by Linda Lovely
By the time our three-vehicle caravan reached the farm, it was six thirty and the sun had all but vanished. As I put our lunch leftovers and chicken re-supply in the oven, my right “cheek” vibrated—my phone, not Zack’s, in my back pocket. The switched-off celebrity phone sat mute in the middle of the kitchen table. The ringtone announced Eva was calling.
“I’m on my way,” she said. “You’re at Udderly, right? Hope none of you wrapped your grubby fingers around anything in Carol’s house. The sheriff’s dusting for prints. Fingerprinted me to exclude mine. Pretty impressive. Didn’t even have to put my fingers in that black goop, just pressed them against a laptop screen.”
“I’m getting supper ready,” I said. “We’ll wait for you.”
“Good, I’m starving. There’d better be meat or I might have to chew your derriere.”
As soon as I heard Eva’s truck, I started putting food on the table. A pile of chicken warm from the oven meant my derriere was safe.
Andy and Paint, who’d been sitting at the table, stood to greet my aunt.
“Sit, sit.” She tossed her poncho on the coatrack by the door. “I could eat a hippo.”
Despite Eva’s dismissal of any need for male chivalry, Andy didn’t sit until he’d pulled out a chair for her.
“What did the sheriff make of the mess at Carol’s?” Mollye asked as she forked a breast and created a sweet potato moat around her preferred chicken part.
“Kyle Mason isn’t the chatty type,” Eva answered. “Polite enough, but he doesn’t run off at the mouth. I asked questions, got two-syllable replies. But he did seem flummoxed to learn I hadn’t a clue about Carol’s whereabouts. He asked me to keep quiet about her disappearance. Feared he’d invite a circus if she was declared missing when she might have just taken a privacy breather. The fact that her car was gone seemed to convince him she’d driven off somewhere.”
“So is he going to do anything more than twiddle his thumbs?” Paint sounded peeved.
Eva nodded. “At my suggestion, he’s going to pay Fred Baxter a visit. Never know when that man will decide his revenge is a dish that’s become cold enough to serve. Mason’s also assigning a deputy to watch Carol’s house. Someone’s already on duty at the hospital. If Carol doesn’t phone or appear by midnight, he’ll treat it as a missing person case.”
“What did Mason say about the thugs outside Carol’s house?” I asked.
“His deputies are on the lookout for a dark sedan carrying two supersized cretins. But since we never saw a license plate, it’s more or less a needle in a haystack. Plenty of dark sedans in Ardon County. And, if it’s a rental, it could have been picked up anywhere.”
Eva glanced around the table. “What about you geniuses? Any idea how to get Zack’s thumbprint and open his phone now that a deputy’s making certain he has no visitors?”
“Won’t they make an exception for you, Eva?” Andy asked. “Heck, you spent the whole first night there. Surely you’re not banned.”
“Wrong. The sheriff made it clear I’m included in the ban, at least until Carol returns. He’s been getting grief from Sala Lemmon, her step-kid, and now Doug Hayes, who just flew his private plane into our county airport. Mason doesn’t want to hear any gripes about favoritism so the rule is nobody enters Zack’s room except hospital staff. The sheriff pointed out that as long as Zack’s in a coma, he’s not gonna care who visits.”
Mollye stroked her chin. “I could call Danny and find out who’s on hospital duty tonight. If we’re lucky, it’ll be some deputy Brie’s never met. There’s been a wholesale turnover at the Sheriff’s Office since her run-in with the law last spring. Deputies who grew up here would know me, Andy, and Paint since we’re locals, but not Brie.”
“So what?” I asked. “My face might not be on a wanted poster, but I’d still be a stranger. The deputy wouldn’t let me in.”
I frowned, suspecting whatever scheme Mollye was hatching would not thrill me.
Mollye’s slow grin reinforced my premonition. “It’s Halloween, my dear, and I spotted a darling little nurse costume when I picked up your mermaid get-up.”
I awarded her my best stink eye. “Somehow I doubt it matches the uniforms worn by Ardon Hospital nurses. More likely the costume’s a translucent white with a mini-skirt that belongs in some grown-up version of ‘let’s play doctor’?”
