The Christie Curse

by Victoria Abbott

  “There’s nothing to tell. I was in my driveway getting into my car when a man came up behind me and when I turned around, he hit me in the face.”

  “You said you didn’t see his face, but he moved like a man. A young man? A teenager?”

  She thought for a minute and shook her head. “No. An older guy. He ran off when a car drove by.”

  “Did the people in the car see what happened?”

  She shook her head. “They didn’t stop. I don’t even know if they saw what was going on, but I think they scared him off. He might have killed me.”

  That was true. “Will there be someone around at your dad’s place?”

  “He’s got a pretty flexible schedule. I’ll ask him to help me with opening and closing Yummers for my events. I don’t think this guy would start anything in a crowd, do you?”

  “Make sure you’re not alone. You’re lucky to have your dad. I never knew mine. But my uncles are pretty terrific.”

  “I can’t imagine not having my dad. That must be awful. We’ve had some hard times, but at least we’re always there for each other now. We’re not alone,” she said with a sad smile.

  Not like Alex, alone in his grave.

  I patted her shoulder. “I’ll make sure you get to your car safely.”

  “Thanks. It feels stupid to be so nervous when it’s not even dark out.”

  “It’s kind of isolated in the parking lot.”

  As we reached her silver Yaris, she glanced over and up at the massive Navigator and back at me. I said, “It’s a loaner. My car’s in the shop. Don’t forget to call me if you remember what was familiar about the guy, or even if you’re worried.”

  She opened her door and said with a smile that looked really painful, “Don’t worry. You’ll be the first person I call if I see anything suspicious. And I’ll make sure the cops take me seriously.”

  An image of the shambling man coming up behind Ashley chilled my blood. “By the way, did the guy who attacked you have a limp?”

  Her eyes widened. “A limp? No. He was kind of slower moving, like an older person.”

  “Did you actually see him run away?”

  She closed her eyes and thought. She opened them and said, “Yes. I did see him. He wasn’t running, but he definitely wasn’t limping. I’m sure of that. Why?”

  “Just trying to get my facts straight. Could it have been the man you saw talking to Karen at the book fair?”

  “That mailman?”

  I nodded.

  She took the time to consider it. “I didn’t see him closely and I really didn’t see his face, or his hair, but you know, it could have been. He was about the same size, I think. That’s not much help, but yes, maybe.”

  I said, “Ashley, promise you will watch out for this guy, and whatever you do, if you see a smiley blond cop with a tendency to blush, don’t trust him.”

  “You mean that guy who talked to me after I was attacked? The first cop to show up.”

  What? Now that was just plain wrong. Officer Smiley had talked to her after the attack? Wasn’t it way too coincidental that he would show up when Ashley had been injured?

  “I didn’t realize that he was the officer first on the scene. Did he come after you called 911?”

  “No, I was just lucky that he came along on patrol.”

  “Well, I don’t think it was lucky. Kind of the opposite. He’s involved somehow. So whatever you do, don’t be alone with him and don’t go anywhere with him.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You think the cop is involved?”

  “I don’t know why or how, but there’s something off. Be very, very careful. And can you give me your telephone number?”

  “Good idea.”

  I keyed her number into my phone and watched her drive away. I hoped the next time I saw her, it wouldn’t be in the hospital.

  Or worse.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I PONDERED THE connections between Eddie, Karen and Ashley as I gunned the Navigator and drove ten miles into the rolling green countryside. I checked each property I passed until I located the rambling yellow farmhouse of George Beckwith, the owner of Nevermore and the first dealer I’d spoken to at the book fair. Through the twin miracles of Lance and my iPhone, I had his address. The house seemed to be called Nevermore too. I saw no sign of a shop or an office as I arrived. I did approve of the wide wraparound verandah and the broad lawns.

  A beautiful black horse with a white blaze was cantering around a corral on the property. Ducks, geese and a willowy Border collie completed the picture. The collie seemed delighted at my arrival.

