three deaths.
“So you think there may be something fishy
about Somosa and Randall as well?” she asked.
Addison shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t speak for Somosa, because I didn’t know him. But I heard
through my county sources that the autopsy indicated
he’d overdosed on some kind of street drug. Ecstasy,
I think. As for Randall—we don’t know yet, do we?”
Their visitor paced back and forth in front of
Judith’s iron bedstead. He seemed to be arguing
with himself. “I just spoke with Randall’s son,
Bob Jr., and his daughter, Nancy. They caught
snatches of conversation among the staff that indicated suicide.”
“What?” Judith couldn’t believe her ears.
“That’s right,” Addison said, nodding gravely. “I
can’t get to Mrs. Randall—she’s had some kind of
emotional collapse.”
“What about his brother, Jim?” Judith asked.
“Has he been notified?”
“Jim?” Addison blinked several times. “I didn’t
realize Bob Randall had a brother. Is he around?”
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69
“He was here last night,” Renie put in. “He was fussing because Bob had too many visitors and so much hubbub going on in his room.”
“Interesting,” Addison remarked. “I’ll try to get hold
of him.”
“Say,” Renie said, adjusting her sling and leaning
forward in the bed, “why haven’t you gone public with
any of the stuff about your wife and Somosa? I haven’t
seen a word about it in the Times.”
The journalist gave Renie a twisted little smile.
“You don’t understand the politics of publishing,
Mrs. . . . Jones, right? My superiors don’t want me ruffling feathers. Blanche Van Boeck is a powerful figure
in this community.”
Renie slapped at her head with her good hand. “Of
course! I didn’t make the connection with Dr. Jan Van
Boeck. That’s his wife, right? She’s on the city council and just about everywhere on the map in this town.
Oh, my.”
Addison’s smile became wry. “She certainly is. Rumor
has it she may run for mayor. She has powerful friends in
powerful places. Of course, she has enemies, too.”
Renie was suddenly wearing what Judith called
her “boardroom face,” the no-nonsense sharpening
of her features that she presented to corporate clients
in her graphic design business.
“Blanche has made some big waves in the past few
years,” Renie said. “She’s always struck me as putting
Blanche at the head of her agenda, rather than the social and political programs she espouses.”
Addison nodded. “That’s what many people would
say, which is why I have to dance all around her in
print. Which also means I have to dance around Good
Cheer Hospital, because her husband runs the place.”
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Mary Daheim
“But Good Cheer was on the news last night,” Judith
pointed out. “We missed the first part of the story.
What was that all about?”
“The Seafarers are calling for an investigation into
Somosa’s death,” Addison replied. “Apparently, they
think something’s wrong, too. I intend to meet with
Tubby Turnbull, the team’s general manager, this afternoon.”
Judith was shaking her head. “So I wasn’t wrong,”
she said faintly.
At the door, Addison frowned at Judith. “Wrong
about what?”
“About these deaths being linked,” Judith said.
“Frankly, the deaths of your wife and Somosa struck
me as more than a coincidence right from the start.
Now, with Randall’s passing, the situation seems
downright ominous.”
Addison’s expression was frankly curious. “Why
does it interest you so much, Mrs. Flynn?”
Judith felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Oh . . . You
might say that my hobby is snooping.” She uttered a
lame little laugh.
Addison now looked puzzled. “Snooping?” he said.
“It’d be more accurate,” Renie said, “to say that her
“And to think,” Renie mused after Addison Kirby
had departed, “I wondered how we’d pass the time during our hospital stay.”
“I don’t think the deaths of those poor people were
intended to keep us occupied,” Judith said, feeling
glum and staring up at the mottled plaster ceiling.
The uncommunicative orderly of the previous day
came in to remove the cousins’ luncheon trays. If he
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71
noticed that neither of them had eaten much, he made
no comment, but stoically left the room without a
word.
“Can he talk?” Renie asked, getting up and heading
for the bathroom. “Or does he consider us unworthy?”
“The latter, I suspect,” Judith responded. “Maybe if
you didn’t trash your bed so much, we’d get more respect.
Where did that Falstaff ’s grocery bag come from?”
“Falstaff ’s,” Renie replied, turning around at the
bathroom door. “It’s my back-up food supply. Fruit,
cheese, crackers, Pepsi, popcorn. We’ll share when I
come back to bed. Now I’m hungry.”
“How did you fit that thing into your purse?” Judith
asked.
“Easy,” Renie replied. “I have a huge purse.” She
went inside the bathroom and shut the door.
The outer door opened almost simultaneously as
Heather Chinn entered. “Time to get you on your feet,”
she said in a cheerful voice. “How do you feel, Mrs.
Flynn?”
