by Krista Davis
Traffic seemed maddeningly slow. I explained to Mars that someone had let out Abby’s cat, and now I thought Fred had done the same with his own cat. It was a sign that he wasn’t coming back.
“I’m taking you to the hospital so you can single-handedly, without a gun or any training, capture a man who killed two women?”
“I called Wolf,” I protested. “I’ll text him, too, since this traffic is holding us up.”
“Let me get this straight. You think that Fred is going to the hospital to say goodbye to Charlene, even though he knows the cops are onto him?”
“In the first place, he might not know that. And yes, I fear that he’s going to say goodbye for the last time before he vanishes, or even worse, could be he’s planning to complete the job he didn’t finish. She’s the only one who can positively identify him as the murderer.”
“Oh. Now I feel much better about your plan.”
“Mars, I can at least notify hospital security and the nursing staff to be on the lookout for him.”
“That makes more sense.”
He slowed to pull into the parking lot, a gigantic four-story labyrinth.
I opened the door and hopped out. “I’ll see you at Charlene’s room.” I slammed the door and ran for the hospital entrance. I really didn’t know what I would find. A besotted man like Georgia had said, or a fleeing murderer intent on finishing the job. At the front desk, I asked for the security office. The woman pointed me to a long hallway. At the end of it was a glass window with the word SECURITY on a sign above the window. I rapped on the glass.
A man appeared behind the glass panel and listened to me with a bored expression. “Ma’am, if you’re afraid of this Fred fellow, I can walk you to your car.”
“He’s not a danger to me. He tried to kill one of your patients.”
“I believe we would have been informed of that.” He turned away and tossed a candy wrapper in the trash.
“Don’t you understand? I think he’s here now.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled indulgently like one would at a silly child. “Then you should probably call the police.”
His total lack of interest was aggravating me. “I have! But they’re not here yet. Shouldn’t you go up to her room and make sure she’s okay?”
“What’s the patient’s name?”
“Charlene Smith.”
He didn’t bother to write down her name or look on the computer for her room number. “Yeah, okay. I’ll check it out.” He walked away and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Aargh! I gave up and rushed to the elevator. I gazed around before I stepped out on the third floor. I didn’t see Fred. My heart pounded in my ears as I made my way along the hall to Charlene’s room.
I took a deep breath before I peeked inside her room.
Fred was there!
Chapter 35
Dear Sophie,
I would love to send flowers to my former mother-in-law who is in the hospital. But she’s terribly allergic to them. Hospital rooms are simply ghastly, and flowers would brighten up her room. Are there any hypoallergenic flowers?
Hopeful Ex-Daughter-in-Law in Rose, Kansas
Dear Hopeful,
How about roses? Tulips and hydrangeas are also wonderful choices. Talk to your florist about it. People ask them this question all the time!
Sophie
Ijerked away and stood outside the room with my back against the wall. I could hear Fred talking softly. He could probably hear my heart pounding.
I pulled out my cell phone and texted Wolf again.
Fred is in Charlene’s hospital room right now.
What was I going to do if he started to beat her or if he strangled her like he did the other women? I looked around for a weapon. Was there anything I could smash over his head? The hallway was unbelievably void of objects. There wasn’t even a trash can. I walked back a few rooms, glancing in open doors. I found an unoccupied room. The flimsy plastic trash can would bounce off Fred’s head.
Why was everything mounted on the wall? Probably so people like me wouldn’t rip them off and bash them over someone’s head. Ah, but someone had left a step stool behind. It was lightweight and not very large, but it was better than nothing. I carried it along the hallway and paused outside of Charlene’s room.
I strained to hear what he was saying.
“You will not see me again, Charlene.”
I lifted the step stool over my head and barged into the room shouting, “Nooooo!”
Fred blinked at me. “I knew you were trouble.” He walked toward me slowly. “The apple fritters were delicious, but you and your friend Natasha were the only people who pretended to care about my welfare.” He looked up at the step stool that I brandished over my head. “Were you planning to disable me with that?”
“Yes. The legs are made of iron,” I lied.
He snorted. “They look like aluminum. An empty syringe with air in it or a knife would have served you better. Perhaps you should make note of that for your future endeavors.”
Future endeavors? At least that wasn’t a threat. “Move away from Charlene.”
His eyes widened. And for the first time I saw him smile. “You are here to protect Charlene? From me?”
“You tried to kill her.”
He stared at me without emotion. “Quite the contrary. I killed her attacker. I saved Charlene. But she vanished, and I could not find her. I feared she was dead.”
“Oh, please!” I cried. “How dumb do you think I am?”
“No, it is true. And I don’t think you are dumb. Nosy, perhaps. Alas, your presence here, not to mention your boldness in wielding such an alarming weapon, leads me to believe that the police cannot be far behind.” He edged backward and leaned over Charlene.
I hastened to the other side of the bed, still wielding the step stool. “Don’t touch her!”
He ignored me. “My lovely Charlene. I will carry you in my heart until the day I die. I am sorry I must leave. I had hoped to be here longer, but sometimes the unexpected happens and it is not in my control to fix it. I have no regrets. This is the end.”
