by V. M. Burns
I pushed the button and Dawson’s voice came through the speakers. “Someone just tried to kill my dad.”
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Call the police. We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Chapter 18
I didn’t remember parking the car at the hospital. After disconnecting with Dawson, my next memory was giving him a big hug. Dawson was about a foot taller than me and probably a hundred pounds heavier, but when I put my arms around him, he bent down, put his head on my shoulder, and wept. I held him with everything I had. A few minutes, hours, who knew how long that embrace lasted, but I knew at that moment Dawson Alexander would forever be a part of my family, and I would do anything to protect him.
When Dawson was composed, he straightened up and I got a good look at him. He looked haggard. There were dark circles under his eyes.
Nana Jo gave him a fierce hug, then pulled his face close. She stared into his eyes as though she were looking into his soul. “You look terrible. You need a good meal and sleep.”
Dawson kissed her on the cheek. “I’m fine, Mrs. T.”
“What happened?” I asked.
He ran his hand through his hair. “I was in the lounge, lying on a sofa watching television.” He lowered his eyes. “I should have been watching him.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this.” I rubbed his shoulders. I hoped he felt reassured, although I doubted it. I’d gone through similar feelings of guilt when my husband died in the middle of the night. I should have been there. I should have single-handedly fought back death. I should have stayed by his side and watched him night and day. I should have forced him to go to the doctor for regular checkups years earlier. Regret was the survivor’s burden. Like cancer, it got in your mind and ate away your common sense and reason. “Your dad’s still alive. Focus on that for now.”
Dawson took a deep breath. “One of the nurses came in and said I had a package at the front desk.”
“That’s odd. Don’t they bring packages up to the room?” I asked.
“I thought so too, but the nurse said he told her it was from you. He said the volunteers were gone for the day. If I came down to the lobby, I could pick it up now. Otherwise, it would be delivered tomorrow. I thought it was another pizza like the one you sent last night.”
I frowned. I hadn’t sent Dawson a pizza, but apparently someone else had.
“I went down to the lobby. No one knew anything about a package.” He looked up and pointed. “That’s when I saw him.”
We followed where he was pointing. That’s when we noticed Virgil Russell sitting at a desk in a small room off the nurses’ station. He was covered in blood and was holding a bloody towel to his nose with his head tilted back.
“Virgil Russell?” Nana Jo asked.
Dawson nodded. “He claimed I sent him a note, but I didn’t. So we rushed back up here and all hell had broken loose. Lights and alarms were going off in my dad’s room. There were tons of people in there working on him.” He looked at his hands. “That’s when I hit him.”
“Good,” Nana Jo said.
“Nana Jo, you shouldn’t encourage violence.”
She sniffed.
The elevator opened and Stinky Pitt and a uniformed policeman stepped out and walked toward us.
One of the doctors came out of the room and said a few words to the two officers. The officer took up his position in front of A-squared’s door. Detective Pitt and the doctor joined us on the sofa.
“Your father had a really close call. If he hadn’t been in a coma, he’d be dead now. In fact, I’m not sure why he isn’t. He’s a fighter. We’ll know more in the next twenty-four hours. All we can do now is wait.” The doctor left.
Detective Pitt wanted to know what happened. Dawson repeated what he’d said to us. He asked a few questions and then Detective Pitt went to talk to Virgil.
Nana Jo wandered near the nurses’ station outside the room where Detective Pitt and Virgil were talking. When I saw what she was doing, I told Dawson to wait there and I joined her at the desk. Unfortunately, when Detective Pitt turned and saw us standing nearby, he closed the door.
One of the nurses who had been sitting behind the desk looked up. She had a sympathetic face, and I’d seen her before when I visited. She winked at me, put a finger to her lips, and motioned for us to follow her. She led us behind the nurses’ station, around a corner. There was a small room, barely bigger than a closet. There was a refrigerator and microwave and a small sliding door, which looked like a concession stand opening. The door was slightly ajar and we could hear everything in the room where Detective Pitt and Virgil Russell were sitting. We mouthed the words thank you. Our friendly nurse smiled and quietly returned to her desk.
