by Nancy CoCo
“Good idea,” I said. We turned into the hospital parking lot. The car Rex was in stopped at the entrance, and he hopped out. I waited for Liz to park before I tore off my seat belt and hurried to the door.
“Whoa, little lady.” A man in a security uniform stopped me. “Where are you going in such a big hurry?”
“I’m here to visit my friend,” I said. “I was told he finally woke up from a coma. Please, I need to see him.”
“Let me see your ID,” he demanded. I caught a glimpse of Rex and another officer turning down a hallway.
“Here, it’s me,” I said as I produced my driver’s license.
“Are you wearing glasses?”
“I have contacts now,” I said as he compared the bad picture to my face.
“You look like you’ve gained some weight,” the security guard said and bared his teeth. “Are you still living in Chicago?”
“No, I live on Mackinac Island. I haven’t had the opportunity to change my address yet.”
“Come on, what’s the hold up?” Liz asked. She had her press ID on a lanyard around her neck.
“My ID is out of date.”
“Oh, for goodness sake.” Liz rolled her eyes, snagging my ID out of the security guard’s hand. “She’s also press,” she said as she hung an ID around my neck. “Now let us go through.”
“Okay,” he said, “but I’ve got my eye on you.”
“Look—no weapons.” Liz held my hands up and pushed me through the security weapons detector. She then raised up her hands and grinned as she walked through the metal detector.
“Wow, that was interesting,” I said as she dragged me down the hall.
“My sources said he was in room 226.”
I followed Liz down the hall and to the right and up a half a flight of stairs. We ended up in a large open foyer that was mostly empty. We didn’t stop when we approached the nurse’s desk.
“Peter Thomas wanted to see us,” Liz said.
“He’s in 226 around the corner,” the nurse said.
We rushed on by the nurses’ station to find a room with a policeman stationed at the door.
“Peter Thomas?” I asked the officer.
“Yes,” he looked at me suspiciously. “Are you related?”
“He’s a very dear friend. The nurses contacted me to let me know he was awake.”
“According to his daughter he is not supposed to see anyone but her.”
“What’s your name? Officer Mede? Why are you here?” Liz took out her recorder and asked him point-blank: “Is Mr. Thomas under arrest or is this police protection because you fear for his life?”
The officer stiffened at the verbal onslaught. “I’m here to guard Mr. Thomas’s door to ensure that no one but police and family members go inside. If that means I’m protecting him from a killer then that’s what it means. If it means Mr. Thomas is a suspect and I’m here to ensure he does not leave, then that’s what it means.”
“Nice vague answer.”
“Who’s your boss? Where can I speak to him?” I asked and crossed my arms.
“Here’s my card,” he said and took two business cards out of his breast pocket. “You can call that number and they might be able to help you.”
“Huh, a cop with a business card,” Liz said and read it front and back. “I’ve got a phone call to make.” She took off down the hall so that she could use her cell phone in the stairwell.
“Look, I got a phone call from the nursing staff letting me know Peter was asking for me.”
“That is new information to me and contradicts what I’ve been told. I can’t help you. Right now it’s hearsay that they called you. If you can provide me with proof . . .”
The door to the room opened, and Rex popped his head out. “Good, you’re here, come inside.” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me past the officer. I gave the guard the stink eye and went inside with Rex.
Inside was a cool, antiseptic room with white sheets and blankets on the bed. Machines surrounded Peter with the whirring sounds of pumps as they dialed up dosages of painkiller and IV fluid. There was a heart monitor beeping. Peter looked ten years older, and my heart broke.
His short black hair was flat on one side and stuck up on the other. His face was misshapen from the beating he took. The bruises had spread out to cover nearly every inch of exposed skin. He wore a standard hospital gown with multicolored polka dots on the material. He faced away from the door.
“Talk to him,” Rex suggested in a low voice. “He’s not responsive to me. Perhaps he’ll be better with you.”
“Is he awake?” I asked, my eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“Yes,” Rex said, “but not responsive.”
There was a young woman in the room. She had Peter’s blue eyes and thick black hair She wore jeans and a pale peach blouse that showed off her beautiful even-toned skin. She had high cheekbones that would be the envy of models all over the world.
“Hi, I’m Allie McMurphy.” I held out my hand.
“I’m Constance Thomas,” she said and shook my hand. Both of us spoke in low tones. “Thanks for having them call me the day they found him.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, at a loss for words. “I knew you were important to him and he would want you here. Is your mom here?”
“They’re separated. She’s off with her new boyfriend in Belize.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it.”
“How’s Peter doing?”
“He comes and goes still,” she said. “I’m hoping that your visit will help to pull him back into the world.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I went over to the side of the bed and reached down to touch Peter’s hand. “Hey, it’s me, Allie. You gave us quite a scare.”
Peter slowly turned his head and winced at the movement. I lightly stroked his hand in comfort. “Allie,” he said, his voice raw and whispery. “You came.”
“The minute they told me you were awake,” I said and squeezed his hand gently.
“You called Connie.”
