An Eggshell Present: An Abishag’s Fourth Mystery (Abishag Mysteries Book 4)

by Michelle Knowlden

  “No worries.” Kat straightened on the loveseat she shared with Dog. “You can hide out here. I won’t tell.” She narrowed her eyes at me.

  I thought about Donovan and what he would say. “They’ll say we kidnapped him or coerced him. Mrs. Timmons could get into a lot of trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about me, girl.” Mr. Timmons gestured at Sebastian. “Tell them, child.”

  He spoke haltingly. “Mrs. T call my friend, a law-yer. He say get a doc-tor report, say I’m okay.”

  I chewed my lips worriedly. He was talking about a competency hearing. “What if the doctor says you’re not ready yet to make decisions for yourself?”

  He touched an index finger to his temple, and I saw his eyes twinkle again. “Then you take care of me. Not mom.” His gaze stayed on me, and his hands clenched while he waited for my response.

  I took a deep breath. “I called a lawyer, too. Abishag wives don’t have much power, but there isn’t much precedence when a husband turns Lazarus. I told my lawyer that I wanted to stay with you, that I didn’t want our marriage dissolved. Maybe we can find a judge who’ll let you stay here till a legal decision is made.”

  Sebastian’s eyes flickered as if he didn’t understand words like Lazarus and Abishag. But he understood the last sentence. He relaxed, and the tension lines around his mouth eased. He hadn’t been sure of me.

  He still doesn’t remember. But he came looking for me the first chance he could.

  “You had a bad episode yesterday,” Dog said. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “He can have Stanley’s room,” Kat said. “It has a good sized bed and some furniture.” She turned to Mrs. Timmons. “You have his things?”

  “In the car.” She dug in her purse for her keys. “You and your man can get them. I’ll see to dinner.”

  Kat said she’d already started dinner, but Mrs. Timmons scoffed that whatever she’d started could be tossed for something better. Under cover of their good-natured bickering, I leaned towards Sebastian. “You really feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

  He nodded. “I could rest.” A trace of worry re-appeared in his eyes. “You rea-lly okay?”

  “Now that you’re here, I am.”

  A smile erased the last of the tension. “You take care of Othello?”

  “Who?”

  When he pointed at the globe, I marveled that he’d regained enough strength to lift his arm. Then I looked closer at the fish globe. “It’s a black moor!”

  “Mrs. T says your birth-day this week. You want him.”

  A few days ago, he didn’t remember me. Now he remembered that I wanted a black goldfish with its fan tail and googly eyes for my birthday?

  “Thank you.” I touched the cool glass. “He’s perfect.” I risked a quick look at him. “How much do you remember?”

  “Pieces.” He shifted in the wheel chair, and his glance skated around the living room. “Don’ re-member this.” His gaze lingered on the window and the hammock beyond. He frowned.

  “I’ll take you to Stanley’s room,” I said.

  “I’ll do that.” Dog reappeared and brushed past me to move the wheel chair.

  I started to tag after them and then thought better of it. Sebastian might need privacy.

  His back was to me as Dog pushed him down the hall to the last bedroom on the right so I couldn’t tell if he was looking at the eggshell presents. The living room had about forty and there was another dozen lining the hallway. Were they part of his lost memories? Did he remember the last one with the engagement ring?

  I moved to the kitchen doorway where Mrs. Timmons diced onions and moaned, “We should have stopped at the market on the way here.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Timmons,” I said before Kat could reply with something rude. “I thought I’d never see Sebastian again.”

  She shook a wooden spoon at me. “Honey, in dark days, you gotta have faith.”

  My choked-up throat wouldn’t let me say anything. I still felt like an open wound after nearly losing Sebastian. “Are you staying for dinner?” I whispered.

  “No, you children have barely enough food for yourselves, much less for a big woman like me. Besides my husband likes me home for dinner, and I like that, too. I’ll make up some nice casseroles for you tomorrow. You eat them with greens, and you all will do fine.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do that, Mrs. Timmons,” Kat objected. “Tina won’t pay you.”

  “Easier coming here than fighting my way to Santa Monica anyways,” she said serenely. “Besides, I do this for Sebastian. Mr. Timmons and I are comfortable in our retirement. We can handle the time and gas money.”

