Highlights to Heaven

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Let’s hold on the walking part, she told herself when a wave of dizziness struck. With gratitude, she gave herself up to the ministrations of rescue personnel, who stopped her when she attempted to rise.

  “Don’t move, we’ll get you out,” said a uniformed medic. “You could end up being paralyzed if you’ve injured your spine.”

  Marla didn’t think anything was wrong with her neck, because she’d twisted it to look at Brianna. Besides, the side of her head hurt, not her nape. Nonetheless, the possibility of paralysis loomed real enough that she obeyed the rescuer’s commands. He fastened a collar around her neck and, with the help of another man, lifted her onto a stretcher. Under the open sky, she had her first look at the ditch they’d rolled down. She hadn’t even seen it from the road. A red truck with flashing lights stood parked on the shoulder.

  I was never unconscious. That’s a good sign, she considered, reviewing her mental files on head injuries. On the other hand, her slightest movement made the world spin. She heard a medic questioning Brianna, who replied in a calm voice that she was unhurt.

  “Your daughter can take whatever you want her to bring from the car. She’ll ride in the truck with us.”

  Marla didn’t correct his assumption. She felt a surge of pride for the way Brianna was handling the situation.

  “Here’s my business card,” said one of the bystanders, “in case you need a witness.” He handed it to Brianna.

  Marla swallowed her thanks as the medics pushed her gurney up an incline. Images swirled as she bumped over mounds of grass. Closing her eyes against rising nausea, she kept them shut until they reached level road. Someone squeezed her hand. Cracking open her lids, she gave Brianna a wan smile.

  While the girl headed for the passenger’s seat up front, the two medics slid Marla’s stretcher into the back of the rescue truck. One of them jumped in, fastened the door, and crouched beside her. He straightened her arm to check her blood pressure.

  “I shouldn’t have eaten so much for breakfast,” she complained.

  “I can feel the food sitting in my stomach.”

  The mustached tech gave her a curious glance, as though he was assessing her cognitive abilities. “Don’t worry; it’s a short ride.” He scribbled some notes on a chart, then covered her with a blanket. A stethoscope dangled around his neck.

  “Have you got any ice?” she asked, touching the lump on her head. You’d think he would know to apply ice to an injury to reduce swelling. It might help stop any further bleeding, too.

  “Sure,” he agreed, offering her an ice bag.

  She endured the ride in silence, stifling the queasiness in her stomach. This wasn’t really happening, she said to herself for the umpteenth time. How can we have been in an accident? I should’ve looked more carefully. I would have seen that car.

  They arrived at the hospital. In a blur of action, she was wheeled into the emergency room and brought to a stop in front of the nurse’s station. After murmuring to the rescuers, a white-coated doctor hastened to her side.

  “Hi, my name is Doctor Segal. I’m the emergency room physician. Does your neck hurt?” He probed around the stiff collar, examining her shoulders and neck.

  “No, nothing hurts there. I hit the side of my head.”

  “Okay, we’ll look at that in a minute.” Very carefully, he removed the collar while observing her reaction. “How does this feel?”

  “Better.”

  He tested her limbs, prodded her abdomen, and evaluated her neurological signs. So far so good. But when he raised the head of the stretcher to a slight angle, dots swam before her eyes.

  She shut her lids against the overwhelming dizziness. “I can’t…I’m light-headed.”

  Supporting her shoulders, the doctor lowered her into a flat position. “I’m going to order an X ray.” He walked away to confer with a handsome male nurse.

  “Brie, are you here?”

  “I’m sitting on a chair right behind you.”

  “You’d better call your father. He won’t be so worried if he hears your voice. Use my cell phone.”

  “I have to go outside. There’s a sign that you can’t use cellular phones in here.”

  “Go ahead.” Her eyelids sank shut. She felt shaky and cold, no doubt from the shock. Her body trembled like a seedling in a storm.

  “Ma’am?”

  She opened her eyes to see a police officer bending over her.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but if you feel all right, I have a few questions. Who is the owner of the car?”

  “My mother. The registration is in her glove compartment.”