“Yes, I knew you would want her here and she would want to be here.” I grew silent when he closed his eyes. His fingers loosened slightly, and I didn’t want him to slip back. “Peter,” I said his name and squeezed his hand.
He opened his eyes. “I’m so tired.”
“It’s because you’re healing and they have you on pain medication.”
He licked his lips and swallowed. “What happened? Was it a car accident?”
“You don’t remember?” I glanced at Rex, who frowned. “You were on Mackinac Island. You stayed at the Grand along with the cast and crew of your . . .”
“Reality series,” he finished weakly. “Yes, now I remember that part. Can’t be a car accident. There are no cars on Mackinac.”
“Right.” I smiled, encouraging him. “We were shooting until midnight.”
“Was it a final episode?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No—remember, they had us shoot another contest with only you as judge?”
“Cathy . . . Cathy Unger is dead.”
“Yes,” I said, relieved that some of his memory returned. “We had thought they were going to do a hometown shoot for each remaining candidate, but they decided to get one more contest shoot in.”
“I remember thinking you were brilliant,” he said. “I went to the producers about changing the story line so that you could remain.”
That surprised me. I blinked fast. “I told you I didn’t want to do a full season.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “You deserve the title and the prize money.”
I felt him drift off again, and for the second time I squeezed his hand. “Peter, who hurt you?”
“What?” he croaked, his eyes rolling open.
“Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know. It was dark. I stumbled into them. They covered my head with something. I fought to breathe. Th
ey had a bat.”
“They? Were there more than one?”
“Yes,” he said so soft I had to lean in to hear him. “Front and back.”
“That’s enough for now.” A young female in a doctor’s jacket walked into the room. “He needs to rest. There’s coffee in the waiting area down the hall.”
I looked at Rex. “There was more than one attacker.”
“I got that.” His mouth was a thin line. His gaze flat. “His wounds are consistent with a bat. He’s short but solid. It had to be at least two to take him down.”
“Any idea who it is?” I asked.
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t say or won’t say?” I asked as we walked out, leaving Constance with Peter.
Rex turned his angry gaze on me. “Either way, I don’t like to see this kind of abuse on my island. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some phone calls to make.”
I watched him storm off. Liz came down the hall and stopped by me, her gaze on the hard expression on Rex’s face. “Whoever did this is going to be in a world of hurt.”
“When he’s done with them it will be my turn.”
“Is that a fact?” Liz asked, her pen and paper ready.
“That is a fact.”
CHAPTER 33
“You’re contractually obligated to finish shooting the reality show,” Caroline said on the phone. “So get your bum over here.”
“Peter is awake. I promised I’d stay with him.”
“Look, it’s great he’s awake and such but that doesn’t mean you can skate out of your shoot. If I have to, I will call our lawyers. This time they won’t be defending you.”
“What about the new cast? Haven’t you been shooting with new people?”
“The producers hated the reshoot. We have to go with the cast we have and that means you.”
I glanced at my phone for the time. “It’s seven PM.”
“And the ferries are making a couple more runs. Get your lovely self back here or you will be fined ten thousand dollars per episode delayed.”
“Fine,” I frowned. “When does shooting start?”
“Nine—and this time don’t be late. I don’t care if your mom is dying or your right hand needs stitches. Am I making myself clear?”
“Clear as crystal,” I said and hit END. I had been sitting on the chair in the corner of Peter’s room so that I would be there if he woke up asking for me again. When my phone rang, I’d stepped out. The scowls from the nursing staff and the points to the posted sign regarding cell phones had pushed me out into the stairwell.
I walked back to the room’s doorway and looked inside. Constance sat in the seat closest to Peter. She looked exhausted. I had thought I could sit with Peter while she took a nap, but it wasn’t meant to be. She glanced up, and I waved her out to the hall.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“I have to go. Caroline called me back to do the next shoot and threatened to sue me if I don’t show.”
“Caroline is a jerk.”
“Can I do anything for you before I go?”
“No, go. Dad’s most likely to sleep through the night. I’ll call you if he remembers anything.”
“I hate that I can’t stay.”
She gave me a weak smile. “Go find out who did this to him. Okay?”
“I trust Officer Manning.” I patted her. “If anyone can figure this out, he can.”
“That’s something, right?”
“Right. If he remembers anything, please call, okay?”
“I will.” She hugged me, and I left her standing in the hall, cold artificial light flickering above her. The policeman who had stopped us earlier now stood beside her, his expression flat. There was no telling what he really thought. Not that it mattered. What mattered now was that Peter got well and no one got past the cops to hurt him.
Krispy Krunchy Fudge
3 cups of sugar
Dash of salt
cup of cocoa powder
1½ cups of milk
¼ cup butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups crisp rice cereal
Prepare an 8” x 8” x 2” pan—butter pan, cover the inside with parchment paper or wax paper. Butter the paper and set the pan aside.
In a large, heavy saucepan mix sugar, salt, cocoa powder, and milk. Stir over medium heat until the ingredients reach a full boil. Let boil unstirred until a candy thermometer reads 125°F or the soft-ball stage is reached. Remove from heat.