  “We’ll pay for groceries,” I said firmly. “In fact, if you make a list before you go, I’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

  She scraped onions into a bowl. “I’ll do that, sweetie.”

  “Can you spare Leslie and me, Mrs. T?” Kat asked. “We should probably talk to Dog about what Sebastian needs medically.”

  “We should call Connor, too,” I added.

  Mrs. Timmons made shooing motions. “Quicker you all get out of the kitchen, the faster dinner gets done.”

  The wheelchair was folded and tucked next to the bureau in Stanley’s old room. The blue paint on the walls was peeling and some of Stanley’s Star Trek posters had come unglued at the corners. At least the room had good light from a window with ancient aluminum blinds, and the mattress wasn’t terribly old.

  Kat’s eyes brightened as she headed for the recurve bow Dog must have leaned against the window sill to stow Sebastian’s bags in the closet. Nearly as big as her, she still looked fierce, taking the proper stance and aiming the bow at the Deep Space Nine poster.

  “Where are the arrows?” she asked.

  My spirits lifted seeing Sebastian sitting in one of the room’s two armchairs. I hadn’t seen him sitting in a regular chair since his accident. Connor would be pleased at his progress, too. Perhaps this seizure had somehow helped him.

  As if he read my thoughts, Dog said, “Sebastian brought his medical records from the hospital, including the test results from this morning. It’s not common for someone with brain damage to improve after a seizure, but it does happen. It’s as if …”

  “Maybe Sebastian doesn’t want us talking about him as if he weren’t here, Dog.” Kat interrupted him, poking her head from the closet where she’d been scrabbling for arrows.

  “Sorry, guy,” Dog said. “Still thinking of you being comatose.”

  “S’okay,” Sebastian said.

  “Or not.” I gave Dog a quelling look. “We’ll all try a little harder. We knew you longer before the accident than afterwards. It won’t be hard. Let’s talk about how we go on now. New place, new rules?” I slipped my iPhone from my back pocket. “I’ll text Connor that you’re here.”

  Abandoning her search for arrows, Kat put her cell phone atop the bureau. Something clicked. When had I seen a cell phone on a bureau before? And why was it important?

  “Yeah, let’s talk about that,” she said. “Tina paid for the hospice service, so Connor will have to hear from them, not us.”

  I finished the text and dropped my phone on the bed. “Maybe I can hire him. Dog can’t handle all the medical stuff on his own. Besides, Connor and Sebastian worked really well on physical therapy together. What do you think, Sebastian?”

  “My bank?”

  I understood where he was going with that. “I don’t know if you still have access to your accounts, Sebastian. If you remember how to access the funds online, we could check. If Tina hasn’t put a hold on your accounts, perhaps we can transfer what you need before she or your brother think about freezing them. Kat?”

  “On it.” She grabbed her phone off the bureau. “I’ll send a note to Fitz.”

  “I have enough money for awhile,” I said. “If Fitz finds out Sebastian has nothing, we’ll worry about it later. If we can’t afford Connor, Kat and I can work with Sebastian on some of his therapy.” />
  Sebastian grimaced. “No more flash cards.”

  Kat flashed him an evil grin. “Sorry, Seb. Since you’re doing better, we can spend even more time with the flash cards.”

  Finishing her text, she set her phone back on the bureau. Again I felt a tingle of déjà vu. What was I remembering?

  Mrs. Timmons rapped lightly on the door and peeked in. Her face lit up, seeing Sebastian in the armchair. “You look fine there, honey. But don’t let them tire you, you hear me?”

  He grinned, a lock of unruly hair falling in his eyes. “Hear you.”

  “I put the casserole, what I could cobble together from the nothing you had here, in the oven. The timer’s set for an hour. Now don’t you all forget it’s there.”

  “Hear you!” I echoed Sebastian and scooted over to hug her. “Thank you.” The words came huskily from the bottom of my heart.

  Dog waited till we heard the front door shut to say, “Seb, you want me to call the security company you used to watch Leslie?”

  He blinked. “Not watch her now?”

