Illusive Witness

by S. Y. Thompson

  While the idea of such a fund appealed to Ruth, she remained hesitant. What he was proposing meant a lot of money and Ruth wasn’t sure what he would use it for. The children’s center did a lot of good in the community, fostering and finding permanent homes for needy kids. They also responded in times of disaster, providing medical relief, housing and food to the community. The idea was tempting, but she needed more information.

  “I don’t know, Mark. I’ll need to think about it and there are a lot of questions such as who would oversee the operation, who the other contributors are and what the funds would be used for. I’d need to see something in writing that answers all of those questions at a minimum.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” he offered. “Why don’t I take you to dinner and we can discuss it? Besides, it gives me the excuse to pass my rounds off to Doctor Chaney.”

  “I’m sure Doctor Chaney appreciates that.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” Mark apparently missed her sarcasm. He laughed a little and amended his prior statement. “Well, maybe not.”

  Both laughed at the small joke and Ruth felt a bit of the shadow lingering on her heart lift slightly. Any man who put children first couldn’t be all bad.

  “Are you hungry? After all of these months of hospital food, I thought you might be in the mood for something tasty to eat.”

  Ruth considered the suggestion briefly. “As you pointed out Mount Sinai does cater to the rich and famous so the food hasn’t been that bad. I really just want to get home, if you don’t mind. Besides, I’d like to see where Karl was buried so I’ll just wait for the driver. I’m sure we can set something up for later next week.”

  She hadn’t attended the funeral because she was still undergoing surgeries on her legs at the time. Ruth thought of Karl often and felt guilty at having missed the services, even though there was no way she could have been there.

  “Of course I don’t mind.” Mark reached for her bags. “However, I insist on walking you to the car.”

  A dark head popped through the door, surprising Ruth a little. She was thrilled to see that Doctor Pierce had come to see her off. Not for the first time, she noticed the look of disdain she passed over Mark before the blue eyes met her own. A friendly expression lit Pierce’s features and Ruth thought that she had imagined things.

  Doctor Pierce had a way of looking at a person that made them believe they were the most important being in her world. No wonder she was so popular among patients and staff alike. Her figure didn’t hurt things either, Ruth realized, trying to keep her expression neutral.

  “Ms. Gallagher, I hear you are leaving us.”

  “Well, you did sign the release order. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind?”

  “No,” Doctor Pierce stated emphatically holding up a hand and causing everyone to laugh. “I just hope I don’t have more model patients like you in the near future. I don’t think I could survive it.”

  “I just don’t like hospitals.” Ruth shrugged, not offended by the comment.

  “Well, you can’t blame her for that.”

  “Yes, of course,” Pierce agreed in a slightly cooler tone.

  It looked almost as though she disliked Mark, but Ruth found that improbable. Mark Fuller was an extremely attractive man by most standards, with broad shoulders and dark hair graying a little at the temples. He was an accomplished surgeon and considered quite a catch. He wasn’t rich by conventional standards, but he was a self-made man coming originally from a background of poverty and parental abuse. Most women fairly drooled over him. Of course, Ruth didn’t feel that way about him since her tastes tended to run to the feminine. She found Doctor Pierce more to her liking.

  “Well, we’d better be going,” Mark said politely, breaking into Ruth’s musings.

  “Yes, of course. Thanks again, Doctor Pierce. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Ruth shook hands with the doctor, ignoring the slight tingle in her palm from the contact.

  “Please, call me Jordan. You’re not a patient anymore. I’m just glad that I could help. You were a very lucky woman. You know, Ruth, just because you’re leaving us doesn’t mean you must be a stranger. Stop by once in a while for a coffee.”

  “Thank you.” Ruth was truly touched at the offer. Doctor Pierce made a casual invitation sound so sincere. Ruth thought she really meant it. “I’ll do that. Besides, I still have physical therapy to attend.”

