Still Life

by Joy Fielding

  How about you go jump off a pier and drown?

  “I think I should just get some sleep,” Warren said, walking to the door. “Clearly, I’m not thinking straight.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Patsy said, following after him.

  “I’m really so sorry….”

  “About what?” Patsy asked, as if she genuinely had no idea.

  “Thank you.”

  “Good night, Warren.”

  “Good night, Patsy.”

  Seconds later, Casey heard the doors to Warren’s and Patsy’s respective rooms close. Seconds after that, she felt a stirring in her fingers and realized her hands were curled into small fists at her sides.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “ ‘Dorothea, feeling very weary, rang and asked Tantripp to bring her some wraps. She had been sitting still for a few minutes, but not in any renewal of the former conflict: she simply felt that she was going to say “Yes” to her own doom: she was too weak, too full of dread at the thought of inflicting a keen-edged blow on her husband, to do anything but submit completely. She sat still and let Tantripp put on her bonnet and shawl, a passivity which was unusual with her….’ ”

  “Okay,” Janine said, interrupting her own reading. “That’s all I can take for one day. I’m afraid poor Dorothea’s passivity is starting to get on my nerves. So, how about we shift our attention to something a little more forceful, such as the current issue of Vogue, which I just happen to have brought along.” The shuffling of objects, the turning of pages. “Did you know that the hippie look—God, how awful—is making a comeback for autumn? Autumn! Can you imagine? It’s barely summer, and already they’re talking about next fall. I can’t stand it.” She lowered the magazine to the bed, her hand grazing Casey’s.

  Slowly, carefully, Casey stretched her fingers toward Janine’s.

  “We have a visitor,” Warren announced, coming into the room.

  Immediately Casey’s fingers retreated. Had he seen them? Had Janine?

  “Detective Spinetti,” Janine said, her surprise evident in her voice.

  Detective Spinetti? Thank God you’re here.

  “Ms. Pegabo,” the detective replied. “Nice to see you again.”

  Did Drew call you? Is that why you’ve come?

  “Have there been any new developments?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  Oh, but you’re wrong. There have been all sorts of developments. There’s so much I have to tell you.

  “Whatever happened with Richard Mooney?” Janine asked.

  “The doorman at his mother’s building corroborated his alibi. He remembered seeing him at around the time of Casey’s accident, so …”

  “Casey’s accident?” Warren stressed.

  But it wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t.

  “We’re still not completely satisfied …”

  I’m telling you it was no accident!

  “… but we have no proof it was anything else.”

  “You never found the SUV that hit her?” Janine asked.

  “We’re still looking. But realistically, it’s probably scrap metal by now.”

  “And I take it there are no new suspects?” Warren stated.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  What about the old suspects? What about the man standing right in front of you?

  “We’re still keeping our eyes open.”

  No, you’re not. You’re staring right at the person who orchestrated this, and you don’t see him at all. Was everyone as blind as Dorothea? Could no one see what was “quite plain”?

  “Please don’t get the impression we’re dropping the case. We’re not. Sometimes these things just take time, and we have to be patient, hope for a break.”

  “So, why are you here, Detective?” Warren asked.

  “I heard Mrs. Marshall was out of the hospital, and I thought I’d drop by to see how she was doing.”

  “Well, that was very thoughtful,” Warren said, managing to sound as if he meant it. “As you can see, there’s been no real change.”

  On the contrary, there’s been plenty of change. Look at me, Detective Spinetti. Look at me.

  “How are you managing?”

  “We’re doing okay. We’ve had a few scares regarding Casey’s blood pressure. She’s obviously still very fragile.”

  I’m not fragile. Grab my hand, Detective Spinetti. I’ll show you how fragile I am.

  “But Casey’s being well looked after. She has a nurse and a therapist, plus her friends stop by almost every day.”

  “And her sister?”

  “What about her?”

  “Has she been here lately?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Just asking.”

  You’re asking about the wrong person. Drew had nothing to do with this.

  “Well, I just wanted to stop by, pay my respects.”

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Detective.”

  No, don’t leave. Look at me. Grab my hand.

  “I can show Detective Spinetti out,” Patsy said.

  How long had Patsy been standing there? Casey wondered, the scent of lavender suddenly tickling her nose.

  “Good luck, Casey,” Detective Spinetti said.

  Grab my hand. Please, grab my hand.

  His fingers grazed hers, and she felt her body stir.

  “Good-bye, Detective,” Janine said.

  “Ms. Pegabo, Mr. Marshall,” Detective Spinetti said, withdrawing his hand, then quickly exiting the room.

  No! Come back. Come back.

  “What was that all about?” Janine asked as the downstairs door opened and closed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It sounded like he still considers Drew a suspect.”

  “It did, didn’t it?” Warren agreed, barely able to mask the note of satisfaction in his voice.

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.” Warren released a long, deep breath. “So, how are things at work? Doesn’t seem as if you’ve been spending much time there.”

  “No. I’ve kind of let things slide.”

  “Nobody expects you to visit every day, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Another sigh, followed by a prolonged pause.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he said.