“Not like I want to get on my feet,” Judith said. “I
thought we’d do this later in the afternoon.”
“It’s almost two,” Heather said. “The more you lie
there, the weaker you’ll become. Here, let me help you
swing around to the edge of the bed.”
It took Judith a few moments to sit up straight. Then,
slowly and unsteadily, she let Heather help her move
her legs. Pain spread out from her hip to envelop her
entire body. “I feel dizzy already,” Judith asserted.
“You’re doing fine,” Heather soothed. “Now lean on
me and try to stand up.”
Judith could both feel and hear the artificial hip
move. She was frightened. “Is that . . . ?” she gulped,
still dizzy.
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Mary Daheim
“That’s fine, keep coming. You’ve got all your weight
on your good leg,” Heather coached. “Now put just a little on the other leg, okay?”
The worn linoleum was rising up toward Judith in
tired, wrinkled waves. She felt as if she were falling
overboard, into a murky yellow sea. Suddenly her
world went dark, except for shooting stars and trailing
comets.
“Coz!” Renie had just come out of the bathroom.
Moving as quickly as she could, she went to Judith,
who had, fortunately, fallen backwards onto the bed.
Heather was looking more annoyed than frightened as
she took Jud
ith by the hands.
“It’s nothing,” the nurse said to Renie. “Maybe she
isn’t quite ready to stand. Still, if she doesn’t try . . .”
“If she doesn’t try, she won’t pass out,” Renie cut in
tersely. “Let me get somebody to help you put her back
to bed.”
Though Heather was stronger than she looked, she
didn’t turn down the offer. The nurse was a short, slim
size four; Judith was a statuesque size fourteen. Another strong body was needed for the task. Renie found
the silent orderly just outside the door, stacking trays
onto the meal cart.
Judith’s eyelids fluttered open as the nurse and the
orderly got her back into bed. “Oh . . . What happened?” she asked, her mouth dry and her eyes unfocused.
“You had a little setback,” Heather said, tucking the
covers around Judith. “We’ll try that again later.” The
nurse began taking vital signs.
Renie was standing by the windows. “Damn,” she
breathed, “I think it may snow. I wish Bill and Joe
would get here soon, while it’s still daylight.”
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73
“Joe said he’d be by around three,” Judith said.
“Bill’s coming with him, I think.” She took a deep
breath before Heather popped the thermometer in her
mouth.
“Right, there’s no point in taking two cars,” Renie
said, looking down at the hospital entrance’s graceful
landscaping and the adjacent parking lot. “Boy, it
looks really cold out there. I can feel the chill through
the windows.”
Judith couldn’t respond with the thermometer in
her mouth. The dizziness had passed, but she felt
weak as a newborn lamb. The idea of trying to stand
up later in the day sounded impossible.
“I need some water,” she said in a thick voice after
Heather had removed the thermometer. “I’m so dry.”
“You mustn’t get dehydrated,” Heather warned,
proffering the plastic glass. “Remember how we’ve
told you to keep taking in fluids.”
“Hey,” Renie said, “I see Addison Kirby heading for
the parking lot. I wonder if he’s off to see Tubby Turnbull at the . . . Look out!” She shuddered as her good
arm reached out toward the window in a pleading motion. “Ohmigod!”
“What?” Judith sputtered, choking on the water.
Horror-stricken, Renie staggered around to stare at
Judith and Heather. “It’s awful,” she gasped, leaning
against the window embrasure for support. “A car just
came from out of nowhere and ran over Addison
Kirby!”
Heather Chinn ran off to get help. Renie stood
rooted by the window. “The car took off,” she said in a
shaky voice. “Poor Addison’s lying there in a heap.”
Judith had rolled over onto her side, though she
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Mary Daheim
couldn’t get a better view of what was happening beyond the window. “Is he . . . ?” she asked in a fearful
voice.
“No, he’s moving,” Renie said. “Sort of.”
“Damn!” Feebly, Judith swung a fist in frustration.
“I feel so helpless!”
“Here comes a guy in a white coat and another guy in
some kind of uniform.” Renie was trying to open the
window with her good hand, but it wouldn’t budge.
“The white coat may be a doctor. Yes, I think it’s what’shis-name—Garnett, the second in command. The guy in
uniform may be security. Here comes somebody else, in
civvies. He looks sort of familiar.” She gave up trying to
open the window and flexed the muscles of her left arm
before rapping loudly on the wavery old glass. “Hey,
he’s looking up. It’s Jim Randall,” Renie said, breathless. “Here come some more people with a gurney.”
“Double damn,” Judith muttered. “I feel like an
idiot. Why couldn’t I at least be in a wheelchair?”
“You will be,” Renie responded. “Huh. They seem to
be paying special attention to Addison’s left leg.
