Kara had taken her computer tablet from her leather bag and readied her stylus. “When did you last speak with your sister?”
“This morning. She said she had met with the police about a client. I know Brenda was troubled by this particular patient. But she couldn’t say much, just had a little rant about how families made things so difficult for her to do her job sometimes. Then she texted me later, but I couldn’t make sense of it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. After tapping his phone several times, he read, “‘Something not right. Must go . . .’” Then his eyes widened in horror. “Oh my Lord. Could she have been texting and driving? Sending me this unfinished message right before the accident?”
I said, “Do you know if she drove hands-free?”
He pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead, eyes tightly closed. “Yes. Of course. How could my mind have gone there? She would take calls from patients at all hours of the day and night and always went hands-free in the car.” He glanced at the phone again. “Wait. The time on the message is much earlier than when I got the call about the accident . . . or incident. She must have been in her office . . . or here.”
I wanted to rest a hand on his forearm but didn’t. Something told me he wouldn’t be receptive and that I might disrupt his thoughts.
“I wish I knew what the heck she meant,” he mumbled.
Kara said, “Did she have a receptionist? Someone who knew her schedule and could help you understand this message better?”
“No. She handled everything herself and purposely never carried a high patient load. You see, she dealt mostly with patients in this hospital waiting for transfer to psychiatric facilities or with those clients who ended up committed for days or weeks. Psychotic or bipolar patients can go off the deep end and need their medications readjusted. That was her specialty. She was damn good at it, too. She knew how to talk to folks like that, knew how to persuade them to do what was best.”
I smiled at him. “I could tell from the short time we spent together she’s good at her job. As far as Mrs. Schultz—that’s the name of your sister’s patient—I might be able to help both you and Kara, since I don’t have doctor-patient confidentiality issues.” I went on to explain about our visit to Minnie’s house, about the brain tumor diagnosis and meeting Minnie’s daughter.
Kara fixed a long strand of hair behind her ears. “A brain tumor? Wow. That’s pretty awful. Of course I won’t say anything about her medical condition in my piece. What did the doctors say? Will Mrs. Schultz come through this okay, Jillian?”
“I have no idea. But I did hear that the tumor wasn’t malignant.” I turned to Peyton Ross. “Getting back to Brenda. Can I call her that?” It seemed strange to call her by her official name when she was fighting for her life in a surgery suite.
“She’d want that. And please call me Peyton.”
I took a deep breath. “I hate to ask this, but what did the doctors tell you about your sister when they called you? About her . . . chances?”
“Not much. Just that they were doing everything they could. See, they know her. They care about her, too. She’s such a good, decent person.” His eyes filled again.
“You know, your sister met with Minnie’s daughter. Even though this turned out to be a medical rather than a mental health issue, your sister was right there to support Minnie. That says a lot about her character.”
“She would have stuck with her no matter what her diagnosis. Psychiatric and neurological issues are not that far apart,” Peyton said.
“One thing I do remember,” I said. “She planned to get a journal for Minnie to write in.” I stopped short of sharing what I knew about the evidence we’d found in Minnie’s little hiding spot. “Maybe she was on her way to buy one? Maybe that has something to do with the message? She had to go to the store, maybe?”
“Could be,” he said. “Or her text message could mean nothing.” He paused, the squint back. “She kept notes on her phone. Sometimes she’d leave herself voice memos and sometimes she’d dictate into her note program. Thing is, she didn’t feel they were safe to keep there, so she would erase them regularly after transferring anything pertinent to a patient’s file.”
Kara said, “Did they give you her things? That phone could be important in figuring out what happened.”
“No. That’s not uncommon, though. A patient’s belongings are not what’s important during an emergency. Since they knew Brenda in this hospital’s ER and knew me, too, they probably called me without having to go through her things.”
Kara turned to me. “Can you tell all that to Tom? The phone could be invaluable in finding out what happened.” She readied her stylus again. “And if you have a picture you can share for me to run with my article, that will help. Also, since I haven’t been to the scene, tell me about the make and model of her car. I know where this happened, so I’ve got that covered.”
I stood and picked up my umbrella. “While you two are talking, I’ll call Tom and then check on Minnie.”
Kara and Dr. Ross nodded and refocused on each other. He looked far calmer than when I’d arrived. Perhaps this interview would take his mind off the possibility of losing his sister—at least for a few minutes.
Tom didn’t pick up when I called him, so I left a message about Brenda’s phone and the unfinished text. As I headed toward the elevators, I could have sworn they’d lowered the thermostat in the hospital to about sixty degrees. Of course, my clothes were still damp, and that made it seem colder. I had goose bumps on both arms as I exited the elevator on Minnie’s floor. It seemed like I’d spent the last two days exclusively in this hospital.
But all of a sudden the silent hallway became anything but quiet. I heard the pounding footsteps first and then was nearly knocked on my butt by two security guards racing down the corridor past me.
I gave myself a second to take a few deep breaths and wondered what the heck had happened. But as I neared the circular nurse’s station on this wing, the sound of raised voices grew louder the closer I got.