  A few moments later, Ruth and Mark walked down the hall. Jordan stood for a moment in the doorway with her arms folded as she watched. Ruth felt the weight of her stare and was conscious of Mark’s solicitous hand on her elbow. He clutched her bag in his free hand. Ruth wondered if Doctor Pierce thought they were a couple. She tensed up in response to that idea and leaned more heavily on her cane, trying to put distance between herself and Mark. She didn’t need his help. Apparently, he felt her reaction and released her arm. Ruth resented the pronounced limp, but Doctor Pierce told her it would decrease in time and she would regain full use of the extremity.

  When they turned the corner, Ruth glanced back. Pierce had gone. Ruth missed her already. She’d become accustomed to seeing the sparkling blue eyes every day. She shook her head and looked toward the front hospital entrance just in time to see a large black car pull to the curb. Henry was right on time.

  The chauffeur bounded out of the limo with a smile and a welcoming embrace. He released her quickly, coloring slightly at his emotional display. “Miss. Ruth, it’s so good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Henry. You’ve met Mark Fuller, haven’t you?”

  Henry shook his head and offered a hand. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  Mark placed the handle of Ruth’s bag over Henry’s fingers, openly ignoring the proffered handshake. Ruth thought him extremely rude, but Henry acted as if nothing happened. He turned away from Mark and opened the rear door.

  Ruth settled onto the back seat as Mark leaned inside to bid her goodbye. Rather than hug him, Ruth leaned away to look into his eyes. Henry had stepped away to stow her bag, giving her the opportunity to call Mark on his actions. “That was rude.”

  “What was rude?”

  Did he truly not realize Henry had tried to shake hands? Ruth wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just obtuse. In any case, Henry hadn’t commented so Ruth chose to let it go. “Never mind. I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Mark.”

  “Count on it.”

  He stepped back and slammed the door. Henry slid behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb after checking traffic. Finally, Ruth felt herself relaxing for the first time in months. The familiar scent of the car’s leather, coupled with the presence of a friendly man she’d known for most of her life, helped Ruth feel that she could finally let go.

  “Would you like to head home, Miss Ruth?”

  “Not yet, Henry. I’d like to go by the cemetery first.”

  Ruth told him where to go and Henry headed for the outskirts of Los Angeles. Traffic was light this time of day, and Ruth allowed her thoughts to wander. She silently berated herself for not remembering the event that cost Karl his life. The lack of recall regarding that tragedy prevented Ruth from grieving fully. In a way, it felt like something that had happened to someone else. Yet no matter how hard she tried, Ruth simply couldn’t bring the memories forth from the guarded darkness of her mind.

  Half an hour later, Henry turned onto a quiet street. “We’re here, Miss.”

  Ruth opened the door as soon as he parked. She stepped out into the California sunshine and took a deep breath of fresh air. The rolling green lawns might have been mistaken for a park. Late afternoon sunshine filtered through the tree branches. Leaves from the large oak trees dappled the ground with patterns of light and shadow. Birds sang cheerfully overhead while a couple of squirrels tussled nearby in the grass.

  It was a perfect day for family barbeques or a day at the beach, but somehow Ruth didn’t feel it was appropriate for the cu
rrent setting. Instead, the heavens should be thick with heavy, ominous storm clouds. Torrents of rain should be pouring, pounding into a frozen wasteland instead of these immaculately kept grounds. Looking around the cemetery, Ruth noticed a crowd. A funeral service was in progress a short distance away. She thought about the mourners as she walked toward the Stein family’s row of plots.

  Ruth’s heart ached for the grieving relatives and friends attending the funeral. Morbidly, she wondered if the deceased had led a long, happy life or if they had met a premature death like her friend. She fought the sting of tears and focused on the concrete marker in front of her.

  Karl Stein

  June 22, 1961 - October 2, 2014

  Beloved Son

  Cherished Friend

  Somehow, the words were hollow. They couldn’t begin to portray the energetic young man with the irrepressible smile. They couldn’t describe his joy of life and willingness to try anything, especially if it was dangerous. How could the tastefully inscribed words convey the sensitivity of a man that donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to the ASPCA because he adored cats?

