“Because you didn’t want to be the last one who saw her alive.”
“Exactly. But I swear when I left, there was nobody else here.”
Jil sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you what—I’ll keep your YouTube channel…in the bag…if you help me with something.”
Ramone looked at her as if something had just dawned on him. “What are you doing here anyway? How’d you get in?”
A lifetime of people watching had taught Jil something important, and that was if her gut trusted a person, that person was usually trustworthy.
“I’m trying to figure out what really happened to Tsunami.”
Ramone lifted his chin like he wasn’t all that surprised to hear it.
“So you were looking around here tonight, seeing if you could find anything…suspicious?”
“Something like that.”
“And instead you walked in on my home movies?” He grinned—a broad smile of crooked teeth.
She laughed. It was a relief to know he wasn’t her guy. But that meant she had to redouble her efforts to find the truth, because she’d already been made once. Time was working against her.
“What are you, a PI?”
Jil looked at him. “The less you know the better.”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll keep calling you the tax accountant.”
“Good.”
They both stopped.
“Did you hear that?” Ramone asked.
Jil headed for the door, Ramone on her heels. They ran down the hall to the front entrance, where the main door stood propped open.
Whoever had been there had gotten out.
She and Ramone exchanged a glance.
“How much do you think they heard?” Ramone asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know. But I think we’d better get out of here. You?”
Ramone took her back down the hall to the training room and closed the door.
“Meet me here tomorrow, first thing. I have an idea…”
Chapter Eighteen
Mondays had always meant something different to Jess. The top of a new school week. A long list of things to do. Early start, strong coffee, and a rush of adrenaline.
But this Monday started slowly. Time crawled as she sat by Mitch’s bedside hour after hour. She found she could barely look at him. As odd and unlikely as it was, she had a fear that he would open his eyes. Stare at her. Reproach her with his look and his words.
How could you?
What were you thinking?
How could you do this to me?
Help me, Jessica.
But of course he just lay there, inert. On his back, on his side, away from her, depending on where the nurses placed him. His breathing had started to get a bit labored. His heart was young and strong, though, Dr. Rabinovitch had reminded her. Not keen to give up the ghost unless it had to.
Which it didn’t, apparently. Not yet. So she sat here still, this niggling, irrational fear at the back of her mind.
Shouldn’t she be wishing for him to wake up? Wouldn’t that be everyone’s dream come true? And of course, if she’d been asked, she would have responded that of course that’s what she’d want. For him to open his eyes and look at them.
Even if she had to hear the words he deserved to say to her.
Something that Father Gus said yesterday looped around in Jess’s mind.
“Maybe it’s not only God’s forgiveness you need, but also Mitch’s.”
She hadn’t said a word to him except hello since she arrived. She’d just sat there like a mannequin for hours on end, holding his hand or turning on the radio for him, the words swirling around in her head but sticking in her throat.
When will you have another chance?
Speak up. Talk to him. Tell him.
“Hi, Mitch.”
She stopped. Her voice sounded hollow and loud in the room. It reminded her of praying out loud in a church and finding out she was the only one speaking.
But slowly, she was able to whisper, and then speak. She’d started at the day of his accident. Told him everything that had happened in the hours after he got hurt. The falling out she’d had with Myra. She’d talked to him like she’d never done when he was awake. Like she’d never been able to do with anyone, actually. Like a running verbal diary that had no pause button. She told him about Lily, the artist she’d met before Jil. When she’d first realized that the problems between her and Mitch might be deeper. Might be her fault.
Fault. Was that the right word?
Nurses came in and turned him. Checked his temperature and came back in with medications. She stood up and stretched.
Then she told him about Jil. How they’d met. How they were now.
How much she loved her.
If he were awake, he would have looked at her. She’d always thought of the anger, the hurt on his face. But now, just for a second, she wondered if he would have understood. If she’d been able to explain it to him in this way. If he would have seen her as his friend and the woman he loved. If he could have forgiven her.
She thought maybe he could.
The door opened. That soft swish and swing, and Myra stood there.
She drew herself up.
“I didn’t expect you, Jessica.” Steely blue eyes held hers.
Jess sighed. “Good morning, Myra.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, my prayer group is meeting here in a few minutes.”
What would she do if Jess just sat there? Maybe pulled up her chair and pulled out her bible?
“I see. How long do you meet for?”
“An hour. Why? Are you planning to come back? Pull the plug while I’m out of the room?”
Jess sighed. “Myra, it would be better if we could discuss this together in a reasonable way.”
Myra snorted. “There’s no reasonable way to talk about murdering my son.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Myra.”
She chuffed in her throat. “And you, taking the Lord’s name in vain. A Catholic school principal!”
“Yes, well, I’m not a Catholic school principal anymore.”
Myra looked genuinely shocked.
