“This is your damned fault,” one man yelled.
Ivy stopped trying to move and listened to the shouting men. She knew down deep that she should know who they were, but the names simply wouldn’t come to her.
“How to hell is it my fault that somebody sent her poisoned muffins?”
“It’s obviously someone from here who is pissed that you’re living with Ivy in that house where you once lived with your dead wife. One of these crazy hillbilly religious nuts probably took offense and poisoned her.”
“And what about your jealous, rich-bitch girlfriend, who wanted Ivy out of the way?”
“Judith has no idea where Ivy lives. She wouldn’t know about local churches anyhow.”
“Mister, she’s rich. She could pay somebody to come out here and find out about that sort of thing. I saw the way she looked at Ivy in Powell’s office. If looks could kill, Ivy would have been dead then and there. I know crazy when I see it, and that blonde had crazy written all over her damned face.” The voice stopped to draw breath before continuing. “You put crazy and rich together, and you’ve got trouble. Have the police talked to you yet? I talked to them already and told ‘em about your crazy blonde girlfriend.”
“I guarantee you, Judith Merriman has nothing to do with this. It was probably one of those crazy bitches I heard talking in the diner last week. They were saying terrible things about Ivy and you. They think the two of you have shamed your poor dead wife and were going on about the wrath of God raining down upon the two of you. If you ask me, Mr. Wingate, that’s the crazy the police should be looking into.”
Ivy tried to move again. Monitors began to blare, and Ivy heard the rubber soles of shoes running into the room. Ivy opened her eyes. A woman wearing a ridiculous Hello Kitty smock bent over her while a young man in a plain blue smock pushed buttons on the blaring machine next to her bed.
“Well, it’s good to see you’re finally awake, Ms. Chandler. We’ve been waiting for a good while now.”
Ivy tried to speak. “Don’t try to talk, Ms. Chandler. We put a tube down your throat to help you breathe.” She looked at the monitor. “Your sats look good. I’ll call the doctor, and maybe we can get that tube out of your mouth so you can talk.” The nurse walked away and was replaced by the two men Ivy had heard arguing. Each walked to either side of the bed and took a hand. Her eyes darted between the two. She should know them.
“Hi, baby,” the man with white hair said. “How are you feeling? You gave us all quite a scare.”
Ivy tried to smile at his courtesy but could not. She wanted to ask questions, and she really wanted to pee.
“Hey, honey,” the bigger man with brown curly hair said. His hazel eyes looked worried with dark circles beneath them. “You’re gonna be alright now. The doc said that if you woke up by tonight, you’d be alright.” He ran a hand over her head and gently pushed a lock of matted hair behind her ear. “Cheshire is alright, but he misses you. He just sits out on the porch swing waiting for you.”
The vision of a fat yellow tabby cat flashed into Ivy’s head, and she wanted to smile. As other hospital employees came and went, Ivy’s head cleared, and she regained more memories. The white-haired man’s name was Carl, and the other was Danny. When those names came back to her, tears slid down her cheeks.
What in hell’s name is going on? What were they talking about? Poisoned muffins? Why are they both here? Dan should be here. But why is Carl? He thinks I’m a gold digger. God, I need to pee.
A tall, thin black man wearing a white lab coat came into the room carrying a metal clipboard. He leafed through the papers before looking at the numbers on the machines beeping and clicking by her bed before speaking to her.
“Your numbers look good, Ms. Chandler, so we’re going to take you off the ventilator now. He flipped a button, and the wheezing machine stopped pumping air into Ivy’s lungs. “I’m going to pull this tube out. When I say ‘now,’ I want you to exhale as hard as you can.” He took hold of the white plastic tube. “Now,” he said and yanked the tube from Ivy’s throat.
Ivy exhaled, but it hurt, and she ended up coughing and choking. It passed quickly, though, and Ivy got more flashes of memory. She had choked on her own vomit and rolled in the aisle of a store that smelled like fresh-cut lumber and vomit. Strong hands had held her and slapped Ivy’s back.