  Ruth sighed heavily and leaned her weight against the cane as she attempted to ignore the insistent throbbing in her right hip and thigh. The circle of life and death, she thought darkly. We just pass away and become a distant memory. What a cheerful thought. As much as she tried to push away the melancholy, it lingered as a product of too many months in the hospital as well as the loss of a good friend.

  It seemed unfair that such a warm, generous person would become only a memory. Ruth remembered Mark’s offer for setting up a trust fund in Karl’s name. At the time, the idea hadn’t really appealed to her, but now that she thought about it, she reconsidered. Why not? Earlier, she had been more concerned with the logistics of such an undertaking, but surely they could deal with any problems that might arise.

  Somehow, setting up a foundation in Karl’s name seemed fitting. She would phone Mark from the car and let him know. With that decision made, she glanced again toward the funeral proceedings and noticed the crowd dispersing. Black limousines and a funeral hearse pulled away in an orderly fashion until all of the cars were gone. A solitary figure remained at the newest mound of dirt. Ruth wondered if the man had walked from somewhere nearby.

  She looked more closely and realized his clothing belied that fact. It was too hot and heavy for him to have walked from any distance. The stranger wore a long, heavy black coat and a black shirt. Thick, military style boots jutted from the hems of a pair of black trousers. His clothing was in keeping with the somber mood of a funeral, but he still appeared out of place in the bright summer afternoon and the boots didn’t exactly coordinate with a three-piece suit. She assumed he wore one beneath the coat, but couldn’t say for sure. In the scheme of things, what did it matter?

  Ruth concluded that the disharmony between the stranger and the day wasn’t a result of his attire. Wintry blackness and a cold hatred seemed an integral part of the man himself. It was just a feeling, Ruth reminded herself. She didn’t know this man and her instincts could be way off base. That logic didn’t keep her from looking at him.

  He had pulled an old-fashioned, wide-brimmed hat down low on his head, hiding his face in shadow. She couldn’t discern his features from such a distance, but she was convinced he was watching her, too. A prickle of fear skittered along Ruth’s spine causing bumps to break out on her arms even as sweat beaded her upper lip. The surroundings seemed to close in around her and her breath came shallowly, harsh in her own ears. For a moment, she was back on the cliff with a predator intent on taking her very life.

  The stranger surprised her by suddenly reaching up to tip his hat in polite greeting before turning away and ambling down the low hill. Ruth’s breath left her lungs in a rush, leaving her embarrassed and weak-kneed from the small panic attack. She took a moment to collect her wits and glanced again at Karl’s marker.

  “Never again, my friend. No more climbing for me.”

  Karl, the adventurer, would never have understood. He would say that she couldn’t let her fear conquer her. Regardless, Ruth knew that she would never look at a mountainside the same way again. The truth was that fear did have a firm hold on her. Her reaction to the stranger proved it. The incident on the cliffs had occurred more than two months ago and she still couldn’t shake the fear and paranoia.

  Ruth turned away and limped toward the limousine. Henry stood patiently next to the car, leaning against the vehicle with his hands folded. When he saw Ruth coming, he started toward her to offer assistance. Concern was evident in his creased blue eyes, but she waved him off.

  Henry was a tall, strapping man. He was extremely muscular and prided himself on working out for at least two hours every day. She was certain that his strong shoulders could withstand her weight, but she had to stop relying on all of those around her, Ruth decided. She had to take her life back and this was the first small step. The attack was long over and she couldn’t keep looking for phantoms around every corner.

  Chapter Three

  RUTH SETTLED CAREFULLY onto the seat of the limo and waited for Henry to close the door. She tried to relax and allow the tension and pain from stiff muscles to ease even as Henry climbed into the front seat and slammed his door. She kept seeing the stranger standing at a grave marker and reason couldn’t make her shake the paranoia.

  “Where to, Miss?” Henry asked politely as he started the car.

