat while you’re not able to be with her.

  Let’s hope that the streets are passable in a few hours.

  Oops!” she cried. “I must run. There goes Ernest. Now

  how did he manage to get up there? He could fall in

  my minestrone soup!”

  Arlene hung up.

  “Is there no end to my troubles?” Judith wailed,

  holding her head. “I finally get some encouraging

  news about Joe, but now I realize that Mother has been

  using my credit card to order all those weird items.

  Only she would put me in debt for fifty pounds of

  Granny Goodness chocolates.”

  “Oh, dear,” Renie said, obviously trying not to

  laugh. “That’s awful.”

  292

  Mary Daheim

  “And Ernest is still on the loose,” Judith lamented.

  “Damn this weather—I want those Pettigrew people to

  leave my B&B and take their stupid snake with them.”

  “Maybe they will today,” Renie said. “The airport

  closing must have screwed up their travel plans.”

  “I don’t care,” Judith groaned. “They never should

  have brought the snake into Hillside Manor.”

  “If they’d delivered the pigs, they might have eaten

&nbs
p; Ernest,” Renie said brightly.

  Judith gave Renie a dirty look. “It’s not funny. And

  how am I supposed to make a speedy recovery if I’m

  beset with all these horrible problems? My health is

  probably beginning a downhill descent into my early

  demise.”

  “Speaking of which,” Renie said, “I’m curious. I

  thought only really healthy people could get cornea

  transplants.”

  As the silent orderly came in with the cousins’

  lunches, Judith gave Renie a puzzled look. “What are

  you talking about?”

  Renie withheld her answer until the orderly had

  gone. “Jim Randall,” she said, scrutinizing the food on

  her tray. “I may be wrong, and of course I have no idea

  what the demand is for cornea transplants, but if he’s

  as big a mess as everybody claims, how did he get so

  high on the recipient list?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that,” Judith admitted,

  also staring at the three mounds of multicolored food

  on her plate. “I think these are salads, by the way.”

  “Like Donner & Blitzen Department Store has in

  their tearoom?” Renie said. “Those salads are really

  good. My favorite is the one with shrimp.”

  Judith sampled a bite from the mound that was primarily white. “This could be potato salad.”

  SUTURE SELF

  293

  Renie followed her cousin’s lead. “It could also be

  library paste. Oddly, I used to like library paste when I

  was a kid. Sometimes I’d ask to be kept in for recess

  just so I could be alone and eat the paste.”

  “You also ate erasers, as I recall,” Judith said, trying

  the mostly green salad next. “If you could eat stuff that

  really wasn’t edible, why can’t you eat hospital food?”

  She swallowed the mouthful of green and let out a startled cry. “Mrrff! That’s not very good.” Judith choked

  twice before she could get whatever it was down into

  her digestive tract.

  “I refuse to try the red stuff,” Renie declared. “I’m

  sure it has tomato aspic in it. I hate tomato aspic. These

  so-called salads should be taken out and shot. Maybe

  they’re wholesome, possibly even nutritious, but to

  me, they’re an insult. I’m personally offended by being

  forced to consider this ersatz meal as food.”

  Judith gazed inquiringly at Renie. “For once, I almost wish you’d say all that nonsense again.”

  “Huh?” Renie looked surprised.

  “I think,” Judith said deliberately, “you may have