by Kim Pritekel
“Two minutes,” another woman said softly.
“Okay. Thanks, Rita,” the male said. “Nia, the doctor will be here in just a couple minutes to look at your arm, okay? We saw on the back of your badge?”
“Yes,” she said, groaning again as a fresh wave of pain washed through her as she was jostled a bit, barely registering the sound of scissors on material and chilly air hitting her naked torso as her shirt was cut away. “Um, d’Giovanni.”
“Excellent,” the woman said. “Rita,” she called out. “I need you to call this number. Ask for a Detective Oscar Riley.”
“What happened?” Catania asked, her head pounding and the nausea still with her, though she didn’t feel the need to throw up again.
“What do you remember?” the male asked, a cold liquid making her shiver as he seemed to be wiping away something on her right shoulder.
“I was in a store,” she said, remembering the clerk showing her the beautiful snow globe for Ally. “Where’s my snow globe?” she asked, her voice thick and thoughts still scrambled in her head.
“You were involved in an attempted hit and run,” the woman said, a quick sting inflicted on her right hand. “You took quite a hit to your head, hon. Your left arm has been broken, too. In fact, here’s Dr. Cubin to talk to you about that.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said, feeling dizzy and as if the darkness behind her closed eyelids was growing in intensity and darkness. “Hey, doc,” she slurred before she succumbed.
****
“Are you comfortable, Detective d’Giovanni?” the nurse asked, the bed controller in hand.
Still groggy from surgery, Catania looked up at her. “All things considered,” she muttered.
The nurse smiled. “Okay.” She grabbed Catania’s hand that wasn’t buried in a cast. “This button right here,” she said, placing her thumb on it. “This will alert the nurse’s station that you need something, okay? If you’re in pain, get hungry, whatever. Just let us know.” She left the remote with Catania and patted her on the hand. As she turned to leave the room, she stopped and returned to the bed. “Oh, you have some visitors, Detective. I can ask them to leave or send them in. What’s your poison?”
Catania rolled the words she’d just heard around in her brain. Poison? “Send them in,” she said absently. She rested her head back against the pillow, her heavily-casted arm braced on a steadying pillow. She was tired, loopy, and just confused by everything.
The hospital room door opened and a familiar face appeared, concern in his eyes. Oscar stepped in, carrying a black paper bag by the handles. He gave her a small wave and smile before moving deeper into the room. He set the bag on a table before walking over to the bed. Hands resting on the bedrails, he looked down at her.
“How you doin’, kiddo?” he asked softly.
She met his gaze, able to make him out visually though he was a little fuzzy around the edges. “Okay, I guess. I think I broke my arm,” she said, her head slowly flopping over to the left so she could look down at the cast. She looked back at him. “Right?”
He smiled and nodded, hands in his pockets, rattling coins. “Yeah, that you did. Pretty severe compound fracture, the nurse said.”
“I don’t know what happened, Oscar,” she said, eyebrows drawing in her confusion. “One minute I’m looking for a gift for Ally—” She was interrupted by Oscar reaching for the bag, lifting it by the handles with a finger. A slow, dopey smile spread across her lips. “The snow globe. Where did it come from?”
He chuckled. “Is that what it is? When we were downstairs in the ER lobby, some incredibly flamboyant kid hurries in and has this with him, insisting you get it.” He set the bag back down again.
“Why am I in the hospital?”
“Seems you rattled your brain around pretty good. I think they wanted to keep you under observation for the night. I haven’t spoken to your doctor yet, but the nurse didn’t seem to think you’d be here beyond tomorrow.” He grinned. “You know, if you wanted a day off work, you could’ve done it in an easier way than interrupting Linda and me at dinner.”
“You were at dinner?” she asked stupidly.
“Got the lobster necklace to prove it.”
Oscar withdrew his hand from his pocket, pulling a large, plastic bib out with a bright red, fat cartoon lobster printed on it along with the restaurant’s name.
Despite her fogginess, Catania burst into laughter, Oscar chucking along with her. “Jesus. How does Linda do it?”
