by Nancy Martin
Em shook her head. “You weren’t meant to live in this century, Sis. I’ll bring it to you tonight after polo practice. Or Libby can bring it earlier, if you want.”
“Let’s not call Libby just yet, all right? She might want to drag the twins along, and I don’t want Michael waking up and finding those two standing at his bedside.”
She laughed. “Suit yourself.”
“Thank you, Em. For last night, too. I can’t thank you enough.”
She gave me an affectionate punch on my arm. “I’ll save your boyfriend’s life anytime. Just tell him I think he ought to call off the wedding before he really gets hurt.”
As Emma gathered up her coat to leave, Michael came around again.
Emma poked him on the shoulder, the only part of his body that wasn’t bruised. “You look pretty good without your shirt, Mick. Purple suits you.”
He frowned at her, but couldn’t gather his thoughts to respond until she was gone. Then he shifted his somewhat bleary gaze to me. “I’m gonna live, right? That look on your face says otherwise.”
“You’re fine.” Gently, I tugged the sheet up higher on his chest and smoothed it gently. “You’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you bust me out of here now?”
“Because they have to teach you to use crutches before you can leave.”
He sighed. “How hard can that be?”
I squeezed his arm. “Don’t be in a rush.”
He rubbed his face to try to clear his head. “Was Aldo here?”
“He went out for coffee.”
Michael nodded, glad, I think, to have the protection of his trusted cohort. He dozed again.
I sat in the bedside chair and read Aldo’s newspaper. Reporters rehashed Penny Devine’s murder in the light of Kell Huckabee’s disappearance. There was plenty of overblown prose written about her, too. Several Hollywood actors were quoted saying stupid things about her life and death. One ditzy starlet who played Penny’s granddaughter on a maudlin episode of ER blathered about the Tibetan custom of hacking up dead bodies and scattering them for the birds to eat.
“Penny was a spiritual woman,” the starlet said. “She would have wanted to be with the birds.”
I dropped the newspaper in the trash can.
And then I remembered Ben Bloom saying the autopsy might happen today. I checked my watch. I glanced at the phone on the bedside table. I should try to phone him again.
“Go,” Michael said from the bed.
He was conscious again and had been watching me. I got up and went to him with an encouraging smile. “Ready for some Jell-O?”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to play nurse.”
“I’m not playing. I want to be with you.”
“You want to be in the city, too,” he said. “You’re thinking about how a tiger could kill an old lady.”
“Michael—”
“And you probably want to talk to Detective Gloom about it, too. So go. I don’t want you here, anyway. If you start treating me like an invalid, you’ll never look at me the same again.”
“That’s what being together is all about, baby,” I said. “Taking care of each other. Let me do it this time around.”
“See? Already you’re calling me a baby.”
We smiled at each other. I felt the tears coming again, but I fought them down. The last time we’d been in a hospital, I had lost our child. We’d wept together in the dark, and I didn’t want him to remember that just now when he needed to get well.
I said, “You’ll be chasing me around the bedroom again in no time.”
He managed another smile—rueful this time. “Hold that thought. Meanwhile, Aldo will find somebody to watch my back. Take him with you. Go find out what the police policy is about keeping tigers as pets.”
I kissed him with more oomph this time, and an attendant came in. She handed Michael a menu he should fill out to select his meals, and we looked at the choices. Oatmeal seemed the most exciting thing on the list.
Michael said, “It’s hardly Caravaggio, is it?”
A nurse arrived next. She wore a smock with pink teddy bears, but her attitude was one of military precision. She took his vital signs, then ticked off a long list of hospital personnel who’d be arriving soon—a physical therapist, a respiratory therapist, the wound-care nurse and the orthopedic surgeon, all before noon.
“So let’s get you cleaned up,” she said at last. “Make you presentable. I like a man with a clean shave.”
That sounded like my cue to salute or leave, so I said, “I’ll wait outside until Aldo gets back. Then I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
Rolling up her sleeves, the nurse said, “We’ll keep him busy until at least five o’clock.”
