Shotgun, Wedding, Bells

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “Splenectomy,” he said, testing the word.

  “Right.”

  “We're not entirely sure what the spleen does, except storing extra blood, so I doubt you'll miss it,” said Elva. “Dr. Fizzio will be here to examine you a little later, Detective Detweiler. She can answer your questions. Meanwhile, you need to rest up. You've lost a lot of blood. Your body needs to start replacing your supply and start the process of healing. I can help you to the restroom, but you need to be careful. You have a lot of stitches, internally and externally. We don't want you to pull those out.”

  I waited while she helped him. After closing the door to give him privacy, she turned to me and said, “As long as he keeps quiet, he should be fine. Fizzio's as good as they come. She had a really, really tough night last night. Her relief surgeon drove his car into the back of a snowplow. He's here in critical care, clinging to life.”

  I didn't know what to say. I felt sorry for him, and for Fizzio, but my psychic energy was stretched paper thin.

  “Are you still worried about a shooter?” She pitched her voice extra low. When I nodded, she continued, “I talked with the head of nursing last night. She's warned all our nurses to be careful. The head of hospital security convinced the uniformed officer to position himself next to the door at the back of the hall.”

  I hadn't noticed.

  “That should preclude someone from gaining access through the stairway. All our visitors will now be forced to walk past the nurses' station. We aren't armed, but we do have an alarm button. It's not an ideal situation, but it's the best we can do.”

  I thanked her.

  The bathroom door handle wiggled. Elva went to help Detweiler as he stood unsteadily beside the sink. It shocked me to see him looking so lost and helpless. But I slapped a reassuring smile on my face and chirped, “Okay, handsome, let's get you back to the business of getting well.”

  Together the nurse and I walked him to his bedside. She demonstrated how he should sit down before swinging his legs up, over, and onto the bed. A tiny grunt of pain told me her lessons were only partially successful.

  “You'll get better at this as you go along. It's a matter of learning how best to protect your incision.”

  “Could he speak to his parents?” I asked. “They're really worried.”

  “Only if he doesn't talk for long.”

  I ran to the lounge and shook Thelma awake. She reached over and poked Louis. “Hon? Wake up. Come on. We can talk to Chad now. Louis?”

  I followed them into the room, hanging back to give them a little privacy.

  They both made a fuss over their son, while at the same time congratulating Detweiler for his good taste in brides. Despite her brave act, fat tears ran down Thelma's face. Louis gripped the metal bar around the hospital bed until his knuckles turned white.

  “Okay, folks, that's enough for now. Let's get Detective Detweiler back to the Land of Nod.” Elva clapped her hands the way a schoolteacher does to get attention.

  On his way out of his son's room, Louis made a sharp right turn toward the men's restroom. I had a hunch that in the privacy of a stall, he'd allow himself the luxury of a good cry. Thelma watched him as he disappeared. She turned sad eyes on me, but she seemed to have calmed down a little. I gave her a hug, promised her that everything would be all right, and went back to the recliner.

  CHAPTER 32

  The next morning the sun peeped through the blinds and crept softly across the white surfaces of the hospital room. Detweiler's breathing was slow and regular. His cheeks were pinker than they'd been the night before. Rather than disturb him, I slipped out into the hall. The Detweilers were sprawled on the sofa. Joe and Laurel were gone. A new face had taken Elva's place at the nurses' station. I introduced myself to the nurse on duty and headed for the ladies' room. As I splashed water on my face, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. I blinked up, recognizing the scent of citrus. “Brawny?”

  “Aye, 'tis me. They told me about Detweiler and his spleen. 'Twas a near thing. If that nurse hadn't realized that he was bleeding, things could have gone pear-shaped.” Holding a finger close to her thumb, she illustrated her next point. “We came that close to losing him, you know.”

  “Tell me about it. How are the kids?”

  “Fine. Laurel and Joe are there with them. She's a fine young woman, and Joe's a good man. The kids were looking forward having fun with them.”

  “Lorraine and Leighton?”

  “Also fine. She's a bit under the weather. The excitement takes it out of her, don't you know?”