  “Your mom cancelled the service after a couple of weeks.”

  “Why?”

  “She didn’t know about Adam Reich being seen here recently. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to tell her.”

  Sebastian frowned, and I leapt in with, “You remember Annette Reich tried killing Kat and me two years ago for something your granddad’s niece did?”

  I held my breath till he said, “Hill-ry?”

  “Yes, your granddad’s niece was Hillary. Annette’s brother Adam disappeared after the shooting. You found out that he’d resurfaced about eighteen months ago.”

  “You in danger.” It didn’t sound like a question, so I didn’t treat it as one.

  “I’m not so sure, Sebastian. I think you’re more in danger than the rest of us. Maybe something to do with my dad’s campaign finances.” Hoping that would spur a memory, I raised an eyebrow. He only looked puzzled.

  I tried another tact, “You remember Professor Stegner? He’d been holding a report for you. About a mobster named Billy Tolliver and the IRS agent Don Simpson who helped send him to prison. Do you know why you had the file?”

  Perplexed, he shook his head.

  “Okay, let’s try my dad’s campaign finances again. On the day of the accident, you had been at Vote Greene. You worked with a Storm Rollins. Remember him?”

  “Sounds fa-milar.”

  Lines appeared between his eyes. Should I stop? Maybe I shouldn’t be interrogating Sebastian who had just been released from the hospital. But I couldn’t let him or Kat and Dog be murdered in their beds tonight either.

  “I think Rollins is probably harmless. It was the other one, Patricia Hazelton, who looks dangerous. Do you remember her?”

  Unable to contain herself, Kat shot me an exasperated look. “It’s Adam Reich, Les. Why are you so fixated on Hazelton? This has got nothing to do with your dad’s campaign. The attack on Sebastian was personal.”

  Hazelton. I sucked in my breath.

  “Les, what’s wrong?” Sebastian said sharply.

  I strode to the bureau and touched Kat’s phone, remembering picking up Connor’s phone days ago. Hazelton’s name on the incoming call.

  Feeling sick, I collapsed on Stanley’s old wooden chair that squeaked in protest. “Connor. He’s in on it. And I just told him where Sebastian is.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “What are you talking about?” Dog demanded.

  “Yesterday I saw Hazelton’s name on Connor’s phone. They’re in on it together.”

  Uncertainly, Kat said, “You sure it was the same Hazelton?”

  At the same time, Dog said, “In on what?”

  “Killing Sebastian.”

  In the silence that followed, Sebastian asked, “Why?”

  “We found out that someone had been doing something illegal in Dad’s campaign accounts. You left a message for Kat just before you were run off the road. Someone tried to stop you from talking.”

  Despair crossed his face. I flew off the bed and knelt next to him. Squeezing his hand, I said, “They can’t know you don’t remember, Sebastian. You’re already remembering more. You could still be a danger to them.”

  “I put you in dan-ger.” He sounded wretched.

  “No worries.” Elated, Kat strode to the window sill and grabbed the recurve bow. “I got it handled.”

  “Uh.” I looked at Dog. He pulled out his phone.

  “No worries,” he said, imitating Kat. “I’m calling Officer Fujikawa.”

  I ran to the front door to make sure someone had locked it after Mrs. Timmons left. Someone had. I could smell the casserole, so I checked it. Browning too fast, I turned the temperature down. It still had forty minutes to go. Looked like a tuna casserole covered with non-vegan cheese. Kat wouldn’t be happy.

  I shook myself. Why was I worried about dinner? If Connor was on his way here to kill Sebastian, then a tuna casserole covered with cow cheese was the least of our worries.

  When I got back to the room, Sebastian’s face was gray with fatigue. Berating myself for being a lousy Abishag wife, I sat on the bed next to the armchair and touched his hand. “Please don’t worry, Sebastian. We got this handled. And maybe we’re just paranoid. Your crash could have been something unintentional.”

  “I don’ re-member.”

  “Of course, you don’t. It’s totally normal not to remember after head trauma.” I smoothed his hair. “Want to rest till dinner?”

  He shook his head, worry still etched around his eyes.

