Secrets at Sweetwater Cove

by Sally Roseveare

  When Blanche walked past the ICU waiting room, a figure in green scrubs glanced up and down the hall, and hurried in the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Wednesday, 1:30 p.m.

  In Tom Southerland’s room, his private duty nurse looked at her watch. She knew that handsome young intern would be coming on duty any minute, would check in at the nurses’ station before starting his rounds. Yesterday he had winked at her, and he’d smiled at her the day before. She’d thought about him all night, thought what a catch he’d be. She frowned. She’d seen two other nurses flirting with him.

  Private duty was boring, especially when the patient was unresponsive. She checked Tom’s ventilator and vitals, assured herself that she could take a five-minute break, walked out of his room and closed the door.

  Tom struggled to clear his brain, wondered why he couldn’t open his eyes. His whole body hurt like hell and his limbs refused to budge. Something was stuck in his throat and he couldn’t swallow. In vain he tried to scream his frustration to anyone who could hear him. Nothing. Where was he? What had happened to him? His mind was so foggy. If only he could remember.

  He heard footsteps, felt a hand on his shoulder, then on his cheek. Maybe the hand would remove the terrible thing in his throat. He’d like that. A voice whispered something near his ear. He’d heard the voice somewhere before. The voice laughed. Tom opened his eyes, stared into the face leaning over him. Hands closed around his neck, squeezed. No! I can’t breathe! Don’t do this. Please.

  *

  The nurse was right, thought Blanche as the elevator door opened. I needed to eat. I feel much better now, better able to help Tom.

  She stepped into the hall as a Code Blue alarm blared from the speakers. Medical personnel scurried past her.

  For a moment she stood still as her mind sought to make sense of what was happening. “Tom!” she yelled, and began to run. “Nooo!”

  She hardly noticed the figure in scrubs walk briskly by her and into the open elevator.

  “Mrs. Southerland, you can’t go in there right now,” said Tom’s nurse. She took Blanche’s elbow, steered her to the ICU waiting room.

  “What’s happened to Tom? I want to see him.” She struggled to escape the nurse’s grasp. “Please. I want to see my husband.”

  “I know you want the best for him, right?”

  Blanche nodded.

  “At this moment, the best thing you can do for your husband is to stay out of the way and let the doctors and nurses do what they’re trained to do.” She pointed to a plump chair. “Why don’t you sit there while I get you a cup of coffee. Or would you prefer hot tea?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  “How do you like it?”

  “Black, no sugar.”

  The nurse walked to the coffee pot in the corner, poured the steaming brown liquid into a Styrofoam cup.

  Blanche sagged into the chair and looked at her. “What’s your name?”

  “Wanda.” She smiled. “Is there anyone I can call to be with you? Any children or other family?”

  “I have no family except for my parents in Rhode Island. I think they’re still in Africa on safari. I don’t know how to reach them.” Blanche pulled a tissue from her purse, blew her nose. “I should try calling their cell, leave a message.”

  “Friends, then?”

  “Not really.” My only friends are those who want or need something from me, she thought. “Well, actually, I could call the girls in my bridge club. It would take them a while to get here, though.”

  “I think that would be a good idea. While you’re calling them, I’ll contact the hospital chaplain to stay with you for awhile.” She handed Blanche the cup of coffee. “I’ll be back in a jiffy. You won’t go anywhere, will you?”

  “No, I’ll stay here. But I’d like you to get an update on Tom for me.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” She started down the hall.

  “Wanda,” Blanche called after her. The nurse stopped.

  “I forgot all about notifying Tom’s family. They’re not my favorite people, so I guess I just put them out of my mind. I don’t know if they’re in Aspen or Kennebunkport. They have homes in both places.” She searched in her purse, pulled out a list of phone numbers and handed it to Wanda. “I really don’t want to deal with them right now. Would you please …?”

  “Call them? Of course.”

  Blanche pressed a hundred dollar bill into Wanda’s hand.

  “I can’t take this, Mrs. Southerland.” She handed it back. Blanche watched her hurry down the hall.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Wednesday, 3:30 p.m.