  “Do you have automobile insurance?”

  “Yes, with Allstate. The card is in my wallet. My health insurance cards are in there, too. Brianna has my purse.”

  “She’s your daughter? Was she injured?”

  “No, she’s not my daughter, and Brie says she’s all right. I’m dating her father, Detective Dalton Vail with the Palm Haven police force.”

  His expression didn’t change. Cool blue eyes maintained their distance. “Can you describe the accident?”

  Marla repeated the sequence of events. “I could swear I looked in the mirrors. That car wasn’t there. I checked my blind spot when I started to change lanes, and I saw a white car nearly on top of us. I swerved to avoid it and couldn’t regain control. It felt like my car was off-balance.”

  “Were you wearing seat belts?”

  “Yes.”

  He thanked her and moved away to confer with the rescue personnel. Her ears picked up the words phantom car and rollover. She gritted her teeth, wondering how Brie was doing on the phone with her dad.

  She watched the nurses bustling about the station until an orderly came to take her to the X-ray room. She submitted to the procedure, hoping the outcome would be favorable. Evidently she wasn’t deemed to be in serious enough condition to occupy a cubicle, because after the test she resumed her previous position in the hallway. I hope it’s nothing more than a conk on the head, she told herself. If that’s the case, we’re very lucky. We could have been killed. Her face blanched. She would have become the next hairstylist to meet with a fatal accident. Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all.

  “I spoke to Daddy,” Brianna said, sidling up to her stretcher. The girl’s face looked pinched. “He’s on his way. The police officer talked to him.”

  “Oh joy.” She anticipated his greeting with a flutter in her already queasy gut.

  The doctor reappeared. “Your X ray is fine. You’ve had a mild concussion. You may have some residual dizziness or headaches, but I expect you’ll be okay. You need to rest at home for the next week or so, and I’ll prescribe some medicines.”

  Marla’s heart sank. What would she tell her customers? How could she follow up on the trail with Goat? But then she rallied: Heck, she might not be able to raise her head, but she could talk with a clear mind. There was always the telephone until she got back on her feet.

  Meanwhile, a more important urgency gripped her. How would she make it to the bathroom? Whenever she moved, her head spun and her stomach revolted. The nurse offered her two Antivert tablets so she could stabilize enough to stumble into the lavatory and do her business. When she was finished, she climbed gratefully back onto the stretcher and lay flat. She still wore the slacks and sweater she’d put on that morning. Slivers of glass stuck to the cashmere. Briatina’s clothes must be messed up, too, she thought idly. That was the least of their concerns.

  Vail’s reaction was every bit as horrendous as she’d expected. He came charging into the emergency room looking like a bull in a fighting ring. When he spotted her supine position, his face crumbled. “Are you all right? Where’s Brianna?”

  “Right here.” His daughter’s eyes flashed defiance. “Don’t be mad at Marla. I told her you gave me permission to come.”

  “What?” His expression darkened. “I’ll have plenty of time later to deal with both of you. You c
ould have been killed. What does the doctor say?”

  “I have a mild concussion,” Marla said, reassured by his presence but not his words about “later.” “I should be okay in a week or two, not that I can afford the time off from work.”

  “I notified your mother. She’s waiting to hear from me.”

  Marla turned her face away, a motion that she immediately regretted as she shut her eyes momentarily against the spinning images. “I wrecked her car.”

  “She doesn’t care about the car. She’s worried about you, and so am I. Brie, were you injured at all?”

  Brianna shook her head, swishing her ponytail.

  Marla gazed up at him. “She’s been wonderful. You should be proud of how she’s handled the whole thing.” She noticed his black suit and smelled his spice cologne. “Did you finish your workshop at the conference?”

  He nodded, his face somber. “Let me talk to the doctor. If he releases you, I’ll take you home, but you can’t stay alone. You’ll have to come to my house or Anita’s.”

  Marla didn’t protest. She couldn’t even get up, let alone care for herself. She’d never felt so helpless in her life. You’re alive, and you didn’t break any bones. Be grateful. This, too, shall pass.