She settled back into the pillows and tried to take short, easy breaths. Her chest hurt when she did, and she smelled and tasted vanilla pudding. How odd. Ivy tried to tell the doctor she needed to pee, but the words wouldn’t form.
“Don’t try to talk, ma’am, that tube had your vocal cords compressed. Your voice will come back in an hour or two. Just relax.” The young doctor adjusted her blanket and put a stethoscope to her chest. “You aspirated vomit and came down with a bad case of pneumonia,” the doctor explained. “You had to be intubated. Luckily, you threw up most of those poisoned muffins, or we might have lost you for good. You went into cardiac arrest at one point, and we had to use the paddles on you, but you came right back. Some fool ground up poison toadstools in that muffin batter.” He shook his head. “Nasty stuff.” He adjusted Ivy’s pillows. “This tube in your nose is a feeding tube. And you have a catheter in. Your kidney function seems to be fine, and the output is clear. That’s what we really have to worry about with those poisonous toadstools; kidney failure. We’ll be taking out the catheter momentarily.” He patted her leg and walked out the door.
Someone gave me poisoned muffins? Oh, my God. Who would do something like that?
Ivy remembered picking up the basket of muffins from the porch. She remembered how good they’d tasted with her coffee.
Not long after the doctor left the room, a young blonde nurse came in and removed the irritating catheter. Ivy sighed with immediate relief. She gave a long sigh like the one she gave when she’d been holding her bladder for too long and finally got to sit on the toilet and pee.
“The doctor wants to leave the feeding tube in until your throat has a chance to recover from the intubation.” She winked at Ivy and smiled. “Believe me, the Ensure going in with the tube is better than the food coming out of the kitchen downstairs.” She offered Ivy a cup of ice water with a straw. “Sip this slow so I can see how you swallow.”
Ivy sucked some of the cold water into her mouth. It felt good on her tongue, and she swallowed slowly with no problems. The nurse pulled the straw away before Ivy was ready. “Lie back now, honey, and rest. They’ll be coming in to take blood later, and your gentlemen friends are waiting outside.” She winked at Ivy again. “Those two have been by your side the entire week. We had to break ‘em up and put ‘em in separate corners a couple of times, but they’ve both been plenty worried about you.”
22
Dan and Carl returned to Ivy’s side soon after the nurse departed her room. They both pulled chairs up close to the bed and glared at one another over her. Dan stood and took Ivy’s hand, careful of the IV needle stuck in the vein there.
“How are you feelin’, honey?” he asked and squeezed her hand. “Don’t try to talk,” he said when she opened her mouth and attempted to form a word.
Ivy felt the warmth from his hand radiating up her arm and into her heart. The other man held her hand too, but there was no warmth there. Carl smiled down at her, but he also glanced at Dan. Ivy thought he glared at Dan the way a little boy glared at another little boy who was trying to take away a toy he wasn’t done playing with.
“We’ll find out who did this to you, baby. I promise we will, and they’ll pay.”
Ivy pointed to the cup of water on the rolling table by her bed. “Wa … er,” she croaked from her scratchy throat. Both men reached for it, but the cup sat nearer to Carl, and he grabbed it first.
“Here you go, baby.” He held the straw to Ivy’s dry, cracked lips. She sipped and swallowed slowly. The water flowing down her throat eased the irritation. Carl pulled the straw from her lips. “You better go easy for now.”
; “Do you need anything else, honey?” Dan asked.
“Cold,” Ivy blurted out in a raspy whisper.
Dan pulled the blanket and sheet up over her shoulders and folded it under her chin. “I’ll get you a warmed blanket from the nurse’s station.” Ivy watched him leave the room. Her head becoming less fuzzy, she noted the concern on Dan’s face. One of the machines above her head beeped, and Ivy jumped.
This must be terrible for Danny. He’s back in a hospital room watching a woman he cares about possibly dying.
Dan returned with a folded blanket and draped it over Ivy. The warmth radiated down over her. It brought back her desire to sleep, and her eyelids fell.
