"We did. I guess that was your craving -- Chinese food. And you never let me order curry once. Not even when we ate at Richard's."
"Sweetheart, I did warn you about the curry thing. And that was before I was pregnant. We'll find somewhere you can order takeout for lunch. Of course, you'll have to eat it in the park, or somewhere."
"You mean I can't even eat it in the office?"
"Our office?"
"The office I decided to share with you?"
"Yes, our office," she agreed, smiling.
"What about that, Beth?"
"What?"
"Food. When you were working on Sir Anthony's project, did you go out for food and bring it back? Did you have anything delivered?"
"Nope," she insisted. "Bridget kept food in the apartment for me. I didn't order in. I mean, I was inside Sir Anthony's office. It's not like I could have a guy deliver food. We might have ordered something once or twice, but Bridget had to go downstairs to get it."
"True enough," Andrew said. He'd tried to turn towards her, but once again, when he moved he winched.
"Maybe you should take another pain pill, Drew."
"Yes," he agreed, reaching for her handbag to get the pills. "Do you think I could take an antibiotic along with it?"
"I don't know. How about you take a pain pill, and wait half an hour or so. We'll probably have to stop to get gas about then."
Andrew frowned, thought for a moment, and said, "I'll take the antibiotic first. And then take the pain pill after we're back on the road. I won't lie to you, the more it hurts, the harder it is for me to move around, but the pain pills make me drowsy. And I need to be alert when you're away from the car."
"I don't think we're being followed..." Beth's voice trailed off and she concentrated on something.
"What? Have you remembered something?"
"That afternoon I left. I took a cab to the house -- well, around the corner from the house -- and had him wait. And we did the same thing at Richard's. And then, while we were headed for the train station, I got that hinky feeling, and had the taxi driver drive around for quite a while."
"Yes..."
"I'd told him I was afraid my boyfriend might be following me. After we'd been roaming around the city for an hour or so, the cabman asked if we'd ridden around long enough. He said that I didn't need to worry -- that there weren't any men in any of the nearby taxis. And the only one he'd even thought might have been following us, at one point, had had a woman in it. I bet the woman was our Ms. Body."
"A woman..." Drew said, thoughtfully.
"Of course, a woman. Oh, Andrew," Beth said, risking a quick look, "don't tell me you and Jack didn't figure out it must be a woman?"
"Why... Blood hell!" Drew swore. "They were all found in Ladies Rooms. How could we have been so stupid?"
"It doesn't matter, since we know our female assassin is currently swelling up like a balloon on Jack's friend's gallery. And she will probably start attracting attention very soon."
"And the only time you saw her was at the antique store where we bought the bedroom set? You're sure?"
"I told you before, Andrew. I can't be sure. I think it's fair to say that lots of people look similar to one another -- hence all those corpses following my path." She giggled.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing really. But, if we look at this absolutely dispassionately -- approach it like Sherlock Holmes -- there is one obvious suspect."
"And who would that be?"
"Me, of course."
"Now, why would you kill all those women?"
"I have no clue. But," she told him, "you have to admit, I'm the only one who was in all the places the bodies were found; and I have no alibi."
*****
They got gas north of Knoxville. "We're getting very good mileage. With a little luck and no detours, we shouldn't need to stop again. Except for food and bathroom breaks. But, I'll keep my eye on the gas gauge, and if we get too low and aren't about to pull up in front of Jack's, we'll have to get a little more."
"I'm just a passenger. I yield to you for all that technical stuff."
"I see. So, you're just hitching a ride," she said. But, she reached out and touched his knee for a second. She hoped he felt better for it. She knew she did.
"Several times when you were people watching, you said you caught sight of someone you thought you recognized. Who was it? Or, who do you think it might have been?"
"That's just the problem. I never got a good enough look at him. And, he might not be anyone. Well...I mean, no one I'd seen before they walked by me in the square."
"All right, before you lost James, we hadn't gone anywhere. You were in the hospital -- unconscious for almost a month. The only people who came in your room were family, and your doctor and the same few nurses. Then what?"
"We went home, and I recuperated a few more days and then I went back to work."
"Had anyone been in your office -- perhaps a janitor?"
"No. No one had been in the office. I remember because I hadn't been in very long that first morning, when Bridget came in with someone to clean. She commented that no one was allowed in that office if I wasn't there. Although, I don't think Sir Anthony would be included in that."
"Okay, what next?"
"Well, I think it was that very first day...Bridget took me to the cemetery. But, we just went to the grave for a few minutes and then picked up some fish and chips and brought it back with us."
"Keep going."
"I went to work, and I went to Richard's. That's all I did until... No, wait. That's wrong. I went to the cemetery every day at lunchtime. And about the second or third day is when my friend started showing up."
"Your friend?" Andrew repeated.
"Yes. You saw him. The man on the bench. Every day he would come, and ask if he could sit on the far end of the bench where I was sitting."
"Who was he? Did he tell you his name?"
"No. And I didn't tell him mine. All I told him I was visiting my son's grave. So, I suppose he could see the name Oliver."
"Who was he visiting?"