“I honestly don’t know,” he said, bringing up a thumb to swipe at a laughter tear. His entire demeanor changing, Oscar put the bib aside and sat down, pulling the chair up to the side of the bed. “Nia,” he said, voice soft but firm. “The officer at the scene talked to me in the ER lobby. Witnesses said it was a white Subaru wagon, eighties or nineties era, that, according to every single witness, seemed to be aiming directly toward you.”
It took a moment for that information to soak into her pickled brain, but when it did, she met his concerned gaze. “License plate?”
“Some said they didn’t catch it and others were sure there wasn’t one. One guy was positive he saw temporary plates in the back window.”
“Temporary plates?” she asked, baffled. “It had plates, ’member?”
“I know. But, knowing someone had identified the car, maybe he sold it,” Oscar said, shrugging. “Don’t know.”
Catania gasped, eyes growing wide. “Oh my,” she breathed slowly, her brain working out a thought. “What if he sold it to himself?”
“To himself? I don’t get it.”
“Think about it, Oscar,” she slurred, trying to sit up in the bed only for the scream of her arm to stop her. “Okay, I’ll stay here,” she said with a groan. “Think about it. He didn’t own the car, Megan Murphy did. What if the title and all that stuff was in the car already when he took her?”
A grin spread across Oscar’s face as he nodded. “All he had to do was forge it. A sale from ‘Megan Murphy.’” he said, using air quotes, “to ‘Mr. Killer.’”
“Exactly. He loses the Arizona plates and it buys him some time.”
“Fucking brilliant.” He reached over, his hand sliding through the space between the bedrails and squeezed her good hand. “Excellent work, kid. Even higher than a kite.”
****
“This is the channel you asked for, right?” Ally asked, looking down at Catania where she was tucked in on the blow-up mattress that Oscar and Linda had blown up for her on the living room floor after pushing the recliner back against the wall. Catania opened her mouth to speak when the almost-manic Ally continued. “We got you tons of food, already ready to go. I put it in individual microwave dishes so all you have to do is pop them in and warm them. We got you some Coke,” she said, ticking the items off on her fingers. “Stuff for hot cocoa that you love so much, extra coffee creamer.” She paused and grinned. “I got you the mocha fudge almond that I know you love. We got you some bananas, easy to peel. Also, I chopped up some apples and put them into a covered dish in the fridge. Just grab one and—”
“Ally—” Catania said softly.
“Okay, I’ll be off work by two and Lizzie said I could—”
“Ally—”
“I’ll bring you your favorite from the diner—”
“Ally!” When she had her attention, Catania smiled up at her and patted the mattress beside her with her good arm. “Come here.”
Ally let out a small sigh and moved over to sit on the mattress, keeping space between them.
“Okay, no. Come here.” She lifted the blankets, inviting the other woman to join her. “You’re not going to hurt me, come on.” Once Ally had scooted over to her and laid down, Catania wrapped her up in her arm so that Ally’s head rested on her shoulder.
“Am I hurting you?” Ally asked softly, her hand resting on Catania’s stomach.
“Nope.” She rested her cheek against a blond head. “I really appreciate you doing all this, but you know
you don’t have to.”
“I know. I just feel so helpless. When Linda showed up at the diner to tell me what had happened, my heart stopped, Nia. I was so worried I’d lost you.”
“I know.” She left a kiss where her cheek had rested. “I don’t really remember what happened, but from what Oscar told me, it could have been much worse. He’s going to be looking at some footage today from businesses around there.”
“Are you going to have to see that, too? Due to your job?”
Catania shook her head. “Nah. I wouldn’t be allowed to investigate a crime committed against me.”
Ally readjusted herself as she lifted her head, cradling it in an upturned palm. She looked down into Catania’s bruised and swollen face where she’d landed on the street, a bit of road rash on her cheekbone where she’d skidded to a stop.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, bringing up a hand and lightly tracing her fingers just under the area where the bruising began. “It already looks so much more painful than it did last night.”
