Loom and Doom

by Carol Ann Martin

  “Why not? We do have all the time in the world. What’s the big rush?”

  My voice took on a defensive tone. “Here’s the thing. You might not know or care where you want to go. But I do. I want what my parents had—a happy marriage and children.”

  “Ah,” he said. “So that’s what it is. The famous biological clock.” I could have clobbered him.

  “It has nothing to do with my biological clock. I know where I want to go and I don’t want to go on a long ride to nowhere,” I said, noticing that the discussion was suddenly going very differently from what my mother suggested. It was quiet in the car for a long time after this. The silence grew until we got to the outskirts of Charlotte.

  At last, Matthew said, “How long have we known each other?”

  I look at him, puzzled. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “All our lives, like you said. You should know by now that I’m honest and loyal. Why don’t we keep seeing each other? Who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind.” He was giving me the same argument my father had given my mother.

  I had prayed I would not have to use them, but all at once, I heard myself speak my mother’s words.

  “I’m glad we had this discussion.” He glanced at me, and I continued onward. “I think it’s important for two people who are in a relationship to know each other’s goals and objectives. The problem is that you and I don’t want the same thing, and I have too much respect for you to try to make you change your mind.”

  A look of relief washed over his face, but it disappeared as soon as I said, “So, that’s why I think it best if we stop seeing each other. This way, we will each have fond memories of each other. If we don’t, we risk the relationship deteriorating into one of frustration and resentment. And that way, we can each look for a partner whose goals will be more compatible to ours.”

  When I finished, I noticed that we had arrived at our destination. I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.

  Matthew pulled to a stop and turned to me. “So that’s it? You’re breaking it off with me?”

  “We’re just traveling different roads,” I said. I leaned over, gave him a kiss on the cheek and hopped out of the car. I walked over to the police building, without turning around. If I had, I would probably have had a meltdown.

  Inside the building, I made my way to a counter where I presented my claim ticket. The clerk pointed me to a bank of elevators.

  “Take the first on the left down to P and hand in your ticket there.”

  Fifteen minutes later I’d initialed and signed half a dozen forms, inspected my Jeep and was already driving out of the garage. As I wove my way through the city, I spotted a hospital sign and remembered that I was only blocks away from the hospital where Sondra was being treated.

  On a spur of the moment decision, I turned at the next light and made my way there.

  • • •

  The drizzle had grown to a light rain. I was lucky and found a parking spot near the hospital. I dashed inside and stopped at the information counter.

  “Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

  “I’m looking for Sondra Andrews’ room.”

  She consulted her computer. “She’s in room five oh six. Take a right at the corner and take the elevator to the fifth floor.” I followed her directions, amazed at the number of people in the building. I had to keep an eye on where I was going or risk bumping into someone. I stepped into the elevator, sharing the space with a gurney and a couple of men dressed in surgical greens. On the fifth floor a nurse pointed me in the right direction and soon I found myself facing Sondra’s room. I had no more than touched the door when somebody called out to me.

  “Excuse me, but you can’t go in there.”

  “This is Sondra Andrews’ room, right? I’m a friend of hers.”

  She marched over. “That patient is allowed only one visitor at a time. Those are the rules.”

  “She’s got a visitor?” I grabbed the door handle to take a quick peek inside.

  Sondra was on her back with her eyes closed. Machines were all around her, beeping at different intervals. I had an immediate impression of countless tubes connecting her to machines and vice versa.

  Next to her bed were flower arrangements. And then a person moved into my view. It was Susan Price. As she noticed me, a look of guilt washed over her face.

  “Della,” she said. “Come on in. I was just about to leave.”

  I looked at the nurse and she nodded reluctantly.

  Susan snatched her bag and hurried out, whispering a quick, “See you.” I stepped in, waiting for the door to shut and then grabbed my cell, punching in Roxanne’s number.

  “Lombard,” she replied immediately.

  “It’s Della.”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “I’m at the Carolinas Medical Center, in Sondra Andrews’ room. Maybe I’m overreacting, but something strange just happened. Susan Price was here when I came in. And I had the strangest impression that she wasn’t happy being discovered here.”

  “Susan Price? What’s she got to do with anything?”

  I remembered that I had never even mentioned her name in relation to Swanson’s murder. “It’s a long story,” I said. I gave her the Reader’s Digest version.

  “We already have the killer,” she replied, sounding none too pleased.

  “I hate to ask you this, but is there any possibility that Mona might be telling the truth, that she killed Shuttleworth, but had nothing to do with her husband’s death or with the attack on Swanson’s ex-wife?”

  “Are you telling me you think you got it wrong?” she asked. I couldn’t help noticing that all of a sudden it was “I” got it wrong. Not the “we” she’d used earlier. “Because if that’s what you’re telling me, I’ll be one very unhappy cop.”

  I hesitated. “Maybe I am just being paranoid.”