Add butter and vanilla—do not mix. Cool until the thermometer reads 110°F, then beat until fudge thickens and just begins to lose its gloss. Quickly add cereal, mix, and pour into prepared pan. Cool completely. Cut into 1” pieces. Enjoy!
CHAPTER 34
“You talked to Chef Thomas?” Austin, my stylist, asked as he handed me my clothes for the episode.
“Yes,” I said and went behind the curtain to change. I had ten minutes for hair and makeup before I would be expected to be on my X and ready for another crazy episode.
“How is he?”
“He looks like a bad banana. I’ve never seen a human being so bruised.” I pulled on the jean skirt and shoved my arms into the pale pink camp shirt. I stepped out while I buttoned it.
“Did he tell you anything?” Austin asked. “Do you know who did it?”
“Yeah, I can’t say. That would hurt the investigation.”
“Oh, right, of course.” He walked me over to hair and makeup. “Let’s give her a ponytail and sweetheart makeup. She’s very close to winning this thing and we want viewers to want her to win.”
“I thought they liked to champion underdogs,” I said as I sat in the black chair in front of a mirror surrounded by lights so bright I could see every pore on my skin.
“They do,” he said. “And who better than a girl wrongly accused of murder? We’re going to add some biting comments about you being let back into the competition. While you were under house arrest we shot some confession scenes.”
“Wait until you see tonight’s helpers,” Justine, my makeup artist, said. “It will be shocking.”
“Okay.” I felt confused. “Why would I be shocked?”
She stopped with her hands full of makeup and brushes. “If I told you that you wouldn’t give them a proper reaction.”
Fabulous, I thought. Who could possibly be a shocking helper? I suppose my mother would be one. That thought made me laugh.
“Hold still,” she scolded. “I need to get your eyeliner right.”
I schooled my expression and concentrated on sending Peter good thoughts. Five minutes later I was pushed through the hall to the kitchen set where I took my mark behind the fudge cooling tables.
“What are you doing here?” Erin hissed at me.
I looked around to see it was only me, Erin, and Tim. “Where is everyone else?”
“This is it,” she stage-whispered. “This is the final show.”
“What?”
“While you took your house-arrest break we shot two episodes.”
“Wait.” I raised my hand. “Excuse me. Am I supposed to be here?”
The director turned toward me. “Yes. Take your mark.”
I watched as the cameras panned the group. Clearly the remaining contestants were not happy to see me standing beside them.
“For the finale, you will have an hour to make four original fudges and create a display for tonight’s fund-raiser for the Women and Children’s Center,” the director read from a paper. We stood and listened as if the host were narrating. “To aid you in this endeavor, each of you will be given a team of three.”
The teams were sent in. They consisted of the voted-off contestants. I was given the two men who were voted off the same day I was berated for being late. They did not look happy being a part of my team. Tony had his arms folded, and Jabar stared at me through narrowed eyes.
“What?” I stage-whispered.
“You killed Cathy,” Tony stated. “You should
know she was practically a sister to us.”
“I did not kill Cathy,” I said and got hushed by the director’s assistant.
“Right. Don’t expect to win this,” came the rumbled threat from Tony.
“Each team will be given a handyman to create the appropriate displays.”
At this point three handsome men in plaid shirts, jeans, and work boots entered. They wore tool belts on their hips. It was then that I noticed one of the handymen looked familiar. He had sun-streaked hair, brilliant blue eyes, and that I-can-do-push-ups-with-one-hand physique. Officer Polaski gave his head a short shake indicating to me not to say anything.
He took his place as my team’s handyman.
“Contestants, sixty minutes has been put on the clock. On your mark, get set, go!”
The other two teams sprang into action. I turned to the first of the big guys. “Tony, Cathy told me you made the Swiss cheese garnish. Can you make fudge?”
“I’m not doing anything for you.”
I swung to Jabar. “Can you make a fudge base?”
He stared at me in sullen silence. “Okay,” I said as the camera was shoved in my face. “Looks like it’s just me making fudge.” I went to work quickly preparing a dark chocolate base that I would use to create three classic candy-bar flavors.
“Can I give you design details while I make the fudge base?” I asked Brent. His shirt had the name “Mike” embroidered on it. “Um, Mike?”
“Yeah, okay.” Officer Polaski picked up a pad of paper and pulled a pencil out from behind his ear. “What do you want?”
“The fund-raiser is for the women and children’s center on island,” I spoke out loud while I measured sugar, dark cocoa, and water into the largest copper kettle I could find. “What makes Mackinac Island special is the beautiful parks, the bicycle trails, and horse carriages,” I muttered. “Can you make an old-fashioned bike with the superlarge wheel in the front? You know the kind from the 1800s?”
“Okay—like this?” He dashed off a few lines and the image of an old-fashioned big-wheeled bike became visible on the pad.
“Wow, you’re good.” I met his gaze, and he let me know that I wasn’t supposed to know who he was. “But you’re a handyman, so you should be good. Yes, that’s perfect. Can we get maybe a couple of baskets on the sides so we can fill the display with fudge and lilacs?”