  George Beckwith did remember me. He seemed surprised to see me showing up at his home unannounced in the evening and not in the least bit happy. This was a beautiful place. I wondered what it would cost to keep it going. More than you’d take in from a rare book business? He ambled along the porch and gestured toward a porch swing, and I sat. He took his place in the wicker rocker beside it. I noted that he neither limped nor shuffled. Damn.

  The reproach was obvious, even in his smooth, buttery voice. “I haven’t been able to find out anything about the item you were searching for, but I haven’t given up. These things take time. You can’t push it. You’ve caught me by surprise. I rarely have clients here and never without an appointment.”

  I ignored him. “It’s urgent and not about a purchase. I have some questions.”

  As his eyebrows rose, the screen door banged and his wife, a small smiling woman with a cap of silver hair and a slow, stilted walk, arrived with a tray of lemonade, three glasses and a shy smile. She introduced herself as Jeannette. I liked her instantly.

  “I don’t usually answer questions at home. I’ll—” He shot his wife a dirty look as she happily filled the glasses of lemonade. She seemed thrilled to have company besides his majesty. Who could blame her?

  “Karen Smith was attacked and left for dead after the book fair. Did you know that?”

  The glass hit the floor with a crash. Jeannette’s hand flew to her face. “No! That’s terrible. Did you know, George?”

  From the way he’d turned white, my guess was he hadn’t. “We were on the road yesterday and today. We just got home. I haven’t even had the news on.”

  “I imagine you’ll hear from the police investigators soon. They’ll be interviewing people who were there.”

  “What do you mean ‘people who were there’? Where?”

  As Jeannette headed unsteadily through the door to get something to clean up the lemonade, I said, “Karen was hit on the head and left for dead in Saint Sebastian’s Hall after the book fair. She was the last person on site.”

  “In the hall?” His voice was closer to a croak than its usual smooth tone.

  “Yes. And I’d like to know if you saw anyone unusual talking to her or arguing with her or even doing business with her. Anyone that struck you as odd. Someone who shuffled perhaps? Or limped?”

  The screen door banged behind Jeannette as she returned with a broom and a dustpan and a bucket and mop.

  They exchanged glances. She started to sweep up the broken glass and said, “We have lots of older customers, people like us. It’s not unusual for someone to have a cane or to move slowly, with all our creaky old bones. Like me, getting close to needing a hip replacement.”

  I nodded in sympathy but kept on topic. “But did either of you notice her talking to anyone suspicious or out of the ordinary? Someone reported a slight fiftyish man with thin fair hair combed over.” I made a gesture to simulate a comb-over.

  They both shook their heads.

  George said, “Karen was at the diagonal opposite corner. I couldn’t really see her that easily from our section.”

  Jeannette said, “I wasn’t at that fair. There was too much to look after here on Sunday, although I love the fairs. It’s so nice to see old friends.”

  I wasn’t prepared to let it drop. I turned to George. “Did you get anything to eat at the concession stand? Maybe you noticed he
r then?”

  George said, “I bought a sandwich and some coffee, but I don’t recall anything out of the ordinary. Karen’s a nice, friendly woman, although I don’t know her that well. Jeannette knows her a bit better, but Jeannette wasn’t there. There weren’t any customers at Karen’s booth when I went by. She was reading, and she looked up and smiled. It’s hard to imagine anyone attacking her. Or any of the dealers. Was it theft?”

  “Doesn’t seem that way. I think the person planned it, made sure she was alone and tried to kill her.”

  George had made no attempt to help his wife clean up the glass and spilled lemonade. “It must have been a robbery attempt. Why else would anyone try to kill a harmless woman like Karen Smith?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering, and that reminds me, do either of you know anything about a collector or dealer known by the name Merlin?”

  “Never heard of him,” George snapped.

  Jeannette stared blankly.

  “I just wondered if he might be the person you contacted after my visit to your booth.”

