Cat's Paw

by Mollie Hunt

  “Call me when you’re being discharged. I’ll pick you up in the limo,” He said with a laugh.

  The investigations van was no limo but it made no difference to me; knowing I had a ride home was a relief. My head was killing me, my wrist throbbed with way more gusto than I thought a sprain ought to produce, and I was thirsty as all get out. I wished I were heading home right now, but I knew there was no way I could convince anyone—‌Denny included—‌not to hit the hospital first.

  Kate was back with a clipboard and a ream of papers. As Denny patiently filled them out and I signed, I had another visitor.

  “Kelley,” I managed. “Do you know Special Agent Denny Paris? He’s one of our wonderful and clever humane investigators.”

  She flicked her blonde hair and smiled. “Only by reputation. Nice to finally meet you, Special Agent Paris.”

  Denny blushed at the attractive Kelley. “Call me Denny.”

  “Alright, Denny.” She turned to me and her face went serious. “I saw the whole thing, Lynley. I’ve been talking with the police, an interview of sorts.”

  “They’re interviewing you or you’re interviewing them?”

  She laughed. “It’s their show. For now.”

  Denny looked questioningly at the woman, but she just winked at me. It seemed the shelter volunteer didn’t want it generally known that she had an alter ego as an intrepid newshound.

  “Well, I’d better get back to work,” said Denny. “Nice meeting you, Kelley. Lynley, don’t worry about a thing. You got your phone?”

  I nodded.

  “Check it to make sure it’s working.”

  I did and it was.

  “Then call me. I can be there in no time.”

  “I don’t even know which hospital they’re taking me to.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh,” I gasped. “My purse! I’ll need my purse. It’s in my locker.”

  “I’ll get it,” Denny offered.

  “I forget which number but it’s the middle top row, a combination lock. Here.” I whipped off my volunteer badge and handed it to him. “The combination’s written on the back.”

  He gave a little snort. “Not very secure, Lynley.”

  “But convenient,” I countered.

  He bounded for the shelter. Kelley and I both watched him go.

  “Cute guy,” said Kelley.

  “And very sweet. He’s been my knight in shining armor more than once.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, nothing like that.” I laughed at the thought of me and the valiant special agent. “He’s half my age, for goodness sake.”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “He’s not married,” I countered.

  “Not my type,” Kelley replied, then turned back to me, her eyes big with fear and excitement. “But Lynley, are you alright?”

  “I guess so. They’re taking me to the hospital just in case.”

  “That was a close one. If you’d been a few steps farther, it could have been a lot worse.”

  For some reason, I hadn’t considered that fact. She was right. What if I’d been nearer the explosion? What if I’d been in the car? Suddenly I felt every bit as sick as someone on their way to the emergency ward ought to feel. The paramedic stepped in and said nicely but in no uncertain terms that we were leaving.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Kelley waved as I was hoisted into the back of the ambulance.

  “Thanks,” I managed.

  Denny made it back with my purse, my coat, and miraculously, my lunch bag which I definitely remembered leaving in the atrium. He handed them to Kate and tipped his cap to me, then headed for the knot of police still checking the scene of the crime.

  I sank back into the gurney and closed my eyes. The space was spinning and I felt like I might vomit. Kate was hooking up the tentacles of an ECG machine and checking the bank of monitors that lined one wall of the car. I just wanted to go home and die, though not literally, I quickly amended.

  “All set,” she said a few minutes later. She seated herself on the tiny fold-out bench and fastened her seatbelt. The driver came around back to close the doors, but before he could get them shut, there was a commotion. I couldn’t see who it was, but I heard a woman’s voice. There was a short, fast exchange between her and the driver, and then the doors reopened.

  “Got a passenger,” said the driver. “The patient’s sister.”

  “Sister?” I began in confusion, having been, up until that moment, an only child.

  I felt the springs sag as the weight of another person entered the vehicle. I forced my eyes open and found myself staring up at a grinning Mrs. Fox. She gave me a pointed wink.

  “Hi, Lynley, It’s your sister, Adrianna.”

  * * *

  My emergency experience at the hospital lived up to everything I had expected it to be. I was in for a full eight hours, given a battery of tests—‌blood work, ECG, and imaging—‌and interviewed by various medical professionals who asked questions I couldn’t answer such as “How did this happen?” and “Where does it hurt?” It hurt everywhere and I didn’t have a clue how it had happened.

  I was hounded by nurses when I wanted to rest and then abandoned when I needed something, such as a trip to the bathroom. On the plus side, they were all very nice and very thorough, and since I didn’t really know how I’d been affected by the blast, I suppose it was for the best. I admit I felt like cat crap.

  Mrs. Fox—‌Adrianna—‌stuck with me throughout, running interference with staff at my slightest whim. She even had them delivering veggie-burgers from the cafeteria when dinnertime rolled around. I thought she could have gone to get them herself, but she refused to leave my side. I was surprised by her loyalty, which bordered on obsession, but then recalled her relationship with Crystal as well as the sick friend she had taken on here in town. Maybe she was just one of those women who needed to be helpful. It wasn’t the worst character defect in the world.

