The Night Visitor

by Dianne Emley

  “Sure. Of course.” Tom returned to stand with Richard, reluctantly watching as Rory was taken away.

  An EMT spread a tablecloth over Danny’s body.

  Richard shook his head. “Can’t imagine what possessed that young man to do that. I didn’t want it to end up like this, but I didn’t see any other way.”

  Leland clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Great shooting, Richard.”

  Above the scene, on the big screen, the images of Anya were being projected, over and over. Her beautiful, melancholy face seemed to know it all.

  14

  “Graehme, please go out there and tell the paparazzi something. Anything. My mind is mush.” Evelyn pulled a chinchilla stole around her bare shoulders and hunched forward in a chair in the ICU room where Rory was to be moved. The chinchilla was the only fur she kept out of storage during the summer to use during the cool Southern California evenings.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. You know me. I’m always fine.”

  Graehme smoothed a lock of her red hair into place. “Yes, you are.”

  “You’d think I’d be used to those vultures by now, but they never cease to amaze me. What a way to make a living, waiting for something bad to happen to prominent people. There were reporters hanging around outside the ICU, for goodness sakes.”

  “The hospital’s been fabulous. They’ve assured me that no one unauthorized will get to Rory.”

  “They should be accommodating. The Tates have given a bundle to this hospital over the years.”

  Graehme squeezed her shoulder through the plush fur. “I’ll go give a statement to the press. I’ll be vague. What else can I be? We don’t know anything yet.”

  “Don’t mention Danny Lara. His family might not know what happened. I don’t want the news to come from us.”

  “That’s considerate.”

  “Considerate? I just don’t want them to sue us. I don’t owe that family a thing. The one son murders Anya and the other tries to murder Rory. And all that sister of theirs does is sing the blues about how horrible the Tates and the Langtrys are. I’m so sick of them and their drama I could spit. Why in the world would I want to be considerate to them?”

  “Absolutely no reason, honey.”

  “Have you heard from Richard or Tom?”

  “The police are still talking to them.”

  “Still?”

  “And the guests who saw the shooting. The police won’t let them leave until they interview every last one.”

  “What a nightmare. I’m giving people their money back.”

  “Bull, Evelyn. TOV shouldn’t lose out because of this. We’ll call all the guests and give them the option. I bet everyone tells you to keep the money.” He put his index finger under her chin and raised it. “Chin up. It’s going to be fine.”

  She smiled wanly, wishing she believed it.

  “I’ll keep you posted.” Graehme left.

  Now alone, Evelyn waited. Time in the ICU seemed frozen. After a while, a nurse came in carrying two large plastic bags with handles.

  “Mrs. Tate? These are Rory’s belongings. The hospital doesn’t want to be responsible for them.”

  “Of course not. Thank you.”

  “Especially the gorgeous necklace and earrings. None of us could believe that they’re real.”

  “They’re real.”

  “Rory has such an eye.”

  “She does. Of course I’ve always said that all you need to be well dressed in L.A. is a good purse and a big diamond ring.”

  The nurse laughed. “Can I bring you coffee or juice? Tea?”

  “Aren’t you dear? Coffee, please. Thank you.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Black.”

  “Would you like a sandwich or—”

  “Thank you, sweetheart, but I couldn’t eat a thing.”

  The nurse lingered. From years of experience, Evelyn knew what was coming.

  “Mrs. Tate, this is a bad time, I know, but I wanted to tell you that I’m a big fan of yours. You look fabulous.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When they show your movies on TV on Saturday afternoons or in the middle of the night, I watch them whenever I can.”

  “Aren’t you sweet? Thank you.”

  The nurse left, her footsteps a little giddy.

  Evelyn picked through the bags, wrinkling her nose. Rory’s beautiful clothes and shoes were covered with blood. In a smaller bag were the borrowed necklace and earrings of emeralds and pink diamonds. There were flecks of blood on them. She imagined Noah in his shop watching the news and wondering what had happened to his jewelry. She’d give the pieces to her housekeeper, Rosario, to clean before having them returned.

