She put her two hands on the pillow at either side of my head and pushed herself upright. Then she wheeled one hundred and eighty degrees on the narrow heels of her impossibly high shoes, and stopped short.
“My Lord, here we’re doing this ‘I’m your mother, here’s your brother and sister, we’re all so worried’ piddle, and there’s no need.” She gave a broad wave in the general direction of the two deputies. “Look here, the hospital staff is letting your friends in for a quick visit. So nice of y’all to come.”
It was challenging for Frank Anthony to look official with his arms filled with stuffed animals. Still, to his credit, he tried.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Ophelia, Ryan and I are here on official business.” And he tried to push the armful of stuffed animals back at Ophie, who ignored him. She began circling the room, opening doors and drawers as if she were choosing a hotel room for a night’s stay, but Bridgy’s and Cady’s ears perked right up.
Cady honed right in. “What do you mean, ‘official’? Didn’t Sassy have an accident? Rowena Gustavsen got in touch with Pastor John. He called Bridgy, who telephoned me, but by then my editor was already on the horn because he monitors the police band. When I got to the site, the ambulance was gone. So I came here.”
I gave him as stern a look as I could muster given that I had more aches and pains than I had body parts. “I called you before I went to Delia’s and again when I was sitting outside in my car. You didn’t pick up.”
Cady’s face reddened and Ryan murmured, “Trouble in paradise.”
I turned on Ryan and, without thinking, uttered the one sentence guaranteed to infuriate all the men in the room.
“He made me promise not to do any investigating on my own, but Bridgy and Ophie went to the mainland before I read the note.”
Cady asked, “What note?” just as Frank Anthony dumped his armful of cuddly toys on my bed all over my feet and thundered, “Investigating? What were you investigating?”
Bridgy and Ophie were each shouting some version of “you should have waited for us.”
Amidst all this pandemonium, the doctor walked into the room, which quieted everyone instantly.
He stepped in front of the deputies as if separating them from the others.
“Okay, I know who two you are, but who are the rest of these people?”
Ophie, never one to be ignored, pushed her way in between Frank and the doctor.
“I’m Sassy’s mama. I came as soon as I heard, and brought her darlin’ siblings.”
Ryan actually smacked his forehead, which I would have done if I thought my head could stand the blow. Instead I rolled my eyes.
The doctor looked directly at Ophie and asked, “Did you have a nice flight?”
“Flight?” Ophie looked around, wondering who he was talking to.
He didn’t waver. “Flight. According to Ms. Cabot’s chart, you live in Brooklyn. Brooklyn, New York.”
Shameless, Ophie amped up a thousand-watt smile. “So happens I’m here for a visit. Lucky as all get-out for my little girl.”
I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Ophie, for heaven’s sake! Doctor, let me apologize for my friends.”
He gestured dismissal with the folder in his hand. “It doesn’t matter who they are. They all have to leave. I need to speak with you privately.”
Bridgy ran over and squeezed my hand. “We’ll be right outside.”
The doctor told me he wanted to keep me overnight for observation and had scheduled a CAT scan in the morning. He left an order for Tylenol and said he was sorry but he couldn’t give me stronger painkillers until he saw the results of the scan. He suggested that I eat light—applesauce, yogurt, maybe some tea.
“Your body has had a trauma and needs rest. I am going outside to send your friends home. I’ll leave a notation that you can have visitors tomorrow after the scan. Sleep well.”
Ugh. I looked at the clock. It was hours until bedtime. I clicked on the television, but of course I hadn’t arranged for the service to be turned on, so all I could watch was the loop that told me over and over again how lucky I was to be in such a modern medical institution. I looked at the pamphlet titled “Your In-Room TV” and saw that it was too late in the day to contract service. I’d have to wait until the morning.
I started to sort through the plush bears and monkeys that were haphazardly strewn all over my bed. I had gotten as far as naming a pink and white striped sock monkey “Candicane” and was mulling over an appropriate name for a beige teddy with multicolored spots—Polka and Dot both seemed too easy—when a tall African American nurse wearing pink scrubs and an air of efficiency brought me Cady’s flowers arranged in a pretty glass vase.
