"Squawk." "That's his greeting."
"Hi, Nolan." I followed her through the dining room into a small kitchen that looked right out of Don Appetit magazine. All in all, the condo was a good-sized place, not as big as my own house, but not bad.
"How many bedrooms?" "Three upstairs and a study downstairs." I accepted a cup of coffee, shook my head at the offer of milk or sugar. "You've got a really nice place here, Laura."
"Thank you."
"Did I see a two-car garage for each condo?"
"Yes. Before you raise that sarcastic eyebrow of yours even higher, let me tell you that my uncle George left me this condo in his will. About eighteen months ago, just in case you wondered."
As, of course, I had. It was at least something solid and real that I could check out. "So Uncle George lived here?"
She nodded and sipped her coffee. Her head was cocked to the side, sending her loose hair hanging like a shining curtain beside her face. I wanted to roll around in that hair of hers, smooth it over my hands, let it tumble over my face. I'd noticed immediately that she wasn't wearing a bra. I noticed again, and swallowed.
I forced my libido back into its case and got back to what I'd come for. "I was thinking that the complex doesn't look more than three years old."
"That's about right. My uncle George bought it when they'd just begun building. He died a year and a half ago. I'll never forget the first time I walked in here. The place was painted dark colors and filled with heavy, old pieces. I just shoveled everything out and had the greatest time making it mine." She motioned toward the living room, and I followed her back out.
"Squawk."
"Nolan likes coffee but I only give him a tiny taste just before bedtime."
I elected not to sit in the chair that was Nolan's current hangout. I sat opposite Laura on a pale yellow silk-covered chair. There was a hand-painted wooden magazine holder beside the chair. I saw two suspense novels, a world atlas, and three travel books. No magazines or newspapers to be seen.
"I didn't go see Jilly yesterday because I had to work. There was a meeting with the Board of Trustees in the afternoon and I had to make a presentation. I didn't go last night because, frankly, I didn't feel well.
I'm going to see her this afternoon."
Ill? Had she eaten some of Mrs. Himmel's shrimp and spent the night in the bathroom?
"You look just fine now, Laura. The flu bug gone? Or was it food poisoning?"
"No, it was a bad headache. Not quite a migraine, but still unpleasant. Maybe it came from all the stress.
I came home about four in the afternoon and slept on and off until this morning. I called the hospital just an hour ago to see how Jilly was doing, to see when I should come, but no one would tell me anything.
Of course, it was only six o'clock. The most anyone would say was that Mrs. Bartlett was unavailable.
Why are you here, Mac? Tell me what's going on."
"What was your presentation to the Board of Trustees about?"
Her mouth curved into a grin. "It was titled 'The New Century'-on library economics in the first decade and what the library should do in order to survive." "I'm here because Jilly's gone." She jumped to her feet, took two steps toward me, leaned down, and yelled in my face, "No! That's impossible, she couldn't have died. She just woke up. She was bloody fine, the doctor said so. I called her last night. The nurse I spoke to said she was doing very well." "You never actually spoke to Jilly last night?" "No, there was some sort of screwup. One nurse answered the phone, then another picked it up instead of Jilly.
What happened, Mac?"
"She's not dead. She's gone, just disappeared out of the hospital."
She lurched back, knocking her coffee cup off the table. The cup shattered on the oak floor, the coffee snaking toward a small silk Persian rug. She made a small sound of distress in the back of her throat and stepped back, staring down at the coffee. I got up and moved the rug out of the way. Then I just couldn't help myself. I took her left wrist and slowly pulled her against me. She resisted, then finally she came to me, wrapping her arms around my back. I said against her hair, "She's not dead, Laura, but she is gone. I came because I wanted to know if you knew why she left the hospital."
Laura was tall. She fit against me very nicely. I held her away from me. I had to or I'd never even be able to keep a modicum of objectivity.
"When?"
"About ten o'clock last night," I said, taking a step back from her. "We don't know where she is. I'd hoped you'd know."
