“He became terribly ill while working the desk at the Cloverton this afternoon. The people at the hotel who ran to help said Don pointed to the mug of coffee he always keeps nearby and indicated that he thought something terrible had been slipped into it. Don would surely recognize the symptoms, wouldn’t he? I mean, he is a pharmacist.”
“Yes, and thank goodness for that. Was anything left in the mug?”
“There was and it was given to the sheriff, who arrived not long after the medics.” Emma paused, then said with a less steady voice, “Don was perfectly fine just an hour before, when I called him.”
“It sounds like he got the right help in a hurry. I’d say there’s a good chance he’ll be okay.”
“I hope so,” Emma said. “His daughter needs to know, and I don’t know how to reach her. I’ve tried my daughter Joanie. She might have Robin’s contact information. But Joanie’s not picking up.”
Piper knew Emma’s daughter lived in Pittsburgh, and that she had been in school with Tucker’s daughter. That, however, was many years ago, and who knew if they’d stayed in touch. “No one at the hotel has an emergency number for Robin?”
“That was one of the first things I asked. For some strange reason Don listed Phil Laseter as his emergency contact.”
“Why on earth would he do that?”
“I know; it’s odd. The only thing Phil and I could come up with was that Phil lives close by, unlike Robin, who’s down in Baltimore. But then Don should have given Phil Robin’s number, shouldn’t he? But he didn’t, so short of breaking into Don’s house . . .”
“Let me call around before you try that, Emma. Surely someone in Cloverdale can produce Robin’s number.”
“Oh, would you do that? I feel so, so discombobulated that I just can’t think straight. I wish Joanie would answer her darn phone!”
“Sit down and have a cup of tea, Emma. I’ll get working on it.”
Piper started immediately, calling Amy first. Although too young to have known Robin Tucker at school, Amy had floods of friends in Cloverdale, one of whom might be that golden someone-who-knew-someone.
Amy, though appalled at the news, quickly became all business—as Piper knew she would—saying, “I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Piper next called Aunt Judy, hating to distress her again after having so recently done so in sharing her own received threats. But her aunt was a second prime source of contact to Cloverdale residents, hers reaching generations beyond Amy’s.
“How awful!” Aunt Judy cried after Piper told her about Tucker. She was distressed, but the immediate need to reach Tucker’s daughter helped tamp it down. “I don’t know how to reach Robin,” she said. “Was she working at a hospital down in Baltimore? That comes to mind but I can’t be sure. Let me look into it, Piper.”
After that, Piper stared at the phone, wanting to do more. But what? An Internet search? Maybe, she thought, a simple white pages search for the Baltimore area would turn Robin Tucker up. Piper turned on her laptop and got to work but quickly hit a dead end. Robin, of course, might have an unlisted number or no landline at all. Piper then turned to social networking sites but again came up short. There were plenty of Robin Tuckers, but none that matched the one she was looking for.
Not having heard back from anyone yet and aware of growing hunger pains, Piper left the laptop to see what she could grab in a hurry. She spotted the vegetable soup Aunt Judy had sent her home with the day before and popped it into her microwave, the familiar aroma soon bringing welcome and soothing memories of Aunt Judy’s cozy kitchen. As she ate, Piper’s thoughts remained on Don Tucker. Would he be okay? Would his early recognition of poisoning lead to successful treatment? Piper could only hope so.
Why did someone want him dead? What possible threat was he? As she sipped perfectly seasoned broth and savored home-grown diced vegetables, Piper ran over conversations she’d had with the man, trying to uncover a clue. Tucker had given her the names of the women Raffaele Conti had flirted with during his time in Cloverdale, which had led Piper to Wendy Prizer. Was there more that Don knew about Wendy than Piper had found out? Tucker had also clued Piper in to the fact of Carl Ehlers’s Saturday late-night routine, which could easily have put Ehlers at the crime scene. Did Carl somehow learn about that?
Piper finished the last of her soup and had started washing up when her phone rang. It was Amy.