  Trying for a lighter note, I winked. “You really should be at full strength for dinner. There’ll be fireworks when Kat finds out Mrs. Timmons made a tuna casserole.”

  Kat stopped rummaging in the closet for arrows. “What?”

  Sebastian managed a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

  “Leslie’s right, Seb.” Dog pocketed his phone. “Let’s get you to bed while I tell you what our policeman friend said.”

  Kat propped the bow against the wall and moved closer to Dog. I thought about sticking it under the bed before she hurt herself but waited to hear what Dog said.

  When he had Sebastian tucked under the covers, he said, “Officer Fujikawa will contact the hospice agency to find out if Connor is who he says he is. Then he’ll head over here. I think he thinks we’re worried about nothing, but he’ll humor us.”

  “As long as he’s coming.” I smoothed Sebastian’s pillow.

  Dog took Kat’s arm. “We’ll wait in the living room. Seb, if you sleep through dinner, don’t worry about it. You need the rest. We’ll save you something to eat.”

  Kat patted Sebastian’s foot through the covers. “We’ll fortify the castle, Seb. You’re safe.”

  After they shut the door, I pulled Stanley’s most rickety wooden chair closer to the bed. “I’ll sit with you till you fall asleep.” I thought about all my nights with comatose husbands. “Want me to sing?”

  He yawned. “Why?”

  “Kind of an Abishag thing to do. It’s supposed to be calming.”

  He turned slightly towards me. “Abishag?”

  He’d forgotten our previous conversation about Abishag wives. “I’m your Abishag wife,” I said. “Part of my duties are to make sure you feel peace and serenity.”

  His eyes drifted shut. “Not your duty,” he murmured. His breathing deepened.

  “Sebastian?” I whispered.

  No response.

  Had he just fired me?

  My heart hammering, I eased from the room. I tamped down my whirling thoughts. Sebastian and I could talk about our relationship later. If we survived another murder attempt.

  Before heading for the kitchen, I slipped into my bedroom. Maybe I didn’t have a bow, but I did have a weapon. Besides our training in the martial arts, Kat and I also had taken a pepper spray class. I found my canister in my backpack, and tucked it into the waistband of my tights. Not easy to access wearing a tunic, but I didn
’t have time to change.

  The first thing I saw in the kitchen was a knife on the counter. Another weapon? Kat was looking in the fridge, and I heard Dog in the backyard. I sidled over to the knife. As I reached for it, Kat shut the refrigerator door, her arms laden with broccoli and green beans. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Why do you look so guilty?”

  “No reason.” I tried putting on my once-famous Abishag stone face. Apparently, she wasn’t buying it.

  “Le … es?” She drew out the syllable in a long, suspicious breath.

  I shrugged. “No biggie. I thought I’d left the knife out and remembered how things left out annoyed Mrs. Timmons.”

  She clearly didn’t believe me. “I put it out to finish cutting those vegetables,” she said. “Dog foraged in the veggie garden. You could wash ‘em for me.”

  “Okay.” As I headed for the sink, I eyed the knife longingly. As I reached for the scrubber, I heard the doorbell ring.

  Kat’s and my eyes both went wide. I skidded to the front door and peered through the peephole. I galloped back to the kitchen.

  “It’s Connor,” I hissed.

  We stood for a long moment, breathing heavily, looking around the room wildly.

  “Get Dog,” I said. “He’s almost as big as Connor. The three of us can overpower him easily.”

  Vehemently, she shook her head. “Dog would just reason with him. I could tell he didn’t believe Connor was the enemy. Besides, he’s in the shower.” Jerking her head, she came to a decision. “We don’t need Dog. You and I can overpower him.”

  I gulped. “How? He’s massive.” Then my gaze went to the knife.

  The doorbell rang again, and we both flinched.

  “Hold your horses,” Kat yelled. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Not the knife,” she whispered. Her own gaze rested where mine had traveled. “In the slight chance that Connor is a good guy, we shouldn’t hurt him.” To herself, she muttered, “Probably means I shouldn’t shoot him with the bow either.”

  My hand went to my waistband. “I got pepper spray.”

  She brightened. “Now we’re talking. Dog’s medkit has syringes and tranquilizers. I’ll get it.”