  Brianna held Marla’s hand while her father pursued the physician. “I’ll take of care you if you come to our house.”

  Her offer brought moisture to Marla’s eyes. She squeezed the tears back, afraid that if she let one slip, a deluge would follow. “You go to school, and your Dad has to work. It’ll be better for me to go to Ma’s place. Someone will have to bring Spooks over.” A stray thought surfaced. “Jenny is still expecting us. Can you call to let her know we’re not coming?”

  After Dalton and Brianna left to get the car, and Marla was left alone, a flood of worries inundated her. She pushed them aside, wanting only to get better. Right now, she was in no position to deal with anything else.

  Their ride home was an uncomfortable ordeal, with Marla reclining in the backseat and feeling queasy. When they arrived at her mother’s house, Anita rushed out to greet them. Marla didn’t hear the words she exchanged with Vail, but he ended up wheeling her inside using a desk chair. She couldn’t stand without the floor rushing up to meet her on a collision course.

  Reaching the guest bedroom, she rose to walk a few feet to the bed. That simple effort made the room spin crazily. She collapsed onto the twin bed and leaned over the side to vomit.

  Under her mother’s tender care, she managed to achieve a level of comfort. One day stretched into several more until she could finally walk upright again. A neurologist examined her, confirming her diagnosis and reassuring her that her symptoms would clear with time.

  “This is my punishment for bringing Brianna against her father’s wishes,” she told her mother late Thursday afternoon. She’d taken the week off from work, hoping to resume her duties next Tuesday. Muscle spasms in her neck caused headaches that still debilitated her. “I should have verified with Vail that Brianna could go. I just took her word for it.”

  “You believed Brianna because you want her to like you,” Anita said. “If you had been in another car, the accident might not have happened. SUVs are known for their instability. Newer models have things like traction and stability control.” She arched her eyebrows. “I hope the insurance people will tell me my car is totaled, so I can get a new one. In the meantime, they’re providing a rental.”

  “I’ll pay for anything the insurance doesn’t cover.”

  “You just worry about getting stronger.”

  “When I’m better, Dalton is going to be really angry.”

  Anita patted her arm. “If it helps, your detective wants to call the witness for a report. He said something about you being cut off by another car.” She was interrupted by the doorbell. Jumping off the side of the bed where she’d been sitting, Anita fluffed her short white hair. “I’ll just see who that is.”

  Marla wondered who could be dropping by. She’d already had visits by her salon staff, concerned friends and neighbors, and Vail, who’d come twice, along with Brianna. Anita, who hadn’t met his daughter before, seemed charmed by the child.

  “Hi ya, doll,” said Roger from the bedroom doorway. His florid face broadened in a smile. Carrying an enormous arrangement of flowers, he entered without waiting for an invitation. “Barry is here, too. We’ve come to visit the invalid.” He put the vase on her mother’s vanity chest.

  “Gee, thanks.” Although her legs still felt wobbly, she’d showered that morning and pulled on a pair of slacks and a blouse. Her face had minimal makeup, but that mattered less to her now than it might have last week.

  Barry followed his father into the room. He must have come from work, she surmised, because he wore a collared shirt and tie. “I was hoping to see you again, although not under these circumstances,” he said, his blue eyes sweeping over her.

  “Are you gonna be all right?” Roger asked. “Your mom is taking good care of you, but she’s liable to wear herself down.”

  “I can stay by myself now. She doesn’t have to baby-sit me. I even made it into the kitchen today to fix myself a sandwich.” Yeah, and she’d been so winded, she had lain in bed ever since.

  “Would you mind if I take Anita out to dinner? Barry will be happy to keep you company.”

  His son grinned, as though delighted by the prospect. She couldn’t help smiling in response. It got boring lying here all day. Her head hurt enough that she couldn’t watch television, and she couldn’t concentrate to read. Although the doctor had given her muscle relaxants, she didn’t like to take pills.