"His wife. She was a few plots down. I know he said she'd died in a mugging...and I think...I think he said her name was Marie. No! It was Mary. But that's all he ever told me. Except that they'd been married a very long time."
"I don't want you to get mad at me, but...you were very distressed. Is it possible for him to have tricked you, or drugged you, maybe? So that he could ask you questions?"
"No. In fact, he only touched me twice."
"What?"
"Not like that," Beth said, with a scowl. "The first time was the day you came with the flowers. It was that bitterly cold day, remember? He'd given me his muffler."
"Did he put it around your neck?"
"No, my hands were turning blue. He pulled his scarf out from beneath his coat and kind of draped it over my hands. It did feel good. You know, because it was warm from being close to his body."
"I see."
"Andrew," Beth asked, "you aren't seriously suggesting..."
"No. I just...I don't know. I won't lie to you. I was upset finding you with him."
"But, why? Really, Drew. Why?"
"Because you could talk to him. I was jealous that you were able to talk to him about James. And hurt you weren't able to talk to me."
"I'm sorry, Andrew. I'm--"
"It doesn't matter, Bethy. It's over. Let's get back to what happened."
"He wrapped the muffler around my hands -- very loosely. And you came up and he left. Don't you remember? I did think you'd followed me and I got upset and accidently knocked my purse off the bench onto the path. You picked everything up for me. You set the flowers down on the bench, and returned everything to my bag. I remember because you did it very slowly and deliberately. You were so close, and for one minute..."
"It's all right Bethy. We've gotten through the bad patch. Right?"
"Yes."
"I need another pain pill."
"Already? Andrew, don't take them too often. What if I stopped and got a bag of ice? Do you think that would help alleviate the pain?"
"I don't know. Maybe. But, I don't think I can get out of the car again. It's not just the pain in my shoulder, although, that hurts like hell. I don't feel well. I think the wound is becoming infected. I hope Jack has a good doctor on call once we get there."
Chapter Forty
"Keep your eyes open, Andrew. I'll be right back. I'm going to use the bathroom and get you a bag of ice."
"I'll keep alert, Beth."
She unclipped her seatbelt and trotted into the truck stop. She was soon returning to the car, carrying a large bag of ice, a Styrofoam cooler, and several more of those energy shots. She'd already bolted one down before she left the store. She didn't like the way they made her feel, but she was so very tired. And they still had a ways to go. They hadn't even gotten to Roanoke yet. She had to do something.
Once she was back to the car, she dumped the ice into the cooler. Then she took one of the towels she'd stuck in the tote bag of waters, wrapped up a lump of ice in it, and stuck it against his wound, with the jacket holding it in place.
"I don't know how long that will stay there, Drew. Let me know when it's slipping and I'll pull off to the side of the road and fix another pack."
"It will be fine, Beth. I don't think we should stop again. At least," he insisted, "unless we absolutely have to."
"All right, Andrew," she told him. But, she was worried. Even after the energy shot, she was so tired she could barely see the road. And he was steadily getting weaker -- which meant the bullet wound was becoming infected -- and they still had no idea why someone was after them. Well, after her.
From the mileage she'd figured out from the map, she still had another four and a half or five hours of driving -- and that was if they didn't hit beltway traffic. Between the pain pill and the ice, Drew's shoulder must have stopped hurting enough to allow him to doze. And, as soon as she saw him asleep, she gulped another energy shot. The hell with the directions.
With Andrew napping, she tried to think of why someone was so intent on killing her. She hadn't been anywhere, seen anyone, or done anything. Why was someone after her?
They had gone around and around about this, and she still couldn't come up with anything. Someone not only wanted her dead, but didn't seem to care how many people they killed to get to her, or how much money they spent doing it.
They didn't care how much money they spent.
So whatever it was had value -- significant value.
Okay, she told herself, whatever it is has value. Now, what kind of value? She knew how much she'd spent on train, and plane, and bus tickets -- let alone the car, and gas, and everything that she spent on her road trip.
So, if 'it' -- whatever it was -- had monetary value, it had great monetary value.
What other kinds of value were there? Power had value. What kind of power did she have? She could usually take care of herself physically. Hadn't she proved that by protecting Padma? But, she had no actual power to wield.
Okay, knowledge is supposed to be power. What did she know? She knew lots of things, but again nothing that gave her control over others.
The only person she'd spoken to other than family, and she included Ruth and Bridget and the Gleasons in that, was the man in the cemetery. But they hadn't shared their names, let alone any information -- salient, or otherwise.
The only thing she remembered him giving her was the momentary loan of his muffler. And, it wasn't even wrapped around her. It had only been draped loosely around her hands. For less than five minutes -- and that was a generous estimate.
Andrew stirred beside her. He was restless, and Beth was beginning to worry that something had been on the bullet. The shooter had chosen a small caliber bullet -- one that was much less likely to make an exit wound. Had the woman intended on shooting her in the head, and just hoped the bullet would tumble around inside her skull -- turning her brain into tapioca? Or, had the bullet been treated with something?