  Driving up Route 29 North, Lillian thought about home and the purple mums waiting to be planted. And the pumpkins in their small patch were ready to pick. Why had she offered to drive to Charlottesville?

  She glanced in the rearview mirror at Estelle fidgeting in the back seat. She’s a nervous wreck, thought Lillian. I’m glad she couldn’t talk us into letting her drive. Mary Ann and I’ve ridden with her before. Under the best of circumstances, Estelle’s the worst driver I know.

  She looked over at Mary Ann and smiled. Mary Ann smiled back. “How much longer, Lillian?”

  “Depends on whether or not you and Estelle want to stop in Lovingston for a potty break and to get a quick bite to eat,” answered Lillian.

  “Yes, yes! Let’s stop for a potty break. Lillian, can we stop? And I’m starving, too. No, I’m more than that. I’m absolutely famished. Really I am. If we don’t stop soon, I’ll wet my pants. You wouldn’t like that, would you, Lillian? What would that do to these nice leather seats anyhow? What do y’all think?” asked Estelle. “Maybe I should call Dave and ask him.” She dug in her purse for her cell phone.

  Mary Ann and Lillian raised eyebrows at each other.

  “I don’t think I’d call your husband and ask him that, Estelle,” said Mary Ann. “I bet you can find the answers to your questions at the information desk in the hospital when we get there.”

  Lillian looked at Mary Ann and mouthed, “You’re awful.” Mary Ann grinned and nodded.

  “Good idea, Mary Ann. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll ask the information desk to give me all the information they have on pee. They should be able to do that or they shouldn’t be called an information desk. Right?” She dropped the phone back in her purse.

  “Right.”

  “Estelle, how do you feel?” asked Lillian. “You seem more nervous today than I’ve ever seen you.”

  “You don’t really know me, Lillian. You either, Mary Ann. Whenever you’re with me, Blanche is with us. I keep my nerves under control when I’m around Blanche. After all, her husband is Dave’s boss. I wouldn’t want Blanche to get mad at me and make Tom fire Dave. Dave needs this job and he’s good at it.”

  “Tom wouldn’t fire Dave just because Blanche told him to,” said Lillian. “Tom’s a nice man.”

  “Easy for you to say, Lillian. Your husband’s job isn’t dependent on Tom like our husbands’ jobs. Dave is Tom’s foreman. And Mary Ann is well aware that Tom buys all of Sweetwater Cove’s appliances from Carl. Right, Mary Ann?”

  “Right.”

  “I’ve really gotta go. If we don’t get to Lovingston—or whatever that town is—soon you’ll have to pull off the road and let me find a corn field or something. Or we’ll find out what pee does to leather before we get to that information desk.”

  Lillian liked her leather seats just the way they were. She checked the rearview mirror for cops, and pushed on the accelerator.

  In the hospital, Blanche tried at first to blot out the chaplain’s monotone voice and prayers. She knew he meant well, had her interests at heart, wanted her to “know the Lord” before it was too late. He’d asked if she was a Christian, a believer, if she went to church. She told him she’d studied different religions at Sweet Briar, that none of them had interested her, and that no, she did not attend church. “But I do believe in a high
er power. I guess that qualifies me as agnostic.”

  He’d sighed, nodded. Then he asked her the same questions about Tom. Her answers to those questions were more positive, answers the chaplain seemed to like. Yes, Tom was a Christian. No, she didn’t know when he became a believer, but she knew he was. Yes, he attended church regularly. What denomination or church, she had no clue. Either Episcopal, Presbyterian or Baptist, she thought. She never went to church with him. He asked if Tom’s parents were Christians. She didn’t know.

  Wanda interrupted her thoughts. “Mrs. Southerland, you can see your husband now, but only for a minute.”

  “Tom’s alive?” Blanche heaved herself up from the chair.

  “He is. The doctors say it was touch and go there for a while. He’s still not out of the woods, however.”