  Lorraine's MS is aggravated by stress. One night, sitting in front of a fireplace of embers, Lori and I had talked about her death. She has a very sanguine attitude. “I plan to live until I die. I want to have the fullest life possible. In that way, my illness is a gift. Most people wait. They put off what could bring them joy. I don't procrastinate on life's pleasures.”

  Brawny handed over a fabric tote bag. The action brought me back to the here and now.

  “Have you checked on Hadcho?” I looked inside the bag and discovered clothes, my notebook computer and power cord, plus an assortment of craft supplies to keep me busy.

  “Aye. He's fine. Already had his breakfast. Been barking at the poor wee nurse about their miserable excuse for salsa. I gather he's rather a foodie, eh?”

  “Uh-huh. So he told you about Robbie leaving?”

  “I talked to the police chief myself. Caught up with him after he'd gone back to his house to pick up a few things. He's worried about Detweiler and Hadcho, but more concerned about saving his wife's life. The choices are tearing him apart, but he trusts that the authorities here can handle the shooting incident, whereas there's no one who can put Sheila into a rehab facility. No one except for him.”

  I hadn't seen it that way, but now I did. Who but Robbie could take Sheila on a road trip and survive the journey? Who else had the power to sign her into a rehab center? And none of us could testify to her alcohol abuse like Robbie could.

  I realized that Robbie had done the right thing.

  But that still left me feeling frightened and alone. Especially since he'd turned over his job to Prescott.

  “Let's get you downstairs for breakfast.” Brawny motioned toward the elevator. In short order, I was staring at a plate of scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, and hash browns. Brawny also brought two steaming cups of tea to the table. Mine, of course, was decaf.

  “Okay, I understand that Robbie has to do, what Robbie has to do. I get that. But I'm not confident that locals can handle this. Not if it's connected to the Keith Oberlin case. There have been lots of complaints that no arrests have been made. It's entirely possible that a vigilante group of citizens has decided that Detweiler is dragging his feet. Maybe they fired those shots as a warning to speed things up.”

  “Our shooters weren't local.”

  “What?”

  “I went through the pockets of the man I brought down with my knife. His driver's license is from Alabama. There's more,” she said, holding up her fingers, so she could tick off the points. “They acted like professional hit men. They were properly armed for the task. They had a stolen car parked in the alley, ready for their get-away. They were carrying cash.”

  “They were carrying cash?” I rubbed my eyes and poured sugar into my decaf tea.

  “The man I neutralized had wodges of paper money in his pockets. Also, he was from Walker County, Alabama. It was on his driver's license.”

  “So?”

  “Walker County happens to be the best place in the US to find a hit man. I called a few friends and shared his name. He definitely was a pro. That means his partner probably is a professional, too.”

  “You have to be kidding me. There's, like, a place in the US where you can hire hit men?”

  “Aye.”

  “That doesn't preclude Keith Oberlin from having hired them. Maybe Detweiler was planning to arrest Keith. The Oberlins have a ton of money. I'm sure they have connecti
ons we can't even imagine. I bet it isn't hard to hire an assassin if you've got the money.”

  “That's true.” A tiny smile played on her face. Her graying ponytail was, as always, neatly pulled back with an elastic band. Very little about Brawny ever varied. She was wearing her usual kilt and blouse. Once when Anya asked her why she wore the same thing, day after day, she had smiled and answered, “It frees my mind to think about more important tasks, such as caring for you and your family.”

  She continued, “My associates are doing their best to find out more about the man I killed. After all, his partner is still out there. Even though you clipped him with that pitchfork, he might still be dangerous. Our best option is to find out the person behind hit men. Then I will neutralize the money man.”

  Neutralize? You'd have thought she was talking about pouring Round-Up on weeds. Her voice was that casual. I shivered.

  “I'm convinced this has to do with Keith Oberlin. Robbie told me that Detweiler had been talking to the dead girl's mother. CALA is holding a candle lighting service this evening in memory of Diya Patel. Since you're here, I can take the Highlander and drive over to the school. I have a good reason for going. Anya knew Diya and liked her a lot. My presence shouldn't arouse any suspicions. If need be, I'll come right out and ask Diya's mother where Detweiler was with his investigation.”