“How about I set these right here, hon?” And she put them on the dresser opposite my bed. “This way you can look at them while you doze off.”
She asked if I wanted Jell-O or juice. I started to shake my head, realized that wasn’t a good idea, so I said no. She told me she’d see me in a while.
No matter how I shifted around, I couldn’t find a position that would let me fall asleep. Besides, my mind was racing around. Who left the note? Who locked me in the shed? And why?
I shuddered to think what would’ve happened if Tighe Kostos hadn’t come along. Or was that his plan? Lure me. Trap me. Not quite kill me. Then rescue me and be the hero, throwing off any suspicion that he killed Miss Delia.
Chapter Thirty-four ||||||||||||||||||||
I sat up, pounded the pillow and tried to wiggle into it, looking for a cozy spot for my aching head. When the nurse came back she was surprised I was still awake. She checked my pulse and temperature, listened to my heart and lungs.
“You’re sounding fit.” She dropped the stethoscope from my chest. “If you want to get out of here sooner rather than later, I think sleep is the best prescription. Doctor will check your chart in the morning. He’ll want to know how well you slept.”
She made that sound like a mild threat. When she finished making notations in the same folder the doctor was reading earlier, she checked my pitcher of ice water and chastised me for “not hydrating,” which in south Florida means “are you trying to wind up in the hospital?” Of course, I’d already managed to wind up in the hospital fully hydrated; still, I obediently sipped some water from a plastic cup.
After pouring more water in still another plastic cup, Nurse Bossy put the cup on the edge of my nightstand and turned off the ceiling light in my room, which left me only the night-light in the bathroom.
“There you go. That should help you fall sleep. Now close your eyes.” Sounding exactly like my mother when I was five, except that she didn’t blow me a kiss, the nurse closed the door nearly shut and moved on to the next patient.
I sat up and took slow sips of water, but each swallow was like a hammer blow to my head. I was starting to feel exceptionally sorry for myself but perked right up when I thought to call Bridgy. I slid out of bed onto the cold floor and padded to the closet. I found the note that started all this still in my pants pocket, but no cell phone. Then I remembered. It was still in my car. My car! I wondered where that was. Did Bridgy take it home? Did the sheriff tow it to a car impound lot somewhere on the mainland?
It was an effort to climb back onto the bed, which seemed about three feet higher than it was when I slid out of it. I pulled the solidly heavy landline off the nightstand and onto my lap. A strip of adhesive with faded directions for outside calls was peeling off the base of the phone. Easy peasy. I picked up the receiver and stopped. I was so used to speed-dialing Bridgy that I couldn’t recall her number. I hung up the phone. I sat for a while, struggling to remember. The one number that did pop into my head was our home phone at the turret. Even if Bridgy and Ophie were off rescuing my car or having some other grand adventure, I could leave a message.
I dialed and after two ri
ngs heard my own voice, “press one to leave a message for Sassy,” then Bridgy telling callers to press two to reach her, finally both of us saying, “press three for Sassy and Bridgy.” I pressed two, left a message then called back and repeated the message for “Sassy and Bridgy.” My message was simple. “I’m lonely. I’m bored. Please call me.”
I pushed the phone off my lap but kept it on the bed so when Bridgy called back I could pick up on the first ring. Then I watched the second hand circle round and round on the face of the silver-rimmed clock hanging above the door.
The phone didn’t ring.
I was too hyper to sleep, so I decided to see what the nightstand held in the way of entertainment. I opened the top drawer and was pleased to find a tooth brush, tooth paste and some kidney-shaped plastic thing that I’m sure had a purpose although I had no idea what it was. I hoped a previous patient had left a book or a deck of cards, but no luck. Next I opened the cabinet door. I found a freshly sealed plastic bag containing a blue paper robe, which would add some modesty to my cotton hospital gown, and cardboard slippers. I double jabbed the air above me. Pa-pow! I could go for a walk.