When I bent to kiss him good-bye, Michael whispered, “You sure you won’t bust me out? She makes me nervous.”
I called Reed from a phone at the nurses’ station. Then Aldo came strolling back with some magazines under his arm. He had a book in one hand and another cup of coffee in the other.
He said, “They got a nice gift shop downstairs. Good selection of paperbacks, too. You like detective stories?”
“Love them,” I said. Then I told him I was leaving and would return in time to have dinner with Michael.
“Good idea.” Aldo nodded. “Maybe you better not see him like this. You know, before the wedding.”
“Uh—”
“Hang on a minute. I’ll go with you.”
“There’s no need for you to tag along with me, Aldo. I’ll be careful what I drink.”
“I’ll come,” Aldo said, no-nonsense. “I just gotta find Delmar first.”
“Delmar?”
“Guy from Big Frankie’s outfit. He’ll look after the boss while I’m with you.”
“No, Aldo, truly, I’d be so much happier if I knew you were here with Michael.”
My blatant flattery did not deter Aldo. He shook his ponderous head. “Delmar, he does good work. You’ll be real happy.”
I was stunned. Delmar turned out to be half-man, half-triceratops. His narrow hips widened into the biggest shoulders I had ever seen on a human being, topped off by a head shaved and polished to a bulletlike perfection. Except he had a dent in his forehead as if someone had clobbered him with a sledgehammer. He seemed to have most of his wits, though. He accepted Aldo’s assignment with a shrug and a nod, and he went into Michael’s hospital room. I saw a telltale bulge under his tracksuit and knew it was a weapon.
“Let’s go,” Aldo said to me, politely holding open the elevator door.
On the first floor of the hospital, I recognized two of Michael’s regular crew loitering purposefully near the elevators. Outside, another of his posse was slowly smoking a cigarette by the front door. All the men gave Aldo impassive nods as we went by.
In the car, I borrowed Reed’s cell phone and tried calling Detective Bloom again. He didn’t answer, so I left a voice message—vague because Aldo made no secret of eavesdropping.
Reed delivered me to the newspaper office first. Aldo waited in the lobby at the security desk while I spent an hour working alongside my busy colleagues. I went through the fresh batch of party invitations that had arrived by mail and e-mail.
As usual, I received far more invitations than I could possibly accept. Choosing which parties would receive space in the newspaper was tricky—a combination of political importance, social significance, personal favors and sometimes simple cachet. One enterprising charitable organization tried to encourage my attendance at their annual dinner by sending me a bunch of silver balloons. I only wished they’d try to be more creative with their dinner party. I couldn’t allot precious newspaper inches to a dull event that didn’t lend anything special to my column.
I tied the balloons to my desk chair and wondered if I had the courage to take them to Michael in the hospital.
I wrote notes and e-mails, made a few phone calls. When my work space was cleaned up again, I phoned the oth
er newspaper and asked to speak to Crewe Dearborne. I still couldn’t get my brain to accept Bloom’s information that Crewe had been in a fight with Kell Huckabee before Kell disappeared.
Crewe wasn’t at his desk, so I was put through to his voice mail. “Crewe,” I said when the recording beeped at me, “Michael and I had a wonderful time Sunday night. Thanks so much for hosting us. I hope to catch you soon so I can thank you properly. Bye-bye.”
Short and sweet. I’d tell him about Michael’s injury later. And I’d find a way to learn about his altercation with Kell when we could be face-to-face.
Next I dialed Lexie Paine’s office.
Her office assistant said she was still in a meeting. “With Mr. Dearborne. I believe they’re having lunch.”
“Crewe Dearborne?” I said, unable to keep the amazement out of my voice.
“Yes.” The assistant realized he may have said too much, so he hastily asked if I wanted to leave a message or a voice mail. I chose voice mail again.