Maybe it’s broken. Poor guy.”
“Where’s the car that ran him over?” Judith asked.
“I don’t know. It hit Addison and kept going, toward
the parking lot.” Renie paused, staring down below.
“Dr. Garnett and one of the others are hovering over
the gurney. Jim Randall is walking away. The security
guy is wandering around, like he’s looking for someone or something.”
“The car, I suppose,” Judith said. “You’ll have to tell
him you saw it. What color and make was it?”
“It was sort of beige,” Renie said, “fairly new, but
from up here on three, I couldn’t guess what make. All
I could see was the roof.”
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75
“Do you remember if there’s an outlet from the
parking lot?” Judith inquired.
“No, of course not,” Renie answered. “We pulled
into the patient admitting area on the opposite side of
the entrance.”
“Oh.” Judith rolled over onto her back. “I forgot.
That anesthesia has muddled my brain.”
“It does that,” Renie allowed. “They’re all going inside now, including the uniform.” She waited a moment, then went back to her bed. “Shall I phone
security and tell them I saw it?”
“Sure,” Judith said. “They’ll need a witness. Insurance,
and all that.”
Renie picked up the phone, dialed zero, and asked to
be connected to security. She was informed that security was out. “He’s it?” she said after leaving her name
and room number.
“Probably not, at least not at night,” Judith replied.
Renie began hauling food out of the Falstaff ’s bag.
“Let’s eat something before the nurses come around
with all their paraphernalia. I don’t want them confiscating my stash.”
“I might nibble on an apple,” Judith said.
“Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, Granny Smith,
Gala?” Renie offered.
“Red Delicious,” Judith said, gazing at the sack with its
Falstaff logo. “How much stuff have you got in there?”
“Plenty,” Renie replied, using her left hand to toss
Judith a shiny red apple. It was a surprisingly accurate
throw, considering that Renie was normally righthanded. “Hey,” she said with a grin, “maybe I could’ve
been a southpaw pitcher. Cheese? There’s Monterey
jack, Havarti, Brie, and a really nice Gouda.” She produced a small knife and held it up.
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Mary Daheim
“The apple’s fine,” Judith said with a slight shake of
her head. “I don’t see how you got all that stuff in your
purse, big as it is.”
“That’s because I took everything else out and put it
in my overnight bag,” Renie said. “Food first; the rest
is a distant second.”
The phone rang. Judith thought it must be security,
calling Renie back. But Renie gave a brief shake of her
head. It wasn’t her phone. Judith wrestled with the receiver, and finally managed to say hello.
“Hi, Mom,” Mike said, sounding vaguely apprehensive. “How are yo
u getting along? Joe told me the surgery went fine.”
“It did,” Judith replied with a big smile on her face.
“I’m getting along just great.”
“That’s a huge relief,” Mike said, and Judith knew he
meant it. Her son was a worrier. “Kristin and Mac and I’d
like to come into town tonight to see you, but it’s snowing like crazy up here at the pass. I think they’re going to
close the highway pretty soon. It’s a regular blizzard.”
In her mind’s eye, Judith could picture the U.S. Forest Service cabin that Mike and Kristin called home. It
was small but cozy, and with a magnificent view of the
surrounding mountains and forest. At least when they
could see through the snow.
“Don’t even think of coming down until I get home,”
Judith said. “I’m not going to be here forever.”
“I know, but I’d still like to pay a visit before the
weekend,” Mike said. “Didn’t they figure you’d be
home about Saturday?”
“They didn’t make any promises,” Judith said.
“How’s Kristin? What’s little Mac up to?”
“They’re fine,” Mike said. “Kristin still has the
queasies sometimes, but basically, she feels strong.”
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77
Like a fifty-foot Douglas fir, Judith thought, picturing her daughter-in-law.
“Mac wants to go back outside to play in the snow,”
Mike went on, “but it’s blowing too hard. Kristin took
him out there a while ago, and the wind knocked him
over. He made a perfect snow angel when he fell,
though. Thanks again for the snowsuit you gave him
for Christmas.” He paused, and Judith could hear Mac
jabbering in the background. “Tomorrow, little fella,
okay? Say,” Mike said into the phone again, “I wasn’t
going to mention this until I saw you, but now that I
think about it, you’re probably pretty bored, huh?”
“Well . . .” Judith glanced at Renie, who was gobbling cheese and pear slices. “Not exactly, but I may be
later.”
“We’re going to put Mac in preschool this fall,”
Mike said, sounding like a typical proud papa.
“There’s a really good one about twenty miles down
the highway. Kristin’s been filling out the forms, and
one thing they’d like to have is a family tree. Then,
when the kid enters on the first day, there’s his picture
on this cutout of a tree, with information about all of
his ancestors. Cute, huh?”