She wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm, rather roughly Caroline felt. "How are you doing?" the nurse said.
"Better?"
St. John looked at her with an expression of annoyance bordering on contempt. "You don't get it, do you?" he said. "I feel like shit."
Caroline stifled a giggle and said, "He's pretty out of it."
"You should hear the names they call me after I pull out the breathing tubes," the nurse said with a smile.
Caroline decided she wasn't so bad after all.
After the nurse was gone, Caroline picked up her husband's hand, being careful not to tangle the wire clipped to his index finger. "What do you think?" she asked.
"I guess we go for it," he said.
"I'll sign the forms," she said.
"Yeah, and call my dad."
Caroline didn't remind him that his father had been dead for almost a year.
Chapter 20
Robin's first steps were tentative. Her limbs felt watery from lack of use.
"Protein," he said. "You need more protein in your diet. Don't worry I'll take good care of you."
He grabbed her arm, but gently and helped her to the bathroom. All her makeup, soaps, creams, and hairbrushes were already there, lined up neatly on the counter.
"You'll feel better," he said, "when you clean up a bit."
"Can I please have some more light?" she asked.
"Coming right up."
She leaned in the doorway and watched him set up his apparatus. He had some sort of machine with a crank handle on it. Wires trailed from the machine. He showed her how they were fitted with tiny cylindrical sockets made of what looked like copper. Each socket had a rubber insulated boot that slid along the wire. He lifted a multicolored hank of wiring from the floor. Each of those wires had solid extensions soldered to their ends. He selected three from the harness on the floor and plugged them into the sockets on the wires attached to his box, being careful to slide the rubber insulators over the mated ends.
"You want to try it?" he asked.
"What do I do?" she asked.
"Kneel down," he said.
She forced her knees to bend. Her legs collapsed. He caught her before she fell and pushed the box between her legs.
"Just turn the crank here, like you're winding up a jack-in-the-box." He took her hand and placed it on the handle. "Don't be afraid," he cooed into her ear. "I love you. I won't hurt you if I don't have to."
His warm breath against her ear raised goose bumps along her arm. He hadn't lied to her yet. He had his principles. She turned the crank.
"Faster," he urged.
She complied. The machine offered resistance that seemed to drop off as it gathered momentum. It made a jingling noise; she felt it grow warm. The lightbulbs above the bathroom sink glowed dimly at first and then turned bright white.
"Voilà," he said.
"You're amazing," she said. He had to pry her fingers loose from the crank.
* * *
When St. John awoke he was shivering. They had him hooked up to all the machines. A plastic tube blew oxygen gently into his nose. The white, round adhesive EKG leads with the snaps in the center were still taped to his chest and abdomen. Colored wires trailed from the leads to the heart monitors just out of his line of sight. Another contraption with a trailing wire was clipped on his index finger. Clear fluid dripped into his arm via an IV needle inserted there. He tried to read the label on the bag of fluid hanging from the IV pole but couldn't seem to focus.
The sheath in his leg throbbed. It felt as if he'd been stabbed with a knitting needle. His chest felt different. There were new, scary burning sensations streaming out in all directions from his heart but particularly from under the left side of his rib cage.
He pushed his head into the pillow and pictured those damaged, fragile blood vessels. They had looked like dark spaghetti on the monitor. His legs cramped, but when he shifted positions he was rewarded with a sharp stitch in his side. He let out a groan. The nurse on duty poked her head through the doorway
"Everything all right?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. His tongue felt twice its normal thickness.
"No more dope, though." His voice cracked. He tried to clear his throat.
"Want some water, hon?" the nurse asked.
"Thanks, yeah."
She put a straw to his lips and told him to go slow. Any slower I'd be dead, he thought. There was something he needed to think about. Something important about footprints and photographs of dead women. Had to be the Diane Bergman case.
He coughed suddenly as the water went down the wrong tube. The sudden jerk brought sharp pain. He waved away the nurse, closed his eyes, and visualized the crime scene on the shoulder of the freeway. He saw Diane Bergman's body with the legs spread open. Her face, depersonalized with silver duct tape. And around the corpse . . . the footprints.
Footprints, something about the footprints. He felt his consciousness slipping away and tried to hold on just a few more seconds. He was so close to completing the thought. His body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. He sank deeper and deeper into the bedding. His thoughts slowed to a floating blackness.
He felt a cold hand on his forehead and jerked in response. He immediately regretted the suddenness of his action and the renewed pain it brought to his chest.
"Sorry if I startled you," he heard Caroline's voice say.
