“When do you think we can question him?” Gilder asked.
The surgeon shot him an ugly look.
Gilder shrugged his shoulders. “It's my job."
“May I see him?” Shelly asked.
The surgeon shook his head. “Give us three or four hours to be sure he is stable. Then you can visit."
Shelly nodded sadly and sat down on the brown sofa. “Thank you doctor,” she said, “for all you've done."
“It's my job, Mrs. Pond,” he replied, staring at the detective.
Under other circumstances, the surgeon's departure would have been humorous. His operating gown was open and he was otherwise nude.
Lacy stood up and smiled at Shelly. “I think we have all we need. I'm sorry if we seemed to be a little rough on you. At this point in the investigation, everyone is a suspect."
“Even me?” Shelly hissed.
“Even the man in the moon. We'll check with you later, Mrs. Pond."
As the detectives neared the waiting room door, Gilder turned back to Shelly. “One more thing, Mrs. Pond. Don't leave town without notifying us."
As the detectives waited for the elevator, Gilder glanced at his watch. “Six o'clock.” He chuckled. “We go on duty in two hours. You going to try to catch a nap?"
Lacy shook her head. “The sun is up. I want to examine the crime scene again. There has to be some shred of evidence we didn't find last night."
“I agree.” Gilder again pressed the down button. “Let's swing by the station and pick up a couple of metal detectors."
He repeatedly punched the down button.
“That's not going to help, you know."
He ignored her comment. “You think we got the truth from Mrs. Pond?"
Lacy nodded slowly. “Yes, but not the whole truth. I want to know more about Boyd Fisher and Delilah Delight."
The elevator doors swung open.
“Detectives. Wait!"
Gilder propped the door open with his arm as he watched the approaching woman.
“Could you give me a ride to the hotel?” Shelly asked. “I want to check on Annie, change clothes and bring the car back with me."
“No problem, Mrs. Pond."
* * * *
Shelly stopped at the hotel desk and found the clerk very sympathetic. “If there's anything—anything at all—that the hotel can do, Mrs. Pond, please let me know."
“There is something,” she said. “Sam is in intensive care. They won't let me see him yet, but I want to be there when they do allow visits. I need someone to look after Annie."
“Of course. It may take a few minutes—perhaps an hour, but we'll arrange babysitters for you."
“I'm ... I'm not going to tell Annie the truth. Not yet, anyway. I don't want just a babysitter. I want someone to take Annie to the beach, to lunch, maybe to Kiddyland."
The clerk smiled. “That won't be a problem, Mrs. Pond. Most of our employees are college students, earning a few dollars during their summer vacation. They'll be delighted to play on the beach with Annie."
“I don't have any cash with me. I'll try to get to a teller machine, but in the meantime, can you put any expenses on our hotel tab?"
“Of course."
Shelly smiled her thanks and turned to leave.
“Mrs. Pond, is Mr. Pond going to be okay?"
She looked at the young man and saw the sincerity in his expression. “We don't know yet,” she replied honestly.
Shelly rode the elevator to the fifth floor and, when she opened the door to their room, was greeted by the enfolding strong arms of a large black woman. “Honey,” the woman said, “I'm Martha Banner. I'm so sorry. So very, very sorry."
“Martha, I can't thank you enough for coming out in the middle of the night and helping us out. How's Annie?"
“Prettiest little thing I ever saw,” Martha said. “Y'all must have worn her slap out last night. She's sleeping like a log."
“The hotel is sending a babysitter in a few minutes, Martha. How much do I owe you?"
Martha looked offended. “Honey, the county pays me real good. You don't owe me nothing."
As the loving social worker made her departure, Shelly spotted her purse. She searched through it, found the insurance card and realized the scrap of paper with the needed telephone number must have dropped out of her bra when she was in the examination room. Thumbing through the telephone directory, she found the listing for the Grand Strand Hospital. The friendly operator transferred the call to the business office and Shelly provided the needed information.