  “Hadcho doesn't know what Detweiler was on about?”

  “Not entirely. As I understand it, they were working together, but Detweiler had a break-through, putting the pieces together while doing his interviews. He'd planned to talk to Hadcho and Robbie at the same time, getting them up to speed on what he'd learned. They were actually walking into the conference room, when an emergency came up. Robbie had to leave. He later text-messaged Detweiler and Hadcho to say he was taking a few personal days off. Detweiler thought the discussion could wait, so it did.”

  With a start, it dawned on me what sort of emergency that might have been, some crisis involving Sheila.

  “Aye, and Detweiler expected to see Robbie at your ceremony, despite the bad weather. That story about the fallen tree was a farce.”

  “Right.” I frowned. “I'm sure Detweiler was playing his cards close to the vest because the Oberlins have a lot of clout. Detweiler knew he was dealing with an incendiary issue, what with the death of a minor. Not to mention, the power of the Oberlin name. The reputation of the department. The pressure from CALA.”

  “CALA would have weighed in?” Lately Brawny had been dropping the kids off in the morning. She was becoming a fixture in the mothers' carpool lane, but she was still a newcomer to the community. She didn't entirely understand the dynamics. Sometimes, I didn't either.

  “Absolutely. Anything that happens to a CALA student reflects on the school. At least, that's the way they see it at CALA. Detweiler told me that he was working a case where he couldn't afford a misstep. I just didn't know how close to home it was.”

  “What time is the candle-lighting service?”

  “Six p.m.,” I said with a yawn.

  “Good. That will give you time to take a nap. If Detective Detweiler wakes up and is clear-headed, perhaps he can tell you what he knows and save you a trip.”

  “Here's hoping.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Detweiler stirred in his bed. “Kiki?”

  “I'm here, love.” I raced over to kiss his brow. While I was there, I hit the nurse's button for good measure.

  A dark-skinned woman scurried in. “I'm Leezie,” she said, offering me a rough hand before quickly turning her attention to my husband. “How are you doing, sweetheart? You need to get up and use the john?”

  Leezie pushed a button to raise the head of the bed. Then she helped Detweiler roll to one side and push himself into a seated position. Turning to me, she said, “When he's home, remind him to sit still for a minute before he stands up. Otherwise the blood will drain from his head too fast, and he might faint.”

  “Gotcha.”

  She helped him to his feet and into the bathroom. Once he was stable, she closed the door.

  “I've been looking in on him. Checking his vitals. You've slept through most of my visits. He's doing pretty well, especially considering.”

  “When can he come home?”

  “You'll have to discuss that with Dr. Fizzio.”

  I decided to step out of the room to check on Detweiler's parents. Thelma was watching Good Morning America. Louis had disappeared. Brawny sat in a chair at the other side of the sofa, reading a book on British history.

  “How are you?” I asked my mother-in-law.

  She smiled at me. “Now that my son is out of danger, I'm fantastic. How are you?”

  “Much better. Tired, but I'll live.”

  “Louis ran downstairs to get some food. He's bringing it up. We didn't want to take off at the same time.” She patted the empty space on the sofa, signaling me to come and sit down.

  “Brawny didn't want anything,” Thelma added.

  Brawny winked at us.

  “Oomph.” I plopped down on the sofa. I'd lost all hope of elegance. Between my monstrous belly and being tired, I felt like I was behind the wheel of a big tour bus. And unfortunately, I didn't have a license to drive an oversized vehicle.

  “Did you get any rest?” Thelma asked.

  “A little. My skin itches all the time. I find myself digging at it. I'm really running out of apartment space.” I patted my belly. “Sitting up is actually better than lying down, but even so. This little guy keeps shoving his foot under my ribs. When I press back, he switches feet and pokes me on the other side.”

  She laughed.

  The local weatherman took over the screen. “More freezing rain and snow is scheduled to begin late this afternoon. The state highway patrol is asking that all non-essential traffic stay off the major arteries, especially those east-west corridors.”

