Murder on the Menu

by Jerri George

  “Oh, we need to call Jesse, and then Dawn, of course, and the papers will want a statement,” she announced as her feet hit the bottom step. “Ugh, I hate all this. Maybe I should ask Dawn to handle it.”

  “She rubs reporters the wrong way, and then they dig around trying to check her story. They don't trust her. She uses them and misleads them all the time. Do you remember the story she made up last month? She should go to work for a tabloid.” He helped her into the low seat of his Porsche 911.

  “I suppose.”

  Seated behind the wheel, Anton continued as Candace penned a list, “The reporters, they like you, not just you, but your uncle as well.”

  She was barely listening to Anton. “I need to contact his partners, the ranch hands, his friends. Oh–Tripp and his dad, too.” She smiled, rolling her eyes and resting her head on the seat back. She felt relaxed for the first time in a week. “We've got a couple of hours, yet. So I won’t worry about it now. Everyone is asleep anyway. Thanks for being here.”

  She reached out and held his hand.

  He took it and squeezed, then transferred his grasp to the shift. They pulled away from the inner-city streets heading south on the highway which would take them out of Colorado in less than two hours the way Anton was driving. He turned on some classic rock and played it softly.

  Chapter 21

  Dan’s eyelids lifted slowly, exposing the world around him. Dimly lit and unrecognizable, the room was cavernous. The walls were bare, painted an antiseptic white. The ceiling was riddled with metal supports. Wires and equipment hung from every angle. Large machines beeped and hissed in an eerie rhythm, like percussion instruments in a slow jazz band. His head was heavy, too heavy to turn and his arms wouldn’t move on command. He was cold. The plastic obstruction that held his mouth open made his lips dry and didn’t allow him to speak.

  He bent his knees and rolled his thighs without difficulty. He wiggled his toes. His body was functioning unrestricted with the exception of thick footless stockings that covered his lower legs and constricted every few minutes, keeping pace with the automatic blood pressure cuff on his arm.

  He was alive and in one piece. What the hell happened? He could tell he was in a hospital. Probably an intensive care unit, no frills. He had the benefit of cognitive reasoning. That was a good sign.

  The room was sterile, no furniture save one chair and no television. His nose itched. Determined to move an arm, he concentrated on making it happen. He reached to touch his face and throbbing head. Nothing else seemed to hurt but that. Had he been in an accident? What day of the week was it? What month or year for that matter?

  He looked at the IV in his right arm and the bags of liquid tethered to it from above. Fluids, that was good, but he could use a little morphine right about then. He remembered talking with Dawn over a glass of wine. The situation with her mother was a mess. She was still carrying around so much hate.

  What on earth could have brought him there?

  The mere motion trying to touch his face made him lose strength, and his arm fell mid-movement back to the bed, sending off warning bells and chimes. A flurry of people in hospital scrubs and nurse’s uniforms filled the room, overhead lights glowed ablaze like stadium lights as though they were ready to highlight the first pitch. Concerned faces turned to smiles and quiet whispers became commanding, authoritative voices. “Mr. Kane…Dan? Can you move your toes? The other foot. Good!”

  “Your hands? Raise your arm? Good!”

  He had done all that already. You guys missed it, he thought. In case you were wondering, my head hurts like hell.

  There was a nurse or doctor at each extremity. Others were hurrying with charts and rolling carts stacked with vials and needles. One man started taking blood from an IV port. Another checked his pulse on his feet and ankles.

  “Mr. Kane, I’m Dr.Garcia. Buenas noches, sir.”

  A doctor. What a relief.

  “You’re in Gallegos General Hospital. You were brought here after being hurt in your home four and a half days ago. You’ve been in a coma. Do you understand?”

  Dan nodded slightly. If they would just get the thing out of his throat then maybe he could talk to them and ask questions about what was going on.

  “Can you look to the left, sir?”

  He looked, but couldn’t see anything. The little light was too bright.

  “Now, follow the light please, sir. Up…down…now to the right…to the left. Good, good.”