Did there even need for it to be treated with poison or anything else? Could just licking the bullets as they were loaded into the magazine be enough to infect the wound? No, she told herself, surely the heat generated by the friction as the bullet was shot would sterilize it. The problem was all the hydrogen peroxide or alcohol in the world wouldn't get beneath the bullet.
She'd been concentrating on her problem, when a horn snapped her back to her driving, and she swerved back into her lane. She'd given herself a good scare, and Andrew had slept through it.
That was bad.
*****
A horn blast jerked Andrew awake. He opened his eyes to see Beth swerve the car back into their lane, but she'd over-compensated and they'd gone onto the shoulder for a few seconds.
"Are you all right, Elizabeth? Maybe we need to stop for something to eat and some coffee? Or, maybe I could drive for while?"
"I'm fine!" she snapped. She must have heard the tone of her voice, because she swallowed hard, and added, "Really, Andrew. I'm all right. I was distracted for a moment, that's all."
"If you're sure, Sweetheart," he said, in a placating tone. He was the one who could go on very little sleep. Beth wasn't like him. And, that was before she'd been injured, in a coma, or sick.
The problem was, he didn't think he could drive, even if she wanted him to. He'd been shot before. He'd had bullets left in him for several days. But they'd never hurt like this wound. Or, left him feeling so weak and ill.
But, he'd also been poisoned several times. And it hadn't felt like this either. Still, he wondered if they shouldn't risk a call to Jack. Perhaps, meet him at some hospital closer to where they were.
Maybe he'd been wrong in not contacting Beth's father or Richard. He'd just wanted some time for them to work things through. Even then it had taken nearly two weeks of talking and spending time together before they completely reconciled.
He struggled to get a bottle of water from the tote bag at his feet, opened it, and downed most of it. Then, he splashed the remainder on his face and neck. He couldn't risk dozing off again. He had to stay awake, to make sure Beth stayed awake.
"I've been thinking, Drew," Beth said, "and I can't think of any reason that someone would be after me -- for me. So, you must be right about me seeing, or hearing, or knowing something, without realizing it."
"Okay," he said, in what he hoped sounded like an enthusiastic voice, "any ideas about what that might be?"
"Absolutely none. Really, Drew. I've thought about it until I feel like my head's about to explode, and I can't come up with anything."
"I know it's frustrating, but we're going to have to go through everything again, and again, and again, until we figure it out, Beth."
"I suppose."
"You don't remember overhearing something in the hallway, or elevator, or even the Ladies Room, do you?"
"No, for the simple reason I wasn't using the public elevators or hallways, or the Ladies Room. I used the secret entrance that has its own elevator -- which works off its own generator -- and I had my own bathroom."
"Secret entrance?"
"Andrew, you know I can't tell you about it. Especially, since I'm officially suspended."
"Actually," Drew argued, "your suspension kind of allows you to tell me."
"Funny," Beth responded, "but I don't see it like that."
"Well, if Sir Anthony lets you, can you show it to me?"
"If -- and that's a big if -- Sir Anthony says it's all right. And even then, I think you should ask him to show you, yourself."
"I suppose," he conceded, with a frown. After a moment, he asked, "What about packages? Did you ever sign for a package, or overnight envelope -- something like that?"
"Not that I can remember. I don't even think I ever signed for some of the things we had to order for James."
"All right. What about the things for James? Was there anything that you didn't remem
ber ordering? Or extra pieces of things that had to be assembled?"
"Yes, there were a few screws left over. But," she said, in her snarky voice, "I didn't put anything together. You and Richard did. I thought it was just natural. Tom always seemed to have a few odds and ends left whenever he assembled anything. Of course, he didn't read any directions. Did you two?"
"Ahhhhh..." he stalled. "I believe we did."
"Liar," she whispered, but she was smiling.
"When you went to the cemetery -- which we've pretty much established is the only place you went -- did you find anything? Pick up a paper, or book, or something?"
"No. I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I did. Besides, except for my friend, I didn't see anyone else in the cemetery -- until you showed up."
"No one arbitrarily decided to chase you halfway across the world, trying to kill you. There has to be a reason."
They both fell silent for several miles. Then Beth asked, "What if something was delivered to Richard's house, and whoever signed for it, or even found it on the steps, brought it inside, and forgot about it?"
"No."
"But, it would be so easy for one of the twins, or even Betsy or Ethel, to take something in for me, and set it down somewhere out of the way, and forget about it."
"Yes," Andrew answered, "but, if it was something that was delivered to Richard's -- either deliberately or by accident -- that's the first place someone would look. And, Richard's hasn't been burgled. I'm sure we would have heard about that."
"You're right," Beth said.
Andrew could hear the exhaustion in her voice. He regretted not driving for the first leg of the drive. Then she'd had been able to rest before she started driving. But, it didn't matter. It was a moot point. They were nearly to Richmond, so they probably had another two hours before they'd get to Jack's.
"Do you need me to fix a new ice pack?"
"No, my arm's wet enough. We need to get to Jack's before you collapse."
"I'm not going to collapse," she insisted. Then she grappled around in the road trip bag, pulled out another energy shot, and steered with her knees while she opened the little bottle and gulped its contents down.
Duty With Honor Book Five: An Unexpected Pause Page 24