She hadn't moved. She just stood there where I'd put her. "Why should I know? Naturally I don't have any idea where she is. How could I possibly know? She's really missing? Just a second, Mac. I'd better clean that up."
I waited until she returned to the living room with a paper towel. She went down on her knees and wiped the floor clean. I said, "No one has a clue where she is. No one saw her leave, by herself or with anyone else."
She was cleaning up the shards of the cup, wiping more spilled coffee off the oak floor. She sat back on her heels and looked up at me. "And you think I'm involved," she said at last.
"I came here because I hoped you'd know. You called her last night." I raised my hand to cut her off.
"Yes, I know, you never really spoke to her. But hear this, Laura. Jilly didn't like you. She might have been afraid of you. I know she believed you betrayed her somehow. I know she didn't want to be anywhere near you. Surely you realize it was you being there that helped bring her out of the coma. She wanted to get away from you.
"Your story to me about meeting Jilly at your library- she was looking up articles on infertility of all things, you told me. I don't buy that, Laura. To the best of my knowledge Jilly only realized she wanted to get pregnant about six months ago, at the outside. She wouldn't even have started to worry there was a problem yet, would she?"
She rose slowly to her feet. She took a hard breath, her face set. "I'm not lying to you. That's exactly how I met Jilly. I don't personally know much of anything about infertility. How long does it take for someone to become concerned about not conceiving? I haven't a clue. Maybe she's been trying for quite a while and just didn't tell you. That's certainly possible, isn't it? Jilly might not have been very well educated, but she wasn't stupid."
"You really believe Jilly was uneducated?"
"That's what she told me. She said she barely scraped through high school, said that one of her teachers wanted to get in her pants and so he passed her, helped her graduate. She was always talking about how brilliant Paul was, what a genius he was, and how she was content to just be in the background and take care of him. I thought that was ridiculous, but it was what Jilly really believed, evidently what she really wanted. She said she wanted his child. She asked if I could begin to imagine how bright his child would be? Then she'd shudder and say that if the kid had her brains and her no-talent they'd all be in big trouble. I didn't tell her that I think Paul is too skinny, doesn't take proper care of himself, that he's losing his hair, and that I hope he doesn't pass that along to a kid."
If she was lying, I'd never in my life heard anyone better. I said, "This is all pretty strange, Laura. I guess then Jilly never told you that she's a scientist, a researcher with a master's degree in pharmacology? That she'd completed all her course work for her Ph.D. but put it on hold because she was more interested in the projects she was doing than writing a silly thesis, her words?
"Why would she lie to you? Why would Paul back up her lie when you were with the both of them?
Come on, Laura, if someone saw you last night, you'd better dredge him or her up because, frankly, I don't believe you. There's no proof of any crime yet, no proof that someone took Jilly from the hospital against her will, but as far as I'm concerned, I'd say you need an alibi."
"Wh-what?"
I thought Laura was going to pass out. She turned utterly white and leaned at the last minute against a white wall, barely missing a mirror with a brightly colored frame. She
was shaking her head slowly, back and forth. The thing was, I wanted to comfort her, to hold her and pat her back. I wanted to bury my face in that long straight hair of hers.
"Squawk."
She looked wildly over at Nolan and spread her hands in front of her. "No, you're making that up, Mac.
Jilly told me she was a housewife, that she didn't have a single skill. I always just laughed at her when she went off on those self-bashing kicks of hers. She was so very beautiful, you see, and she had this natural confidence that made everyone respond so eagerly and positively to her. She was bright, well spoken. I can't believe it. A scientist? A master's degree?" She looked suddenly as if she was going to cry. She was still shaking her head, her hair swinging. She looked shaken and confused. It couldn't be an act, I told myself. No one was this good.
"I was sleeping all evening, all night. I was alone. Why did Jilly lie to me?"
I said, "Paul told me there was no party at all last Tuesday night, the night of Jilly's supposed accident. He said that they ate dinner alone. He said that Jilly left at nine o'clock to drive around in her Porsche and he was in his laboratory, working.