Then I saw the commotion. The security guards now faced each other, arms spread, holding back people screaming at one another right near Minnie’s room. And I mean screaming. A few patients who were able to get out of their beds stood in the hall watching all this. It was reminiscent of a Jerry Springer episode. Since all four people were shouting at once—two young men on one side, a man and a woman facing them—it was impossible to understand what they were saying.
Then I noticed Minnie’s daughter, hanging back in her mother’s doorway, gnawing at her index finger. I was nearly knocked over again as a woman in scrubs, stethoscope draped around her neck, marched toward the fracas. She glanced back at me, saying, “This isn’t a Broadway show. Go back to see whoever you’re visiting here. They might be upset by this commotion.”
This woman parked herself between the two guards. She never raised her voice, but there was plenty of finger-pointing. After the people she was admonishing finally stopped shouting, the security guards escorted the three males and one female in my direction. Since I stood in the middle of the corridor, frozen by what I’d witnessed, I guessed I was fair game. The woman, who looked to be in her late twenties, with bright red hair and a tattoo of something I couldn’t make out on her biceps, gave me the dirtiest look I’d ever received. “Get out of the way, bitch.”
I blinked and watched the security guard grasp her a little tighter.
He said, “That’s the police chief’s wife. You really don’t want to be saying that stuff to her.”
They were gone quickly, leaving me with a heart beating so fast my chest ached.
Fourteen
Unsure whether this was the best time to visit Minnie, I almost turned and left. But then Greta, still standing in her mother’s doorway, gestured for me to come her way. If I were that pregnant, I’d be sitting, not standing right now.
/> When I reached her, Greta whispered, “Two of those fools were my brothers. They never even made it in to see Mama because Chester Winston’s relatives had apparently followed them here—at least that’s the gist of what I heard them arguing about.”
I glanced back toward the elevators, but the argument had obviously been taken elsewhere. “Why were Chester’s relatives here?” But then it dawned on me. “Oh. Do they think your mother killed Chester?”
Greta shrugged. “I guess. I wanted nothing to do with all that. I have a baby inside me to protect.”
“You were smart to stay out of it,” I said. “I hope all the noise didn’t upset your mother too much.”
“She was already upset. Mama’s been asking about Otto—the cat, not my father. She’s really getting agitated. Can you help me calm her down?”
“Where’s Lois?” I asked as I followed her into the hospital room. But then I remembered Tom had said Minnie didn’t need a guard anymore. So I was surprised when I saw Lois sitting by Minnie’s bed, holding the woman’s hand.
She mouthed, “I’m off duty.”
She’d taken quite a shine to Minnie and I was glad Lois had because Minnie’s expression told me the hall incident just might have terrified her. I would have thought the roles would have been reversed—that Lois would be observing the argument in the corridor and Greta would be by her mother’s side. But then, little in the last few days had made sense.
Suddenly, Minnie broke into a grin. “It’s you. I forgot your name, but it is definitely you.”
I had to smile. “Hi, Minnie. It’s Jillian.”
Lois said, “Must be the security guards finally showed up, since it’s quiet again. I called them at least ten minutes ago. No one needs to be acting like a fool around all these sick people.”
“There are sick people here?” Minnie said. “I had no idea.”
“Mama, you’re in the hospital. Of course there are sick people here.” Greta’s reaction was patient, though. She didn’t seem irritated with her mother like she’d been before. Maybe she finally understood how ill her mother was.
I might have been an inadequate substitute for Brenda, but I needed to help out here. “People forget names all the time, Minnie. It’s okay.” I remembered the photos I’d taken off the cat cam and pulled out my phone. “Otto is doing fine at my house. I thought you’d like to see a couple of pictures.”
I brought up the pictures and showed her. As soon as she saw the tuxie, her features softened. “Is he getting along with his sisters and brothers? He and Marlowe were good friends, but Archie was quite jealous of my newest baby. The girls, of course, ignored him for the most part. Especially Minous.”
Minous was the gray cat Shawn had recognized first. The other names probably belonged to her other cats, the seven or so in residence before the influx of so many others began. I chose to consider my own bunch as the “sister and brothers” and said, “They’re getting along just fine. You’d be so proud.”
“That is such a relief to hear.” She took the phone from my hand and leaned back against the pillow. “I’m proud of all of them.”
Lois’s big dark eyes captured mine and she shook her head slightly, saddened, I concluded, by the symptoms produced by this awful brain tumor.
Greta had taken a chair beside Lois. “I hear there were a lot of cats carried away. What happened to them?”
Thank goodness Minnie was still staring fondly at Otto’s picture and didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything else.
I knelt by Greta’s chair and whispered. “They’re all fine. We don’t want to upset certain folks who aren’t aware of the situation.” I glanced her mother’s way.
