by Joan Hess
The room was uninhabited, the offensive cassette player mute. Totally mystified, I sank down on the nearest chair and frowned at my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. The day had not gone well. Peter had made my theory evaporate, at least temporarily. Someone had stolen my cotter pin in an effort to demobilize me in more ways than one. My bribee had betrayed me and was ten dollars richer for his effort. I could ignore the ticket I’d receive from campus security, but I couldn’t ignore the mechanic’s bill if I wanted my car back. Dr. Brandisi had not returned my call. Gerald had caught me in his house, and at that very moment might be whining to Peter about it. I smelled like a denizen of a landfill. I’d lost Caron and Inez.
All I had for my industriousness was a plastic bottle with one caplet in it. It was apt to be a potassium caplet, which meant I’d been pierced and bruised and banged up for absolutely nothing. Miss Marple-Malloy was a failure. A dismal failure. Not worthy of tea and crumpets, much less a gold medal for deductive prowess. Or silver. Not even bronze.
Bobbi came out of the office door, wearing a large white jacket over a leotard and carrying a canvas bag. She had a less than perky scowl on her face, but when she saw me, she almost leapt out of her leotard (white, with gold pinstripes to match her leg warmers). “What are you doing here?” she yelped.
“Resting, if you must know. I had an aerobic exercise of my own, although not to music by any means.”
“Are you hurt?” she said, still eyeing me as if there were a fuzzy black spider spinning a web in my hair, an idea I did not care to entertain—nor to explore.
“Why would I be hurt?”
“I don’t know. I mean, you said you were doing aerobics, and I thought you might have twisted your ankle or fallen or something.”
“It wasn’t quite that strenuous. Actually, I’m here to pick up Caron and Inez, but unless they’re still in the dressing room, I’m too late.”
“I always check the back rooms before I leave, and no one’s here but me,” she said firmly. “As for the girls, they waited around for a few minutes, then caught a ride with a friend. That was about ten or fifteen minutes ago.” She gave me an odd look, as if anticipating a challenge. When I shrugged, she came across the room and sat down beside me. “Wow, we had some workout today. After I go to the hospital, I’m going home and just soak in the bathtub for hours and hours.”
She was glowing from the earlier exertion, but she didn’t look as though she needed to visit an emergency room. “The hospital?” I said blankly.
“Isn’t it so exciting!”
“To be frank, I find them rather dreary. The antiseptic smell, the little rooms painted in revolting colors, the nurses recruited from penal colony staffs. I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘exciting’ to describe a hospital.”
She sniffed several times, then made a face. “Ooh, the carpet smells terrible. Jody’s got to fire the janitor; he obviously hasn’t been doing his job. But I didn’t mean the hospital was exciting, Mrs. Malloy. I think they’re creepy, what with those big needles and bodily fluids and dead bodies in the basement. I was talking about Maribeth. I just thought you’d already heard.”
“Has she come out of the coma?” I said, allowing the janitor to take the blame for the malodorous ambiance. When she nodded, I added, “This is exciting. When did it happen?”
“Gee, I don’t know exactly. Jody’s been calling the hospital every hour ever since the accident, and he told me right before the teen class that Maribeth had been moved to a private room. He was as excited as a little kid; he left early to take her some flowers.”
At least he wouldn’t have bumped into Gerald, unless some sort of resurrection had taken place without any celestial displays. “I think I’ll run by for a visit too,” I said. A nice little visit during which Maribeth could explain a few things. I stood up, started for the door, and then looked back at Bobbi. “Did you know that Maribeth’s condition was caused by a potassium deficiency, that she didn’t take any caplets for two weeks?”
Bobbi gave me a bewildered look. “I can’t believe that. One of the Ultima staff rules is to ask the client every single time if he or she is taking everything on the program. Maribeth always assured me that she was.”
“Was she upset when her steady weight loss dropped off and her progress slowed down?”
“The first time I was with her and she’d gained half a pound, she burst into tears, and I had an awful time calming her down. I was as distraught as she was. Then, a couple of visits later, when Candice was with another client, I weighed Maribeth, and she’d gained a little bit again. I was ready for her to start crying, but she just shrugged and didn’t make a big deal about it. I told her it was probably just a temporary water gain, especially since every last bite on her food list for the three days before was legal. It was kind of funny, though, because afterward I wondered if Maribeth heard one word I said.”
“She was so spaced out those last few days that she might not have assimilated anything.”
“But she wouldn’t lie to me about taking the potassium,” Bobbi said, shocked. “She was really friendly during the consultations. We just talked and talked about her husband and …” She paused for a moment, twisting a curl around her finger and staring into the distance. “You know, girl talk.”
“Hairstyles and boyfriends?”
Despite Caron’s avowals to the contrary, Bobbi was capable of sweating, because I could see the beads forming on her forehead and upper lip. In an odd voice, she said, “Clothes, hair, makeup, that kind of thing. One day she forgot her box of protein supplements and came back while Dr. Winder … Well, Shelly and I thought we were alone. I guess somebody might think it was a compromising position, although 1 just thought it was kind of funny. Maribeth’s not the sort to tattle.”
