Best Served Cold
Page 17
Jasmine touched her head. ‘What happened? I’ve got a headache. And I’m thirsty.’
‘You were in a car wreck, honey. Just hold on, I’ll get somebody to help.’ Emmett grabbed the buzzer to call the nurse. When someone answered, he said, ‘She’s awake. My wife’s awake. We need some water and some aspirin.’
‘Be right there,’ the disembodied voice said.
Emmett had been trying real hard, sitting in that chair, watching his wife in her coma, not to think about those many years ago when he’d sat in a similar chair in a similar room in this same hospital, waiting for his son to die. Watching his first wife wither away as their son’s life faded from the leukemia that ravaged his small body. They were both dead now, his son and his first wife, and he’d finally found some happiness he never suspected he’d find again. And it had been good, this new life with Jasmine and Petal. His beautiful wife and his beautiful daughter. All any man could ask for. But this … Sitting here watching her with no signs of the spark that was Jasmine was hell. The same hell he’d lived through before and he thought he’d never have to live through again.
But then that voice. And life was back to normal. Life was back to being beautiful and sunny and happy once more. Jasmine was back and she was thirsty and by damn somebody better be bringing her some water!
Me and Charlie Smith got to the hotel a little after seven and I hoped like hell that my family hadn’t eaten without me. I had the coupon for the steakhouse so I knew they wouldn’t go there, but I had to be back in Longbranch in the morning and I didn’t really want to eat my steak dinner without them. I would, mind you. I just didn’t want to.
Charlie checked himself into the hotel while I went upstairs to the suite number Jean had given me. One rap on the door and it opened to reveal a bright-eyed Petal Hopkins.
‘Aunt Jean!’ she yelled as she ran back into the room. ‘It’s Uncle Milt!’
I followed the child into the suite and was surprised to see Holly and Miz Pettigrew sitting in the living area, sipping sweet tea and watching a rerun of Jeopardy!
‘Hey, Miz Pettigrew!’ I said, walking into the living area. ‘How you doing?’
‘As well as can be expected,’ she said, her tone of voice reminding me of the Eeyore voice Jasmine used to have when she was married to her first husband. I had been hoping never to hear that voice again, but Miz Pettigrew sure had it down pat.
My wife came into the living area, leaning heavily on her one crutch. She looked like she’d had a hard day. I could certainly sympathize. Mine hadn’t been that great either.
I kissed her full on the mouth and asked, ‘Y’all eaten yet?’
‘No, waiting for you.’
I grinned. ‘Great. I still have that coupon for the steakhouse.’
‘Works for me,’ she said, grinning back. ‘We can all go. I’ll pick up the difference.’
‘Miz Doctor Moneybags wants to pay for everything,’ Miz Pettigrew said. ‘But I think I’ll just stay here and have room service send me up some crackers or something.’ She sighed. ‘You go on ahead, Holly. You and that baby need some nourishment.’
‘There’s a full room-service menu, Mama,’ Holly said. ‘We can get something nice to eat and then hop into bed. Maybe watch one of those new movies on demand.’
‘I haven’t seen a new movie since Mary Poppins,’ she said. ‘They’re all just nasty these days. Naked people and dead bodies everywhere. And the language! Lord have mercy!’
‘Well, we can just read or—’
‘No, now, you go on,’ she said, and that Eeyore voice was loud and clear. ‘I won’t be adding any fancy dinner to Doctor Moneybags’ bill. I can do just fine with some sweet tea and some crackers. That’s all I need.’
I could see tears forming in Holly’s eyes. I know a lot of women cry when they get mad. I didn’t know about Holly. Was she sad about the old lady? Mad at her for her bullshit? Or was she just pregnant? Don’t tell my wife I said that. She gets mad whenever I insinuate that something might be hormonal.
‘Kids, go change your clothes,’ Jean said. ‘Holly, I really want you to come with us.’
Holly pulled Jean away from the living area and I followed to hear what she was gonna say.
‘I can’t just leave her here,’ Holly said.
‘’Cause she’ll never let you hear the end of it,’ I suggested.
Holly sighed. ‘Well, yeah. Exactly.’