  Blanche pushed the door open to Tom’s room and stared at her husband lying in the hospital bed. He’s so still, so pale, she thought. She stood near the door while a nurse checked his tubes. A doctor watched the heart monitor, listened to Tom’s heart beat.

  “Your husband’s a lucky man, Mrs. Southerland,” said Dr. Blackman. “He came real close to leaving us.”

  “What happened? I thought he had improved, might come out of his coma any second.”

  “So did we. He seemed to be doing reasonably well, but suddenly he stopped breathing. Where were you when it happened?”

  “Me? I’d gone down to the cafeteria to get something to eat—hadn’t eaten a thing since early this morning—had finished, and was just stepping off the elevator down the hall when I heard the Code Blue alarm, saw medical people running to this room.”

  “So you weren’t near your husband’s room when he stopped breathing?”

  “No. I told you where I was. Weren’t you listening to me? And why are you asking me these questions?”

  “One of the nurse’s aides got a glimpse of someone coming out of Mr. Southerland’s room seconds after the alarm sounded. She couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.” He took a deep breath.

  “Sit down, Mrs. Southerland.” The doctor pointed to the chair, waited for Blanche to obey before he continued. “Mrs. Southerland, I think someone tried to kill your husband. That person almost succeeded. I’ve called the police.”

  Blanche thought she might faint. She leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, waited until the dizziness passed. In a barely audible voice she said, “I can’t believe that. What makes you think such a thing?”

  “He has suspicious marks on his neck as though he’d been strangled. And the tube running down his throat was damaged. Ironically, I think the tube actually saved his life.”

  “I can’t believe that someone would want Tom dead. Everybody likes him. Tom doesn’t have an enemy in the world. It’s me people don’t like.”

  Dr. Blackman started to speak when he heard a light knock on the door. A man wearing a coat and tie entered the door, flashed his ID.

  “I’m Detective S. Holmes. No, my first name isn’t Sherlock. Everybody tries to call me that. They think it’s funny. I don’t. So call me either Detective, Detective Holmes, or by my first name, Sid. Is that understood?”

  Dr. Blackman, Blanche and the nurse nodded. Dr. Blackman stifled a grin.

  “So what’s going on here?” asked Detective Holmes.

  “I’m pretty sure someone tried to….

  “Uh, Mrs. Southerland, would you mind stepping out of the room for a few minutes? I’ll let you know when it’s okay for you to come back.”

  Wanda came in, took Blanche by the arm and led her back to the waiting room.

  Lillian and Mary Ann stood in line at the fast-food eatery in Lovingston. “Did you see how Estelle galloped to the ladies’ room?” asked Lillian. “I don’t think she was kidding about needing to go.”

  “I agree. I’m glad she made it.”

  “Me, too. My car’s only two months old; I’d hate for the seats to get messed up so quickly.” They laughed.

  “Lillian, do you think Estelle’s acting a little strange? I’ve never seen her like this. Today she seems to be a different person.”

  “You know, Mary Ann, it’s almost like she’s on something.”

  “On something? You mean like drugs?”

  “Yeah, I….”

  “Shh, here she comes,” whispered Mary Ann.

  The three women picked up their orders and carried them to a booth by a window overlooking Route 29. As they ate their burgers and fries, Estelle pulled a small bottle from her purse, opened it and swallowed a pill. Mary Ann and Lillian looked at each other.

  “What did you just take, Estelle?” asked Mary Ann.

  “Oh, that was just an aspirin. I have a little headache,” said Estelle, smiling sweetly. She dropped the bottle back in her purse, leaned her head against the back of the booth and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  At the hospital in Charlottesville, Blanche greeted her friends. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said when they entered the waiting room. “You are all such good friends.” She hugged each of them.

  Lillian and Mary Ann raised eyebrows at each other. Blanche had never acted this way before.

  “How is Tom?” Estelle asked.

  “He’s doing better, was sleeping when I left his room.”

  “Could we see him?”

  “Not now. They ran me out of his room twenty minutes ago. A detective wanted to talk to Tom’s doctor. They didn’t want me listening.