  Enough with the parlor tricks. Now what? Dan was getting annoyed.

  “Alright, you’re looking good. Now we’re going to take that respirator out of your mouth. Can you help me out here, Mr. Kane?”

  Dan offered a thumbs up.

  A group of scrubbed hands hovered around his head. Dr. Garcia’s voice boomed, “Okay, Mr. Kane. On the count of three, I want you to give me a big cough. Ready? 1, 2, 3!”

  Dan coughed and heaved. The white tube came out of him with a tug. It seemed the whole room exhaled a collective sigh of relief as he took in his first breath on his own.

  The doc calling the shots was obviously quite familiar with this procedure. “Don’t try to talk just yet, Mr. Kane. It’s going to be uncomfortable at first. The nurse will be giving you some ice chips in a minute.”

  “How are we doing, sir?” A nurse patted Dan on the shoulder.

  He was just told not to talk, now they were asking him how he was? He’d been better, that’s for sure. He wondered what accident they were referring to. He would remember something that made his head feel like this.

  An angel of a girl with doe eyes, a little younger than Candace, placed a plastic spoon against his lips. Ice chips. Dan nodded.

  The cold hard particles melted quickly into cool soothing water. He cringed upon swallowing but took more.

  “Candace?” He finally got a word out. His voice was raspy and indiscernible.

  “Sir?”

  Great, she didn’t catch it the first time.

  “Candace?” he whispered and then the memories came rushing back.

  He remembered calling Candace, and he’d had such an argument with Dawn. She had stormed out of the house, dogs running after her, but Candace was at work in the mountains. Then everything went black, and there he was.

  Another woman stepped close to his side dressed in scrubs. Her dark red hair was pulled up under a paper cap with a green face mask hooked over her ears. “Mr. Kane? I’m Dr. Menendez. Glad to have you back! I believe you’re asking about your niece. She’s been here on and off since your accident, but I understand she had to return to Denver today. Someone has already placed a call to let her know you are awake.”

  Her eyes seemed to smile at him from above the mask, and he imagined they were the color of moss.

  Dan nodded and attempted a smile. He winced ever so slightly.

  “Are you experiencing pain, Mr. Kane?”

  He nodded again. “My head,” he croaked.

  “Ah, yes. Your head suffered quite a trauma. Let me get you set up on something for that. Can we get morphine on his IV?” she looked at a nurse nearby. She returned her attention to him. “Are you feeling any other pain right now?”

  My back, my ass. I must have fallen on my ass. “Not really.” He struggled to speak. “Nothing your morphine won’t cure. Thank you, doctor. Do you know who brought me here?”

  “An ambulance, and I’m told your niece came in right after that.”

  One at a time, the scrub-dressed coalition emptied from the room like ants retreating from a disturbed pile. Within minutes Dan was alone again, the lights were switched off as he felt the floating sensation of medication coursing through his veins. Through the window, the sky turned shades of navy and dark purple as the sun gave birth to a new day. In a few hours, it would peek above the horizon.

  It would be damned good to see sun again.

  Chapter 22

  As they sped toward the hospital, Anton cleared his throat and said, ““CJ, speaking of Daw
n, I need to discuss something with you I've been trying to steer clear of since before the event.”

  She grinned gazing at him. “What did she do now? Sneak into the kitchen and make the staff crazy?”

  “No, nothing like that. I don't really know where to begin or how to explain.” He began again.

  She patted his hand. “Anton, I know you can't stand her, but she did land us the congressman's event. That was a nice piece of change, even with the deal we gave them. Look, whatever it is, I'll call her now, tell her about Uncle, and she can meet us at the hospital. Then you two can 'make nice.’”

  “No!” He smacked his hand on the leather steering wheel cover.

  Candace pulled away from him sharply. She'd never seen him behave like this except the rare occasions when something curdled or burned in the kitchen.

  “Anton, what's wrong?”

  He frowned. “I'm sorry, I cannot lay eyes on her tonight!”