“You got me on the fantasy get-up, but you’ve got the legs to pull it off. Still, I’m sure that costume place has something that would work. Maybe a white coat. You could be a lab tech. And, here’s where Eva and I come in. We can create a diversion while you slip by, press Zack’s thumb to the screen, and boogie on out. Voila, we unlock those hidden secrets.”
Eva’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying ‘no, you’re out of your mind’—yet. But what’s your definition of a diversion? A belly dance with tinkling bells? Sneaking billy goats inside? Beating out syncopated rhythms on bed pans?”
Mollye giggled. “Hey, your imagination rocks. I’d never have thought of any of those. Just figured we’d pester the heck out of the deputy with a barrage of questions while positioning our ample curves to screen the entrance as Brie sneaks past. If we work it right, he’d just see a nurse’s uniform flit by, no face, and certainly not a good enough look for a police sketch.”
I crossed my arms over my chest in a forget-it gesture. “And how much jail time is associated with impersonating a nurse and breaching a security perimeter?”
“You worry too much.” Mollye grinned.
Eva sighed. “Well, the risk doesn’t seem outlandish. It’s not like you’d be sneaking in to do the patient any harm. All you want to do is hold his thumb.”
“And hack into a phone that doesn’t belong to us. One that’s wanted by the sheriff and others who are desperate enough to break in and ransack Carol’s house searching for it.”
“We don’t have to make a decision tonight,” Paint said. “That costume store won’t be open on a Sunday, and I’ll bet any stores that sell real uniforms will be closed, too.”
Andy cleared his throat. “You’re forgetting my sister Julie wears the same kind of scrubs nurses do. Some hospitals dictate color but not style. Anybody notice what color scrubs the Ardon nurses wore?”
We looked blankly at each other. Nurses blended into the institutional background unless they were giving you a shot, waking you to take your blood pressure, or, in a best-case scenario, pretending not to notice the contraband food a loved one snuck in. I noticed nurses’ smiles or frowns, not the color of their uniforms.
Eva’s eyes screwed shut. “They’re pale blue. I’ve seen them enough lately. Just had to think about it.”
“Since I don’t care what color Julie wears, she has a rainbow of colors. Imagine blue is one of them. And she used to be about Brie’s size.”
I frowned. “What do you mean ‘used to be’ my size? Is she smaller? Maybe her uniforms won’t fit.”
Mollye laughed. “They’ll fit all right. Julie as they say is ‘large with child.’ Hey, that’s even better. We’ll make you a prego. Add that blonde wig you had on the other night and even your mom couldn’t recognize you.”
I wished she hadn’t brought Mom into this. She’d brain me for going along with this cockamamie impersonation. Wouldn’t matter that our motive was pure as Ivory soap.
EIGHTEEN
In the turmoil following Zack’s attack, my mermaid wig literally bit the dust. Once I fetched Doc Bowman, I was only too happy to pull off the prickly wig. Never noticed that it wound up on the ground where folks trampled it, grinding in red clay and other substances I preferred not to identify. Since I never planned to wear the wig again, I hadn’t washed it. I brushed it vigorously before I stuck it on my head to become a dirty blonde. A faint odor suggested the genus of the remaining “dirt” particles. My scalp suddenly itched.
My fake pregnant belly was a
n even bigger costume woe. Paint suggested substituting air pillows for the traditional feather-filled variety to create my expectant mother persona. Paint had a handy supply in his truck since he used the protective air bubbles when shipping moonshine. Andy and Paint, both duct tape fans, used the sticky stuff to create a belt and suspenders to secure the two sheets of the giant bubble wrap around my middle. However, I vetoed duct taping anything to my skin. As a compromise I put on a thin t-shirt before Mollye lowered the sticky assembly over my head.
We’d agreed I should do a walk-by of Zack’s room to reconnoiter and give my shills a chance to get in position before I tried to sneak inside. As I strolled down the hospital corridor, I pretended I belonged. Casual gait. No staring straight ahead like a Stepford wife. We’d timed our foray to take advantage of the increased activity that coincides with an approaching deadline for patient visitation. I was happy to see the corridor relatively crowded with loitering family members and friends. In just ten minutes, they’d all be asked to leave. The more distractions, the better. Didn’t leave us much time.