  “I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

  I shrugged. “People talk. And they listen. And they pass things on. I wouldn’t be at all happy if it turned out your conversation was with this Merlin.”

  “If that’s all,” George said in his snootiest British accent, “we’re both quite tired after our trip and we need to say good night.”

  “Fine with me. I have somewhere to be anyway,” I said, getting to my feet. I had one piece of information I’d come for. I didn’t know if Merlin shuffled or limped, but I knew I’d made George very nervous when I asked him who he’d been talking to.

  * * *

  ON THE COUNTRY road I pulled out my cell and checked with the uncles on the well-being of Walter. I wanted to make a good report to Karen, if and when she opened her eyes. I kept expecting the dog honeymoon to be over. But the uncles were rising to the challenge.

  “Pet Universe,” Uncle Mick said without a preamble. “Amazing place.”

  “What?”

  “We went right after you left.”

  “You did?” I said.

  “Lucky was quite overwhelmed.”

  “Huh. What did you get? I’ve been meaning to pick up some dog food, but I figured that KD would—”

  “Couldn’t get over the choices of beds, my girl. It’s a dog’s world, all right.”

  “I suppose it—”

  “We went for a neutral, but a good solid foam base. Washable. We kept the color for the collar and the lead. Red. And the bowls, you know. Little paw prints on them. Can’t be using the everyday dishes.”

  “Of course not.” What the—?

  Mick’s voice lowered. “Your uncle Lucky has gone over the edge with this situation.”

  “You mean—?”

  “Lamb and rice food. Duck and sweet potato. Where will it end?”

  “Well,” I said, “I’m starting to lose signal, but I’m really glad it’s working out for all of you.”

  Don’t ever let anyone tell you that there are no miracles in this bad old world.

  * * *

  IN THE HOSPITAL, I scurried along to the nurses’ station, trying to get an update on Karen. Apparently, she was out of danger. Her condition had been upgraded to fair, and she was now in a different room. I was hoping she’d be awake so I could give her the news about Walter and his temporary digs.

  As I opened the door to her room, I made an effort to keep my expression cheerful. I had a feeling that I might be upset by the sight of her injuries and whatever new changes had resulted from her treatment.

  A surgeon was bending over the bed with a pillow in his hand, his surgical mask still in place. He whirled to face me, and my brain struggled to make sense of the scene. Pillow did not compute. Especially as Karen’s hands were pushing frantically against it.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”

  Karen made a desperate gasp for breath as he dropped the pillow and ran for the door, shoving me hard as he went. My head banged against the wall, and I dropped to the floor. I struggled to my feet and rushed out the door, shouting, “Stop that man! He’s assaulted a patient!”

  Passing staff stared at me with astonishment. The assailant knocked over an IV pole and pushed a gurney sideways across the hallway to impede any chase. But there were no pursuers. It was all too astonishing. The man opened the door to a stairway exit and vanished into it. But not before I’d had time to notice that he had a distinctive limp.

  I raced back to Karen’s bedside. She was pale and shaking, but alive. She squeezed my hand until it hurt. I waited until her grip loosened a tiny bit.

  “The man who tried to hurt you, did you recognize him?” I asked.

  “Was it a man? I couldn’t see him. I was sleeping, and then I woke up struggling to breathe. Something was blocking my mouth and nose. It was horrible.”

  I could imagine how horrible it must have been. With a soft squeak of shoes, a pair of nurses entered the room. I said, “Karen, can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”

  Her eyes were wide. “No one.”

  “Do you know who attacked you in Saint Sebastian’s?”

  “The police officer asked me that. I don’t remember.”

  “Well, two pieces of good news,” I said. “One, whoever it was failed again. And two, your pooch is having a spa holiday.”

  I wasn’t sure if that last one sunk in.