  “Okay, what happened? It must have really been something.” She could feel her face flush.

  Anton paused as if building up confidence.

  She waited patiently, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Anton, it can't be that bad.”

  “Oh yes it can,” he responded, his face stoic. “Candace, the other night when you stayed down in Gallegos, the night Dawn was at our office?”

  “Yes. Are you still mad that she ordered take out and left it all over the dining room? I told her to never do that again!”

  “No, I am not mad. I think she’s a fool, but I am not angry about that.” He took in a deep breath. “CJ, I was there. I mean, I wasn't there when she ordered the food but before that. I drove by, saw the lights and her car in the driveway.”

  She looked puzzled. “And you let her in?”

  “No, no, she was already in your office. She said the front door was unlocked, and she wanted to pick up your dress. Anyway, when I found her, she was in your closet, and before I knew it, she was...she was all over me.”

  “All over you?” His words echoed in her head.

  “Yes, she seduced me. She threw herself at me, and we well, we had sex.” He paused and looked at her briefly then back to the windshield.

  “In our offices?” She recalled the minor disarray in her office. “Wait, my office?” Her voice came out shriller than she expected.

  “Mm-hmm.” He nodded, lips pulled taut and stared at the empty road ahead.

  Candace sat quietly, taking it all in. She was bothered by it, but she didn’t even know if she had the right to be. Was she mad at him? At Dawn? Her own self? She just wasn’t sure what to do with it all.

  “CJ, I'm sorry. I am so sorry.” He huffed. “It was completely unexpected, and I didn't do anything to, to...”

  “Lead her on? No, I wouldn't imagine you did. But Anton, what did you do?”

  “God, Candace, she's the last woman on earth I want to be with. You know that, but it was late, I was tired, and she was dressed to kill, and it had been a while. I tried to fight it, but I guess I'm only Russian.”

  Quiet ruled the car again except for the strains of “music for lover’s” melodies coming from the speakers.

  Anton finally blurted out. “Candace, say something!”

  “You mean human,” she said evenly as she’d done many times before.

  “What?”

  “You meant human, not Russian. You're only human.” She paused again, trying to play it cool. “Oh, Anton, I don't know what to say. I'm not your girlfriend, and I'm certainly not your mother, but I am your partner, and I would have thought you would show more discretion.”

  “Dis-cre-shon?’ He sounded the word out phonetically while he translated. “You mean made a better choice?”

  She snapped at him crossing her arms locking them in front of her. “That too!”

  Minutes ticked by as they watched road signs fly past aglow in the headlights and fireflies hit the windshield.

  Anton reached over and pulled the bottle out from between the gear shift and his thigh. He unscrewed the cap with his teeth, and threw his head back, taking a big swig.

  “Want some?” he asked tilting the bottle in her direction.

  She wasn’t pleased with his confession or his drinking while driving. Her emotions in the last hour had reached some real highs and lows. She took the bottle, filled her mouth, letting the vodka burn her tongue and slide down her throat. She shuddered.

  CJ, I will never touch her again. I can't even believe I did it the first time. I’m really sorry for the choice, the discretion…all of it.”

  She drew in another swig, handed the bottle back and faced the window, putting an end to the conversation. A tear traveled down her cheek. She felt betrayed, but she didn’t know by whom.

  The remainder of the trip went by in silence, and thankfully Anton didn’t drink any more vodka. She was ready to put this all behind her. She needed to keep her head in the game, make sure they got to the hospital safely and find out what really happened to Dan.

  Chapter 23

  Tiptoeing into the room, Candace immediately noticed the sound of the machines had ceased. It was quiet and barely lit. Uncertain as to his condition, she made her way to her uncle’s bedside and hesitated for a moment. He must have sensed her as his eyes flew open.

  “Come here young lady, I won’t bite.” His voice sounded shaky and raspy, but he broke into a smile. He had returned to her.