Greta’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh. I shouldn’t—”
I put a finger to my lips. But I had a realization myself. How would we know which cats originally belonged to Minnie and which ones were the new arrivals? Chester Winston might have known, but he would never speak again. Then I had a thought. Shawn’s adoptees were chipped. Plus he’d know the cats he’d adopted out to Minnie. As for the rest of them, maybe they had microchips as well and could be tracked back to other owners.
My mind seemed on overdrive now. Why were there suddenly so many additions to Minnie’s clowder? I had a sense that knowing this piece of information was important. Shawn might have answers. But knowing Tom, he had probably thought of this already and was on it as a clue.
After Minnie reluctantly handed me my phone, I told her she needed to rest and I should get home and give Otto a kiss for her. She liked that idea. Then Minnie did something unexpected. She held out her arms for a hug.
I readily gave her a gentle squeeze and told her all her kitties would be well cared for. When I walked out, I was surprised that both Lois and Greta followed.
“My mother perks up when you’re here, and I wanted to thank you for visiting,” Greta said. “It took her mind off the argument.”
Lois said, “That was Winston’s family and Greta’s brothers, from what I heard. Those Winstons seem to think Mrs. Schultz is a murderer.”
Greta looked at Lois, then at me. “She’s cleared, though. She would never do that.”
Lois said, “We’re looking at everyone, but your mother probably didn’t have the strength or the stamina to kill Chester. From what the chief told me, your brothers went to school with Mr. Winston’s son and the son’s wife.”
“Oh. I had no idea,” Greta said. “My brothers and I are several years apart.”
I’d heard this from Belle. “They have a lot of nerve coming up here to confront a poor woman in her hospital bed.”
Greta shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to meet either of them in an alley.”
Lois said, “In your condition, you need to be staying away from alleys in general.”
We all smiled—and it was a rare thing to see Lois smile. Minnie and, yes, even Greta had really touched her.
I was ready to leave but wanted to stop back at the surgery waiting area to check for any news on Dr. Ross. I supposed now was as good a time as any to share what had happened with Minnie’s daughter.
“Please don’t mention this to your mother, but you should know Dr. Ross won’t be in to visit.” I told her about the wreck and how the doctor was currently in surgery.
Lois nodded knowingly. “I heard. It must have happened right after she picked up that new journal Minnie was writing in.”
“Have you even left here, Lois?” I asked.
She nodded. “Finished my shift and came right back. My dog has gone to some major training facility, so where else do I have to be?”
Greta smiled. “You’re so sweet to stand by us, but it’s a horrible thing about the doctor. Bad things just keep happening. It’s about time I apologized for being so . . . full of myself when we first met. Being estranged from my mother was wrong. I’m just sorry it took her wandering in the streets and having a brain tumor to bring me to my senses.”
“We all have family issues at one time or another.” I patted her shoulder and smiled. “You’re here now, and I know that means the world to your mother.”
“Her surgery is tomorrow. They say it will take a long time according to what the docs saw on the scans. I only hope this baby waits until we can get through this. Someone needs to be here for Mama, and my brothers can’t be counted on—because from what I could tell, they might have had a little too much to drink before coming here.”
“I’ll be around as much as I can.” Lois started back into the hospital room but turned and said, “The alcohol explains a lot. I’m guessing Winston’s family might have had one too many themselves. Good night, Jillian.”
I said good-bye to Greta and took the elevator down to the second floor. Kara was sitting on the ugly vinyl couch and Peyton stood talking to a tall man wearing surgical scrubs, a paper mask dangling around his neck.
> I hung back until the doctor turned and headed back down the hall. Kara stood and rested a hand on Peyton Ross’s shoulder. I joined them and was told Brenda was in a medically induced coma to help relieve the swelling on her brain. She would be transferred to ICU in about an hour.
Kara and I said our good-byes to Peyton, who at least had some color back in his pale face since the last time I’d seen him. Brenda had made it through the surgery and there was hope.
The two of us walked to our cars together and Kara told me that she’d heard everything the doctor said and they thought Brenda had a good chance of recovery. I was happy to drive home with that piece of good news after such an awful day.
* * *
I was surprised to see Tom’s Prius in the driveway when I arrived home. I found him with his legs propped on the ottoman, his head resting against the sofa cushions. His eyes were closed and his jaw was slack. I tried to be quiet and lure the five cats past him so as not to wake him, but he stirred before I could make to the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
“Hey there,” he mumbled.
“Darn. I was hoping not to wake you.” I sat on the chair across from him, and Chablis and Otto immediately jumped onto my lap. Otto clawed his way to my shoulder and I winced. He nestled his head into my neck and began to purr as I stroked his back.
Syrah perched on the sofa behind Tom and he reached back and scratched his head. “They sure miss you when you’re gone. So what about the doctor? The accident scene was . . . bad.”
I told him what I knew and also gave him the scoop on what happened outside Minnie’s room.
Tom sat up and put his feet on the floor. “The families were there and they had an argument? Whoa. Those brothers denied being in town, so I’m calling them on that lie tomorrow, when they told me they might be in Mercy.”
The Cat, the Collector and the Killer Page 10