"He also admitted, finally, that he hadn't slept with you, that he'd wanted to but you weren't interested."
She looked like a blind person, feeling her way along the back of two chairs until she finally collapsed onto a section of the sofa. She lowered her head to her hands, her hair falling forward. "This is crazy," she whispered through her hands. "I don't understand any of it."
"That makes two of us. But the fact remains that Jilly is gone. Vanished." I had to attack straight on, I thought, whether I liked it or not. "I want to know where she is, Laura. I want to know how you convinced her to leave with you. I want to know how you managed to get out of the hospital without anyone spotting you."
She looked up at me, eyes focused and hard. Her voice was fierce. No more shock or palpitations out of her. "Listen up, Mac. I didn't lie to you, about any of it, the party included. I told you I had to leave early to give Grubster a pill. If there turned out not to be a party, that has nothing to do with me or with what Paul and Jilly told me."
"Where is Grubster?" I asked, looking around. Who would have a cat around when Nolan was sitting quite at his ease on the back of a chair, looking at my coffee cup?
She shook her head as she rose from the sofa. "Now you don't even believe I have a cat." She left the living room. I heard her light steps up the stairs. When she returned a couple of minutes later she was carrying a huge tiger-striped cat. "This is Grubster. As you can see, he likes his food. He weighs eighteen pounds. He doesn't move very quickly, unless it's a matter of food. He's nearly eight years old. He just looks at Nolan and yawns. Sometimes they just have staring contests. Sometimes Nolan even deigns to sit on his back and dig around behind his ears with his beak."
"Squawk."
Laura looked over at the bird. "Come here, Nolan, and say hello to Grubster."
The cat yawned and curled up next to Laura on the sofa. The mynah bird hopped from chair back to sofa section until he was finally looking down at the cat. Grubster cocked an eye open and regarded the bird with complete indifference.
"Would you like some more coffee, Mac?"
I just nodded, staring from Grubster to Nolan. Someone was hanging me out to dry. Someone was playing a very big game with me and I didn't have a notion yet about the rules. I didn't know where the game left off and reality kicked back in. I also had no clue where Jilly had gone. Laura's claim that she'd had a bad headache and slept throughout the night was a good one, one I couldn't check out.
Laura handed me a new cup of coffee. Steam was snaking off the top of it. I took a sip. It was delicious.
Maybe she'd tossed in a dash of Amaretto. I drank some more, trying to get my brain back on track.
She handed me a chocolate chip cookie. She couldn't have known they were my favorite. I ate two, to help soak up the dash of alcohol in the coffee, then said, as I watched her drink her own coffee, "When you were at Jilly and Paul's last Tuesday night, what did you do after dinner?"
She took another drink of her coffee. "Very well. There were just the three of us. I got there about six-thirty. Jilly wanted fish. Paul made a salad, spinach, I think. I sliced and garlicked some bread. We ate, then listened to some music. Jilly and I even danced a couple of numbers. Paul drank a good bit. Jilly knew I couldn't stay late because I had to work at the library the next morning and because Grubster needed meds. She told me that some other people were coming, but later, so I'd have to meet them another time. We'd have another party in Edgerton real soon, she said."
I leaned forward in my chair. "Is this the truth, Laura?" She remained silent for a long time. I sipped more of my coffee, watching her.
"There's more, isn't there?"
She looked down at Grubster and began to scratch behind his ears. I could hear the cat purring from where I sat.
Finally she nodded. "Yes, there is more. I really don't want to talk about it, but Jilly's gone, and I know you won't be happy until you know everything, even if it doesn't have anything to do with what happened to Jilly." She sucked in a hard breath. "When Jilly went to the kitchen, Paul grabbed my breasts and pushed me down on the sofa. He started kissing me, tried to shove his knee between my legs. Then he heard Jilly call out something from the kitchen, and he jumped back away from me. He was breathing real hard. I looked at him and told him he was a creep.
"When Jilly came back to the living room, I made up the story about Grubster needing medication earlier than he really did. I just wanted to get out of there. I didn't want Jilly to realize what her precious husband had done, the jerk. She adored him. She worshiped him. She wanted to have a kid with him. God, it was awful."