“Come back to finish the job, did you?” Detective Pitt asked.
“I never laid one hand on him,” Virgil said in a muffled voice.
“What brought you here tonight?”
“I got a note from Dawson to meet him here. He said he wanted to talk about Melody.”
Nana Jo and I exchanged a glance.
“What note?”
We heard fumbling and then the sound of a note being opened.
“Did you ask him about this?”
“I never got the chance.”
We heard the sound of a door opening and hurried back around the nurses’ station. We took a roundabout route back to the sofa where Dawson was sitting. Detective Pitt stood nearby.
“Where have you two been?” he asked.
“Ladies’ room. I’ve got a weak bladder,” Nana Jo said. “It comes with old age.”
“You got a weak bladder too?” He looked at me.
“Do you have a weak bladder is the correct question.” I stared at the detective. “And, the answer is no. I do not.”
“Women tend to go to the bathroom in pairs,” Nana Jo added. “Surely you’ve noticed, Stinky Pitt.”
A slight rise of color went up the detective’s neck. Whether it was anger for the grammar lesson or frustration with Nana Jo for using his childhood nickname, I couldn’t hazard a guess.
He turned to Dawson and held up a note. “Did you send this?”
Dawson reached out a hand, but Detective Pitt held it out of reach. “Just look. Don’t touch. Probably a slim chance we’ll find any prints, but it’s still evidence.” He held the paper from the corners so Dawson could look.
I strained to read the note, but Nana Jo was quicker and pulled out her iPhone and snapped a picture before Detective Pitt knew what was happening. She stretched the photo, and I looked over her shoulder and read the note.
If you want to know what happened to Melody,
come round to the surgery at nine.
The note was on hospital stationery but didn’t have a signature. Something about the note struck me as off.
“What’s wrong?” Nana Jo asked.
“I don’t know. Something just seems . . . odd about that note.”
“I know. I was thinking the same thing, but I can’t figure out what it is.”
“Well, I wish someone would tell me what it is,” Detective Pitt muttered. “Did you write this?” He looked at Dawson.
He shook his head. “Never seen it before.”
“When did he get it?” I asked.
Detective Pitt looked puzzled, then turned and walked to the room where Virgil sat. He said a few words to him and then returned.
“Said he found it on the windshield of his car.”
“But, I haven’t left the hospital since my dad was admitted,” Dawson said.
“How did he know A-squared was here? I haven’t seen it in the papers.” Nana Jo asked.
“Did you tell anyone?” Detective Pitt asked Dawson.
“No. I haven’t left the hospital.” Dawson gritted his teeth.
“I might have mentioned it to a few people.” I severely hoped I wasn’t responsible for this attack.
“Who?”
Detective Pitt didn’t look at all sympathetic.
“Well, I told Jenna and Chris and Zaq. I’m pretty sure I told Emma and Jillian. The girls from the nursing home and Professor Quin.”
“Why didn’t you just put an ad in the newspaper? It would have been faster.”
“Stop. Can’t you see she feels bad enough as it is?” Nana Jo put a comforting arm around my shoulders.
Detective Pitt grunted. “Was Virgil Russell around when you told any of those people?”
I thought for a moment. “He might have overheard when I told Professor Quin at Melody’s memorial service.”
Detective Pitt asked a few more questions, then he got Virgil, and asked him to accompany him to the police station to answer questions. “You can even file a report against Mr. Alexander for assault, if you’d like.”
Nana Jo scowled at Stinky Pitt. I held onto Dawson’s hand.
Virgil Russell stared at Dawson, who didn’t look contrite or repentant in the least. In fact, he looked like he’d like nothing better than to take another swing at him if given the chance. He and Dawson stared at each other like two boxers sizing each other up before a fight. During that exchange, something happened. Maybe Virgil realized Dawson was younger, bigger, and stronger than him. “Nawh, I won’t be filing no police report.”