  Tears welled, and her whole body felt weak with relief. “Oh my God! I didn’t know if you would ever wake up, Uncle.” She kissed him on his forehead twice, his cheek several times, and then all over the back of his hand like a bumble bee resting ever so briefly then flitting off to another sweet spot.

  “Now that’s just the sort of welcome back an old man needs!” he whispered, lacing it with as much frivolity as one could muster after what he’d been through.

  Anton cheerfully stepped up to the bed and grabbed Dan’s other hand firmly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, old man. What were you thinking, scaring us all like that?”

  Candace agreed. “I was scared to death, Uncle.”

  “Now, now. There was no need to be afraid. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He tried to reassure them, but Candace could see the confusion and concern in his eyes. “What happened anyway?”

  Candace frowned. “You don’t remember?”

  “I assumed an accident of some sort put me in here. But why don’t I remember it?”

  “You were attacked,” she blurted then corrected herself. “Or fell. You called me to come down to the ranch, and when I got there, you were on the floor bleeding. That was over four days ago. You’ve been in a coma ever since.”

  “We don’t know if you were attacked or if it was an accident. We were hoping you could tell us. Did you surprise a burglar or something?” The question was posed by Anton gently but urgently.

  Uncle Dan seemed to think about it for a minute. “I don’t recall any attack or anything else that would put me here.”

  Dr. Melendez entered the room. “That’s quite a normal reaction from patients with blunt force trauma to the head. We find the memory of an event connected to this type of injury is sketchy at best. It may fully return over time, but it might not.”

  Candace was disappointed. “So, you don’t remember anything?”

  “The last thing I remember was being home Saturday evening. I was going through some papers I had found in the attic. There were boxes of some pictures and letters from years ago.”

  “We found them.” Candace squeezed his hand. She could not bring herself to let go.

  “Then–” He stared off into space. “Then Dawn came over, and we had some wine.”

  Candace nearly shouted. “Dawn? Dawn came to the ranch by herself?”

  Hat in hand, Sheriff Sam stepped into the room and made his way to the bedside. “Excuse me, Mr. Kane. I must request you withhold any further information on the night in question until we interview you. I need to create a timeline of events and get a
first-hand account.”

  Dan shook the sheriff’s hand and shrugged. “Certainly Sam, but that’s all I remember. It’s good to see you, son.”

  The doctor warned, “There will be no interviews or questioning for at least another twenty-four hours. And, I need you to get some rest, Mr. Kane.”

  “But doctor, I have an open investigation. Waiting will only impede it,” the sheriff objected.

  “And,” the doctor added. “For the next day or two, there’ll be only one visitor at a time for Mr. Kane. Immediate family only. He’s been through quite an ordeal.”

  “But, doc…,” Sam began.

  “Sheriff, that’s final. My concern is for my patient, not your investigation.” She reached for Dan’s wrist and felt for his vital signs. “In fact, everyone in this room who’s not immediate family really needs to step out now.” A firm emphasis was placed on the end of her edict.

  Anton directed. “You heard the doctor. Let’s go.”

  They filed out like soldiers under command as Candace plopped down on the springy stool. She whispered to Uncle, “Why did Dawn come to the ranch when I was in Denver? She was supposed to be meeting with the congressman about the fundraiser.”

  “I called her that afternoon. You know, she really is such a sad young lady,” he paused and gazed thoughtfully. “I told her I was cleaning out the attic, and if she wanted anything, she could come down. I found a bunch of boxes with items from when you kids were there during the summer.”

  “I know, when I got there it looked like someone had been rummaging through everything for a specific purpose. There were files of pictures and letters all over the floor and chairs.”

  Uncle Dan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t say. I don’t think Dawn would be very happy about anyone reading or keeping her letters.”

  “Her letters? Well, I went through them and organized the mess but couldn’t tell if anything was missing.”

  “Yes, that’s one reason I called Dawn. I’m not sure how they got there or even if she’s read them. I do know she was pretty upset with me when she saw them, but I guess I was lucky she was there after all. Did she call the paramedics?”