I put on the robe, eased my tootsies into the slippers and glanced at the clock. It was ten after nine at night. Where exactly could I go? Stumped for an answer, I decided there had to be a patient area somewhere on the floor. Maybe I’d find some magazines.
The hallway was empty and silent except for the murmur of televisions from behind half-closed doors as the other patients settled in for the night. At the end of the long row of patient rooms to my left was a lounge with double glass doors and a vast picture window. A Room with a View.
Since the nurses’ station was to my right, I should be able to get to the lounge without being noticed. That was a plus since I didn’t think I was allowed to walk around. Still, no one expressly ordered me to stay in bed, or even in my room, so I decided to go for it. I stayed near the walls because the thick metal handrails gave me a sense of security. And I’d be less visible should Nurse Ratched take a fast peek down the hall.
The second I opened the lounge door, I heard a loud snuffling. A middle-aged man dressed in pajamas and a plush robe sat in a corner chair. A glossy magazine had slipped from his knees and lay spread on the floor at his feet. His head was thrown back, his eyes were shut, his mouth wide open. Every breath in was a wheeze, every breath out was a snore. I wasn’t going to find my quiet change of scenery here. I swiftly rummaged through a pile of magazines on a coffee table. I had no interest in Sports Illustrated or the Economist. I almost yelped with delight when I found a threadbare issue of Cosmo, an old copy of People and, best of all, a magazine I didn’t know existed, Canoe and Kayak. Ever since Bridgy and I went paddling by ourselves from Tony’s dock, I was curious to learn more about the sport.
I rolled the magazines and tucked them under my arm. I’d never be able to sit and read with the snorer in rare form. Feeling sorry for myself, I lamented that Miguel had gone home. If he were still here I’d have some company. Oh great. Only concerned with myself. I shook off my melancholy and decided to be joyful that Miguel was snug in his own house with the adorable Bow for his companion.
Skully. I forgot about Skully. I was on the third floor; he was on the second. Generally he wouldn’t be a person I’d want to fritter away spare time with, but ever since he told us the romantic story of his life and Delia’s, I’d softened. I grabbed the Sports Illustrated. I’d stop in, and if he was awake I’d offer him a magazine.
It took me a minute to remember his room number and then figure out where his room was in relation to mine. I walked past the staircase closest to the lounge. I remembered Skully’s room was nearer the elevator bank, so I walked to the next staircase and opened the door quietly. No point getting caught now that I actually had a plan. I tiptoed downstairs. On the second floor I stood in the stairwell and looked through the diamond-shaped window in the middle of the door. A heavyset nurse wearing flowered scrubs and a shower cap walked past, her quiet steps almost as furtive as mine. I credited that to her thick-soled shoes rather than intentional stealth. When she passed from my line of sight, I opened the door slowly, stuck my head in the hallway, looked back and forth and gave myself the all clear. I shuffled along as quickly as my cardboard slippers would allow.
Skully’s door was closed. I turned the knob, grateful that it didn’t creak, and pushed it open just far enough for me to slip inside. The ceiling light was on, so I could see Skully’s roommate, curled in a fetal position, sound asleep. When I moved around the door, I was momentarily paralyzed. The nurse with the shower cap was standing in the middle of the room. We were both preoccupied. She was fiddling with some sort of needle while I was trying to find a way to slide out the door without being seen. As I watched she took a step toward Skully, who was dozing peacefully, and the light glinted on a lock of hair that escaped from her cap. It was the color of lilacs in spring.
“Rowena?” It was out before I realized.
She turned around.
“You. I should have finished you off when I had the chance. You are the nosiest . . .” And she rushed at me, viciously stabbing the needle closer and closer to my face.
I wielded my rolled magazines, using them alternately as a shield and as a sword. And I screamed. As. Loud. As. I. Could.
