The Girl Next Door

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “Nina … Avery.” Her mouth was so dry she could hardly get her name out, and her heart was hammering.

  “Your brother, James … uh … he’s been taken to Shore Medical Center. If you want, I can have one of my men drive you over there to see him.”

  “Oh my God,” said Nina. “Oh my God. Who shot him?”

  “Your brother … no, he wasn’t shot. The other two men were shot. Your brother … he apparently was the victim of a drug overdose. He’s … uh … he’s critical right now. He’s in a coma. Here, you want to sit down? Can somebody bring this lady a chair?”

  One of the uniformed officers ducked into a nearby room.

  “What was your brother doing here with Mr. Mears? Do you know?” asked the detective.

  “I don’t know,” said Nina. “They were old friends.”

  An officer appeared from inside one of the rooms carrying an armchair. He put it on the walkway, and Nina sank down into it, her legs feeling like rubber.

  “Are you all right?” the young officer asked solicitously.

  Nina nodded.

  “Sepulveda, go get her a drink from that machine in the office,” said the detective. “When she’s ready, drive her over to Shore. Her brother’s the one who OD’d.”

  OD’d, Nina thought. Oh God. “But … who, what happened?” Nina whispered.

  “Detective Milgram,” said another uniformed officer, who was approaching with a woman wearing a cotton shirt, with mirrors sewn around the neck, a long skirt, and sandals. She had walnut-colored skin and shiny dark hair pulled back in a messy knot at the back of her head. “Here’s the chambermaid. She just got back. You said you wanted to ask her …”

  “Yeah,” growled the detective. “Miss … Patel, is it? I want you to tell me everything you saw …”

  “I’m not a chambermaid,” the woman protested. “My uncle owns this place.”

  Nina, still in the chair, looked down the walkway at Calvin Mears’s aunt and uncle, who were talking to another detective. Calvin’s aunt was sniffling into a tissue and shaking her head miserably. The uncle was speaking angrily, making a gesture as if he were wielding a club, and suddenly Nina heard him say, “He had a bat with him.” Nina realized that Jenkins was telling the police about that guy, Keefer, at the cemetery. The guy with the baseball bat.

  “What about the other guy?” his wife cried. “The Puerto Rican guy. The one that came to the house.”

  The detective, whose back was to Nina, murmured something, and they both nodded.

  Officer Sepulveda, a serious-looking young man with a long narrow face, returned from the soda machine and handed Nina a can of Sprite. Gratefully, Nina took a drink.

  “You ready to go over to the Medical Center now, miss?” he asked.

  “It’s all right. I’ll be all right. I can drive there,” Nina said faintly.

  “It’s no problem,” said Sepulveda. “If you’re too shook up to drive.”

  “I just need to sit a minute,” she said. She closed her eyes and sipped at the soda. The chambermaid was droning on about the mess she had found in 408 and how in India her parents had servants who cleaned up after her.

  “So, did you see anything at all … anything unusual?” the detective asked. “Anything that might help us find out who did this.”

  “No, not really,” said the woman apologetically in a singsong accent. “Well, maybe one thing,” she said.

  “And what was that?” the detective asked.

  “Well. I saw a Jaguar parked out in back there. You know. The British sports car. Silvery blue color. Brand-new. Really a beautiful car. You don’t see many of those in a place like this, I can tell you that. It was only there a short time.”

  “Did you notice the plate?” the detective asked.

  The woman shook her head. “Jersey plates, I think. I didn’t pay attention.”

  Officer Sepulveda put a hand on the back of the chair and leaned over to speak to Nina. “How you doing?” he asked. “Are you ready to go?”

  Nina did not reply. She was staring straight ahead, thinking about what the chambermaid had said. A late-model silvery blue Jaguar, Nina thought. Parked right outside the room where Calvin Mears was gunned down. The room where Jimmy was dying of a drug overdose. A silvery blue Jaguar. No, she thought. It couldn’t be.

  26

  “OKAY , miss,” said the nurse kindly. “We’ve got him stabilized and he’s in an ICU cubicle now. You can go up, but only for a few minutes.”