Stinky Pitt escorted Virgil to the elevator.
“What just happened there?” Nana Jo asked as the elevator closed behind the two men.
“I have no idea.”
Nana Jo and I offered to stay at the hospital, but Dawson urged us to go home. I was prepared to camp out, despite his assurances he would be fine.
“I appreciate you both for driving all the way here, but I’m fine. No one can try anything now. The hospital is on alert. There’s a cop standing guard, and I’m not going to be fooled into leaving again.”
“But we want to help,” I said.
Dawson looked very intense. “Then find out who killed Melody and who tried to kill my dad.”
* * *
Nana Jo and I tried to figure out what was bothering us about the note during the drive home. Neither of us could put our finger on it. She sent me the picture of Virgil’s note so I could study it later. I tried to figure out what was nagging at my mind. Was it possible A-squared really knew who killed Melody? Whoever killed Melody tried to kill him. Why did he wait until now to make another attempt?
It was late or rather early morning by the time we made it home. Oreo and Snickers were knocked out. Not even turning on the lights woke them. I literally had to pick them up to take them out to take care of business. They immediately got back in their beds when they were done, but I didn’t even try to sleep.
“Wallis claims she and Count Rudolph were talk ing all night.” Lady Elizabeth pursed her lips as she continued knitting.
“Talking? Really, and they had to do this in his bedroom?” Penelope asked.
“That’s what she claims, dear.”
Something in her aunt’s voice made Penelope stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you believe her?”
Lady Elizabeth knitted a few stitches and then paused. “Actually, I do.”
“But that’s crazy. Why would she be in the count’s bedroom? If they wanted to talk, there are over a hundred rooms in this house where they could have ‘talked.’ ”
“True, dear, but you have to remember, Wallis was trying to negotiate some type of agreement. They needed a place that was private.” Lady Elizabeth looked at her family. “I’m not saying it was wise, but I did believe her when she said she wasn’t having an affair with Count Rudolph.”
“Despite the fact that she’s practically thrown herself at him the entire time she’s been here?” Penelope asked.
“Yes. Wallis isn’t beautiful. She’s a flirt and she knows how to use her sex appeal to attract men. But take a look at the type of men she attracts.”
“I don’t think I understand you, dear?” Lord William looked at his wife as he sat in his bed with his leg propped up on pillows.
“I think I know what you mean,” Daphne said from her seat near the window. She had a large drawing pad on her lap and appeared to be sketching. “She seems to flirt with men who aren’t very bright and who aren’t . . . very manly.”
“Exactly.” Lady Elizabeth smiled at her niece. “Let’s face it, David isn’t exactly known for his brains. He’s always been a bit spoiled,” she said thoughtfully. “He liked women, dancing, drinking, and having fun. He was a playboy.”
Victor stood against the wall and smoked. “He was the king. He could have had any woman he wanted.”
Lady Elizabeth picked up her knitting. “And who does he choose? A married woman with two living husbands. There’s no way he believed he would be allowed to reign as the head of the Church of England.”
Daphne looked at her aunt. “You think he married her to escape being king?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But why did she marry him?” Penelope asked.
Lady Elizabeth knitted. “I think Wallis is one of those women who’s always attracted to the wrong type of men. She doesn’t want a strong man. She wants a man she can manipulate and control, someone who will never love her, not in the real way a man loves a woman.” Lady Elizabeth blushed slightly.
Lord William fumbled with his pipe. “Well, I’ll be.”
“In David, she found someone in need of a mother figure. In Count Rudolph . . . well, I suspect she has found someone who is struggling with his own sexuality.”
“My word,” Lord William said.
“He is a bit of a dandy,” Victor said.
“That explains why he never made a pass at me,” Daphne said. “Most men do, but Count Rudolph never did.” She looked very serious.