Catania smiled, taking the hand and bringing it to her mouth to kiss Ally’s fingers. “In other words, I look even worse.” She grinned at the shy look she received. “Yeah, I know. It’ll look even worse tomorrow, being the third day and all. It’ll be so incredibly fun to explain to my mother what happened.” She let out a sigh as she placed Ally’s hand on her upper chest, lightly running her fingertips over the soft skin of the back of her hand.
“I was surprised you didn’t have someone call your mom,” Ally said softly, cocking her head slightly as her gaze scanned Catania’s face, stopping on her eyes.
Catania chuckled. “You saw how dramatic Mamma can be. This,” she said, indicating her face and encased arm, “would be too much. I didn’t want to bring that drama into the hospital.”
“Baby?” she said, her voice soft. “Did this have to do with this major case you’re working on?”
Catania studied Ally’s eyes, so relieved to be somewhat clear-headed. She was still on heavy-duty painkillers, but since her return from the hospital that morning, Ally had been attached to her like glue. She’d been texting nonstop with Linda and Karen, Karen taking over her duties at Aberdeen House that morning. The three women had been working together to make Catania as comfortable as possible since she’d be home alone for a large part of the day.
This was why they’d insisted Catania be set up in the living room on the mattress. Everything, other than the bathroom, was within close proximity, and there was a TV and fireplace. She knew so much of this was because of Ally’s loving and nurturing personality. She’d never had anyone be so kind to her, so absolutely solicitous.
As she looked into Ally’s eyes, she knew she was falling in love with her, and that scared the hell out of her. She gave her a final squeeze, needing to be alone with her thoughts.
“I know you need to get to work. I’m sure Lizzie is already pissed as hell at me as it is.”
Ally smiled and shook her head. “No, she’s worried about you.” She initiated a loving kiss before pulling out from underneath the covers, tucking Catania back in. “If you need anything, I put your phone right there on the mattress next to the TV remote.” She stood and put her hands on her hips, looking down at her. “It was a good thing you accidentally left it in your Jeep. Probably would have been destroyed.”
“Yeah, probably. You’ve got a ride, right?”
“Yup. Martha is picking me up.” She blew Catania a kiss before hesitating for a moment, looking as though she was about to say something but stopped herself. “Um, I’ll call you in a while to see how you’re doing. Bye.”
“Bye.”
She watched Ally go, sadness in her heart as she felt terrible that their plans had been shredded. Ally had already volunteered to work at the diner—and make an elaborate Christmas meal at the Aberdeen House for those who didn’t have families—long before she and Catania had gotten together and certainly the events of the previous night. And, Catania had plans with her family, so couldn’t spend part of her day helping Ally.
So, they’d made plans to spend a passionate Christmas Eve night together. She glanced over at her arm and imagined the giant black and blue bruise that was the top left quarter of her face.
****
Catania jumped, startled. Confused, she looked around, wondering why on earth she was lying on her living room floor and couldn’t move. Her mind cleared enough for her to remember she was on the blow-up mattress and she’d burritoed herself in sleep. Noting the action of the movie on the TV, she looked around, wondering if that’s what had awakened her.
A knock at the door sounded.
“Oh,” she muttered, wincing as she moved to her back and sat up, her badly broken arm letting her know it was still there, too. “Just a minute!” she called out, surprised it was the door in the living room where someone was knocking and not the outside door by the kitchen.
With a small groan of pain, she got to her feet, her flannel pajama pants halfway pushed down her butt from moving around in sleep, and her sweatshirt halfway pushed up to just under breasts.
“Good god,” she muttered, arranging her clothing as she padded to the door. Unlocking it and pulling it open, she was surprised to see Mr. Horvat standing on the other side. “Hey there,” she said with a welcoming smile.
His own smile instantly fell as he took in her arm and face. He took a step closer. “Oh my goodness,” he gasped, reaching up and whipping his ever-present flat cap off his head to hold in both hands in front of him. “What happened, Detective?”
“Oh, uh, there was an accident last night,” she said, waving off the incident. She didn’t want to worry him or explain, Well ya see, there’s this crazy motherfucker out there who likes to kill people. But, don’t you worry! All’s well.