I sucked in a noisy breath of air. “What did you do?” Had he poisoned her? Put something in her IV?
Fred stared at me in alarm.
Where was Wolf? Why hadn’t the nurse stopped by? I gazed at the IV. I didn’t see a syringe anywhere. I pressed the help button on Charlene’s bed. I had to buy time. “I found your cat.”
His face softened. “I must leave. I hope you will take care of her. She is a very good cat.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nika.”
Was Mars ever going to arrive? “Don’t you want to take Nika with you?”
“It will be a difficult journey. It would not be fair to her. She is better off living in Old Town with a nice person like you.”
He wouldn’t think I was so nice when Wolf showed up!
“I came to say goodbye to Charlene. When she awakens one day, would you please tell her that I was here?”
I was confused. It didn’t sound like he planned to kill her. “Yes. I would be happy to do that.”
“We had an argument. That is the last thing she will remember about me. I wish it could be different.”
Footsteps pounded along the hallway outside.
Fred flew toward the doorway.
I threw the step stool at him in the hope of slowing him down.
He turned and came straight toward me. He jammed his hand into his right pocket and withdrew a small weapon. A knife? I had nothing. Nothing to defend myself with. Nothing to throw at him. I thought I was a goner.
And then he swept right by me. The glass in the window shattered, and he jumped out.
Wolf and Mars entered the room, panting.
I breathed a little easier. “He came to say goodbye to Charlene.”
The three of us looked out the window. He had landed on the roof of a porte cochere. It was still a long way to the ground.
; “Sophie, you stay here and watch him. If he jumps off, text me which way he’s going.” Wolf was on the run, barking something into his radio. Mars was on his heels.
I watched as Fred ran across the roof and disappeared. Could he have reentered the building? I texted Wolf and ran for the elevator. I stepped off on the second floor. It was far busier than the floor where Charlene lay.
A couple in the large waiting room squabbled in loud voices.
“Where are my glasses? I had them a minute ago.”
“Honestly, Harold. I bought you a chain to put them on.”
“I’m not using that thing. It makes me look like an old man.”
“You are an old man.”
I stood quietly, trying to block out their conversation. Doctors and nurses in scrubs walked by me. The security guy from downstairs held a door open to the porte cochere roof and surveyed the glass as though he didn’t comprehend what had happened.
A doctor wearing black-framed glasses walked by me with his head down. A surgical mask covered half his face. There was something about him. Something not right. I watched as he walked away from me.
It had to be Fred. And, unless I missed my guess, he was wearing Harold’s glasses. I followed him, texting Wolf and being very thankful for the dictating feature. Fred was headed toward the stairwell.
When he opened the door, Wolf and Mars were waiting for him. Fred turned, ready to bolt, but I was right behind him, and that one-second delay to get around me was all Wolf needed. He had handcuffs on Fred faster than I’d have thought possible.
Fred addressed Wolf. “I know that you believe I have done this to my beloved Charlene, but it is quite the opposite. I saved her from the red-haired woman.”
Wolf said calmly, “Maybe we can talk about this at the police station.”
To me, Fred said, “You see? A difficult journey lies ahead. I killed the redhead. But only in defense of Charlene.”
My head was reeling. “Are you saying Mia, the redhead, is the one who beat up Charlene?”
“Yes. When I arrived, the other woman was already dead. Charlene was on the floor and the redhead was on top of her, punching like a madwoman.”
I looked at Wolf.
“Please tell Charlene that I have saved her life. Had I arrived a minute later, she would be dead today.”
Mars blinked. “What was Charlene doing there?”
“Her friend, Abby, was leaving town and had asked Charlene to take care of her cat. Charlene was going to pick him up,” said Fred.
“But she got there in time to see Mia kill Abby,” mused Mars. “Truly the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I can only surmise that this Mia felt she must also kill Charlene because she was a witness to the murder,” explained Fred. “It is true that I was forced to kill Mia, but only in defense of Charlene. She would not be clinging to life if I had not intervened.”
“Sophie and I will tell Charlene what you did for her. I have to ask you to come with me now, please,” said Wolf.
Wolf walked away with Fred. Mars and I returned to Charlene’s room, where someone was sweeping up the shards of glass that had fallen inward. Fortunately, the majority were outside on the roof.
“Charlene looks a lot like Natasha,” said Mars.
“I think so, too.”
At that moment, Natasha and Griselda appeared.
“What’s going on?” asked Natasha. “We just saw Wolf with Fred in handcuffs.”
We explained Fred’s version of what had transpired that fatal night.
“I almost hate to say this, but I believe him,” said Mars.
“It all makes sense.”
“Why would Mia want to murder Abby?” asked Natasha.
Oh boy. We were in a pickle now. But at that moment, I realized that if Abby hadn’t left Peyton’s name in code, we wouldn’t understand what had happened at all. “I think they had an argument.”
Mars gave me a subtle thumbs-up.
“What happens to someone who murdered in defense of someone else?” asked Griselda.