“I got it,” she announced. “Sally Forester is on the high school reunion committee for Robin Tucker’s class. She said the number is old but at least it’s something.” She read it off to Piper.
“Great,” Piper said, scribbling it down. “We’ll give it a try. Thanks, Amy!”
Piper immediately dialed Emma Leahy but got a busy signal. She waited five minutes and tried again but couldn’t get through. Emma clearly hadn’t taken Piper’s advice to sit quietly with a cup of tea. Piper then remembered Phil Laseter. He’d been Don Tucker’s emergency contact and had obviously been in the thick of all the recent goings-on with Emma.
Piper had to look up Phil’s home phone and was relieved to find it listed. When he picked up on the second ring, she gave him Robin’s number, explaining that she’d promised Emma to look for it but had been unable to get through on Emma’s line.
“She’s probably talking to everyone in town,” he said. “I’ll call Robin, then let Emma know.”
“Any news on how Don is doing?”
“He’s been checked in at the hospital—room 618 as a matter of fact—so I’m taking that as his being past the emergency phase and into the recovery stage.”
“That sounds very encouraging.”
“I’d say so. Luckily he recognized what had happened to him and was able to tell the paramedics.” Laseter chuckled with what Piper took as relief for his friend. “I predict he’ll be back to work at the Cloverton by the weekend. And not on that damned third shift that kept him from being in on our regular Saturday-night card games. He’s been trying to get off that shift for weeks. This should do it.”
“I hope he’ll take his time recovering. From what I understand, Don doesn’t really need the job, financially speaking.”
“That’s true. He mostly wanted to get out of the house. Said it was just too depressing to sit around twiddling his thumbs.”
“Well, I hope that phone number for his daughter works. Keep me updated on things, will you?”
“I sure will.”
Piper finished cleaning up in the kitchen, then fixed a cup of calming herbal tea and carried it with her to the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs onto the hassock, heaving a sigh that things seemed to be fairly well in hand. For the moment.
The question still remained: Who had poisoned Don? Rerunning all her previous thoughts got her nowhere, so when she’d finished her tea and found herself still feeling restless, Piper did what she’d often done in the past to organize her mind—she turned to organizing her dresser drawers.
With high hopes she headed into her bedroom and pulled out her sock drawer, dumping its contents onto her bed. Socks that she hadn’t seen since she’d moved in suddenly appeared, and she sorted through them, setting a few aside for pure ugliness—what had she been thinking when she purchased the purple and green striped pair?—some for raggedness, and those few lone socks whose mates had obviously been beamed up by aliens.
That done, she turned to her makeup drawer, tossing out overpriced lipsticks that gave her lips an unfortunate glow-in-the-dark effect and mascaras that made her eyelids itch. Taking a break to fix a mug of coffee, she carried it with her to the bedroom and dug back into her work. Underwear drawer, sweater drawer, and just-plain-junk drawer. She’d worked her way down to the jumblefest that was her jewelry box, refueling with sips of coffee, when something made her stop and stare into space. A recently made casual comment, one that she had every reason to believe, had come to mind. Yet
taking that comment as fact meant someone else had lied to her. But why the lie? There was no need, other than . . .
Piper set the jewelry box aside and went to find her phone. She stared at it a few moments, thinking, then made the call. After a brief explanation of the reason for her call, Piper asked some questions. What she heard back was troubling. But was it conclusive enough to point fingers? She didn’t think so. What she wanted to do first was get to the hospital. And she wanted to get there soon.
She grabbed her keys, then stopped. What if she was wrong? What if someone was out there waiting to catch her driving alone? She glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten thirty. The roads to the hospital would be as deserted as they’d been that last, harrowing trip. But would having someone with her be protection enough?
Piper immediately called Will, knowing he’d be totally ready to help. The call, however, went to voice mail. Her heart sank. What should she do? Then she remembered Gil Williams, who was bunking out in his bookshop’s upper apartment specifically for her sake. Piper knew he’d want her to ask, though she hated to.