She quietly opened Annie's door and looked at the sleeping child, lying in the fetal position with the stuffed Lucky tightly clutched to her chest.
Oh, damn, she thought as she lifted the telephone receiver. What is the Charlotte area code number? 704, she reminded herself.
“Leora? This is Shelly Pond. I know I woke you, and I'm sorry, but this is an emergency."
“Shelly? My goodness, child. What's wrong?"
“It's Sam. He's been shot."
“Oh, my God,” Leora Borders gasped.
“He's in ICU. They think he'll survive, but he may wind up paralyzed."
“What can I do, Shelly? Name it."
“It's Annie. I don't know what to do with her."
“Baby, don't you worry about that little angel. Borders and I will be there just as soon as possible. What time is it?"
“About seven I think."
“And how long does it take to drive to Myrtle Beach from here?"
“It took us five hours."
“If Borders will let me drive, we'll be there in four."
Shelly placed the receiver in its cradle and dropped onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow and letting the tears flow.
“Mommy,” a tiny voice said, “what's wrong?"
Shelly turned on her side and held out her arms. “Come here, baby."
Annie crawled into her mothers’ arms.
“Sweetheart, Papa Sam was in an accident last night. He's in the hospital."
“Is he going to be okay?"
“Sure,” Shelly replied, trying to sound convincing. “It's just going to take some time."
“Can I go see Papa Sam in the hospital?"
“No, honey. I don't know why, but they don't allow children in hospitals."
“But you can go see him, can't you mommy?"
Shelly nodded. “Yes, baby. I'm going back to the hospital in just a few minutes."
“Who's going to look after me?"
“Well, there's a nice young lady who will be here in a few minutes. She's going to take you to breakfast and then out on the beach. Later today, Mrs. Borders is coming. She'll take you back to Dot. You can stay with the twins for a few days until Papa Sam is all better. We'll come back to the beach later when Papa Sam is well. I promise."
“Mommy."
“Yes, baby."
“I need to potty."
Shelly laughed as Annie slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. She rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. I'm in this thing up to my eyeballs. Why did they have to ask about Annie's father? Her mind reeled as she tried to think ahead, but all that would come was the memory of irreversible bad choices already made.
“Mommy?” Annie said as she placed the stuffed animal on the bed. “Will the hospital let Lucky stay with Papa Sam ‘till he gets all better?"
Chapter Twelve
Shelly reached for the hot water faucet and increased the temperature of the pulsating shower. The last time I was in this shower, Sam was in my arms. She fought back the tears. I needed a good night's sleep, but it's hard to believe I slept this late. I need to hurry.
She dressed quickly and rushed to the hotel dining room where the staff treated her like royalty. Not certain when another opportunity to eat might present itself, she ordered pancakes and forced herself to consume them.
“Good morning, Mrs. Pond. Did you get any sleep last night?"
Shelly looked into the con
cerned eyes of the hotel manager. “Yes, thank you. I passed out the moment my head hit the pillow."
“How is Mr. Pond?"
“When I left last night, he was still in a coma, but they said his vital signs are improving."
“That's good news. Did Annie get home safely?"
Because the young man remembered Annie's name, Shelly felt a wave of tenderness. “Yes. Our neighbors arrived yesterday about one o'clock and by two they were on their way back home. I talked with Annie on the telephone last night. They arrived safely. The Borders are good people. Annie is in good hands. Thank you for asking."
“Is there anything the hotel can do?"
“You're very kind. I appreciate it."
Coming back to the hotel last night, Shelly made several wrong turns, but in daylight, she managed to find the Grand Strand Hospital without difficulty. The hospital looked smaller, friendlier than before and the maze of hallways seemed less menacing.
Sam was still in a coma. She sat beside him and held his hand. During the night, someone changed the dressing on his chest. Last night it was bloody. The top of his head was swathed in bandages. Shelly tried to visualize a bald Sam and wondered how long it would take for his mop of black hair to grow back. Judging from the heavy stubble on his face, she thought it would not take long. Her eyes locked on a smooth patch of skin on his left cheek, the size of a dime, completely surrounded by facial hair. She touched it gently, wondering why she had not previously noticed it.