  She found Rory’s watch, a vintage piece that had belonged to her grandmother. It was not expensive but it had sentimental value. In an envelope was Rory’s engagement ring—a square-cut yellow diamond surrounded by small sapphires. Evelyn held it in her palm. The ring symbolized hope for the future, dreams realized, new life. She wondered if all that had been taken from Rory, just as easily as the ring had been slipped from her finger.

  “Don’t go there, Evie.” She closed her eyes, willing the tears away. She put the jewelry back into the bag and crammed it into her purse.

  An older man entered the room. His white coat was embroidered with Dr. Gaspar in navy blue over the pocket.

  “Reece,” Evelyn said with relief. She stood and embraced him. “I’m sorry to get you out of bed at this hour.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought.”

  He pulled a chair close to Evelyn’s and sat. She sat also, her apprehension growing.

  He took her hands between his. “Rory has sustained a moderate concussion. I’ve called in one of our top neurologists, Dr. Toshiko Ballard, who will be able to give us a better idea of the scope of Rory’s brain injury. She’s with Rory now. Luckily Rory’s fall was broken by the young man. She’s bruised and may have sprained muscles and tendons but thankfully no fractures.”

  “Thank God. A concussion. Reece, that’s not so bad, is it?”

  “Head injuries are not to be taken lightly. Based on the tests we’ve run so far, there’s no evidence of bleeding inside her brain, which is excellent news. However, there is cerebral edema. Rory’s brain is swelling in response to the injury. This is important to control because the increased pressure can lead to brain damage. Dr. Ballard will try to assess whether damage has occurred by running tests to determine her level of consciousness.”

  “Level of consciousness? But Rory’s conscious. In the ambulance, she came around and opened her eyes. She was trying to talk to me.”

  “That’s a good sign, Evelyn, but we’re far from out of the woods. Rory is confused and agitated. She’s disoriented and speaking incoherently. Her responses are inconsistent and inappropriate. She falls back to sleep very easily. She’s not completely conscious. We might say she’s in a light coma.”

  Evelyn squeezed the doctor’s hand. “She’s going to get better, isn’t she? She’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s still touch and go right now. Dr. Ballard will be able to tell you more.”

  Evelyn lost her struggle with her tears.

  15

  Detective Henry Auburn chewed on a toothpick as he watched Danny Lara’s body being hoisted onto a gurney.

  “You know him?” Detective Gabe Rodriguez asked.

  “Yeah. Got to know the whole Lara family pretty well when I was working the Five Points shootings.”

  “How was he?”

  “A great kid. Whole family’s great. Hardworking. Just going day by day. Back then Danny was a senior in high school. A running back on the football team. Popular. A girl magnet.”

  “What happened?”

  “Beats me.”

  The ball guests, band members, catering workers, and event staff were gathered into a corner of the upper garden, where the police were interviewing them. Paige Ta
te, Evelyn Tate’s daughter-in-law, had picked up the hostess gauntlet and was extracting as much as she could of the prepaid goods and services.

  The caterers had straightened toppled chairs and tables and put out the food that had been already prepared. The police objected to alcohol being served while they were conducting their investigation. Paige Tate had ceded that issue and served soft drinks.

  “Sounds like Danny might have been high,” Rodriguez said. “Guests saw him acting weird, talking to himself, being confrontational.”

  Auburn said, “People are also saying that Rory was acting strangely even before Danny got up on stage. Having trouble getting through her speech. Closing her eyes. Her fiancé said she was nervous and might have had a little too much champagne. Wonder if she had an encounter earlier with Danny that rattled her.”

  The detectives watched as two EMTs pulled up the gurney, extending its accordion legs. They rolled Danny’s body across the lawn.

  Auburn turned toward the villa’s western wing. Lights blazed through the French doors of a ground-floor corner room. “Time to talk to Ratsy and Richie.”

  “Who?”

  “You work in Pasadena and you don’t know Ratsy and Richie? That’s what people call the Richard Alvin Tates three and four. I hear there’s a five too.