She trotted down her steps, however, and walked the short distance to the bookshop, staring upward. All the lights were out. Should she really disturb the older man for what might turn out to be a fool’s errand? Then she heard the sound of a car approaching, and tensed. The car slowed, then stopped.
“Piper?” Scott called from the lowered passenger window. “Is that you?”
“Scott!” Piper hurried over. “What are you doing here?”
“I was working late at my office—again. Might as well be there as sitting in my hotel room, I figure. What are you doing out here?”
“I need a ride to the hospital,” Piper said, making up her mind in a hurry. “Can you take me?”
Scott hit the unlock button, and Piper hopped in. “I’ll explain on the way,” she said and buckled up.
31
The door to the hospital’s main lobby was locked, with a sign advising visitors to use the emergency room entrance after ten P.M. Piper led the way there and entered a softly lit waiting room half filled with coughing, feverish children on their parents’ laps and adults sporting makeshift bandages.
“How do we find him?” Scott asked, following Piper through the waiting room to the bank of elevators beyond.
“I know where he is.”
“And if he’s sleeping?” Scott asked.
“We’ll wait till he wakes up.” The doors of one elevator opened, and Piper picked up her pace as a white-jacketed woman exited, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Piper held the door for Scott, then pushed the button for an upper floor. “I really appreciate your coming with me. I know it’s a huge imposition.”
“Not at all,” Scott said, then looked at her speculatively. “You know, you’ve changed.”
“I have?”
“Uh-huh. You never used to be so determined or get so involved in other people’s problems.”
“Maybe that’s what small-town living does to a person.”
“I guess,” Scott said, glancing up at the blinking numbers. “I like it.”
The elevator stopped and an orderly got on. The three of them rode silently up one more floor. When it stopped again, the orderly hurried off. Piper and Scott followed and paused at the directional sign on the wall.
“The observation unit is this way,” Piper said and turned right.
They walked down a short hall and pushed through double doors that led to a nurses’ station. Several yards ahead, Piper spotted someone seated on a metal chair outside one of the rooms; he was wearing a blue auxiliary officer uniform. “There’s Ben,” she said.
When Ben saw them approaching he stood, dropping the book he’d been reading onto his chair. Piper noticed a thermos on the floor, not surprised to see that Ben had planned ahead.
Frederico’s room had a large window, as did the several other rooms on the observation unit. Piper could see Frederico apparently asleep, drip bag lines and monitoring cords still attached, although fewer than on Piper’s first visit. The sides of his bed were raised and bolstered with pillows.
“How is he?” she asked Ben.
“Stable and improving, from what I’m hearing. Things have been quiet for the last couple of hours. I guess they’ll stay that way until morning.”
“Any visitors?”
“A few of his teammates came by. I kept them out with no problem. Being able to see their friend through the window seemed to satisfy them. The only people who get past me are hospital staff. The nurse has been in and out, and a lab person came once to draw blood. I checked her badge before I let her in.” Ben paused. “Would you, uh, mind waiting while I take a quick break?” He gestured in the direction of a restroom. “I brought coffee to keep alert, and, well . . .”
“Go ahead.”
Ben hurried off gratefully, leaving Piper to wonder what he would have done if she and Scott hadn’t appeared. Ben was nothing if not conscientious. That night she fully appreciated it.
When he returned, Piper explained their intention to look in on Don Tucker.
“I heard about what happened,” Ben said. “They think it was poison?”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” Piper thought about the fruit basket left surreptitiously at her shop and shuddered. Where might she have ended up if she’d tasted that tempting pear?
“We’d better go,” Scott said, and Piper nodded.
“Thanks for being here, Ben,” she said, and Ben made a brisk head bob. He remained standing, hands on hips and shoulders squared, at least until she glanced back at the double doors.
Since it was only one flight up, Piper and Scott took the stairs instead of the elevator. The door of room 618 was closed, so Piper knocked softly. When there was no answer, she eased it open. The single bed in the room was rumpled but unoccupied.