Skully’s roomie woke and groggily asked what was going on. Skully never asked a question. He awoke ready to fight. Lying in bed strapped to machines didn’t stop him in the least. If he could reach it, he threw it at Rowena. The water pitcher hit her squarely in the back of her head, knocking the shower cap askew. I don’t know which disoriented her more, the hit in the head or the ice water dripping down her back, but she threw the shower cap to the ground and growled like a wounded bear. Before she could recover, Skully threw an apple, the television remote, even the tiny canoe still wrapped in cellophane. He threw that kidney-shaped plastic thing that seemed to come with hospital beds, and followed it with the toothpaste tube and the toothbrush.
Over the loudspeaker a voice implored, “Security to the second floor. Repeat. Security to the second floor. Stat.”
The call for help enraged Rowena to the point she wasn’t sure who she wanted to kill. She turned away from me and back to her original target. Skully picked up the telephone, but the tangled cord rendered it a useless weapon. Rowena grabbed Skully’s intravenous tube and jabbed it with the needle. I jumped on her back, wrapped my elbow around her neck and grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerking her backward.
Two floor nurses came through the door and, seeing a patient attacking a nurse, tried to subdue me.
Skully’s roomie yelled, “Not her. The other one.”
I looked at them and said, “She injected something into his IV tube.”
The nurses ran past me and ripped the intravenous out of Skully’s hand. In the confusion, Rowena edged toward the door, inching into the hallway.
“No you don’t!” I shouted and grabbed at the gray roots of her purple hair. I held on for dear life. She shook her head wildly from left to right and I countered by shaking her scalp up and down. Rowena elbowed me in the ribs and I kneed her in the back of her legs, trying to throw her off balance. Then strong arms enveloped me and a soft voice whispered in my ear.
“Calm down, tiger. The cavalry has arrived.”
Ryan Mantoni had Rowena’s arms pinned firmly to her sides. So, who was holding me? I turned my head slightly and looked directly into the big blue eyes of Frank Anthony.
Then I fainted dead away.
Chapter Thirty-five ||||||||||||||||||||
It was another two days before I was released from the hospital. Bridgy and Ophie alternated sitting at my bedside, lamenting how close they came to “losing” me.
Even my mother (the real one in Brooklyn) wanted to come down to help me heal, no doubt bringing enough of her various herb remedies to mandate a thorough search by TSA offic
ials. She was miffed but finally agreed she’d wait to come to Florida after the doctor cleared me as totally fit for the evening beach walks she loved so much. That sent her scrambling for the Farmers’ Almanac to check the full moon calendar.
The best thing about being hospitalized was that it gave me an easy out to avoid Cady’s colleagues in the print press, the well-coiffed television reporters and even self-described “murder bloggers” who all requested an interview. Still, I wanted to get back to the turret, the Heap-a-Jeep, the Read ’Em and Eat and my normal life.
The doctor sent me home with a long NOT-TO-DO list. Basically I could stay at the turret, but except for fifteen-minute walks twice a day “sidewalks only; walking on the beach is too strenuous,” I was pretty much confined.
A couple of days after I was released, to keep me from going stir-crazy, Bridgy drove me over to Miguel’s for a playdate. Between Miguel’s leg in a cast and my patched-up head and bruised arms and face, we looked like we’d survived the worst hurricane to hit the coast in centuries. Hobbling around on crutches, Miguel insisted on making torrejas, sweet bread similar to French toast. When he picked up the rum bottle, I said, “Whoa. The doctor has me off alcohol for seven days.”
“No hay problema, only a drop.” He snapped his fingers indicating the mere hint of rum, “to give a taste of Cuban nights.”
Then he poured a bit more than I would have. What the heck, I wasn’t driving. We stood at the stove together and dished out the torrejas.
“Just like at the café, eh?” Miguel asked.
He was right; this was comfortable, like a normal workday.
I carried our plates out to the patio, which had a luxurious view of the bay dappled by the shade of sand pines and mangroves.
The torrejas were incredible and I told Miguel so, adding that we should put them on the menu at the café. A shadow crossed his face.
Well Read, Then Dead (Read Em and Eat Mystery) Page 23