"And you never got the impression that Jilly was more than an infertile housewife?"
She shook her head, mute. "No. Neither of them ever said anything to make me believe what Jilly had told me wasn't the truth."
"Them's all the facts?"
"Yes, them's all the facts, the whole truth. I swear it."
"All right. Tell me, Laura, what kind of fish did you have for dinner?"
"Fish?" Her face was blank. "I don't particularly go for fish, so I really didn't pay any attention. Maybe it was bass, or halibut."
She'd gotten the fish right on the second guess. At least the rest of the meal was as Paul had described it to me, whatever good that did.
I felt suddenly so tired that I couldn't seem to think two words ahead. It crashed over me, dragging me under. I stood up quickly and began pacing. It didn't help. I felt like I was slogging through mud.
"Mac, what's wrong?"
I just kept walking around her living room. "I've got to go," I said. I needed to get out of there, breathe in some fresh air. What the hell was wrong with me? That was stupid, I knew exactly what was wrong. I'd been pushing my body too hard and now it was getting back at me. I hadn't felt this dragging sort of fatigue for more than a week, until now. I knew that I should keep questioning her, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything else to ask.
"I'll see you later, Laura," I said and left. I heard her call my name, but I didn't stop or look around. I heard Nolan give a final squawk toward my back.
I rolled all the windows down in the Taurus, turned the radio onto a rock 'n' roll station, and cranked the volume up as high as it would go. I even stopped at a McDonald's and got more hot coffee.
I sang "King of the Road," and when I forgot the words, I hummed as loudly as I could. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I kept banging my forehead against the steering wheel. Three or four times I went off the road and scared the shit out of myself before I managed to twist the car back. I nearly hit a truck, which would have smashed me six feet under. The sound of his horn zinged through my head. Fear cleared out my mind for a few minutes. Then it was back, this overpowering, brain-numbing fatigue.
I knew that I wasn't going to make it back to Paul's house. I was sweating, rememberi
ng how close I'd come to biting the big one with that truck. The hospital, I thought. Yes, I could make it to the hospital. It wasn't more than six minutes away, maybe seven minutes. I managed to keep the car reasonably in my own lane. Only about half a dozen oncoming drivers honked at me. Finally, disbelieving that I'd really made it, I pulled into the Emergency Room parking area, clipping a bush on the way in. I watched my fingers try to turn the key off and fail. I felt like I was folding in on myself, that whatever strength I'd had until this minute was gone. I just let go because I didn't really have any other choice.
Odd, but I heard a horn blasting in my eardrums. It was the last thing I remembered.
Chapter Twelve
Mac. It's time for you to wake up. Come on now, you can do it."
I didn't want to move. I didn't want to open my eyes. The voice came again, low and insistent. I recognized that twangy voice vaguely, and I hated it. It made my head ache. Finally, I managed to get words out of my mouth. I said, "Go away."
Twangy Voice said, "No can do, Mac. Open your eyes. Let me see that you're alive."
"Of course I'm alive," I said, pissed now, wishing I could lift my arm and punch the voice out. "Just leave me the hell alone."
I heard the man speaking to someone else. "Slap his cheeks," a woman said. It was Mrs. Himmel.
Smack the man-that was a woman for you. "No," I said. "Don't hit me."
"He's coming around," Twangy Voice said, and I swear I could feel his breath on my skin. Skin? What did that mean? I felt something cold touch my bare chest. I didn't have my shirt on. How did that happen?
"Vitals are stable," another man said. I didn't recognize his voice at all. "Yeah, he's coming back now."
It pissed me off even more that this damned stranger would stick his oar in.
"Mind your own business," I said. "Nobody asked you."
Twangy Voice chuckled. "It will take him awhile to get back to normal. Just give him a few more minutes.
He's coming out of it just fine."
"Yes," I said. "Go away." Then I opened my eyes and stared up at Dr. Sam Coates, Jilly's doctor, Mr.
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