She scrupulously honored the five minute per hour visiting rule and spent the intervals pacing in the waiting room, flipping through old magazine copies, staring out the windows and drinking cup after cup of coffee, graciously offered by the nurses who otherwise ignored her.
When she ended the one o'clock visit, Shelly found a man waiting for her.
He nodded and asked, “Have you had lunch, Mrs. Pond?"
“No,” she replied, “but I'm not hungry."
“You need to eat something,” he said. “Perhaps a bowl of soup. Institutional food is notoriously bad, but the Grand Strand screwed up. The food here is delicious. How about a bowl of soup?"
Shelly grinned as recognition dawned. “You're the surgeon who operated on my husband."
He nodded. “Blake Cole, ma'am."
“I didn't recognize you in a suit."
“How about that bowl of soup?"
“I have no idea where the cafeteria is."
He smiled. “Follow me. Doctors have a shortcut."
They rode the elevator in silence, each watching the lighted numbers above the door slowly moving towards the glassed circle labeled B.
“The cafeteria is in the basement?” she asked to break the silence.
He nodded.
“Dr. Cole, the nurses won't tell me anything. How is Sam?"
The heavy door rolled open and Dr. Cole waited for Shelly to step into the hallway. He motioned to his right and, as they moved towards the double doors, he replied. “That's why I wanted to have lunch with you. Basically, Sam is doing better than I expected. He's a strong man with a will to live. It's true, he's still in a coma, but that is not unusual. It may be a long time—months—before we know much more."
Shelly honored the Doctor's obvious hesitancy to say more as they passed through the cafeteria line, but as soon as they were seated, she asked, “Will he be permanently paralyzed?"
“I hoped that by this time we would begin to see some signs of basic reflexes, but that has not happened. It's a waiting game, now, Mrs. Pond."
“I don't know what to do, Dr. Cole. I can't afford to live indefinitely in the hotel, but I don't want to go home and leave Sam here."
“I understand. I noticed on Sam's chart that you are from Charlotte."
“A little town just outside Charlotte,” Shelly corrected.
“Charlotte Memorial is a fine hospital, Mrs. Pond. I did my residency there."
“Are you suggesting that we move Sam?"
“It doesn't take long by helicopter."
“When can we do it?"
“Sam's vital signs are good. The trip will not hurt him in any way. We could transport him to Charlotte as early as this afternoon. Would you like for me to make the arrangements?"
She stretched her arm across the table and grasped his hand. “That would be wonderful. Do I need to sign anything?"
“Yes, and the forms are waiting for you in the business office. Once you sign the release, it will take a little while to make arrangements with Charlotte Memorial and the helicopter people but Sam can probably be on his way by four o'clock. By the time you get home, Sam will be settled into a room close to home. I'm sure it will be more convenient for everybody."
Shelly refused to leave the business office until all arrangements were complete. Dr. Cole was correct on all accounts except one. The helicopter was not available until five.
She visited Sam one more time and kissed him on his nose, his left eyelid and his right. She thought she felt the eyelid flutter against her lips, but when she looked, it was as motionless as the rest of his body. She kissed his hand. “It's going to be okay, Sam. We're going home."
Maybe his eyelid did flutter, she thought as she drove back to the hotel. He's going to be okay. I know he will. Gleefully she slapped her hands against the steering wheel. And I'm going to become the best wife on the planet.
She propped her suitcases on the bed and rapidly began emptying drawers. She thought a bellboy was tapping on the door and, as she opened it, said, “I'm not quite ready yet. Oh, hello Detectives."
“Going somewhere, Mrs. Pond?” Detective Gilder grumbled.
“They're flying Sam back to Charlotte,” she explained.
“May we come in?” Lacy asked.
“Of course,” Shelly said, stepping away from the door.