  The only problem with Adrianna was that she talked incessantly. Though she refused to give me any information about the explosion, saying she didn’t want to upset me, she must have covered just about every other subject she could think of. By the seventh hour, I was wishing she would just shut up and let me be.

  “...and that’s why I’m going to do over the kitchen in blue and beige. They really are the best choice for the western exposure, don’t you think?”

  “Pardon?” I had been drifting, her voice a stream of words, a babbling brook, a flowing river of sounds that blended one into the next. “Oh, yes,” I faked. “Very true.”

  “Have you been listening at all, Lynley?”

  “I’m sorry, I guess I’m really tired. Tired of being here!” I added, pushing myself up in the hospital bed with my good arm. “Could you please do me a favor and find out when I can be released?”

  “I’m sure they’ll come tell us when it’s time.”

  “It’s time. If I don’t get the okay soon, I’m walking out on my own. They’ve done the tests and got the results. The doctor’s talked to me and told me I’m fine except for the shock and the sprained wrist which they wrapped. The MA brought the prescription for the pain meds, which I probably won’t fill anyway. They took my Visa for the co-pay. What more is there?”

  Adrianna shrugged. “Of course I’ll go, dear. But promise you won’t do anything rash while I’m away? It may take a little while to find the right person and get them to print the discharge papers.”

  “I promise.”

  I watched her scoot out the floor-to-ceiling curtain, and breathed an unexpected sigh of relief. I wasn’t used to having someone wait on me. Even my mother was of a more independent ilk. If Carol had been there, she would probably have sat in the corner reading a movie magazine.

  With that thought, I realized I should probably call Mum and tell her what happened before someone else did. But again I ran up against the same old brick wall: How could I tell her when I didn’t eve
n know myself?

  The curtain rustled and I felt a mix of emotions, glad my discharge had come so quickly but a little reluctant to have to deal with Fox again. She had been nothing if not helpful, but for all her experience with sick people, she didn’t seem to grasp the one basic concept that when people don’t feel well, they would rather not have to engage in a constant run of dialog. Now if she had wanted to read me a story or talk without requiring reciprocation, that would have been tolerable, even welcome. But such was not her style. She wanted responses, answers, input, and the kicker was I never had the feeling she took what I said all that seriously.

  A blue-sleeved arm pushed through the curtain, not Adrianna at all but Special Agent Denny Paris followed by Special Agent Connie Lee. I smiled inside and out. Then I thought of how I must look, a worn-out granny in a flimsy cotton hospital gown, and groaned.

  “I look awful,” I said in lieu of a greeting.

  Denny came to the bedside, bent down and kissed me on the cheek. “It’s okay, princess. Everyone looks awful when they’re in the emergency room. It’s only on television where the sick, injured, and dying are still perfectly gorgeous.”

  “How you doing?” said Connie, standing at the end of the bed with her thumbs in her duty belt.

  Special Agent Lee was a short-haired, muscular woman with nerves of steel and a heart of platinum. She was a person of few words, and the ones she spoke were chosen with care and deliberation. She maintained a positive attitude in spite of a job that put her in contact with the lowest of the low—‌scumbags who harm and abuse animals. Her philosophy was to crush the bad guys, clean up the mess, and move on in a better world.

  “Fine. I’m fine. Adrianna just went to rustle up a discharge.”

  “Adrianna?”

  “Adrianna Fox, one of the people from my art retreat this summer.”

  “What’s she doing here?” Denny looked confused, or maybe concerned.

  “Long story that I don’t really know myself, but now she’s volunteering at Friends of Felines.”

  “She the one who came in the ambulance?” asked Connie.

  “Yes. She was with me through the whole thing. She even saw a man prowling around my car before...” I couldn’t finish the sentence and giggled nervously. “She told the paramedic she was my sister. She’s been very helpful, but I can’t wait to get home.”

  “Then my timing’s perfect,” Denny beamed. “I can drive you.”

  “Oh, thank you!” I gushed. “A ride would be wonderful. I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Never. I’m off anyway, so no problem at all.”

  “Did you find out anything more about what happened to my car?” I asked.

  “A little. The police had it towed to the compound where they can figure out what kind of explosive device it was.”

  “You mean bomb, don’t you?” I shuddered at the word. Bomb. It seemed so outlandish that I’d ever be confronted with a real live bomb in the quietude of my retirement.

  I heard footfalls approaching, and Adrianna pulled the curtain aside. She had the doctor in tow and a sheaf of papers in her hand. “Good news,” she began, then saw my company and faltered.

  “You must be Adrianna,” said Denny in his best and friendliest manner.

  Adrianna looked the young man up and down as if he were an intruder, then said, “Please call me Mrs. Fox,” in a tone I remembered well.

  Denny didn’t miss a beat. “Mrs. Fox. I apologize. I’m Special Agent Denny Paris and this is Special Agent Connie Lee. Thanks for keeping Lynley company.”

  “Oh, it was nothing. That’s what friends do, isn’t it?” she said with a smile so tight it squeaked.

  “Lynley mentioned you saw a man hanging by her car before the explosion. Did you describe him to the police?”