  “What was it some writer said? The rich are different from the rest of us.”

  Auburn threw the toothpick into a flower bed. “Yeah. They have more money.”

  16

  “Tom. Thank God.” Evelyn saw him through the glass wall of the ICU room and went to hug him when he entered. He was still wearing his tuxedo.

  “Got here as soon as I could.” He looked at the empty area surrounded by electronic devices where the bed would be rolled in. “Where is she?”

  “They’re still running tests.”

  “Have you heard anything?”

  Her hands began trembling in Tom’s grasp. It reminded him of when he had found Rory in the library earlier that evening.

  Something’s going to happen.

  “Dr. Reece Gaspar, our family doctor and an old friend, examined Rory. He said that she bumped her head pretty badly and has a concussion. Fortunately she doesn’t have any other serious injuries. But he said…” Evelyn struggled to get out the words. “He said that Rory’s in a light coma.”

  The words sent a chill down Tom’s spine.

  “A neurologist will assess how badly her brain is injured.” Evelyn sobbed into her wad of tissues.

  “Let’s stay calm. We don’t have all the facts yet.” He was giving the message to himself as much as to Evelyn.

  “You’re right. Think positive. You’re my rock, Tom. I’m glad you’re here. Graehme went to make a statement.” She twisted the tissues. “This waiting is getting to me.”

  Tom recalled Rory’s words. It’s the doves… They’re like a bad omen.

  Evelyn dug inside her purse and took out a compact. “I must look a fright.” She scrutinized her image and snapped the compact closed with a groan without making any repairs.

  “Evelyn, this evening did Rory seem…off to you?”

  “She was tired and her color could have been better. She always pushes herself to the edge. I worry about her. What do you mean ‘off’?”

  Tom recalled what Rory had said on stage: Danny. So, it’s you. It was as if the bad omen she’d sensed had been realized.

  “Did she talk to you about seeing doves?”

  “Doves? We’d talked about releasing a flock of doves at the end of the moment of silence.”

  “It’s nothing. She was stressed, as you said.”

  “She’s been under tremendous pressure, launching the Anya fragrance and the ad campaign. Then there’s Richie with his behind-the-scenes shenanigans, trying to undermine her. He can’t seem to understand that Rory’s success with Langtry Cosmetics shines right onto him. I still can’t believe that he tried to get the board of directors to remove her. He papers it over by saying it’s just business. I warned Rory that if she took Tate money to start her company, a Tate would come with it.”

  Tom was glad that Rory hadn’t told her mother about her premonition. Rory and Evelyn seemed to have a mutual protection society, sparing each other bad news, shielding each other from pain. He guessed it had started after Anya’s murder, when Rory’s and Evelyn’s lives had been turned on end, and they had finally drawn closer after years of chilly civility.

  Evelyn plucked at her evening gown. “It’s ridiculous for Richie to take out his anger with me on Rory. His father and I have been married for seventeen years. His mother, Boo, had been dead for four years when we wed. It’s time for Richie to get over it. He thinks I’m some gold digger and his dad married beneath him, you know.”

  Tom had heard this tale many times. He nodded and didn’t comment.

  A nurse sped into the room, first pausing to dim the lights. She was followed by orderlies pushing a bed that held Rory.

  Rory thrashed and kicked under a light blanket. Her face was pinched. She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow and moaned, “No, no…”

  The orderlies moved the bed into place and left.

  “Hi, Rory,” the nurse said in a quiet voice. She elevated the head of the bed slightly. “I’m Joy. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Evelyn rushed to Rory’s bedside and reached under the blanket to grab her hand. “My baby. My beautiful baby.”

  Tom stood a few feet away, dumbstruck.

  Joy efficiently went into action, hooking up monitors, noting Rory’s vital signs, working quickly, firmly moving Evelyn out of the way. “Excuse me. Need a little room here.”

  Tom put his arm around Evelyn’s shoulders on top of her fur stole and led her to a corner.

  Joy made notes on a clipboard. “Are you her mother?” she asked without looking up.