He opened his eyes. The nurse was gone. It was just Caroline standing there. The clock on the wall read seven o'clock. He didn't know if it was A.M. or RM. It was three-something last time he'd checked. His utter helplessness annoyed him and he goddamn didn't need or want her pity.
"Where have you been?" he said.
"They only let me in here a couple of minutes at a time. Hospital policy "
She smiled down at him as she spoke. She looked tired.
"What about the kid?"
"She's fine. I called Munch. She'll be here in a little while."
"I guess you had to do that."
"I should call Lieutenant Graziano."
"Let's wait a day on that," he said. "I'm not on call this weekend."
"But you have an ongoing case," she said.
"I'm still working on it," he said, tapping his temple with his forefinger.
"Uh-huh," she said, sounding skeptical. "Do you want to see Munch when she gets here?"
"Yeah, sure, send the little munchkin in. We've got a few things to straighten out."
* * *
Munch and Garret parked in the lot for visitors. She stopped briefly at the information desk and was directed to the elevators that would take her to the third floor and ICU. They went to the waiting room first. Caroline and Asia had set up camp in one of the corners. Asia had a new coloring book with the gift shop's price tag still pasted to the front cover. Caroline was reading a magazine, but put it aside when she saw Munch and Garret.
Munch went to Caroline first and hugged her. "How is he?"
"The same, we're just waiting now. "
Munch introduced Caroline to Garret. He shook her hand and offered his sympathies. Munch wanted to tell him that nobody had died yet.
Asia gathered her crayons and stuffed them back into their box. Munch crouched in front of her. "And how are you this morning?"
"We slept here all night," Asia said. "Mace had a heart attack."
"So I heard. Was it scary?"
"A little, but the doctor said they would take excellent care of him."
Munch smiled, always pleased when Asia used any three-syllable word besides "whatever."
"He asked to see you," Caroline said.
Munch put her arms around Asia. "I'm going to go say hi to Mace and then we'1l go get your stuff and take you to softball."
"All right," Asia said.
Garret stayed with Asia while Caroline walked Munch over to the intercom. She pushed the button and after a moment a voice said, "Yes?"
"This is Caroline St. John, I have a visito
r for Mace."
"Come on in," the voice said. The door buzzed and Caroline pulled it open.
Caroline held back, though. "You go in," she said. "I'll wait out here."
St. John was in a bed near the nurses' station. His eyes were half open, his mouth slack. Munch studied the monitors surrounding him. The raster patterns on the oscilloscope were very similar to the ones she saw every day when diagnosing automotive problems. St. John appeared to be firing on all eight with no fouled plugs or faulty plug wires. She came up to the side of his bed and picked up his hand. His eyes rolled open but didn't look focused.
"Hi," she said.
He worked his mouth a few seconds, looking like someone just waking from a deep sleep. "Hi," he croaked back.
"Caroline said you asked for me."
"Give me a minute to get it together here." His eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open.
She started to think he had gone back to sleep and then his eyes opened wide. "That guy call you any more?"
"No, I haven't heard from him since I talked to you last. Don't worry about him. I'll be all right. You just rest now. "
"No, something I need to tell you." He smacked his lips again. One of his hands patted at his chest. "You got a light?"
"You can't smoke in here," she said, smiling a little in spite of the gravity of the situation. It was bizarre to see him so stoned. "What do they have you on?"
"Morphine or something," he said. "I told them no more."
That explains it, she thought. Some people just can't hold their opiates. "Try to enjoy yourself," she said.
"Fuck that," he said, shaking himself awake. "Tell me what's going on."
"I was in a liquor store last night and I was looking at the magazine display. Robin's picture was on the cover of Penthouse."
"Diane Bergman, too," he said.
"Diane was on the cover of Penthouse?" Munch asked, not able to hold back a smile. "Which one was that? The senior issue?"
"No, no," he said. He closed his eyes. Once more his mouth went slack, then he jerked suddenly and let out a groan. She tightened her grip on his hand and put her other hand on his forehead. It was damp and cold. A shiver ran through his body then he blinked and said, "Whew," as the pain passed.
"You okay?" she asked, wishing she could take his pain into herself.
"Yeah, yeah. Where were we?"
"Diane in Penthouse?"
"No. Pictures of her. I saw pictures of her. They all had pictures taken."
"Who all?" Munch asked, leaning closer. "All the women who were raped?" She remembered something odd the rapist had said in his last phone call. He made a reference to "many of you girls". Is that what he meant? Girls who had their photographs taken nude?
St. John put a finger to his lips and said, "Shhh. Loose lips sink ships."
"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" she asked. This was like talking to someone in his sleep.