  “Of course. Though there wasn’t much to tell. I never saw his face. He was wearing a hoodie, like all that sort do.”

  Denny let the slur pass. “Are you sure it was a man?”

  Fox frowned. “I suppose it could have been a woman, though she would have to have been quite tall. But women don’t usually go around blowing things up.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Connie remarked.

  The doctor, a stern man of about my age in a blinding white lab coat, had taken Denny’s place by my side and gave me a last once-over. “You’re doing just fine, Mrs. Cannon,” he said cheerlessly. “But if you have any abnormal symptoms such as those listed on your discharge summary, come back to Emergency immediately. Take it easy on that wrist and it should heal quickly. Your sister has your instructions, and a nurse will be by in a few minutes to review them with you, but I doubt you’ll have any problems. Go home, get a good night’s sleep and don’t plan on doing anything strenuous tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied as he left the cubicle. I watched him go, thinking what a difficult job an ER doc must have.

  I turned to my little assembly and shrugged. “That nurse better be along ASAP, or I’m leaving.”

  Denny smiled. “Patience, Lynley. You’ll be home before you know it.”

  “Special Agent Paris is going to drive me,” I told Adrianna, “so you’re free of me. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for all your help, but I’ll be okay from here.”

  Adrianna glanced at the uniformed man and then back at me. “That’s nice, dear, but I really do think I should go with you. I can care for you at your home.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. You’ve done more than your share. Besides, what about your sick friend? Don’t you need to get back to her?”

  Adrianna stood straight as a rod, the discharge papers still clasped in her hands. “She’ll be fine a while longer. I don’t think you should be alone.”

  “She won’t be,” Denny stepped in to say. “I’m off the clock now so I can hang out until Lynley’s settled for the night. Connie can take you back to the shelter if you need a ride,” he added.

  Adrianna hesitated. “Yes, that would be very kind.” She walked over and handed me the papers, then bent close. “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, dear. I am worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said for the umpteenth time.

  “No, not this,” she gestured to the hospital room. “I’m sure your special agent will take good care of you. But someone planted that bomb. Someone who wants to do you harm. Don’t forget, someone is after you.”

  I had actually spaced out on that part of the picture but now it came back to me. It was no accident that my car had exploded; it had been a carefully calculated attempt on my life. It turned out okay this time, but what about the next?

  Denny saw the fear come into my eyes and the blood drain from my face, and gave Adrianna a dirty look.

  “Don’t worry,” he said crisply, as much to Adrianna as to me. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, and we’ll find the guy who did this. But for now, the best thing you can do is rest.”

  Connie took the hint. “Come on, Mrs. Fox. I need to get you back to the shelter.”

  “Alright. Goodbye, Lynley,” she crooned. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Talk to you tomorrow,” I echoed weakly, completely incapable of thinking that far ahead.

  Chapter 26

  Don’t tell a cat with a missing limb that she is disabled—‌she will probably just give you a look of bewilderment as she dashes up the cat tree or leaps down the stairs.

  It was a whole new world for me, living without my right hand. I was utterly inept with my left. It was weaker so I couldn’t grasp or lift, let alone write or do fine work. In fact the only thing I could do better with my left hand was to give the Vulcan sign of greeting, and unless I was beamed into the Star Trek universe, that wasn’t going to do me much good.

  Denny got me situated on the couch. He fed my starving cats, seven bowls in a nice neat row at the main feeding station, and brought me tea in a coffee mug with milk in the carton. I didn’t say a thi
ng; I was just glad he was there. Now that I was cloistered in the pre-winter quiet of my own home, the only sounds the refrigerator and an occasional cat-reeow, I didn’t want to be alone.

  Actually I felt afraid, on the edge of anxiety. Once I fall into that pit, it’s very difficult climb out. I’ve suffered with anxiety disorder since I was a child, long before the medical community recognized it as anything more than a hissy-fit. It comes and goes, usually triggered by a shock of some kind, and having my car explode qualified without a doubt. But the last thing I needed right now was to slip into the darkness of my own mind, and I was determined to stay on top of it. I’d learned many helpful tips and tools over the decades, and if I caught it soon enough, could usually keep it from blossoming into a full-blown panic attack.

  “So déjà-vu,” I managed with a wan smile.

  “Eh?” said Denny who was pouring a generous dollop of milk into his tea.

  “We’ve been here before. You bringing me home from the hospital.”

  He looked up thoughtfully. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have to say you’re accident-prone.”

  “But you know better.” I shivered. “This was no accident.”

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  I reached over and picked up my tea with my left hand. Its warmth felt comforting.

  “So what happens now?”

  Denny pulled up an ottoman and straddled it like a horse. “Now you take it easy and let the police do their work. Have you called your insurance company?”

  “Yes, I did that from the hospital. I didn’t really know what to tell them, but I suppose they’ll send out their own investigator.”

  “So call them again in the morning and see what they have to say. They should be able to give you a loaner car so you’re not stranded.”

  “I’m not sure bomb attacks are covered on my policy.”

  “Well, don’t worry about that now. You can find out in the morning.”

  I glanced at the clock by the television set. It was after midnight. Everything can wait until morning, I decided.