Ivy woke again to see two men in suits standing by her bed. One of them coughed, and Ivy could smell the distinct odor of stale cigarettes. It irritated her, and she sneezed.
“Ms. Chandler,” said the heavy man in a blue suit, “I’m Lieutenant Bailey, and this is Sergeant Vincent. We’re here to ask you a few questions about what happened to you.”
Ivy found the control button to raise her into a sitting position. “I really don’t know what I can tell you.” Her throat still ached, but she could speak in a raspy voice.
“Did you, by chance, happen to see the person who left the basket on your porch?” Bailey asked.
“The car was leaving by the time I got to the door,” Ivy said.
“Did you get a look at the vehicle?” Vincent asked. “Was it a car or a truck?”
“I think it was a truck or maybe an SUV. I only got a quick look, but it sounded bigger than a car.”
“Did you see a color?”
“Light color; white or silver maybe,” Ivy said and reached for her cup of water. Since waking, Ivy couldn’t get enough water. The nurse had told her it was good to drink as much as she could to flush her kidneys of all the toxins left in her system from the toadstools.
“Do you have any idea who might wish you harm, Ms. Chandler?” Bailey asked while taking notes on a little flip pad.
Ivy shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt me. Cindy Wingate’s cousin Peggy who lives down the road isn’t too happy about Dan and me living together, but I don’t think she’d try to kill me because of it.”
“We’ve spoken with her, and she has an alibi for the time the muffins were dropped off at your house,” Vincent said. “Anyhow, her pickup is red.”
“How about the men in your life?” Bailey asked without looking up from his notes. “I heard there’s been trouble here between Dan Wingate and that other fellow. Anderson, isn’t it? What are your relationships with the two of them?”
“Dan and I are living together.” Ivy looked up at the detective. “He has an alibi too. He was eating breakfast with me when the person delivered that basket.”
“Of course,” he said and looked over to the other officer with a raised eyebrow. “And this Anderson fellow? What’s your story with him?”
“I’ve known Carl for a little over a year now. We met in Phoenix.”
“And you were having a physical relationship with him?” Vincent asked with a smug look of disapproval on his face.
I wonder which Bible-thumping church around here he belongs to.
“That ended before I moved here. Carl is otherwise committed to a woman in Phoenix.”
“Dan told us there was some animosity between you and this,” Bailey flipped through his notepad, “Merriman woman. You and Judith Merriman have had words over this Anderson fellow?”
“No,” Ivy said resolutely. “I’ve only met the woman once in Norman Powell’s office. We were introduced by Carl, shook hands, and I left the building with Dan. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since.”
“And she’s never made threats about your relationship with Anderson?” Vincent asked.
“Why would she? Carl and I no longer have a relationship.”
“According to the staff here, they think Mr. Anderson feels you and he are still an item,” Vincent sneered.
“Sergeant,” Ivy fumed, “I don’t appreciate your tone. Mr. Anderson and I are not an item. We haven’t been since before I moved here. I’m in a very healthy and happy relationship with Dan Wingate.”
“Yes,” he snorted, “and you’re living with the man in the same house he lived in with his late wife. Doesn’t that bother the two of you any?”
Ivy turned her head to address Lieutenant Bailey. “I don’t see that I have anything more to add to your investigation, and I’m exhausted.” Ivy yawned and stretched. “I think I’ve said all I can.”
Bailey flipped his notebook shut, gave Vincent an annoyed glare, and motioned for the other man to leave. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Chandler. We’ll be in touch when we have some answers for you.”
“Thank you,” she said and watched them leave the room.
Good God, I thought people in southern Indiana were tight-laced, but these Missouri folks got them beat by a mile. Are we bothered by living together in Cindy’s house? Does he really think we would be living there if it bothered us? What a jerk. I wonder if he knows where the poison toadstools grow. Ivy smiled to herself. Hmm. Catchy title for a book. Who knows where the poison toadstools grow? Maybe I’ll use it someday.