‘Don’t play into her neuroses,’ Jean said. ‘You deserve to get out of here and especially away from her for an hour or two. You’ve been taking care of her for days. It’s time to take care of you and that baby.’
‘But—’
‘But me no buts,’ Jean said, pushing Holly toward the door to the adjoining room she shared with Miz Pettigrew. ‘Doctor’s orders. Put on something pretty.’
‘Let me call Charlie,’ I said, heading for the room phone.
‘No problem, but let him know he’s paying for his own meal,’ my wife – Dr Moneybags – said.
The sheriff’s department was quiet. Anthony had let the Permeter brothers go since there was nothing to keep them there. Anna had already left for home and he and Dalton sat at their desks, staring at nothing in particular. Dalton had nowhere he needed to be since both his wife and his mother were in Oklahoma City.
Finally Dalton said, ‘So it’s a woman?’
‘That’s what Milt said,’ Anthony said.
‘Who d’you think it is?’ Dalton asked.
Anthony shrugged. ‘Got no idea. Got a swab from Reba Connors, just to see. But I sorta doubt it.’
‘Who else is a woman?’ Dalton asked, which made Anthony laugh, it being such a dumb question. Dalton must have realized that because he amended it with, ‘I mean, we got any other women suspects?’
‘Hum, like Maudeen Sanders’ daughter?’ Anthony said. He hit a few keys on the computer and said, ‘Lynette Sanders. She’s going to school in Dallas. SMU.’
‘Smu?’ Dalton said.
Anthony held back the laugh that came to his throat. He really liked Dalton and didn’t want to make him feel stupid. People were always doing that to him and Anthony had vowed early on in his time at the sheriff’s department that he never would.
‘Southern Methodist University,’ he said by way of clarification.
‘Oh,’ Dalton said. ‘I’m a Methodist! I didn’t know we had our own university!’
‘Yep. In Dallas,’ Anthony told him.
‘Can we get someone down there – the police, I mean, to go swab her and send us the results?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anthony said. ‘It’s a thought.’
‘So there we were,’ Charlie said, ‘our butts on the cold hard ground, our hands on top of our heads, our creds in the dirt, and the police show up!’
My wife was laughing a little too hard. Even my son seemed to see a great deal of humor in the visual Charlie had created.
‘It wasn’t that funny,’ I said, half to myself. Holly, sitting next to me, patted my hand but the tears in her eyes this time I recognized. She too was finding this way too funny.
‘And the long and short of it,’ I said, trying for a little dignity, ‘is that we ended up at the main police building apologizing for not having gotten an escort. Took us hours to do that.’
‘Only because we had to listen to the two cops on the scene describe it to everybody who walked by!’ Charlie said and laughed.
‘You know, Charlie,’ I said, giving him the evil eye, ‘I’m gonna tell this same story to your wife and kids – in all the gory detail.’
‘Whoa, shit. Sorry, y’all. I just made that all up!’ Charlie said and laughed some more. The boy was getting on my last nerve.
‘So you know that whoever was in Mama’s house was a woman?’ Holly said and I nodded.
‘Could the DNA belong to any of her bridge partners?’
I hadn’t thought of that. That would be a real bummer. ‘Would one of them be using Miz Pettigrew’s broom?’ I aske
d.
‘I can’t see why they would, or why Mama would let them.’ Holly shook her head. ‘No, I really can’t see that, but we can ask her when we get back to the hotel, if she’s still awake.’
‘Oh, she’ll still be up,’ my wife said ominously.
Holly looked at Jean, started to say something, changed her mind and bent her head to her food. I had some fun in my mind filling in all the things she might be thinking. But I couldn’t help thinking Jean had sorta lucked out, what with my mama having passed on quite a while back. She’d been a wonderful woman, my mama, but a formidable one. The thought of those two women – my wife and my mama – together made my blood run cold.
‘I’ll have the ME compare the two dead ladies’ DNA with what we got. Rule ’em out for sure,’ I said, by way of lightening the situation.
‘Good idea,’ Jean said.
At the same time, Holly said, ‘That should work.’