Everyone stared at Daphne for several seconds until they noticed the slightest twitch around her mouth before she broke into a laugh.
Everyone laughed until a knock at the door caused them to stop and stare.
Penelope looked to her aunt, who gave her a slight nod. She walked to the door and opened it slightly. When she looked out, she smiled and opened the door wider. “James, at last. I thought you’d never get here.”
The duke entered the room and Penelope closed the door behind him. Inside, he looked around. His eyes lingered longest on Daphne by the window. “Sorry I’m late. Have you figured out who the mur derer is?”
“We were just waiting for Lady Elizabeth to tell us,” Victor joked. “Take a seat.”
Lady Elizabeth shook her head and continued to knit. “I have no idea who the murderer is. I can’t even tell who the intended victim was.”
Lady Penelope recapped her conversation with the servants.
“That goes along with what I learned from Lord Charles,” Lord William said. “Darned fool admitted he had a fling with the maid. Called it a bit of fun.” He pursed his lips as though he had just tasted a bitter lemon. “Got a nasty shock the next morning. The girl wanted him to divorce his wife and marry her.”
“You mean she tried to blackmail him?” Victor asked.
Lord William nodded. “That’s about the size of it. Threatened to tell his wife.” He chuckled.
“Well, I don’t think that’s funny at all.” Lady Elizabeth frowned at her husband. “Looks like he had a motive to kill the girl.”
“Except, Lord Charles had no intention of leaving his wife. She’s got all the money.”
Lady Elizabeth nodded. “I thought so. His family has that large estate in Sussex, but no money. He went to America and came back with an American heiress.”
“He’d have to go to America to find someone who’d marry him,” Daphne added. “His reputation in England was abominable.”
“Yes. He was definitely a womanizer,” Lady Elizabeth said.
“He could have killed her to keep his wife from finding out,” Penelope said.
“She’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know her husband was a womanizer,” Daphne said. “And I think Lady
Abigail is a very intelligent woman.”
Everyone stared at Daphne.
“I spent time with her after the shoot. She’s very intelligent. Graduated from Smith College in the States.”
“If she’s so smart, why’d she marry an old bore like Charles Chitterly?” Penelope frowned.
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Well, she’s not very at tractive. Maybe she didn’t have a lot of other op tions.”
“Exactly,” Daphne added. “She’s very ambitious. I believe she plans to see that Lord Charles advances, politically.”
“A woman with that type of ambition might not want to have her plans ruined by a French maid,” James said.
“Didn’t you say she was a crack shot who won shooting contests in the States?” Penelope asked.
Daphne nodded. “Yes, but I don’t think it was her.”
“Why not, dear?” Lady Elizabeth asked.
Daphne looked around as though looking for the right word. “I don’t think she would shoot her in the marsh like that. She’d confront the girl and tell her to, pardon my language, bugger off.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled at her niece. “I think you’re right. That’s the impression I have of her as well.”
“Well, I had a conversation with Detective Inspector Covington today. You know he’s been pulled from the case to find poachers?”
“Poachers?” Penelope stared at her husband. “You’re joking, right?”
Everyone had a surprised look on their face, except James and Lady Elizabeth. “Why do I get the feeling the two of you already knew about this?”
Lady Elizabeth pulled yarn from a ball. “I can’t say I knew anything about poachers; however, I did suspect Bertie would do something.” She sighed. “The king doesn’t want attention drawn to the case. I suspected he might use his considerable influence—”
“To delay justice,” Penelope said.
“To buy us some time, dear,” Lady Elizabeth said.
James stared at Lady Elizabeth with a look of respect. “Three days. I just talked to Budgy, ah . . . I mean Chief Inspector Buddington. That’s how long we have to solve this before the Met comes in with everything they’ve got.”
“I looked through a report Detective Inspector Covington had on his desk. The maid wasn’t shot with any of the guns belonging to Lord William.”