“Lex,” I said when I heard the beep, “it was nice to see you on Sunday evening. We’ve had a little excitement since then.” I decided not to give her the details. Nor did I want to demand an instant report about her lunch with Crewe. Not over the phone, anyway. So I said, “I’ll tell you all about it soon, I hope. Maybe a drink this week? If you’re not—um—already busy. Call me when you get a chance.”
One more time, I tried Detective Bloom. No answer. I didn’t leave another message.
I sat at the desk and drummed my fingers. There had to be something I could do to get more information for Bloom. I dug the phone book out of a desk drawer and flipped through it for an address, finding exactly what I needed.
“Where we going?” Reed asked when Aldo and I climbed into the car a few minutes later.
“Bellissima,” I said, and gave him the spa’s address.
Aldo wasn’t happy about letting me go inside alone, but the steady parade of female patrons through the famous pink doorway unnerved him.
“I guess you’ll be safe in there,” he told me.
“Take my cell just in case,” Reed said. “Use it if you need us.”
Obediently, I accepted the loan of Reed’s cell and took note of Aldo’s phone numbers.
Inside the spa, I tried to book a manicure, of course, because the fastest way to learn anything in the city was with my hands in a warm bowl and a chatty nail technician to talk to. But all the manicurists were busy. While the receptionist flipped through her book of available services, I peeked at the sign-in book to see what customers were already enjoying their various treatments. Halfway down the page, I saw the scrawled signature I’d hoped to find.
Nuclear Winter was in the sauna.
“How about a sauna?” I said to the receptionist. “That’s just what I need today.”
In minutes, I was in the locker room and taking off my clothes. Another woman was there—a chunky, elderly woman with her hair wrapped up in a towel. I didn’t recognize her face. She turned away from me, perhaps shy about stripping off her bathing suit in my presence, so I murmured a noncommittal hello and slipped past her, wrapped in my own fluffy pink Bellissima towel. A quick shower later, and I was ready to step into the steamy fragrance of the sauna.
“No more than twenty minutes,” the gum-chewing attendant said. “I’ll set the timer because I’m going on my break. Bathing suits are optional, you know.”
I hadn’t planned on coming to the spa, so I didn’t have a bathing suit. Hugging my towel, I stepped inside the warmth of the sauna and peered through the steam. Another woman I didn’t know got up hastily from the bench, wrapping her towel around herself. She scooted past me with a murmur about her time being up, and I took her place.
The sauna was barely twelve feet across with two benches on either side of a hissing pit where the attendant had placed a bowl of herbs over the steaming coals. As I sat down, someone splashed more water on the coals, and a fresh cloud of steam boiled up into the air. I inhaled the delicious scents and thought perhaps I’d made a good decision coming here. A little relaxation might help clear my thoughts.
“I hope you don’t mind,” said a voice, “but I like it very hot.”
“Noreen?” I tried to sound surprised. “Is that you?”
Nuclear Winter lay supine on the bench opposite mine, her towel loosely draped across her body. Both of her long, golden legs were exposed to the heat, and the towel had slipped from one of her breasts. She sat up on one elbow to peer myopically at me.
“It’s Nora Blackbird.” In an effort to sound friendly, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Is that a nipple ring?”
“Yes. Do you like it?” She cupped her enormous breast to better show me the gold hoop.
“Very nice,” I said, cursing myself for choosing that particular vein of conversation as an opener. Obviously, I still hadn’t regained all my wits.
She sat up and let the towel fall completely into her lap to reveal both of her full, naked breasts, both ornamented with delicate gold hoops weighted with a small jewel at their centers. “They’re pretty, aren’t they? I wonder if I should show you my other piercing.”
“Probably not,” I said. “I’m squeamish. Did you have a pleasant evening with Potty the other night?”
“Not too bad. I just wish he’d quit playing those damn Sousa marches before I have to salute the flag, if you know what I mean.”
“Uhm.”
“I saw you with that polo-player guy Monday night. He’s good-looking. His date was pretty pissed, though. She heard you left with him.”
“That’s not exactly what happened. We didn’t go home together.”