  Nina had been sitting in the Emergency Room waiting area of the Shore Medical Center for nearly two hours, waiting to see her brother. She understood that the doctors and nurses were busy trying to save him, and she was patient. Occasionally a nurse would come out and give her an update on his condition. Now, at this latest bulletin, Nina stood up. “How is he?”

  “He’s still critical,” said the nurse apologetically. “He’s not conscious, but … maybe he’ll know you’re there anyway. Sometimes they do.”

  Nina thanked her, and made her way through the maze of the unfamiliar hospital, following the signs to the ICU. Directed by a receptionist, she entered the curtained cubicle timidly and saw her brother lying in a hospital bed, lit by a fluorescent halo from the harsh light over the bed. Nina tiptoed up to Jimmy and put a hand on his clammy forehead, which was about the only visible part of him that was not crisscrossed with wires and tubes. His eyelids were a grayish color, closed over his sunken eyes. There was no sound in the cubicle except for the whoosh of the ventilator. The tube, taped to his face, snaked out of his mouth between his parched-looking pale lips. What happened to you in that motel room? she wondered.

  “Jimmy.” She leaned over and spoke into his ear. “It’s me. Nina. You’ve got to come back to us. Come on. Open your eyes. You can do it.”

  There was no response from the man on the bed. Nina straightened up and looked down at him. All the way over here, all the time she had been keeping a vigil for Jimmy, she kept thinking about the silver-blue Jaguar in the motel parking lot. Last night, Patrick had picked Jimmy up at the bar. Jimmy had probably told him about how he and Calvin had conspired to rob their mother on that long-ago day. Maybe it made Patrick angry enough to want to confront Mears himself. Maybe Patrick walked in on them and found Jimmy overdosed like this and went crazy. Jimmy, what happened in there? She asked the question in her mind. But now, with Jimmy comatose and Mears dead, she wondered if she would ever know the answers.

  A nurse poked her head between the curtains and spoke quietly to Nina. “Keep it short, hon,” she said.

  Nina nodded and then bent over to kiss her brother’s forehead. “I’ll be back,” she said. She thanked the nurse on her way past the central command desk in the ICU, and the nurse smiled at her sympathetically.

  She held her breath as she passed through the busy unit. She opened the door and stepped gratefully out into the relative quiet of the waiting area.

  “Nina!” Nina looked up and saw Rose and George Connelly, who had just arrived. They hurried toward her, their eyes full of pain. Nina had dreaded this encounter ever since she called Rose from the hospital. They had tried so hard for Jimmy, and now they would have to endure even more suffering on his behalf.

  “How is he doing?” George cried.

  “Not too good,” said Nina, and for the first time since she had entered the hospital, tears welled in her eyes.

  “The Lord will protect him, Nina,” said George, putting an arm around her. “Have faith.” Is that your secret? Nina wondered. Is that how you can stand the blows?

  Rose shook her head. “Ever since you told me that Calvin Mears was back, I was afraid something like this would happen.”

  “I’m sorry, Rose,” said Nina.

  “Oh, Nina,” said Rose. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your doing. You have nothing to be sorry about.” Rose reached out for her and enveloped her in a motherly hug that felt like forgiveness, and Nina allowed herself, for a few moments, to let down her guard and have a
good cry.

  HUNGER and exhaustion overwhelmed Nina as soon as she left the hospital, and at the first rest stop she pulled in and closed her eyes for a minute. Nearly an hour later, the chill in the car woke her from a deep sleep. She went into the restaurant and got herself a quick bite. Then she drove the rest of the way back to Hoffman.

  Nina was surprised when she pulled into the driveway to see the little wine-colored Honda Civic parked there. She trudged up to her aunt’s front door and reached for the knob. The door opened and Nina was greeted by her sister-in-law.

  “How is Jimmy?” said Gemma, as Nina brushed past her coming into the house.

  “Not good,” said Nina.

  “Will he live?” Gemma asked.

  Nina shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “What about the other man?”

  “Calvin Mears?” Nina asked. “He’s dead.”

  “No, there was a Hispanic man. They said on TV he was still alive but he was critical.”

  Nina shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about that. I’ve been with Jimmy. I’m numb.” Nina took her jacket off and sat down in a chair, rubbing her eyes. “The Connellys are with Jimmy now. Have you heard from Patrick?”