  “Yes.” Evelyn absently patted her hair. “Yes, I’m Evelyn Langtry Tate. This is Tom Fuller, Rory’s fiancé.”

  “Rory’s suffered a brain injury.” Joy spoke softly. “She’s easily agitated, so it’s important for us to keep the environment calm and quiet. Her injury lowers the seizure threshold, meaning that loud noises, light, and activity could provoke seizures. I encourage you to talk to her and touch her, but please do it gently and keep your conversations in front of her positive.”

  Evelyn asked, “Can she understand us?”

  “She might,” Joy said.

  Tom looked at Rory, the woman he was planning to spend the rest of his life with, whom he felt closer to than anyone on earth. Her eyes were open to slits. She was thrashing back and forth, moaning in a way that was almost feral. Before, her condition had been theoretical. Now it was real. With that reality came a fear that their life together, as it had been, was over. Even if she recovered, things would never be the same. The thought occurred to him without any more emotion than the round clock on the wall reporting the time as 2:17.

  “When’s the wedding?” Joy asked, not pausing in her work.

  Tom cleared his throat. “June, next year.”

  “A June wedding,” Joy said. “How wonderful. A big wedding?”

  “It’ll be the wedding of the decade,” Evelyn replied, as if she refused to consider any other outcome.

  Rory mumbled something unintelligible.

  “You’ll be a beautiful bride, Rory,” Joy said. “You have to get well for your wedding to your handsome fiancé. I’m going to insert a catheter, Rory. It’s going to be uncomfortable for just a second.”

  Rory tried to pull away when the nurse touched her. She let out a muffled, strange scream, the tone warbling higher then lower and going on and on.

  Evelyn yelped in sympathy with her daughter’s distress and in shock at her strange behavior.

  “Dn sh…plebby hel…” Rory said more clearly, “Dn…go. Don’t!”

  Tom looked away, rubbing his forehead. It’s like she’s possessed. The notion zoomed from that place where unguarded observations reside, arriving clear and pu
re in his mind.

  “No.” Rory reached and yanked the IV needle from her arm.

  “Oh dear.” Joy bandaged the bleeding wound. “I’m going to have to see about restraints.”

  She began to insert the IV in a different spot. “You’re going to feel a little pinch, Rory.” She had to hold hard on to Rory to complete the procedure.

  Rory cried out, the effort guttural.

  “Restraints?” Evelyn said.

  “They’re for her own good,” Joy said. “She’s very active. That’s positive. It means she’s trying to wake up.”

  Tom asked, “What’s your experience with a case like Rory’s?”

  Joy walked to the door and said quietly, “Each patient and each brain injury is different. But Rory’s trying hard to come back. Dr. Ballard will be in to speak with you soon.” She pulled off her latex gloves, dropped them into a wastebasket, and left.

  17

  “Detective Auburn. How the hell are you, old sport?” Richard set down a brandy snifter and rose from his desk chair.

  “Mr. Tate.” Auburn shook his hand.

  “Leland, you remember Detective Hank Auburn?”

  Leland stood to shake Auburn’s hand. “Of course. Hello, Detective.”

  “Nice to see you. And it’s Henry.”

  “Ah yes.” Richard smiled. “Detective ‘Don’t Call Me Hank.’ And you know my son, Richie.”

  Auburn shook his hand. “This is Detective Gabe Rodriguez.”

  Rodriguez tipped his head.

  Richard opened a wooden box of cigars on his desk. “Cigar?”

  The detectives declined.

  Richard set his lit cigar on a brass holder. “Detective Auburn, don’t tell me you’re hooked up with our bunch of boneheads again.”

  “Detective Rodriguez and I have the case.”

  Richie shook his head as he swirled brandy in a snifter. “What case? Hundreds of people saw what happened.”

  Rodriguez looked around the room, lingering on the gun cabinet.

  Richard said, “The police have to do a proper investigation. By the book, right, fellas?”

  Leland crossed his long legs. “Detectives, we’ve already given statements to a supervisor. He secured the firearm and saw no need for Richard to go to the police station.”