  “That would be us,” said Thelma, shaking her head. “Of course, the weatherman might be wrong, but I'd better talk it over with Louis. We'll probably head for home in an hour or two.”

  “Did Ginny and Jeff manage to get out?” Detweiler's sister and brother-in-law had planned to leave on a cruise ship out of Miami. I knew that Detweiler’s parents had agreed to watch their granddaughter Emily.

  “They took off late on Christmas Day. Emily is over at a friend's house right now. We need to go and get her, but we wanted to make sure Chad was out of the woods.”

  “I have a hunch that your son won't have much to say. They've got him pretty doped up. I don't blame you for going back home—and I'd feel better knowing you two are safe.”

  I purposely didn't tell her that I had plans for later that evening. There was no reason to worry Thelma by explaining that I was going to play amateur sleuth, talking to Sarita Patel and getting up to speed on a case that Detweiler had been working before he was shot. Better for my in-laws to drive across the river, pick up their granddaughter, and sit tight.

  “I hate to admit it,” Thelma said with a sigh, “but you're probably right. I doubt that Chad will be feeling chatty. You're here. He's safe. We promised Ginny and Jeff to watch our granddaughter, and we can't impose on Emily's friend's parents much longer. All the barn cats will need to be fed, as will the cows and pigs. Louis could ask a neighbor to help out, but I hate to do that. Most of our neighbors are our age. It's getting harder and harder for them to do chores. Seems like we're the last of a generation of farm families. The young folks have seen how hard we work, and they don't want any part of it. I can't blame them.”

  “Are you worried about what will happen to the farm?” I was surprised. She'd never shared this with me before.

  “Yes, I am. It's been in the Detweiler family for more than a century. I'd hate for us to have to sell out, but equally, I hate seeing Louis work so hard. Once in a while, I'd like to be the ones going on a cruise, you know? I'd love to see a Broadway play in New York City. But we can't do that. Not with the daily responsibilities we have. Of course, it's
not my place to tell Louis what to do with his land.” With that she gave a tiny shrug.

  If the farm had belonged to her side of the family, she might have felt more comfortable sharing her opinions. As it stood, she had to tread carefully.

  The elevator door rumbled open, and her husband stepped out with a tray of food. “Kiki! How are you? How's my boy?”

  “I think the crisis is over. There's a nurse in there with him now. He's groggy, but his color is better.”

  “Saints be praised. Come sit down and eat with us. I bought enough food to feed an army. Brawny? I got something for you, too. I know you said you'd already had a sandwich but I thought maybe you'd like a little fruit salad.”

  She looked up from her book and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You girls need to keep your strength up,” said Louis. “Running around after the kids and tending to that big house like you do. Taking those stairs ten times a day has to be a real workout.”

  He was right. Since moving into the big house, my butt muscles often ached at night. I'd noticed a definite lift to my derrière. As for Brawny, I wondered if Louis had any idea how tough she really was. Most mornings, she went running with Detweiler, who had told me that she could easily out-run and out-last him, if she chose to. After putting in their distance, they went downstairs and lifted weights, spotting each other. Detweiler had been delighted to find a new work-out partner. “We've got a bet going to see who can bench press the most weight. She's a great coach. Keeps me sharp.”

  Interesting.

  To Louis, Brawny was our sweet Scot nanny, a wonderful woman who watched the children, helped around the house, and knit sweaters.

  To Detweiler, she was Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  To the kids, she was Mary Poppins.

  To me, she was Wonder Woman in a kilt.

  I couldn't help but laugh.

  CHAPTER 34

  The Detweilers spent ten minutes with their son. Thelma came out wiping her eyes, but wearing a tremulous smile. Louis was stoic, as he jingled change in his pockets. After giving me a big hug, they hit the road, heading back to Illinois. The rest of the day dragged on. I spent a lot of time in the recliner at my husband's side, but he was too doped up to talk coherently. To keep myself busy, I rummaged around in my tote bag. Brawny had thoughtfully included tissue paper, a glue stick, and a notebook. She knew that I'd been working on an idea for a new class, turning tissue paper and scrapbook embellishments into nifty decorative bowls.