  I didn’t know the first thing about any of the machines plugged into the patient, but there were no red flashing lights, no alarms screaming for medical personnel. Everything looked like it was working fine. If Susan had done something, surely I’d see evidence of it somewhere. I glanced into the wastebasket by her bedside table. No syringe, no ampoule. I gave myself a shake.

  “Sorry, Roxanne. I think I let my imagination run away with me.”

  “I guess after all the evidence you’ve uncovered, it’s natural to be a bit overly suspicious.” I could hear the relief in her voice. We said good-bye and hung up. But I had a little niggling feeling that something was not right. I was overlooking something.

  Since there wasn’t much I could do but sit and stare at Sondra, after a few minutes I decided to leave. I was walking down the hall, toward the elevators when I happened to glance up and noticed a man among a group of patients walking in my direction. His appearance caught my attention. He looked frail; over a pale face, his hair was gray and perfectly coiffed. He looked around nervously. Must be a cancer patient, I thought, realizing that his strange appearance had a lot to do with his painted on eyebrows. As I climbed into the elevator I watched as he made his way down the hall, and something about the way he moved also struck me as familiar. I’d met this man before, I thought. I had lived in Charlotte my whole life until a couple of years ago when I’d moved to Briar Hollow, but I couldn’t place him for the life of me. I chased the thought away and was on my way to the parking lot when my cell phone rang.

  “Hello?” a male voice said. “Is this Della Wright?”

  “It is,” I said, balancing the cell between my ear and my shoulder as I riffled through my purse for the keys.

  “This is Ronald Dempsey,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to call you ever since that day you stormed into my house. I thought I should clarify a few things with you.” I was stunned, not certain how I should react.

  My phone started to slip and I
dropped my purse catching it. “Where did you get my number?”

  “I called your shop and a nice lady—much nicer than you, I should add—was kind enough to give it to me. All I want is two minutes of your time. After the way you treated me, I think you owe me that much.”

  He had a point. I’d accused him of murder. And now that Mona had been arrested, I felt somewhat embarrassed by that little episode. “I’m listening,” I said.

  Even before he spoke, my heart was already pounding in my chest, as if I knew that what he was about to tell me would change everything all over again.

  “One of the things you said was that I’d tried to deflect suspicion from myself by putting it on to you. I want you to know that I never did that. I wasn’t the one who told the police that I’d seen you wipe blood off your clothes.”

  “It wasn’t you?” Half a dozen thoughts flashed through my mind. Was he lying? If he was, I couldn’t see the point. If he was telling the truth that could only mean— Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Oh, my God. I have to go,” I said, already running as fast as I could.

  I must have looked like a lunatic racing down the sidewalk, then up the hospital corridor. Inside the elevator I kept pressing the fifth-floor button, praying that I wasn’t already too late. The doors opened and I sprinted to Sondra’s room and burst through the door.

  “Stop!” I screamed. The strange-looking man I’d noticed earlier was holding a pillow over Sondra’s face. He dropped it, and made a dash for the door. But, just as he was passing me, I stuck my foot out and he went flying.

  I poked my head out the door and called for help. A moment later the nurse who’d tried to stop me from going in earlier came rushing in.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked.

  “I just caught this person trying to smother her.” I pulled out my cell phone again and punched in 9-1-1. “I’m calling to report an attempted murder,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the man on the floor.

  “I’ll get security,” the nurse said. She ran down the hall, coming back a minute later, followed by a burly man in uniform. “That’s him,” she said, pointing to the man now cowering in the corner.

  The guard grabbed him by the arm, lifting him up to his feet. I walked over and snatched his gray wig. Thin, wispy blond hair came cascading out. “You sure had everybody fooled,” I said. “And you almost got away with it. Almost, but not quite.”

  I was looking at none other than Johanna Renay.

  “Howard deserved it,” she said, her face a deep shade of crimson. “He strung me along for years, promising to leave his wife and marry me. And all that time I covered for him at the city, and he never once shared any of the money he made with me. And then, he meets that little piece of trash—”

  “You’re talking about Mona?” I said.

  She nodded. “Of course I’m talking about Mona. That bitch wrapped him around her little finger, and within weeks he up and left his wife and married her.”

  “But he married Mona almost a year ago. What else happened to make you so angry?” I asked.

  “He suggested we pick up where we left off, adding that he promised he was going to leave Mona and marry me, just as soon as he figured the timing was right.” Just talking about it was making her so angry her voice was coming out raspy. “The bitch almost caught me that morning.”

  “You saw her at city hall, the day you killed Howard?”

  “I was just walking out of his office when I spotted her turning the corner down the hall. I slipped out the back entrance before she saw me.”

  I had a few more questions I wanted to ask, but there was a commotion down the hall, and when the nurse opened the door to check, two policemen walked in. Soon, Johanna was cuffed and escorted away.

  “You’ll have to come to the station with us to make your witness statement,” one of the officers said.

  “Gladly.” I said good-bye to Sondra, who was being attended to by a nurse, and promised to come back. I followed the police out of the building.