  “Fix yourselves a cup of coffee if you want some.” Blanche pointed to the coffee pot across the room. “And there’s an excellent cafeteria in the hospital if you’re hungry.”

  “We stopped in Lovingston and grabbed a quick bite,” said Lillian, “but I will have some coffee. Anyone else want a cup?” They shook their heads.

  “Why is a detective talking to Tom’s doctor?” Mary Ann asked.

  “Sit down. You’re not going to believe this. The doctor and the detective think someone tried to murder Tom.” The women stared at her.

  “You can’t be serious,” said Lillian.

  “Why do they think that?” asked Estelle.

  Blanche told her friends that a nurse’s aide saw someone leaving Tom’s room seconds after the alarm sounded. “I’d just stepped off the elevator after eating in the cafeteria. I heard the Code Blue.”

  “Do they suspect you?”

  “I don’t know, but the doctor asked me lots of questions. The detective probably will, too. Oh damn! I just realized a person hurried past me when I was running down the hall to Tom’s room.”

  “Was it a man or a woman?” asked Estelle.

  “I don’t know. I barely noticed the person. I do remember the person was wearing green, you know, like they do in the operating room. At the time I was intent on getting to Tom.”

  “Blanche, you need to tell the detective this. It could be important,” said Lillian.

  Estelle’s cell phone rang. Wanda stuck her head in the waiting room. “You’re not supposed to use cell phones in this part of the hospital,” she said to Estelle. “Please turn it off immediately.”

  “Sorry.” Estelle noted the caller’s identity and turned off the phone.

  “If you need to make a call, there’s a pay phone over there near the coffee pot. There’re also specific places marked where you can use your cell.” Wanda pointed down the hall.

  “Girls, that was Dave,” said Estelle. “I need to return the call. Be back soon.” She left the waiting room and walked quickly down the hall.

  Detective Holmes stuck his head in the room. “Mrs. Southerland, could I have a word with you?” He glanced at the other two women. “Alone.”

  “We’ll just wait in the hall,” Lillian said as she and Mary Ann stood up and walked out of the room.

  “This won’t take long,” said Detective Holmes.

  Fifteen minutes later, Blanche looked at the completed sketch a police artist had made of the person she’d seen in the ha
ll. Detective Holmes compared it to the sketch made from the description the nurse’s aide had provided. The aide’s was more detailed than Blanche’s, but both showed the same build and type of clothing. Neither showed facial features.

  “Wish I’d paid more attention, but at the moment I was concentrating on Tom.” Blanche looked up as her friends entered the room.

  “We’ll take the sketches to the other rooms on this floor, see if anyone matching that description was here visiting another patient. We’re pretty sure it wasn’t a doctor.

  “You’re exhausted, Mrs. Southerland. Why don’t you let your friends take you home when they go?” Detective Holmes turned to the other women. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  “Of course not,” said Lillian, “but we came prepared to spend the night if necessary.”

  “I don’t want to leave Tom alone,” Blanche said.

  “Believe me, he’ll be fine tonight. The doctor says he’s improving steadily. And if you’re worried about the attacker returning, I’ve already stationed a guard at Mr. Southerland’s door. He’ll be fine, Mrs. Southerland.”

  “A guard is so impersonal. I’ll stay,” said Blanche.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” said Estelle. “I’ll stay. The rest of you can go home, get a good night’s sleep, and come back in the morning refreshed. That’ll give you chance to get a change or two of clothing, too, Blanche.”

  “I’ll stay with Estelle to keep her company,” said Mary Ann. She dug in her purse and pulled out a deck of cards. “I brought these with me in case the four of us wanted to play bridge. Estelle and I can play gin rummy or hearts. Won’t that be fun, Estelle?”

  “A blast.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Wednesday, 5:00 p.m.

  On the mountain, Little Guy stood and nudged King. The dogs touched noses. King whined. Little Guy wagged his tail and trotted down the mountain.

  Still worried about the dogs, Aurora stepped outside and listened. Did she hear a faint bark? “King! Little Guy! Come now,” she hollered. Irritated by the disturbance, crows screeched from the top of a skinny pine.