23
The doctor insisted Ivy remain in the hospital for another ten days, saying he wanted to make sure her kidney function continued to do well. Ivy suspected the small rural hospital saw the opportunity for a big payout from her medical insurance carrier and asked the doctor to stall her release for as long as possible.
The vampires from hematology came and drew blood from her arms twice daily. They woke her from a sound sleep at three every morning and came again at three in the afternoon to wake her from her naps. Techs in blue scrubs took her from her room on gurneys for MRI and CT scans. Ivy suffered the terrible food and watched the channel rerunning classic Westerns and sitcoms from the sixties and seventies. She desperately missed her SYFY Channel and Investigation Discovery.
Dan brought her laptop, and Ivy worked on her edits, as well as the third book in her series. She posted on her blog and Facebook page that she was in the hospital with food poisoning and began receiving flowers and cards from people she hardly remembered.
“Isn’t this delightful, Danny?” she said one evening, motioning around the room filled with baskets of sweet-smelling arrangements.
“Do you know all these people? Do you have this many close friends and relatives?” Dan asked, sounding dubious.
“Some are relatives, and some are people I knew from high school. I got those two biggest arrangements from my agent and my publisher.”
“The agent and publisher I can understand and your sisters and kids,” he sighed as he held her hand, “but the rest know you got that big payday for your books and probably hope you’ll think kindly of them if they send you flowers.” He squeezed her hand tightly. “I bet after you get home, you’ll start getting little notes on Facebook, hinting at how they need money for this or that.”
“Do you really think so?” Ivy asked sadly.
Dan shrugged his shoulders. “It’s usually the way it goes. After Cindy died, you wouldn’t believe how many people wanted to know how much of a life insurance payout I got because they were such good friends with Cindy and knew she’d want me to help them out with some of the money.”
“Really?” Ivy asked, shocked at the callousness.
“Yes,” he said sadly. “I never heard from any of them again after I told them there was no life insurance.”
“That’s too bad.” Ivy squeezed his hand but smiled. “Let’s collect all the cards, and I’ll make a list to see who, and how soon after I get home, starts contacting me with requests for help with their problems. How’s Cheshire doing?”
“He misses you,” Dan told her. “He lays out on the swing waiting for ya and yowls at night if I don’t bring the damned cushion in for him to sleep on, and it has to be exactly in front of the fireplace, or he has fits.” Dan laughed.
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br /> “Thanks for looking after him, Danny. I really appreciate it.” Ivy moved around in the bed to ease the strain on her backside from being in bed too long. She got up and walked the halls regularly because the nurses told her she needed to keep her muscles from tightening up and for her circulation.
“It’s no problem, sweetheart. I’ve been working on the carport and the deck, and Cheshire doesn’t like the hammering or the sound of the saw one little bit.” He laughed. “Have those cops been back around?” Danny asked.
Ivy shook her head. “I haven’t heard another word from them. After talking to them, I really doubt they give a shit who tried to kill us.” She saw Dan’s eyes widen. “Whoever it was knew you were there with me. They probably thought we’d both eat the damned things.” Ivy paused. “And what if I’d given some to Cheshire? He’s a little guy, and it probably wouldn’t have taken much to kill him.” She shivered at the thought. “Have you seen Carl around? He hasn’t been here in days.”
“Maybe he finally got the damned idea that you didn’t want him around anymore and went home.” Dan yawned and stretched.
“Why don’t you go on home? You’ve been working hard and must be worn out.” Ivy patted his hand.
“Yeah, I think I will. I need to bring Cheshire’s cushion in,” he laughed, “he’s probably throwing a fit about now.” Dan bent and kissed Ivy deeply. “I’ll be glad when you get home,” he whispered.
“You and me too.” She sighed and pulled him close for one last kiss before he left. “I love you.”
“Me too.”
Ivy’s eyes followed Dan’s handsome behind out the door and into the hall. Once she lost sight of him, Ivy turned her attention back to the television and finished watching a replaying of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. She drifted off to sleep before Robert Blake swung from the gallows.
Promises: Do You Know Where the Poison Toadstools Crow? Page 15