  Emotionally and physically exhausted there was only one place she could think of where she wanted to be. What she really needed was a good long cry, with wailing and pounding of walls. Unfortunately, it was something she could not allow in front of another human being. Instead, she rubbed her right thigh, trying to massage away the persistent ache.

  “Home, please.” She spoke softly, but Henry apparently heard, nodding his head once before pulling away from the curb.

  She remembered her decision at the gravesite and reached for the car phone. Mark had given her a card with his number on it and she fumbled to retrieve it from her pocket. He answered on the second ring, giving Ruth the impression that he’d been waiting for the call.

  “Hello, Doctor Fuller. This is Ruth Gallagher. I hope I haven’t disturbed you?”

  Ruth was surprised at the nervous quaver in her voice. Her emotions had little to do with discussing the trust fund, and she forced the fear into a cold, dark place in the pit of her stomach. A word of warning given by Karl several years ago came to mind. Never show fear or the sharks would begin to circle. He’d told her that in regard to a professional golf tour and the opponents she would face, but it was good advice and she remembered it now. Ruth definitely thought of Mark Fuller as a shark, but sometimes a person couldn’t choose with whom to do business.

  “Please, call me Mark and of course you haven’t bothered me. Can I assume that you’re interested in what we were discussing earlier?”

  Not one to jump in without more information, Ruth began slowly. “Yes, but first I would like to see a list of contributors, trustee members, and the particulars of when and where the funds would be disseminated.”

  “Not to worry.” He sounded unconcerned with the request. “I’ve been working on this idea since Karl... Well, anyway. I have everything on paper. I’ll have a courier bring it by this evening if that works for you.”

  “Around seven?”

  After finalizing the arrangements, Ruth hung up and sat for a few moments staring at the surrounding scenery. Suddenly the lonely manor was the last place she wanted to be. While it was true that she had suffered a panic attack, Ruth realized that the moment had passed. Still, it was a good excuse to visit a certain brunette with a white lab coat. A smile tugged reluctantly at the corner of her thin lips. Maybe if she were very lucky Doctor Pierce would have a moment to spend with her.

  “Henry, drive back to Mount Sinai. I forgot something.” She realized that she didn’t need to give him an excuse, but felt a little embarrassed about the desi
re to see her physician.

  Expertly handling the long black limousine, Henry found a spot to make a U-turn on Wilshire Boulevard. Lights in the houses and shops were just beginning to flicker on. Combined with the streetlights, the whole vicinity took on a garish appearance reminiscent of a brilliantly lit Christmas tree. Would Doctor Pierce still be at the hospital? She had been there all day. Ruth might get back only to find that she had missed her. The memory of tight blue jeans hugging lean feminine curves convinced her that it was worth a try. At the same time, Ruth couldn’t help but smile at her juvenile reaction to Doctor Pierce. It had definitely been too long since Ruth had sex.

  Henry guided the car next to the curb in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance and left the engine gently idling as he hopped out to open Ruth’s door. For a moment, she ignored him as her attention fixated on the structure before her. The architecture was Spanish and boasted lattice-shaded sidewalks draped with purple and yellow bougainvillea. Throughout the institution, gray tile, speckled with pink and turquoise, shone immaculately. Pale blue walls with ice-white trim contributed to an airy atmosphere.

  This was a private establishment dedicated to the extremely wealthy with a cheery and dedicated staff. Ruth had appreciated their friendly manner and easy smiles during her lengthy stay, never feeling that their expressions were false or forced. She had felt safe here, and on many times visited the arboretum proudly maintained and concealed in an inner courtyard. Of course, her trips to that sanctuary had always been at the courtesy of a friendly nurse or intern with a few spare minutes and a wheelchair.

  Finally climbing out of the car into the balmy California evening, she limped toward the main entrance with only a slight pause while the automatic doors swished open. In the main floor past the nurses’ station, Ruth encountered Trisha Flanagan. Unbelievably at age twenty-nine, she was head nurse of the night shift. She must have just come on duty. Ruth contributed her success to not only to her intellect, but also to her quick wit and easy manner. She had a way of making people feel warm and safe, of making them feel like family.