“Yes, that’s right,” Jess continued. “While you’re busy playing holier-than-thou, you’re completely blind to what’s going on right in front of your face. Aren’t you? You’re not the only person with feelings, Myra. You’re not the only one who loves Mitch and wants to do what’s best for him. But you’re the only one dragging God into it. As if it’s His will that Mitch lie here and suffer longer than necessary when he is going to die anyway.”
Myra’s eyes filled with tears, and she pressed a hanky to her nose.
“He is dying,” Jess said firmly. “And not someday, but someday soon. So if you need to drag it out and pray about it while he lies here getting more and more septic by the hour, it’s you that will have to live with it. And you’d better just hope he isn’t in pain and can’t hear and feel what’s going on. Knowing you are prolonging things unnecessarily.”
“It’s not my choice.”
“Yes, it is. It’s entirely your choice.”
Jess turned around to see a group of women standing in the doorway, jaws hanging.
She muttered excuse-mes and pushed through the crowd, heading for the elevator. Dr. Rabinovitch stood down the hall, talking with another patient, but she avoided him and pressed the button to take her down.
Was it true, what she’d said to Myra?
She was his next of kin. Not challenging her, not insisting on pushing forward was her choice as well. Letting Myra take the responsibility felt justified, but was it fair?
Was it fair?
She could have overridden her years ago too and hadn’t.
Was that her fault as well?
Were Mitch’s years lying in that bed just as much Jess’s responsibility as Myra’s?
She rode down blindly. The doors opened on the ground floor and she realized the clanging bells she’d been hearing were the sound of her phone ring
ing.
She tucked her hair behind her ear as Padraig’s face swam into view.
“Jess. Hi. How are you?”
“Hi, yourself.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m a bit out of it.”
“I can’t hear you. Is it a bad time? Jil mentioned you were at the hospital a lot.”
She moved away from the doors and into the lobby. Light filtered down from the skylight and reminded Jess that it was still daytime outside. Time warped in here.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just a bit distracted is all.”
“Can’t blame you. Sorry to hear about everything that’s happened.”
“Thanks.”
“How are things?”
“Not bad. Okay. Been here a lot since I landed. How are you? How’s Ireland?”
“Taking a lot longer than I thought. So, what’s the story with Mitch?”
Jess felt her breath restrict. She bit her lip and clenched her teeth as her nose got hot. A sure sign she was going to cry.
“You got time for a cuppa?” Padraig asked.
Jess nodded. “Sure. House is a bit quiet without Jil anyway.”
“Well, I’m sure she feels the same way about you.”
“I’ll call you back when I get to the café?” Jess wondered for a moment why hospital designers always thought putting a cafeteria in the basement was wise. The coffee and cream served up next to the morgue.
“I’ll be waiting.”
The elevator dinged, and Jess followed the sound of chatter and the smell of tater tots, soon arriving at the busy cafeteria. It reminded her so strongly of the cafeteria at St. Marguerite’s that, for a second, she hesitated at the door.
Then a crowd of nurses bustled in behind her and she had to go in.
She stood in line to grab a latte, then found a table way at the back and with only a few stains on it.
As she took her first sip, she called Padraig back.
“So he’s not doing well, I gather?” Padraig’s eyebrows knitted together like two shaggy caterpillars. Looking at him closer, she realized he must be older than she’d thought. He sipped on a glass of something dark in a crystal glass.
“No. Not looking good. Not looking fast either, though.”
He shook his head. “Sorry to hear it. That’s the worst of both, isn’t it?”
“It definitely makes for some very long days.” She avoided looking at him as she stirred cream into her coffee. Her emotions sat so close to the surface, everything felt raw and exposed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Could do with a vacation.”
He smiled. “I tried my best. You can’t say I didn’t give it a go.”
“Well, I wish it had stuck. I’m going a bit stir crazy around here.”
“That’s what Jil said.”
“Have you talked to her a lot?” she asked. She tried not to feel the jealousy that was churning in her gut. She and Jil had been lucky to talk every second day since Jess had come back home.
“Only briefly. I needed her help with something,” Padraig said dismissively.
“Wish you’d asked me,” Jess said. “I need an escape from my brain.”
Padraig’s eyes lit up. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t want to impose on you, but I have a job that needs doing at the hospital, and it seems you’re perfect for the job.”
“Impose away,” Jess said.
“I’d do it myself, but I won’t be back in time. If ever.”
Jess held her phone closer. “You’re not serious. You’re not staying?”
He didn’t answer. “I’ve had a few surprises while I’ve been here. I’ll fill you and Jil in another time, but it’s been a bit of a trip. Anyway, I need some more time to sort things out. Maybe I’ll even do a bit of sightseeing, or God help me, vacationing. I don’t want to die of stress before I’ve seen some of the world.”
“Yeah. You can’t get back time, can you?”
Mitch probably knew that better than anyone. Thirty-five and his life was over. Forty, and he still hadn’t let go of it.
“What’s the job anyway?”
He took a sip before answering. “Assignment. Theft.”
“What kind of theft?”
“Oh, various things. Nothing big enough for the police to actually take seriously. But it’s a nuisance.”