  Gemma shook her head. “Not yet. He’s still at work, I suppose. I want to get down there to the hospital, but I need to wait for Patrick.”

  Nina stared at her. “He hasn’t called you back?”

  Gemma shrugged. “That’s not unusual. He hates for me to bother him at work. And he’s often late.”

  Nina couldn’t meet Gemma’s inquiring gaze. She had been thinking dark thoughts about Patrick for the last few hours.

  “Where are the boys?”

  “With the new housekeeper,” Gemma said.

  “How’s my aunt?”

  “Sleeping. She took her medication,” said Gemma.

  Nina exhaled a little sigh of relief. “Thanks for doing that. And for staying with her.”

  “No problem. Well, now that you’re back,” said Gemma, “I’ll be going.”

  “Gemma, can I talk to you for a minute first?”

  Gemma looked surprised. “Certainly, Nina.” Gemma sat down on the sofa, her wiry frame barely making a dent in the cushions. Her fingers moved restlessly in her lap, twisting her rings. Her large brown eyes studied her sister-in-law. “What is it?”

  Nina glanced behind her at the hallway leading to her aunt’s bedroom. “We have to talk quietly. I don’t want my aunt to wake up and hear any of this.”

  “Any of what?” Gemma asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about this the whole way home in the car. Trying to think why … I don’t know where to begin.” Nina took a deep breath. “I have to ask you something. It’s about Patrick.”

  Gemma frowned. “What about Patrick?”

  Nina clasped her hands and rubbed them together. “All right, I know this is going to sound … Look, I’ve been very worried ever since I heard that … well, someone saw a silver-blue Jaguar at the motel where they found Jimmy.”

  Gemma stared at her. Nina could see her pulse beating in her throat.

  “It may not mean anything because there are lots of blue Jaguars …” Nina backpedaled.

  The expression in Gemma’s eyes turned stony. “You are … sick,” said Gemma. “You think your brother did this?”

  Nina drew back in the face of Gemma’s anger. “I don’t know what to think. I’m sorry, Gemma—I couldn’t help thinking about it. I mean, Jimmy spent the night at your house. I’ll bet he told Patrick all about what he and Calvin Mears did on the night my mother was killed—about the robbery.”

  Two spots of color appeared in Gemma’s normally pale cheeks. “Jimmy was carrying on about that. Yes,” she said. “He maundered on till all hours. I don’t think that Patrick believed him though. Jimmy was dead drunk.”

  Nina leaned forward in her chair. “I know, but maybe today it was bothering Patrick. Maybe he decided to go down to the motel where Calvin was staying and confront them both—find out for sure. And maybe he walked in and found Jimmy like that, and—you know—went crazy. If I’m not mistaken, he does have a gun. I think he told me that once.”

  “Patrick is at work,” said Gemma. “In New York City.”

  Nina thought of the other times when Patrick had said he was at work. Times when he was with Lindsay Farrell. “How do you know?” Nina asked. “He could have left work and driven down to Seaside Park.”

  Gemma studied her through narrowed eyes. “Did you tell all this to the police?”

  “No,” Nina admitted. “They questioned me, but when they mentioned the blue Jaguar I never said anything. No matter what you might think of me, I wasn’t about to rat out my brother. I’m just … worrying out loud.”

  “Well, stop it,” said Gemma. “Why would you want to think the worst of Patrick? Are you trying to ruin us? He’s my husband. He’s the father of my children. Do you want him to go to prison?”

  “I just want to know the truth,” Nina said stubbornly.

  “Give me the phone,” said Gemma, holding out her hand. “I’ll call him again. I’ll prove it to you.”

  Nina reached in her satchel and gave the cell phone to her sister-in-law. Gemma punched in a number.

  “Yes,” she said. “I want to talk to Patrick Avery. Tell him it’s his wife, and this time it’s an emergency. No matter what he’s doing, tell him I need to speak to him.”

  Gemma waggled her foot impatiently as she waited for Patrick to get on the line.

  Nina watched her cautiously.