“I wondered if you and Dr. Winder, ah, found each other attractive,” I said, smiling in hopes of eliciting more girl talk. “I hope you weren’t too irritated with me the night I made him discuss Maribeth’s chart while you were in the back room.”
“I wasn’t,” she said with a giggle, “but he was in a god-awful snit. His glasses fogged over and he stomped around for half an hour saying that you would blab all over town. For some reason, Shelly’s real touchy about his reputation.”
“Did Maribeth say anything to you about Jody?”
“No.” She stood up and fluffed her hair over her shoulders, her expression making it clear that giggly girlish confidences were done for the day. She wiggled her fingers at me, picked up her bag, and sailed out the door.
I sat for a moment, waiting for an intuitive flash. Nary a flicker came. I went to Joanie’s car and drove toward the hospital, then turned at the last minute and headed for my apartment. I’d grown accustomed to my stench, but I doubted others would be quite so adaptable, particularly in those places where cleanliness ranked well above godliness.
I’d rehearsed an alibi for Caron, but she wasn’t there. It was just as well, I thought, as I peeled off my shirt and stuffed it in the clothes hamper. I spent a good while in the shower. Telling lies required more mental dexterity than I possessed after being beaned with a brick, used as a dart board, and bounced off the roof of the car, all in less than seventy-two hours.
Amateur sleuthing has its drawbacks.
I dressed, combed my hair, and was at the door when the telephone rang. Presuming (or praying, anyway) that it was Dr. Brandisi, I opted to answer it with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Claire,” Peter said with no perceptible warmth. “We need to talk. Can you come by the station?”
“I was on my way to the hospital,” I said evenly. “Have you heard the good news about Maribeth Galleston?”
“The hospital’s a couple of miles from your house, isn’t it?”
“That’s a fair estimate.”
“Quite a long walk, and even longer on the return, when it’s dark.”
“It would be a long walk,” I agreed.
“But not as far as to the Galleston
house.”
“It’s probably twice as far,” I agreed again, wishing I knew what he had on me. There were numerous possibilities.
“But not as far as the police station.”
“No, the police station’s quite a bit closer. Now that we’ve established the distances between my house and various local points of interest, I’d like to get to the hospital to visit Maribeth.”
“Long walk.”
“We’ve already done that one,” I said acidly. “Twice as far to her house, but not as close as the police station. Contrary to certain disparaging opinions held of me, I can retain a certain amount of statistical data for at least sixty seconds. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to learn I’m not planning to walk to any of those destinations.”
“Shame about your car.”
“This Gary Cooper imitation is getting tiresome. If you have something to say, say it in sentences complete with subjects and verbs. The only allowed exception is the short yet always popular ‘good-bye.’”
“Oh, no, I’m not anywhere near ending this chat. It seems campus security called in a request to identify the owner of a particular license plate, in that the owner had committed the unspeakable sin of parking on the grass and then fleeing the scene of the crime. Jorgeson ran the license plate number, and guess whose name popped up like a clump of crab-grass?”
“I had a minor mechanical problem, but I hardly fled. I walked slowly to the administration building and called a tow truck. At the maintenance man’s suggestion. He was concerned about the impending appearance of the mower.”
“Jorgeson was bored, so he called the tow service to ascertain details. He was surprised to hear that the car in question had an unusual problem, not a minor mechanical one.”
“Jorgeson has too much free time on his hands. Someone ought to reassign him to traffic control.”
There was a long silence, long enough for me to realize the receiver was slippery from someone’s sweaty grasp. Finally, when I was preparing to inquire if he was still there, I was treated to a lengthy sigh.
“Why didn’t you call me as soon as this happened?” Peter said in a pained voice. “Or when the mechanic told you that someone had intentionally removed the cotter pin?”
“I didn’t want to bother you in the middle of your big investigation. You know, Jockscam.”
“You didn’t want to bother me with the knowledge that someone tried to kill you? I’m deeply moved by this display of thoughtfulness on your part. Do you have any idea who was so unthoughtful as to remove the cotter pin and cause your brakes to fail?”
“The maintenance man had shifty eyes. He also took my ten dollars and called the damn security cops anyway. If that’s not an indication of amorality, I don’t know what is. Why don’t you send idle Jorgeson over to fingerprint the grass?”
“I doubt he’s up to that at the moment. Listen, Claire, when I told you about the test results, you promised to stop snooping around. Maribeth Galleston was involved in an unfortunate accident caused by her refusal to mention the childhood rheumatic fever and her failure to take the potassium caplets. That’s all there is to it—no criminal intent, no conspiracy, no anything to make you start salivating over juicy clues. The district attorney said he doubts he’ll bring any charges against her, although she’ll have to live with the Winder woman’s death for the rest of her life. I would imagine twelve million dollars will go a long way to assuage the guilt. No one, including her husband and her lover, had any reason to try to harm her with some crazy scheme involving pseudo-potassium caplets. Okay?”
“Then what happened to my cotter pin?”
“I don’t know, but when I find him, I’ll—” He broke off with a rather prehistoric growl. After a moment, he added, “I’ll have someone check with your neighbors to see if anyone was seen skulking around your garage. In the meantime, lock the garage door, stop pestering people with your questions, and stay away from the Ultima Diet Center and Delano’s Fitness Center.”