  “Who says I feel guilty?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Do you?”

  What are you talking about?

  “Life’s too short for regrets,” Warren said, as the smell of lavender returned.

  Regret what? Feel guilty about what?

  “Can I get anyone anything?” Patsy asked. “Some coffee or maybe some herbal tea?”

  “I thought you had a housekeeper for that sort of thing,” Janine remarked.

  “She doesn’t work weekends.”

  “But Patsy does?”

  “For the time being.”

  “I’m happy to be of help,” Patsy said.

  “A regular little Saint Theresa,” Janine said.

  “Who?”

  “Nothing.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Patsy said.

  “Busy morning,” Janine remarked.

  Seconds later, the front door opened, and a child’s high-pitched voice raced up the stairs. “Auntie Casey! I’m here!”

  “More fun and games,” Warren said.

  A loud clumping on the stairs, followed by a series of gleeful shouts. “Auntie Casey, wait till you see what I made for you.”

  “Easy there, Lola,” Warren cautioned as the little girl bounded into the room.

  Casey pictured her niece in a frilly white dress with a pink bow in her long, fine hair, although in all likelihood she was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, looking just like her mother had at that age.

  “I painted a picture for Auntie Casey. Do you want to see it?”

  “I sure would,” W
arren said. “Wow. What is it?”

  “It’s a zebra.”

  “I thought zebras were black and white.”

  “This is a special zebra. It’s black and white and orange and red.”

  “It’s very beautiful,” Janine said. “I’m sure your aunt Casey will love it.”

  “Can I show it to her?” Casey felt the child’s body bang up against the side of the bed.

  “She can’t see anything right now, sweetheart,” Warren explained. “But how about I tape it to the wall, right here, and that way she’ll see it as soon as she wakes up.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll go get the tape.”

  “Don’t leave on my account,” Drew told him, entering the room.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “He’s getting some tape for my picture,” Lola explained as she climbed onto the bed, arranging herself at Casey’s feet.

  Casey felt a stirring in her toes.

  “Hi, Janine,” Drew said. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You just missed Detective Spinetti.”

  “Really? What was he doing here?”

  “Apparently he just wanted to see how Casey was doing.”

  Drew approached the bed, touched her sister’s thigh. “Interesting. And how is she doing?” She withdrew her hand just as Casey began flexing her right ankle.

  “About the same.”

  “Still reading her that book?”

  “It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

  Drew laughed. Casey began wiggling her toes beneath her blanket.

  Look at my feet, Drew. Please, look at my feet.

  “I have a book, too,” Lola said. “Where’s my book, Mommy?”

  “It’s in my purse somewhere. Purses are so damn big these days, you can pretty well put your whole life in them. Trouble is, they’re so heavy, they kill your shoulders. Omigod….”

  Did you see that? Did you see my toes moving?

  “Are my eyes deceiving me?” Drew asked. “Is that really the new Vogue?”

  “Hot off the press.”

  “I didn’t realize it was out yet. Can I see it?”

  Look at me, for God’s sake.

  “Careful. It’s almost as heavy as your purse.”

  “I want my book,” Lola demanded.

  “Sorry, Lola. It looks like I forgot to bring it. Can’t you just wing it?”

  “What’s ‘wing it’?”

  “Make something up,” Drew advised, plopping down into a nearby chair and starting to flip through the pages of Vogue. “Oh, great. The hippie look is coming back again. I love that.”

  “Okay, I’ll wing it.” Lola giggled. “Since Auntie Casey’s still asleep, I’ll tell her the story of Sleeping Beauty.”

  “How very appropriate,” Janine said.

  “Once upon a time,” Lola began, “there was a king and a queen who loved each other very much. Right, Mommy?”

  “What?”

  “You aren’t listening.”

  “Mommy’s reading her magazine. But Auntie Casey is listening, and that’s what’s important. Go on. Tell her the story.”

  “The king and queen just had a baby, so they decided to throw a big celebration,” Lola continued, her voice becoming increasingly animated as she recited the story from memory. “And they invited all the people in the kingdom, and all the fairies came. Except the king forgot to invite one of the fairies, and she was so mad, she crashed the party, and when it was her turn to give the baby a blessing, she gave her a curse instead. She said that when the princess was sixteen years old, she would prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die. That was a very mean thing to do, wasn’t it, Mommy?”

  “It certainly was,” Janine answered when Drew failed to respond.

  “But luckily,” Lola continued, tripping over the big word, “one of the good fairies was able to change the bad fairy’s curse, so that the princess wouldn’t die. She’d just fall asleep for a hundred years.”

  “Look what I found,” Warren said, reentering the room. “Some magic tape.”

  “Is it really magic?” Lola asked, her voice full of wonder.

  “Well, I guess we’ll find out. Let me have your picture.”

  “Can we put it right next to Auntie Casey’s head?”

  “We can put it close. How about right here?”

  “That’s good. Do you think she’ll like it?”

  “I think she’ll love it,” Warren said.