A cleaning woman pushing a cart loaded with chemicals walked toward me. She smiled. I smiled. No problems, though I did give the sharp edges of her metal cart a wide berth. Didn’t want to chance rupturing an air pillow. I had the feeling the poppity-pop would scare the cottage cheese out of me and anyone nearby.
I ambled past the ICU nursing station without a single “Halt! Security!” alarm. But my biggest test loomed thirty feet away.
A knot of people milled outside Zack’s room as I sauntered by on my first pass. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a man scurrying down the hall in the opposite direction. He was bald on top. Some sad remnants of sandy hair circled the back of his head. Mick?
He disappeared and my focus switched to the people immediately outside Zack’s room. I recognized Sala Lemmon, who apparently had a bee—or maybe a whole hive—in her bonnet. She’d squared off against another woman, who had her back to me. It seemed I’d arrived at the tail end of a lively shouting match. The deputy on duty was engrossed in their spat and was giving Zack’s room scant attention.
Sala’s face was bright red. The glare focused on her adversary turned her eyes into angry slits. Made me think of a snake. Her heaving bosom—the apparent result of enraged heavy breathing—had transfixed the deputy. He jumped up from his chair. Did he think he might need to separate the combatants?
Sala pivoted and clipped the other woman’s shoulder as she plowed past her headed for a stretch of empty hall. She steamed ahead, straight at me. I looked down at the thermometer in my hand as she stormed by. Wow.
Sala’s nemesis then began talking to another woman who’d previously been blocked from my view. Allie Gerome. The newspaper owner appeared to be buddy-buddy with Sala’s enemy. Knowing the people Allie invited into her circle of friends, I took an instant, if unfounded, dislike of the stranger.
“You have no right to keep us out of Zack’s room,” Allie shrieked, her double-chin jiggling as she joined in a tirade aimed at the hapless deputy on duty. “This woman is his concerned employer and I’m press.”
Hmm. Maybe Eva and Mollye wouldn’t need to be accomplices to my crime.
I hurried to the end of the hall, turned, and started back. No one paid me a bit of attention. As I neared the room, Allie scuttled off alone. Going away from me, thank goodness. Though I wore a wig, I feared Allie might recognize me. Last spring, mug shots of Aunt Eva and me appeared in way too many stories in her newspaper.
Allie’s ally remained, but she was jabbering on her cell phone and had ceased harassing the deputy. Right on cue, Eva and Mollye took up diversion duties. The harried deputy barely had time to rejoice at the newspaper owner’s huffy departure.
My collaborators positioned themselves so their bodies overlapped, blocking most of the deputy’s view. By the time I reached Zack’s door, I could only see the deputy’s khaki pants. Did that mean he could only see my legs? Maybe the wig and my gas bag tummy were needless props.
I worked to control my breathing as I slipped inside Zack’s room.
The deputy didn’t notice me until I reached the quarterback’s bed.
“Hey,” he said. “Didn’t see you come in.”
I kept my back to him; didn’t turn. “Just a quick check on our patient’s vitals,” I answered sweetly.
I pretended to take Zack’s pulse. I figured the deputy had probably watched the same TV scenes of nurses lifting limp wrists that I’d viewed. How would he know the only pulse I could feel was my own, hammering a get-the-pork-rinds-out-of-here message?
I sighed in relief as the deputy reengaged with Mollye and Eva and ceased looking my way. I eased Zack’s cellphone out of one of my maternity top’s wide pockets and pressed his thumb against the screen. His hand felt as cold as my marble rolling pin. I remembered the heat I felt radiating from Zack when he sat beside me on a hay bale a scant two days ago. Surreal.
I crab walked toward the door. I’d brought a thermometer as a prop and pretended to be engrossed in reading it though it had never touched Zack’s lips. I feared the phone would relock before Paint and Andy could check out its contents. My nerves were too frayed to do this again. With my back to the deputy, I sidled out the door and walked toward the elevators constantly rubbing the phone’s screen with my thumb to keep it active and alive.