“All right, all right,” I said meekly. “Am I allowed to visit Maribeth?”
“To visit, not to put her through the third degree. Jorgeson and I are going by tomorrow or the next day to find out what she has to say about the potassium, just to finalize the report. And one more thing, Claire … put things back where you find them. When the Gallestons can afford a gardener, he may need a ladder.”
It seemed prudent to mutter a good-bye and hang up, both of which I did while clutching the back of a chair. Once I’d recovered, I went downstairs and related the news to Joanie, who was eager to accompany me to the hospital. In that it was her car, I felt obliged to display some enthusiasm at the prospect. We went to the garage.
“Oh, my,” Joanie said, fanning the air with her hand, “the car absolutely reeks. I know Caron and Inez are not fond of advice, but you have a maternal duty to discuss underarm deodorants and personal hygiene with them.”
Nodding, I rolled down the car window and watched the scenery while I tried to decide how best to grill Maribeth. By the time we arrived at the hospital, I’d failed to perfect a strategy and was prepared to improvise. As Joanie and I waited in front of the elevators, I spotted a familiar figure in a white coat.
The elevator door opened. I shoved Joanie in and said, “I’ll catch up with you in a minute. I want to get Maribeth a little something from the gift shop.” The door slid closed before she could protest, and I hurried down the corridor and caught Dr. Brandisi’s arm. “Hello. I left a message earlier with your receptionist that I needed to speak to you.”
He gave me a wry smile. “I don’t think she likes you. After you left, she wanted to report you to the Department of Human Services, but I talked her out of it. What did you need to speak to me about, Mrs. Malloy?”
“Maribeth had a potassium deficiency. I wondered if residual damage from rheumatic fever might have caused it, or had an effect on the severity of the symptoms.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a specialist in dietary dysfunctions, but I don’t see why there would be any correlation between the two. The rheumatic fever resulted in some damage to her heart. The potassium deficiency would make her forgetful, vague, sort of fluttery.”
“Or apt to fly into uncontrollable rages?”
“Rages?” he repeated, giving me a puzzled look.
“One second she’d be smiling, the next in an absolute fury over an insignificant remark or question. It was almost a Jekyll-Hyde routine.”
“That sounds more like a roid rage,” Brandisi said. He glanced at his watch, then gave me a sharp look and added, “Do you have any reason to suspect she was taking anabolic steroids?”
“Steroids?” I said incredulously. “Why would she be taking steroids? They’re not part of anyone’s diet program, are they? How would she get them?”
“They’re not hard to find these days. Locker rooms, playgrounds, bowling alleys—you name it. I’ve treated a couple of junior high boys who wanted to beef up their bodies without exerting themselves to do any more than gulp down pills. They were rather alarmed when they experienced testicular atrophy, rages, depression, acne, and were faced with the possibility of heart, liver, and kidney damage, not to mention permanent sterility. As for your friend, the steroids would have created serious complications because of the cardiovascular damage.”
I stared at him while I tried to assimilate the barrage of symptoms he’d tossed out so casually. “Maribeth had developed acne,” I said slowly, “and was having an increasingly difficulty time losing weight.”
“Athletes use steroids to increase muscle mass. No one taking steroids will lose weight, although whether or not it actually enhances muscular strength and endurance is disputed in medical circles. Her physician surely knows about this, so you might talk to him. I’ve got to finish my rounds.”
“One more thing, Dr. Brandisi. I’ve got a caplet that’s supposed to be potassium. Is it possible you could have the lab at the hospital run a test on it?”
His expression mad
e it clear he was remembering his receptionist’s dark opinions of my character. “You think it’s a steroid? Is that why you want me to order the test?” He held up his hands and began to back away from me. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mrs. Malloy. I didn’t mind hunting up an old medical record, but I have no desire to get involved in something like this. You need to discuss this with a policeman, not a pediatrician. Now I really must finish my rounds; my wife’s waiting in the lounge.”
“One little caplet,” I said, turning on the earnestness and moving toward him. “How long can it take to test one teeny tiny caplet? The hospital lab runs hundreds of tests every day; no one will mind one more minor test. The police have declined to become involved. The girl was a patient of your father’s, and I’m sure he would want you to do whatever you can to help her.”
“He might agree, but he didn’t have to pay exorbitant malpractice premiums in case hysterical parents decide I should have diagnosed little Suzie’s Ethiopian liver-worm disease when they forgot to mention the details of their vacation. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk any involvement with another physician’s case.” With an apologetic shrug, he walked briskly down the corridor and vanished around the corner.
I went back to the elevators and punched a button, frantically trying to come up with a reason why Maribeth might have been taking steroids rather than potassium. I doubted she aspired to become a weight lifter, a lady wrestler, or a member of the Farber College Fighting Frogs. She certainly didn’t want to increase her muscular bulk. It was time to ask her some hard questions.
The elevator door opened and I joined a green-clad orderly who was ogling a pair of shiny-faced nurses. I huddled in the corner until we reached Maribeth’s floor, and then went down the hall to her room.