  Chapter 29

  The news of Johanna’s arrest flew like wildfire—as it always does in Briar Hollow. By the time I got home, it was already seven o’clock. Matthew had picked up Winnie hours earlier, yet to my surprise, Marnie and Jenny were both sitting in the staircase to my apartment waiting.

  “You didn’t really imagine we’d wait until tomorrow to get all the details, did you?” Marnie said.

  “But I’m famished. I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch,” I said.

  “So are we,” Jenny said. “So I brought the wine and Marnie said she’d get the pizza.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, unlocking my door and letting them in. “But you know who we really should invite is Roxanne.”

  “Roxanne?” Jenny said. “Who’s she?”

  “Also known as Officer Lombard,” Marnie said. “Didn’t you know? She and Della are BFFs now.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “We had a talk and patched things up. That’s all. At least I won’t be worried about being arrested every time some crime is committed. Besides, I owe her. I fed her all this information and half of it turned out to be wrong.”

  Without waiting for another teasing comment from Marnie, I went to the kitchen and gave her a call, followed by a call to The Bottoms Up for pizza. “She’s on her way,” I said, carrying a tray of wineglasses and a bottle opener to the living room.

  Marnie filled glasses all around, leaving an empty one for Roxanne. “You haven’t said a word about Matthew. So, I take it the talk didn’t go the way you expected?”

  I sat and took a deep breath. “Actually, it went exactly as I expected. He’d made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to be married. But, I suppose a small part of me was still hoping.”

  “You broke it off?” Jenny sounded shocked. “But—” She looked at Marnie who shook her head slightly. “That’s just not right,” Jenny continued. “You two belong together. You should—”

  Marnie cut in. “Della knows what she’s doing. If they’re meant to be together they will be.” She turned to me. “I bet he’s going to call. And when he does, don’t be a fool.”

  “Okay. Define fool. If he asks, am I supposed to see him or not see him?”

  “See him, of course.”

  That was the answer I’d hoped for. But regardless of what she might have said, there was no way I would have turned him down. “Fine. If you think that would be the right thing to do.”

  Marnie gave me an amused smile—as if knowing exactly what I’d been thinking.

  The buzzer from downstairs rang and I let Roxanne up. She was wearing a skirt and jacket—civilian clothes. I couldn’t get used to it.

  “Nice outfit,” I said.

  “Thanks.” She handed me a bottle of red. “Hope I’m not too late. Is there any pizza left?”

  “I just ordered it,” I said. “Come on in. Roxanne, you know everybody, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think I’ve questioned just about all of you at one time or another.”

  “Must be hard to make friends,” Marnie said with a touch of sarcasm in her tone.

  But instead of bristling, Roxanne laughed. “I don’t know. Look at Della. I didn’t just question her. I arrested her, and now here we are, sharing pizza and drinking wine together.”

  The buzzer rang again and I answered. This time it was the delivery guy. Marnie paid him while I carried the boxes to the kitchen, where I’d already stacked plates and wrapped the cutlery in napkins.

  “Come and get it,” I called. Soon we were all back in the living room and everyone was looking at me expectantly.

  “How in the world did you figure it out?” Marnie said. “We were all convinced Mona had killed Howard and Syd and that she had also attacked Sondra.”

  “So was I. She was the most logical suspect,”
I said. “But I still had a nagging feeling that I was missing something. Judging from the look of fear in Mona’s eyes when I saw Syd arguing with her, I think that Mona might be telling the truth about killing him in self-defense.”

  “I agree with Della,” Roxanne said, turning to me. “I have to say you almost gave me a heart attack when you called and questioned whether we’d gotten it right. But it started me thinking, so I went back and questioned Mona again. She told me that when Syd found out that her husband had been murdered, he jumped to the conclusion that she’d killed him. He took for granted that they would get back together. She went to his house the morning he died, to make it clear to him that she would never get involved with him. That’s when he attacked her.”

  I remembered the mess I’d noticed in the garage. It had looked like a fight had broken out, but I’d believed that Mona had attacked Syd.

  “In the end,” I said, “it was just luck that helped me figure it out. If Ronald Dempsey hadn’t called me when he did, Johanna Renay may well have gotten away with murder.”

  “By the way,” Roxanne said, “you’ll be happy to hear that Sondra is awake. And she’s confirmed that her attacker was, indeed, Johanna Renay.”

  “That is really good news,” I said. Maybe it was because I had held her hand and tried to keep her from dying until the ambulance got there, but her death would have devastated me.

  “Get back to Ronald Dempsey,” Marnie said. “What did he say that made you solve the case?”

  “He told me that he never said a word to the police about seeing me wiping blood from my clothes.”

  “That’s it?” Jenny said. “You figured everything out from that?”

  “It was simple. You see, Johanna was the one who told me he’d said that. And she’d very cleverly made me think he was pointing the police in my direction in order to prevent them from suspecting him. So once he told me that he hadn’t, I had to question why Johanna would have lied. The only reason that made sense was if she was doing exactly what she had accused Dempsey of doing. Then I remembered a number of things that didn’t make sense and I put everything together.”