The steak was everything my sister said it would be, plus a little more. I had a beer to wash it all down and Jean didn’t even give it a second look. Not that she disapproves of drinking – she’s Irish, after all – but beer has more calories than, say, a glass of white wine, and Jean was all about the calories since my heart attack. We headed back to the hotel around ten, with me carrying Petal who had passed out in her chair at the table and Johnny Mac walking with his mama, holding the hand that wasn’t working her crutch. He looked like he was about ready to pass out, too. Charlie Smith said goodbye in the lobby, heading for the bar, while the rest of us caught the elevator to our floor.
Jean was right about Miz Pettigrew. She was up, sitting in front of the TV, watching the Food Network. She muted it when we walked in. ‘Land’s sake, they make some silly stuff on these shows! Nobody seems to have heard about meat and potatoes!’
‘Well, we sure did!’ I said, bringing Petal in and placing her on the sofa. ‘You missed some good steaks!’
‘That’s OK,’ said Eeyore – I mean, Miz Pettigrew. ‘I ate some potato chips out of that cabinet. I left you the money on the counter, Doctor McDonnell.’
‘I brought you some leftovers,’ Holly said, taking the bag she carried to the large table. ‘Some really good rib-eye, potatoes au gratin and some asparagus.’
‘If I eat this late I’ll get nightmares!’ Miz Pettigrew said, making that tsk, tsk sound. Then she sighed. ‘I guess I’ll just go to bed and let you young people have your fun.’
‘Just a minute, ma’am. I need to ask you a question,’ I said.
She stopped and turned toward me, every inch of her a silent scream. ‘Well?’ she finally said.
‘Did any of your bridge players use your broom?’
She stared at me, big-eyed. ‘Lord, no!’ she said vehemently. ‘What kind of a housekeeper do you think I am? You think I’m the kind of woman who needs help keeping her house clean? Lord love a duck!’
And with that she was off. Very slowly, way too slowly, while we all watched patiently. Finally she opened the connecting door and shut it behind her, and we all heaved a sigh of relief.
‘You were right,’ I said to Holly.
‘So you never actually saw the guy you came here to see?’ my wife asked after we all got seated, Johnny Mac with his head in my lap.
‘We’ll see him in the morning. The city detective called him and made an appointment for him to come in tomorrow at around nine.’
‘Did the detective tell him what this was about?’ Holly asked.
I shook my head. ‘No, we asked him not to. Want to kind of spring it on him. See how he reacts.’
Both Jean and Holly nodded. Then we had to discuss sleeping arrangements. We had both kids asleep on the sofa. Jean said Petal had been sleeping with her, but I made it pretty plain that I would rather be the one to do that. So Holly volunteered to share her bed with the girl and we left Johnny Mac on the sofa where he’d spent the night before. A pillow and blanket were on the hearth by the fireplace (yeah, this suite had a fireplace, I kid you not!), and I fixed him up then carried Petal into the adjoining room where Miz Pettigrew was already in bed with the lights off. But there was enough light from the suite beyond to show us the way. I got the little girl situated, said goodnight to Holly and headed off to see if my wife was in the mood.
TWELVE
Jean was on vacation and she planned on sleeping in this second full day. But Milt woke her up as he and Charlie were getting ready to leave for their interview at Oklahoma City PD with John Connors’ son, and after kissing him goodbye and falling back to sleep, the phone rang.
Still a little groggy, she picked it up and said, ‘What?’
‘Hey, Jean. Did I wake you?’
‘Emmett?’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘Oh, hi. No, of course not.’
He laughed. ‘You shouldn’t lie.’
‘OK, so maybe a little.’
‘Guess what?’ Emmett said.
‘Guessing games this early?’
‘Jasmine’s awake!’
Jean fell back on her pillow, feeling tears sting her eyes. ‘Oh, thank God! How is she?’
‘A little shaky but mostly anxious about her baby bird.’
‘Let me go see if Petal’s awake,’ Jean said. ‘Hold on.’
She put the phone down, put on her robe, grabbed her crutch and headed into the living room. Petal and John were sitting on the sofa playing video games while Mrs Pettigrew glared at them disapprovingly. Holly was setting out a breakfast that had been delivered, presumably, by room service.