Nuclear nodded and took a slow swipe of sweat from her torso. “He’s not your type, huh?”
“No.”
As the steam wafted between us, she used her towel to swab the perspiration from her thighs. “Frankly, I’d rather put up with a soft old guy than a young one, you know? Less bother.”
“Potty seems…pretty energetic.”
She shrugged. “He’s okay. If I get a chance, I break those damn pills of his in half. You know, to ease up on the dosage.”
“I see.”
She got up, moving as smoothly as a python, and sat on the bench beside me. She tossed her towel onto the floor, and leaned into the hot steam to inhale a deep breath of it.
“About Potty,” I said. “Do you think he knows anything about his sister Penny’s disappearance? More than he’s saying in public, that is?”
“I’m just glad the sister is out of the picture.” Nuclear smiled at me. “I hear she was a bitch.”
“You didn’t know her?”
“No, but Potty’s told me everything. I mean, who doesn’t want to hear about movie stars? Even old ones. But he hated her guts. Something to do with a vote at a board meeting.”
“Potty must have disagreed with Penny about a lot of things.”
Nuclear stopped breathing the steam and gave me a frank look. “I’m not as dumb as I look, Nora. I’ve got an MBA that cost more than these implants, so I can see what you’re trying to do. I don’t know anything about Potty’s sister, and that suits me just fine. It’s Potty I’ve got in my sights, and I’m not doing anything to jeopardize the progress I’ve made so far. Get it?”
“I—yes, I get it.”
Nuclear turned her body toward me and lifted one limber leg over the bench so that she was straddling it. I tried not to look, but I couldn’t help catching a glimpse of more jewelry in the smooth, hairless curve between her legs. In a huskier voice, she said, “You know, you get the best benefits of the steam if you drop the towel.”
“Nuc—Noreen—”
“Let me help.”
I gripped the edge of my towel as firmly as I could manage. “Maybe I’ve miscommunicated here.”
“You have beautiful skin. Very soft.”
“About Potty. I’m sorry if I implied that you—hey, just a second.”
She had one hand on
my arm, and before I knew it, she was sliding her other hand between my bare knees.
I clamped my thighs together and suddenly figured out that Potty Devine’s money was the only thing Nuclear found attractive about the man. Hastily, I tried to talk my way out of the embarrassing moment. “Noreen, I’ve made a mistake. I have nothing against—you know, who you are, but it’s just not who I am.”
She had used the knee maneuver to distract me. Because in the next second she had her other hand under my breast and was squeezing me gently. “You feel great,” she murmured.
I grabbed my towel closer. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong cues.” I heard my voice going unnaturally high. “But really, Noreen, you’ve got to stop—please.”
I stood up, and she dropped both hands into her lap. She pouted. “I thought you were different.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not different. I’m perfectly ordinary. Completely, utterly ordinary.”
“We could try, you know. Just experiment a little. You’ll like it, I promise. I have a double-jointed tongue.”
I headed for the door.
Nuclear caught the tail of my towel and stopped me. “Slow down,” she said in a different tone. “Let’s talk. You wanted to know about Potty, right?”
I hesitated, torn between running shrieking for the locker room and learning something useful about Penny Devine’s murder. I pulled my posture stiffly erect and said, “I think it’s best if we keep our hands to ourselves, Noreen.”
She smiled again. “Okay, deal. Why do you want to know so much about them, anyway? Penny’s dead, so that means the cash goes farther, right? So you’re in the clear.”
“I don’t think the cash, as you call it, has anything to do with me.”
That information seemed to satisfy her. “What do you want to know?”
“About Kell Huckabee’s disappearance.”
“The caretaker? Potty says he left last fall, but I don’t remember that.”
“What do you remember?”
“The Huckabee guy hasn’t been around since I started seeing Potty last summer. But now Potty’s claiming he fired the guy in November. It didn’t happen that way, because I would have noticed.”
“What else did you notice? What’s going on between Potty and Vivian?”