  “Lola’s been entertaining us with the story of Sleeping Beauty,” Janine said.

  “Mommy forgot to bring my book, so I’m winging it,” Lola clarified.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “I’ll get it,” Patsy called up the stairs.

  “So helpful,” Janine said.

  “So, in hopes of warding off the evil spell,” Lola recited from memory, picking up the threads of her story as if there’d been no interruptions. “What’s ‘warding off’?”

  “Preventing,” Janine explained. “Making sure it doesn’t happen.”

  “Oh. Okay. So, in hopes of warding off the evil spell,” Lola repeated, “the king had all the spinning wheels in the land destroyed. But he missed one.”

  “First he forgot to invite one of the fairies, then he missed one of the spinning wheels. That’s one careless king,” Janine remarked.

  “Hi, everyone,” Gail said from the doorway.

  “Hi, stranger,” Janine said pointedly. “She’s so busy with her new boyfriend, I don’t get to see her anymore.”

  “That’s not true,” Gail demurred with a shy giggle. “How’s Casey?”

  “Pretty good,” Warren said. “You remember Casey’s sister, don’t you?”

  “Of course. How are you, Drew?”

  “Fine. Catching up on the latest fashion.” Casey pictured her lifting up the magazine for Gail’s perusal.

  “I’m Lola,” Drew’s daughter announced.

  “Very nice to meet you, Lola. You look just like your mother.”

  “I’m telling Auntie Casey the story of Sleeping Beauty.”

  “What a good idea.”

  “I’m at the part where the baby grows into a beautiful princess,” Lola elaborated. “And how on her sixteenth birthday, she found a little room hidden at the top of the stairs, and there sat a spinning wheel.”

  “And then what happened?” Gail asked, managing to sound genuinely curious.

  “Well, she didn’t know what it was, so she walked closer and closer and held out her hand, and then … she touched it.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “And sure enough, she pricked her finger and fell to the floor, fast asleep.”

  Casey felt the toes of both her feet curl under to grip at the bedsheet. She began moving them back and forth.

  “And then the king and queen fell fast asleep, and then the servants, and all the people in the kingdom. And vines started growing on the castle walls, until soon there were so many vines that nobody could get through. And a hundred years passed and … Hey!”

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Warren asked.

  “Auntie Casey poked me.”

  Oh my God.

  “What?” three voices asked in unison, everyone catapulting toward the bed as Casey held her breath.

  “Where did she poke you?” Warren asked.

  “On my bum,” Lola said.

  Lola was quickly lifted off the bed and Casey’s blanket pushed aside.

  “She grabbed my hand yesterday,” Drew said.

  “She did?” Janine and Gail asked simultaneously.

  “It was probably just a muscle spasm,” Warren said.

  “Casey,” Drew urged, “if you can hear us, wiggle your toes.”

  Casey didn’t know what to do. More important, what would Warren do when he realized she was getting better? She was still weeks, probably months away from recovering full use of her limbs. If Warren knew she was starting to regain control of her muscles, that she was on the verge of bein
g able to communicate, would that speed up his plans, make her a sitting duck? She needed time—time to grow stronger, time to decide what to do.

  “Can you hear us, Casey?” Drew asked. “Wiggle your toes.”

  Sorry, Drew. I can’t take that chance. Not yet. Not while he’s around.

  “Nothing,” Warren said after several seconds.

  “You sure you didn’t just sit on her toes?” Drew asked her daughter accusingly.

  “I don’t know,” Lola admitted, her voice a whine. “Maybe.”

  “Casey, can you wiggle your toes for us?” Janine asked.

  “Still nothing,” Gail said after another ten seconds had passed.

  “You know what I think?” Warren asked, returning the blanket to Casey’s feet. “I think this would be a good time to break for milk and cookies. What do you think, Lola?”

  “What kind of cookies?”

  “Peanut butter crunch.”

  “They’re my favorite.”

  “I thought they might be. Why don’t we go downstairs and ask Patsy to get you some.”

  “Why don’t you bring a few back up here,” Drew suggested, returning to her seat.

  “Nice to see your sister’s condition hasn’t interfered with your appetite,” Warren said, leading Lola from the room.

  Casey breathed a deep sigh of relief. She had to be more careful. She had to find a way of telling the others about her progress without alerting Warren.

  “So, what’s going on with you?” Janine asked her friend. “How are things going with Stan the man?”

  “Good,” Gail said shyly. “Everything’s good.”

  “When am I going to meet him?”

  “Soon.”

  “She’s been saying that for weeks now,” Janine told Drew. “Wouldn’t even tell me his name until a few days ago. I’m not convinced this guy even exists.”

  “He exists,” Gail said, a nervous giggle bracketing her words.

  “Prove it.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything.”

  “Let’s all have dinner together next Saturday. You too, Drew.”

  “I can’t,” Gail said quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “I’ll be away next weekend.”

  “What do you mean, you’ll be away? You never go anywhere.”

  “I’m going away next weekend.”

  “With Stan?”

  Gail’s breath trembled into the air. “Yes.”