“You were supposed to notify us before leaving town,” Gilder reminded her.
“In all the excitement, I forgot.” She glanced at Lacy, who was rummaging around in one of the suitcases. “What are you doing?"
“Do you mind if we search your rooms, Mrs. Pond?” Gilder asked and before she could answer, he continued. “We will get a search warrant, if necessary."
“There is no reason to be concerned, Mrs. Pond,” Lacy said as she continued looking in the partially packed luggage. “You want us to catch Mr. Pond's assailant, don't you?"
“Of course, but you're certainly not going to find him in here."
“Nobody hiding under the bed?” Gilder asked.
“If that was supposed to be a joke, I don't find it funny.” Shelly sat in a chair, folded her arms across her chest and fumed.
Gilder pulled a box from Sam's suitcase and turned to Shelly. “You told us it was your husband's semen in your vagina, Mrs. Pond. If you don't use condoms during sex, why do you have a full box of Trojans?"
“I don't have to answer your damn questions—especially personal ones like that."
“No, you don't,” he said as he replaced the box.
“Nothing in the other bedroom or bath,” Lacy said, joining them.
“I've already packed the toiletries and Annie used the other bedroom. She went home with neighbors yesterday."
“Drove all the way down here and took her back to North Carolina?” Gilder asked. “Nice neighbors."
“Yes, they are."
“Was it the Nickels or the Borders who came?” Lacy asked.
“How do you know the names of our neighbors?"
“The Mecklenburg County Sheriff's Department is helping with the investigation,” Gilder said. “They tell us you were fired from the Crazy Cat Club a few weeks back. Want to tell us about that?” Gilder asked as he sat on the bed.
“That has nothing to do with anything."
“Maybe—maybe not,” Lacy said as she pulled a chair close to Shelly. “We don't have much to go on, Mrs. Pond. We may be grasping at straws, but sometimes those straws turn out to be made of gold. Why did the club fire you? Did something happen that might have
caused someone to have a grudge against you—motivate them to want to kill you?"
“It was Sam who was shot,” Shelly objected.
“Yeah, but maybe Sam's attempt to protect you frightened off the assailant before he finished his mission,” Gilder explained. “Do you have knowledge of any illegal activity in the Crazy Cat Club, Mrs. Pond? Prostitution or perhaps drug trafficking?"
“I was a stripper, pure and simple. I know nothing about any other activities of the club."
Gilder walked to the balcony door. “Nice view,” he commented. He turned and looked at Shelly. “Why did you tell us Boyd Fisher moved out of the state?"
“I believe I said he may have moved. I haven't had any contact with him since Annie was born."
“That's interesting, Mrs. Pond. The guys in North Carolina tell us a neighbor of Mr. Fisher says she saw you entering his apartment recently."
“I'm not the only woman in the world with auburn hair, Detective. Even when we were seeing each other, Boyd was a womanizer. It's simply a case of mistaken identity."
Lacy touched Shelly's knee. “Mrs. Pond, do you know anyone who owns a 9mm handgun?"
Think Shelly! She pleaded with herself. “I do."
“You know someone or you personally own such a weapon?"
“I own one. It's registered. I keep it in the glove compartment of my car. When I worked at the club, I came home alone late at night. I felt safer knowing the gun was close by."
“May we see your gun, please?” Lacy asked.
“It's in Dot. We came to the beach in Sam's car."
“We think we have found the weapon the assailant used,” Gilder commented. “It was in a Dumpster near the scene. We do not yet have the results of a ballistics test, but we're fairly certain it is the weapon. Unfortunately, there are no fingerprints on it."
“The gunman wore gloves—like surgeons use in hospitals. But finding the gun is still a major breakthrough in the case, isn't it?” Shelly asked.
“Not really,” Lacy said. “Fingerprints would have helped. The serial numbers are intact, so we should be able to trace ownership. We're working on that right now. You don't happen to know the serial number of your weapon, do you, Mrs. Pond?"
Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows Page 65