  I found myself displaced quickly as a doctor arrived to check out Karen. I stared suspiciously at everyone who went into the room, but this one appeared to be for real, judging by the reaction of the other medical staff. Karen’s assailant had been dressed as a physician. He’d have no trouble passing freely through the corridors of the hospital. Even if there were security cameras, what would they show? A doctor. Big deal. The place was crawling with them.

  The one thing I knew for sure: whoever was out to get Karen was really out to get her. He’d taken a big chance making an attempt on her life in a busy hospital. The worst part was that he’d almost succeeded.

  I felt desperate to find out the doctor’s take on whether this latest attack had harmed her in any way. The attempt to smother her could have been the last straw. But I got nowhere with the medical staff.

  I paced in the hallway wondering what to do about that while I waited a ridiculously long time for the police to arrive. I finally decided to wait for them outside where I could at least use my iPhone. I clicked on Ashley in my contact list and fidgeted while it rang. No answer. Damn. I really hoped she’d get my message.

  “Ashley, there’s been another attempt on Karen’s life at the hospital. Please take care to keep yourself safe. Call the police if you see anything at all unusual. The attacker was dressed as a doctor, so be vigilant and let me know that you got this message.”

  Ten minutes later a pair of police officers arrived in a cruiser, and for once I was glad to see them. I identified myself and filled them in on what I’d witnessed. I watched the female officer record it while the other one looked around. I had a quaver in my voice when I said, “She needs a guard at her door. A police officer or at the very least a security guard. Can you arrange it?”

  She said, “Not up to us, but we will pass it along. Were you the only person to witness this attempt?”

  “The attempt itself, yes. But hospital staff saw the attacker fleeing. Check with security too.”

  “But we have just your word that this person attacked the patient. We’ll have to take statements from the staff on the floor and any other witnesses. Wait here for Detective Zinger.”

  It didn’t take me long to pick up the subtext there. The world is full of whack jobs. “Go ahead and get your statements. I’ll wait for you here.” I wasn’t hopeful. The nurses had seen me run out of Karen’s room after I’d stopped the attempt to smother her, but of course, I had no proof of what I’d witnessed.

  As the cops moved toward the entrance, I called after th
em. “The guy ran. Why else would he run if he wasn’t up to something?” As I was speaking, I saw a familiar figure emerge from the parking lot, stop and stare at the police and at me. Eddie. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Excuse me, but I need to talk to that man.”

  The cops exchanged glances, and then one of them said, “Um, no. You’d better wait here for Detective Zinger.”

  I said, “But—”

  The other one said, “We need you to wait here. Don’t leave the area.”

  “But that’s…” What could I say? Eddie clearly looked nothing like the man I’d caught trying to smother Karen. But he was here, at the hospital, and if he had just walked out now, wouldn’t he have been in the building when the latest attempt on Karen’s life was happening?

  I stayed put, though. These two officers obviously thought I was a loose cannon already. And if I were in their large black boots, I wouldn’t have given me the time of day. The question was, what would Agatha do? For sure, she’d have Hercule Poirot or possibly the divine Miss M pursue the Eddie angle. Likely they wouldn’t place much stock in police smarts.

  It didn’t take long for the news of an attack to filter out. Soon a media van pulled up, and a reporter who was eager to talk to anyone and everyone hopped out. The crowd was growing larger, late visitors who’d decided to wait and be part of the drama, staff on smoke breaks on the edge of the property, people in the neighborhood. Who knows why crowds materialize so quickly?

  Eddie was long gone well before Detective Zinger was finished putting me through the wringer, rhyme not intended. A certain coincidence was bothering him.

  “So let me see if I have this straight,” he said, stroking his granite chin and looking through me with his weird X-ray eyes, after he got the bare-bones story. “You found this Karen Smith after the first attack.”

  “Yes.”

  “You called it in.”

  “Correct. You know that. You interviewed me.”

  He held up his hand to silence me. “Then, you happened to go to her room in the hospital and by a stroke of luck, foil another attempt on her life.”