‘Petal,’ Jean called. ‘Someone wants to talk to you on the phone.’
‘I’m in the middle of something!’ Petal said.
‘Now, young lady!’ Jean said, but smiled as she said it.
Petal sighed and Jean brought the girl the living-room extension.
‘Hello?’ Petal said. Then a big smile, a sob, and, ‘Mommy!’
Jean motioned for everyone to head out to the balcony and give the girl some privacy.
‘It’s cold out here!’ Mrs Pettigrew said.
‘Here, Mama, take my sweater,’ Holly said, taking off her cardigan to hand to her mother-in-law.
‘No, now you and that baby need it more than me. I just don’t see why we have to come outside, but if Miz Doctor says so I guess we jump.’
Jean held her temper. The woman had been through a lot. Lost two of her best friends, been shot at and suffered concussion, stuck in the hospital for days and now forced from her home and stuck with a bunch of people she barely knew. The psychiatrist part of Jean knew this. The human part wanted to kick the old lady in the butt to shut her up.
Petal came to the sliding glass doors of the suite and motioned to Jean. ‘Mama wants to talk to you.’
Jean took the phone and pulled the child to her with a hug. ‘You OK?’ she asked Petal.
‘Oh, yeah!’ she said. ‘I’m great!’
‘Let’s all go in,’ Jean said to the rest and took the phone into the master bedroom.
‘Jasmine?’ she said once the door was shut.
‘Jean, thanks so much—’
‘Hush. How are you? How do you feel?’
‘Like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet,’ Jasmine said and laughed. ‘But I’m alive and conscious and I think that’s pretty damn good.’
‘No, not pretty damn good, it’s wonderful,’ Jean said with a smile.
‘How’s Petal doing?’ Jasmine asked.
‘She’s been worried about you but now she has a big smile on her face. She and John are getting on great, and everything would be hunky-dory except for one thing.’
‘What?’ Jasmine asked, her voice anxious.
‘It would be icing on the cake if Mrs Pettigrew could go back home and leave us here without her.’
Jasmine laughed. ‘I’ve known that woman most of my life. And I understand perfectly.’
‘You get some rest, OK? Let me talk to Emmett.’
The phone was handed over and Jean said, ‘What do the doctors say?’
‘Excellent,’ Jean said. ‘Who’s in charge?’
‘Doctor Mitchell,’ Emmett said.
‘He’s very good,’ Jean assured him. ‘Keep us posted on both Jasmine and what’s happening back home. Any more – you know …’
‘Accidents?’ he suggested.
‘Euphemistically put but yeah, accidents.’
‘We’ll let you know. Take care of my girl.’
‘Of course. Like she’s my own,’ Jean said, said goodbye and hung up. And shot up a prayer of thanks for Jasmine’s recovery.
Oklahoma City PD headquarters were a lot fancier than anything in Prophesy County but that was to be expected, I figured. It was a big city and they had a larger tax base than we did. Lots of industry and stuff. My brother-in-law’s used-car part stores were the biggest hire in the whole of Prophesy County. Sad, when you think about it. We used to have a company that made lawn furniture but they moved their business overseas; we had a paper products distributor that hired a bunch of people but they went bust. A mattress factory moved in sometime in the nineties but it only lasted a couple of years. People farmed, ranched, fixed vehicles, air conditioners and plumbing and electrics, or owned a store in town and held on by their fingernails. Except for the Longbranch Inn’s dining room, we didn’t have much to attract tourists, although some of the shops holding on did sell souvenirs and antiques. Mostly, though, we were like a lot of small towns: barely scraping by. Which was one reason I drove my personal car to Oklahoma City rather than take a county vehicle. We were way overdue on upgrades and the budget for fixing the cars we did have was laughable. No county vehicle would have made the miles.
A few people snickered as me and Charlie made our way through the maze of detective cubicles to the interrogation room where we were to meet with Detective Juarez and the man of the moment, John Brewer, formerly John Connors, Jr.
Detective Juarez was a handsome Latino that I pretty much figured the women swooned over, which was evident when the line of female employees – including Officer Becky from the day before – made their way past the plate-glass window that looked into the interrogation room. They certainly weren’t looking at John Brewer.