  “Yes, I’m still here,” said Gemma. Suddenly, all the fire went out of her eyes. “He’s not? Since when? When did he leave? I see.” Gemma punched the phone off and sat holding it for a moment. Then she stood up and handed the phone to Nina. “I have to go,” she said.

  “Where is he?” said Nina.

  “I don’t know,” Gemma said.

  Nina shook her head. “Gemma, I don’t want this to be true. Look, I’m not going to tell the police anything about this. But you have to prepare yourself. If the Puerto Rican guy lives, he may be able to identify the shooter. If it was Patrick …”

  Gemma hesitated and then turned toward the door. “Go to hell,” Gemma said, grabbing her coat. She slammed the door as she left.

  Nina grimaced. She didn’t blame Gemma for being angry. She felt guilty for even thinking these thoughts about her own brother. But she had to find out for sure. She knew that there was one other place that Patrick could be. Somewhere that Gemma didn’t know about.

  27

  ANDRE awoke, shivering, in a room filled with bright lights. He looked around and saw railings on his bed and a thin white cotton blanket covering him. There was an IV needle inserted in his hand, a splotch of blood dark against the transparent tape. He tried to shift his weight in the bed and felt the pain radiate throughout his upper body. What am I doing here? he thought groggily. And then he remembered.

  “Hey, somebody’s awake,” said a nurse, as she approached his bed and rested her thick forearms on the bed rail. She was middle-aged, with a short, graying haircut and a broad, pleasant face. She cocked her head and looked down at him kindly. “How you feeling now? You’re a mighty lucky fellow,” she said. “They took three bullets out of you.”

  Andre tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and he couldn’t form the words.

  “Here, let me help you,” said the nurse. She produced a tiny sponge on a stick and wiped his parched lips with it. “There, is that any better?”

  Andre nodded slightly. “Time?” he murmured.

  The nurse checked her watch. “It’s about five o’clock. You were on the table for several hours. You’re still in the recovery room. We’re going to keep you here until everything’s stable and then we’ll move you upstairs. But you know the drill, Doc.”

  Andre smiled faintly and nodded. As his awareness returned, he was overcome with a feeling of intense anxiety.

  “At first they
didn’t realize who you were,” the nurse continued cheerfully. “The police thought you were into drugs like the guys they found you with. Then somebody went through your things and figured it out.”

  Andre tried to lick his parched lips with a sticky tongue and the nurse swabbed his mouth again, a concerned look on her face.

  “Water?” he managed to ask.

  “Not just yet,” she said, “but I can get you some cracked ice if you want.”

  “Please,” Andre muttered, his coated tongue barely functioning.

  The nurse bustled off and Andre closed his eyes. He tried to remember what had happened. There were blanks in his memory. He struggled to piece the events together in his mind. He’d been worried about Nina. Worried she would never rest until she found Calvin Mears. He knew they would never get together until this was resolved. It was all she could think about. So he had decided to just go ahead and do it, without even telling her. He had tapped into the Corrections Department grapevine, gotten the address … Faces floated into his mind. Stan Mazurek and Dwight Bird. The woman in Seaside Park, Calvin’s aunt … He closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind. Like a weary man seeking repose, he let his mind rest on Nina.

  Nina. Nina wanted to know … What was it? He remembered taking the address that Stan gave him and driving to that house in Seaside Park. He had his story all prepared.

  “Here we go,” said the nurse. She reappeared at his bedside and lifted a small piece of ice from a cup with a little plastic spoon and placed it on his tongue. Andre felt the coldness fill his mouth and trickle down his throat. All of a sudden, a wave of nausea came over him, and his mouth began to water. He tried to take a deep breath.

  “What is it, Dr. Quinteros? Are you feeling sick?” the nurse asked.

  Sweat popped out on his forehead. Andre tried to quell the nausea with his will.

  “I can give you some Compazine if you need it.”

  “No,” said Andre. Compazine would knock him out again. “Phone,” he said. He swallowed hard. “I need the phone.”

  The nurse wagged a finger at him. “No phone for you. You know better than that, Doctor. You’re still in recovery. You have to stay quiet. Now you just lie back there and stop worrying. There will be time for the phone when you get into a regular room. Whatever it is will just have to wait.”