“Hey, you. Stop. I want to talk to you.” A woman’s voice bellowed behind me.
A nurse who wanted to know who I was? I didn’t turn. Pretended I hadn’t heard or had decided the woman couldn’t possibly be talking to me.
“You, blondie, I said I want to talk to you. Stop.”
High heels clicked on the polished floors. Okay, not a nurse. The increasing volume of the stiletto clicks told me I couldn’t chance the elevator opening before my pursuer caught up. I flung open the door to the stairwell.
Before the door closed, I heard an “oomph” followed by a string of colorful swear words. Then I heard another voice. “I’m so sorry. Can I help you up?” Definitely Mollye. Still running interference.
I flew down the stairs. Two flights down, I jettisoned the blonde wig and stuffed it between my inflatable belly and my T-shirt. Figured friction would hold it there until I escaped the building.
As I hot-footed it into the hospital parking lot, I spied the getaway car, my Prius, with Andy at the wheel. Paint was holding the passenger door open for me.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Pop! Whoosh.
“What was that?” Andy asked.
“Me passing gas.” I convulsed with nervous giggles. “I popped an air pillow putting on my seat belt.”
“Did you get Zack’s thumbprint?” Paint asked from the backseat.
“Sure did.” I swiveled around to hand him the phone. “It’s in your custody now. If it shuts down, you can go back to Zack’s room as Dr. Kildare. I’m done.”
Paint’s fingers managed to caress mine as I relinquished the phone. “We should have at least four hours before it powers down,” he said. “Should give us plenty of time to see what we need to see.”
As we drove off, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Mollye and Eva were exiting the hospital. We’d come in two vehicles, figuring Mollye’s van was all-too-recognizable as a getaway car. Best if the dirty blonde nurse wasn’t seen with Mollye and Eva.
“Geez, I can’t believe the number of unopened text messages,” Paint grumbled. “No wonder Zack was furious someone posted his number in a Twitter feed. Said he’d been inundated ever since with everything from propositions to hate mail.”
Andy glanced at Paint in the rearview mirror. “Zack told me he was only opening texts and voice mail from his mom, his agent, and his coach. Probably most of the unopened texts are get well messages that have come in since the attack. Not a help with motive.”
“Good point,” Paint said. “I’ll start with text
s that arrived the day Zack was attacked and work backwards.”
About five minutes later, Paint mumbled, “Wow. You bad, bad boy.”
“You found something incriminating?” I asked.
“Depends on your point of view. I opened a text that read: ‘Thought you might find this instructive. A friend.’ A video was attached. The first frame showed a nude woman on a bed. Of course, I hit play. Guess you could call it a home movie. At first, the woman was sleeping, partially covered by a sheet, but the leading man was completely ‘neckid’ and it wasn’t long before that sheet disappeared.”
His eyes settled on mine. I looked away and rubbed my neck where a warm flush had settled.
Andy jerked around to glance at Paint. “Is Zack the star?”
“Can’t say.” Paint shrugged. “We only get a rear view of him. Want to see, Brie?”
“No, thank you. Come on, guys. Movie time can wait. I’ll pop popcorn if you’ll hurry up and get us back to Udderly.”
NINETEEN
Our car’s dust trail hadn’t disappeared when the Starry Skies van pulled into Udderly’s drive. Mollye clearly believed her inside track with a deputy would let her skate on speeding tickets. Andy, Paint, and I had just cleared the porch steps, when Mollye’s driver side door flew open and she popped out.
“You should have seen that high-heeled hussy’s face when she toppled like a dead pine in a thunderstorm.” My friend cackled. “Smack. All I did was edge my foot out a teensy bit. Figured you needed a little lead time to escape what with all the griping you’ve been doing about running less often than you want.”
Inside the cabin, we all slid into our usual seats at the dining nook’s pine table.
“Who was that woman arguing with Sala? Does anyone know?” I asked.
Eva nodded. “Got a last name. After Mollye tripped her, the deputy helped her up. He called her Ms. Lemmon. She wouldn’t be hard to ID in a line up. Her coal black hair stuck up in random clumps. Looked like she’d been electrocuted.”