  Barry hadn’t entertained her for long before someone knocked at the door. It was Lieutenant Vail. His craggy face didn’t look pleased when he entered her room. She hadn’t heard their introductory remarks to each other in the hallway, but whatever Barry said must have disturbed Vail.

  “I have news,” he said curtly.

  “Go ahead. Barry knows about the case involving Goat.”

  Vail cast him a dark look. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather keep this private.”

  “Marla is still recovering,” Barry said, unfazed. He leaned against the wall, hands in pockets. “She shouldn’t hear anything upsetting.”

  “This is police business. I’ll decide what she can hear.”

  Marla bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Barry, I’d really like a cup of coffee,” she told him pointedly.

  “Oh. Well…whatever you wish.” He darted a glance at Vail. “K’nacker,” he muttered on his way out. Marla heard banging pots and pans when he reached the kitchen.

  Vail speared her with a suspicious glare. “What did he call me?”

  A wise guy. “Nothing you need to know.”

  He squared his shoulders. “Barry calls himself your friend. Just how close are you?”

  “He’s Roger’s son. I’ve seen him a few times, when Roger and Ma were together.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Barry is an optometrist. What does it matter?”

  Vail folded his arms across his chest. “It doesn’t. I have no say over what you do, just as you have no say over how I raise my child.” A pained expression came into his molten eyes, and he lowered his voice. “I had thought, though, since you and I became close, that you had a commitment to our relationship.”

  His words stirred her in places she’d rather ignore. “I’m not dating Barry. Anyway, I thought you were mad at me.”

  He kicked the door shut, came over to the bed, leaned over and kissed her. “We’ll discuss my being mad another time. How’s your head feel?”

  “It still hurts.”

  “Dizziness?”

  “Gone, but I’m weak when I walk around.”

  “That’s from staying in bed too long. I picked up your Toyota from Sears. It’s parked at your town house.”

  “Thanks. How is Spooks doing? Are he and Lucky okay together?”

  “They’re fast friends. Brie is getting a k
ick out of training your poodle to do some new tricks.”

  “I’m glad she’s all right. Is that your news?”

  “No. I spoke to the witness from your accident. He said that white car cut you off. It pulled into the lane just as you were switch-ing.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything. It was an accident.”

  “I’m not so sure. If you’d been killed, you would have been the third stylist from the Fort Lauderdale area to die within the past couple of months. Strikes me as an odd coincidence.”

  Wanting to chase away the memories, she closed her eyes. “Did you learn anything new from Cutter?”

  “He told me his cousin Evan breeds birds and sells them to local pet stores and tourist attractions. He denies any partnership between the two of them. Nor does he acknowledge a relationship with the dead man except in a professional capacity.”

  “He’s lying. One of the staff members told me they were close. That means either they had a gay relationship or they were scheming.”

  “I learned something else that’s interesting. I asked Jill to sniff around at Stockhart Industries since she works there. She said Yani often consulted with another researcher, a Chinese man. I spoke to him. He acted nervous during our interview.”

  “So?”

  “Many of the dog- and cat-fur items come from the Far East.”

  Her head throbbed from the effort of memory recall. “You still believe Goat was involved in a pet-fur caper? I don’t believe he’d stand by while animals were hurt.” Something niggled at her brain. “The director of my beauty school said she’d seen Cutter at a hair show with another male stylist. Remember Goat’s interest in Martha Matilda Harper? I visited some of my school classmates. They reminded me of an episode where we played a prank on one of our own. It makes me wonder if someone from my class is working on a hair-growth formula.”

  Vail frowned. “Explain.”

  “You know how you’ve seen dead animals with patches of fur missing?” In addition to the skinned creature in Goat’s backyard, he’d told her of finding a cat with part of its coat shorn. “What if it has nothing to do with shady products? What if it has everything to do with animal testing?” She sat up excitedly. “Cookie Calcone taught me about it when we were working on Jolene’s case. The skin-irritancy test is often done as part of the approval process for cosmetics and household products. To test whether a substance irritates the skin, researchers shave sections of an animal’s back. The test chemical is applied to the skin. They look for signs of redness, swelling, or blisters to determine toxicity.”