“I think that’s a legitimate defense,” said Mars. “I think they call it justifiable homicide. If the facts line up right for Fred, and it sounds like they might, then he might not even be prosecuted.”
“How’s Charlene doing?” I asked.
Griselda patted Charlene’s hand. “Her internal injuries are mending nicely according to the doctors. They’re calling her a miracle. There’s hope that she might make a full recovery. But it’s going to take some time.”
That night, Mars and I made excuses to avoid Bernie and Nina. We hated to do it, but there was no reasonable way we could explain what had happened to Mia and Abby without mentioning Peyton Poulon. We chose to wait a day or two.
At midnight, Wesley arrived for a meeting with Mars. They were still avoiding Jericho. Mars explained to me that it would take a little doing to get everything set up correctly. I accepted that and went off to bed.
* * *
On Monday morning, I leisurely cooked fluffy waffles and Southern-style cooked apples for breakfast. Mars dragged in from the den, looking as if he hadn’t slept all night.
It didn’t stop him from wolfing waffles and apples, though.
I showered, wondering how many more times I would shower before the walls were ripped out. Dressed in a red long-sleeved cotton top, jeans, and a quilted black vest, I tied all of Tilly’s recipes in a red gingham ribbon and prepared to leave.
Nika and Mochie had settled in the bay window to watch squirrels. All things considered, they were getting along well.
I walked over to Tilly’s house for the last time. She answered the door looking haggard.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Someone from the police department is coming by today to take a DNA sample from Wesley, Briley, and me.” She closed the door. “We’re just sick about it.”
I followed her to the kitchen. Jericho was already there, apparently just hanging out.
“I have coffee. Would you care for some? I’m so distracted, that was the best I could do this morning.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
We sat down on the large sofa as we had so many times before. Jericho continued to lurk.
“Apparently a child Briley and Schuyler’s age was kidnapped thirteen years ago, and the police think it’s one of our girls! I don’t understand. Why our daughters?”
“I’m so sorry.” What else could I say? Would it be right for me to spring the news that it wasn’t Briley? Probably not. What if I was wrong? What if Schuyler had a tattoo like I had originally thought and it was Briley who had the birthmark? Or what if Abby had been wrong?
My blood ran cold. It wasn’t impossible that Mia had murdered Abby for some other reason. But I thought that was unlikely.
The best thing for me right now was to be a good listener and be sympathetic.
“They’re coming to test all five of us. I had no idea that Pierce adopted Schuyler. But they didn’t excuse him from the DNA tests. I’m so nervous! What a crazy thing. Why on earth would they pick these two girls out of the hundreds of thousands of girls their age? Maybe even more. If that little girl was kidnapped, what makes them think she’s still in this country? I can tell you I was there when Briley was born. So was Wesley! Neither of us has forgotten the twenty-one hours of labor.”
She clutched her hand to her forehead. “As you can see, I’m quite distraught over this whole thing.”
“That’s certainly understandable. Who wouldn’t be? But if you gave birth to Briley, then I’m certain you have nothing to worry about.” I inched the recipes toward her on the table to distract her.
“You have been just wonderful, Sophie. So many bizarre things happened while you worked on these! I’m amazed that we managed to get them done at all.”
“Would your editor like me to send her a copy via e-mail?”
“That would be so kind of you.” Tilly wrote down her editor’s name and e-mail address and
handed me a check. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you popping in here every day. Mia’s gone and the girls will be back in school, at least I hope they will be.”
“I’m sure our paths will cross again.”
Tilly gave me a hug. “Thank you for rushing this.”
I showed myself out and headed straight to the bank to deposit the check. I did some mental calculations of how much I would have left after taxes. It would be enough to do some serious damage to my old bathroom.
Cal, the builder, dropped by in the afternoon. He suggested a number of different scenarios and promised to work up estimates for me. I crossed my fingers that he was right about the affordability of creating two bathrooms, one off my bedroom and another for guests. A girl could hope.
That evening, Mars excitedly called me into the den. He rewound the program he’d been watching. “Listen to this.”
“And in breaking news, the United States is expelling a Russian spy caught right here in Old Town, Alexandria. Authorities say they expect a similar retaliation against one of our operatives in Russia.”
“That can’t be Fred,” I said.
“You bet it is. No messy trial for him. He’s going home.”
I felt a little bit frustrated that there wouldn’t be a trial. All the details would have been laid out and made clear. And someone would have paid for the horrible massacre at Abby’s house. “Do you think prosecutors declined to press charges?”
“No! I think he waved a diplomatic crisis flag, passed Go, and got a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sophie, no one will want to start an international crisis over a guy like Fred.”
“That’s disappointing. Of course, if he was telling the truth and he only defended Charlene, then I guess he wouldn’t have served time, anyway.”
“Would you like to come to Wesley and Tilly’s house with me tomorrow morning?” Mars asked.
“What’s up?”
“Project ‘Goodbye, Jericho.’ I’m cleaning up Wesley’s image. He will be all over every news channel tomorrow.”