“Valuables?”
“Some jewelry, yes. Books. Flowers from patients’ rooms. It’s odd, but nobody’s been able to identify the thief. I don’t have time for this case, but the hospital director is an old friend of mine. I said yes before I knew how long I’d be here.”
Jess set aside her coffee. It tasted like the burnt bottom of a pot. “So how do I approach it? I don’t have much experience as a sleuth.”
He looked at her with interest. “That’s why you’re perfect.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, you’re there for a legitimate reason. Spending a lot of time sitting bedside by the sounds of it.”
Jess shrugged. “Can’t deny that. And an investigation would certainly help me pass the time doing something besides sniping with Myra. But I don’t know anything about how to start.”
“You know more about PI work than most people, sleeping with one and all.”
Jess cracked a smile. “We do have the most appalling pillow talk. Paperwork and quality of coffee thermoses.”
Padraig laughed. “I can imagine.”
“What would I have to do, exactly?”
“Well, I can give you a quick crash course. Mainly, sit there. Listen. Have cups of coffee with people in the cafeteria. See if anybody will talk to you about anything that’s been missing. Then try to identify a pattern of who has been around when. You know—like trying to figure out which of your students pulled a fire alarm to get out of a math test.” He winked.
“Oh. Yeah. I’ve got plenty of experience with that. If that’s all I have to do, I’m perfect for the job.”
“That’s what I thought. You can start tomorrow. I’ll tell them I’ve got my junior partner on the case.”
“So do they have any idea of who’s doing it?”
“Well, from the length of time it’s been going on, the director figures it has to be an inside job. I’ve got to agree with him. Two or three years is a long time.”
“Any pattern or regularity to it?”
“At least once a week. Often on a Monday, for some reason. The funny thing is that nurses and doctors all rotate shifts. Even the cleaning staff has shift work. So that’s what’s so peculiar about it. Who’s around every week at the same time on the same day? Nobody.”
Jess frowned. “Interesting.”
Padraig looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, my dear. Someone’s arriving soon.”
Jess hung up and pitched her coffee in the bin, surprised to notice that she felt better just thinking about having a crime to solve.
Chapter Nineteen
Jil watched the sun come up over the water and sipped her morning coffee. A pelican dove into the shallow surf. Fish were probably as rife along the shallow water as the seaweed that gathered on the shores every night.
She continued to wake up at six—just in time, as it happened, to watch the daily sweeping of the sands. The collection of coconuts. The debris removal that the nightly winds made necessary.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Jess.
I’m up. Are you?
She smiled and texted back. Caffeine and the ocean. How are things?
She smiled and hit FaceTime.
“Don’t have enough to do without taking on Padraig’s caseload and half of mine?”
Jess smiled ruefully. “Anything to keep busy. Anything new to report?”
“Not really. I’ve been checking all my boxes but I don’t have any real leads. I’m hoping something will change soon.”
So far, her casual interviews of the staff hadn’t yielded very promising results. Most of them had clocked out hours before Tasha�
�s death took place, and she had no proof any of them had come back in after. In fact, there were social media pictures of most of them attending a music gig downtown that started at seven.
Ramone had been at home uploading a YouTube video, which she’d confirmed with the help of some timestamp software, and Leonard had been gone for the weekend. Rebecca Mason had been home alone—something she’d have to come back to.
“I don’t know, Jess. All roads seem to lead to the whale killing Tasha, but I just can’t seem to make that conclusion and leave.”
“Something’s bothering you?”
“A few things. One, I’m still waiting on the ME’s report. Two, I have requested some info on the insurance, but Leonard’s been a bit slow to get it to me. He’s drowning in PR.”
“I can only imagine,” Jess said. “What a nightmare.”
She flipped open her laptop and found an email from Rebecca.
Finally got my hands on it. What do you make of this?
She scanned down the document she’d been waiting to see—the medical examiner’s report.
“Hang on. I just got the ME’s report.”
A head contusion?
She thought for a moment. Could that have happened when she was dragged into the tank? If Tsunami had grabbed her by the ankle, could she have whacked her head on the side?
Did that make sense?
“I’ve got to go, babe. Can we talk later?”
“Yes, sure. Send me the ME’s report and we’ll chat later.”
Jil smiled and hit forward. Having Jess keep her company on the case was an unexpected pleasure. She’d wait to see what Jess thought of the head injury.
That’s what the police had concluded had been the cause of death when they’d shut the case. Her injuries were consistent with a whale attack. End of story.
Jil took her stack of reading out to the deck: “Methods Killer Whales Use to Kill Prey,” “Behaviors of Whales in Captivity,” and “Psychosis in Intelligent Animals.”
She’d watched Blackfish over and over again, each time finding more disturbing parallels between the killer orca and Tsunami. She should have felt like she was wasting her time. Pen any animal in a tank the size of a bathtub and of course it would go nuts. The whale killing the trainer made perfect sense.
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