“I should say! If you want some of Mrs. Horvat’s stew, you let me know and I’ll bring you some.”
“Aww, thanks so much,” she said, giving him a huge smile. She’d had that stew before and it was truly incredible. She leaned forward all conspiracy-like. “If she happens to have some made, I won’t say no.”
He chuckled. “Well, I think you’re in luck. I actually came down here because I saw your Jeep back there and knew you were home. We wanted to thank you for your kindness in leaving us the roll of potica,” he said with an excited smile. “We enjoyed some with our coffee this morning. You’re such a good girl.”
She looked at him, her gut instantly screaming at her. “What roll of potica, Mr. Horvat?” she asked, her voice low, eyes meeting his with laser focus.
“The one you left on the hood of our truck,” he said, the smile freezing on his lips. “With the bow on it…”
Without further comment or bothering to close her door, she squeezed past him and sprinted as best she could down the hallway and up the staircase, taking them two at a time. Her socked feet slid on the wood floor, nearly passing their door before she grabbed the doorknob and turned it, pushing into the apartment.
Mrs. Horvat, who sat on the couch knitting, screamed, holding up her partially finished creation like a shield in front of her.
“Where’s the potica?” Catania called out, looking around the small, one-bedroom apartment, noting a bread box on the kitchen counter. “In there?” she asked the terrified woman, pointing at it. “Is that potica in there?”
“Fridge,” the older woman said, gasping.
Her husband rushed into the apartment, out of breath and a hand to his chest.
“I need you guys to call this number and tell the guy who answers that I said to get over here ASAP.” She prattled off Oscar’s cell number, waiting until she saw Mrs. Horvat pick up the house phone with a trembling hand.
Going to the fridge, Catania saw the dessert bread wrapped in a clear plastic bag. Taking it out, she placed it on the kitchen table covered in a tablecloth that looked like a giant doily. Untying the knot made by the extended end of the bag, she ignored the screaming pain in her arm and shoulder as
she pulled the potica out.
Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed, trying to focus to see if she smelled anything outside of the smell of the sweet bread and its filling. She was absolutely shocked when the house phone rang and Mr. Horvat explained he had to go let Oscar into the building. Moments later, the two men arrived back in the apartment.
“What’s going on?” Oscar asked, walking over to Catania, who was tearing the roll apart.
“Jesus, did you fly here?” she asked, stunned he’d arrived within a minute or two.
He smirked. “Nah, I was literally around the corner. I was coming by to check on you. What’s going on?” he asked again, eyeing the destroyed treat on the table.
“This was left for them outside on their truck,” she explained, grabbing a napkin from the dispenser at the center of the table to wipe her hands. “They thought it came from me because I promised I would and usually get them some from Randy’s, but I hadn’t done that yet.” She met his gaze, noting the uncertainty in his. “Isn’t this a little strange, Oscar?” she asked quietly, not wanting the older couple to hear them.
Oscar let out a long breath and gave her an understanding look. “Nia, what happened last night was traumatizing and deadly, we both know that. But…” He indicated the mutilated potica on the table. “Isn’t that a little convenient? The very next day? And, why would he do something to your neighbors?”
“Excuse me, Detectives?” Mr. Horvat said from where he sat holding his wife on the couch. They both turned to look at him. “Lizbeth just told me that came from her niece.” He swallowed, heavy mustache wiggling with the action. “I didn’t realize.”
Oscar met Catania’s gaze again, a look of See? on his face.
Catania walked a few steps past him so she was almost at the couch. “Mrs. Horvat, she told you she brought this?” she asked gently, beginning to feel quite stupid.
“She said she would bring it by, yes,” the older woman said, nodding vigorously.
Catania’s eyes fell closed and she buried her face in her one good hand. “Fuck,” she whispered, eyeing the mess she’d made. Turning back to the couple, she gave them an apologetic smile. “I am so sorry. I honestly thought you two were in danger. I’m sorry. I’ll clean this up.”