“He’s not here.”
“Are you sure?” Scott asked. “Maybe he’s in the bathroom.” He slipped past Piper into the room and tapped on the closed bathroom door. Getting no response, he cracked it open, showing a darkened room beyond. “Empty.”
“Maybe we have the wrong room.” Piper went back to the nurses’ station. One nurse was on the phone and another deep in conversation with a doctor. Piper waited, her impatience growing until finally the first woman, middle-aged and wearing flower-printed scrubs, hung up her phone.
“We’re looking for Mr. Don Tucker,” Piper said.
The woman glanced at a list. “Room 618.”
“That’s where we looked. He’s not there. Was he moved? Or taken somewhere for tests?”
“Not at this hour. Are you sure he’s not just in the bathroom?”
“We checked.”
Apparently that wasn’t good enough for the serious-looking woman. She got up to see for herself but was caught by another phone call, which lasted longer than Piper would have liked at that point. Finishing her conversation, the nurse rounded her station to lead the way down the hall to room 618. She made two sharp knocks on the door before pushing it open. Seeing the empty bed, she called, “Mr. Tucker?” then checked the bathroom. Frowning, she asked, “Have you checked the patients’ lounge at the end of the hall?”
“No. At this hour, I doubt—” Piper began but was interrupted by someone calling the woman’s name from the desk.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Gotta go. The lounge is that way and to the right,” she said, pointing to the far end of the hall before scurrying off.
Scott shrugged at Piper and turned that way. Piper had a sinking feeling as she followed him down the hall. Why would someone who’d just gone through what Don Tucker had be wandering around at that time of night? As she’d expected, the patients’ lounge was dark and, when Scott switched on the light, empty.
“Let’s get back to Frederico’s room,” Piper said, turning on her heel.
> “Shouldn’t we keep looking for Tucker?”
“I don’t think we’ll find him here,” she said over her shoulder, picking up her pace. She reached the stairwell and shoved through the door, not waiting for Scott as she trotted briskly down the stairs. When she came out on the fifth floor, the double doors to the observation unit were again closed, but she could see down the hallway through the small windows. Ben Schaeffer was not there.
“Where is he?” she asked, grabbing a nurse who came through the doors at that moment. “Where’s the guard for Frederico?”
“Mr. Schaeffer? Oh, he was called away.”
“Called away? To where?”
“Why, uh, someone from the sheriff’s office called with a message that Mr. Schaeffer was needed elsewhere. Apparently there was a big accident somewhere near Cloverdale.”
The nurse continued on her way, and Piper called, “Come on!” to Scott, who had caught up by then. She pushed through to the long hallway and took off at a run.
Her instant reaction when she reached the room’s window was relief. Frederico was okay. A doctor was with him. The white-coated man, who had his back to the window, turned slightly, and Piper saw he was filling a syringe. She also caught sight of part of his face. “It’s him!” she cried and rushed into the room. “Stop!”
Don Tucker spun around, holding the filled syringe before him. They locked eyes, and Piper watched a dozen thoughts race through his head as he obviously weighed his options. To erase all but one, Piper said, “It’s over, Don. You can’t kill Frederico. Just put the syringe down.”
Tucker remained motionless—and silent.
“Think of Robin,” Piper said.
Tucker’s head jerked at the mention of his daughter. Anger and pain shot from his eyes. “You think I haven’t been?”
“Hasn’t she suffered enough?” Piper asked, as Scott eased in beside her.
“Yes, she’s suffered, for years, because of Conti! And I’m not about to leave her alone. So don’t think I’m going to meekly hand myself over.” Tucker waved his syringe. “Back away, both of you—or the boy gets this.” Reading their faces, he added, “You think I won’t do it? Try me. With what’s in this, believe me, he’ll die instantly. It’s what I came here to do anyway. But now he gets a chance—if you don’t try to be heroes.”
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