He shook his head no. "I wanted to tell you that you're a beautiful woman," he said. "You're smart. You care. Some man is going to be very lucky to have you someday."
She smiled. She liked where he was going, stoned or not. His eyes cleared and when he looked at her she knew that he was all aware. "I can't be that man," he said. "And I'm sorry."
She felt her expression freeze on her face. At the same time, her scalp went hot. "I know that," she said, bristling, throwing a perimeter around her vulnerabilities. Then she let down, softened her tone, taking this opportunity to address openly the subtext she'd been dancing around for months, if not longer. "I've always known that," she told him. She smoothed back his hair and kissed him on the lips. For just a fraction of a second, he kissed her back. "I'm going to go now," she said. "Do you want me to send Caroline in?"
He nodded and she left him.
When she reentered the visiting room, she stopped for a second to study the three people sitting there—each represented ghosts of past, present, and future. Garret had an arm around Asia's shoulder and was speaking to Caroline in low tones. She was lucky to have each of them—Garret included. When the call had come at 6 A.M. from Caroline, explaining where they were and what had happened, Garret had sprung into considerate mode—offering to help in any way he could.
"Can I get you some more coffee?" he asked Caroline now.
"No," she said. "I'm fine." She looked up when Munch approached. "How is he?"
"In la-la land, but strong. You can tell. He asked to see you."
Caroline dug in her purse and handed Munch a house key "I know you'll want to get Asia's softball uniform and dance clothes." She turned to Asia and said, "Sorry kiddo, I was looking forward to seeing your game today "
"That's all right," Asia said.
Munch took the key proud of Asia's show of maturity. "When will you know more?" she asked Caroline.
"This afternoon, I think."
"We'll stop in later," Garret said.
"Thank you," Caroline said. "I'll need you to feed the dogs, too."
"No problem."
Munch gave her a hug and they left to go pick up Asia's things.
* * *
St. John smiled at his wife. "Hi, babe/'
"Hi, yourself. How are you feeling? Can I bring you anything?"
"A bottle of scotch would be nice."
"I'll see if it's on the approved list."
"I guess you'd better call the office. Tell them what happened."
"I'll go do it now. How was Munch?" she asked. Her eyes told him that he had no secrets from her even when he managed to keep them from himself.
"She'll be okay," he said. "The kid's a survivor."
Chapter 21
Munch let herself into the St. Johns' house. Sam and Nicky greeted them at the door, tails thumping the wall. It was kinda nice how they were always so happy to see her again. Maybe after they were settled in the new place she'd take Asia to the pound and pick out a dog. The new dog, Brownie, was not as friendly, hanging back in the kitchen and barking.
"It's okay," Munch told her. "We're the good guys." To prove it she went to the pantry and retrieved cans of dog food and the bag of kibble.
Asia's suitcase was in the living room, but her stuff was scattered throughout the house. Her scrapbook of wedding photographs and assorted memorabilia lay open on the kitchen table.
"What's all this?" Garret asked.
"These are mine," Asia said.
"Yeah," Munch said, "don't get any ideas." She put the dogs' dishes on the floor and turned to her daughter. "Have you had breakfast?"
"Caroline bought me some yogurt and a banana at the hospital."
"Okay good. Change into your uniform now. After you wash your face and brush your teeth."
While Asia ran off to comply, Munch and Garret gathered her things. St. John's sports coat hung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Munch lifted it and felt the weight of his notebook in the breast pocket.
"I'm going to hang this up," she told Garret, and went into the master bedroom, which smelled strongly of his cologne. She looked down at the king-size bed and felt like the intruder she was. The notebook in his pocket called to her.
Puck it, she thought. I have an investment in this. She walked toward the closet. Out of Garret's view, she stuck her hand in the coat pocket and pulled out the notebook.
St. John's printing was neat if rather cryptic. Veronica Parker aka Ginger Root. Prior victim. Dt. Rosales, Rampart. Century Ent. on Century Blvd. Known Assoc. Joey Polk Attempted interview 10/9. Uncoop. witnesses.
Century Ent. had to be Century Entertainment, the nude dance club in Inglewood. And Veronica Parker had to be a dancer there. Judging from his notes, St. John hadn't had much luck.
"You get lost or something?" Garret called from the other room.
Munch started guiltily and jammed the notebook back into the pocket of the sports coat. "Be right there."
Garret had Asia's uniform laid out on the couch and seemed rather proud of himself for doing so. Munch gathered the jersey
pants, and shoes and brought them to Asia in the bathroom.
"Honey" she said, after closing the door, "would you mind if I took off for a little while during your game?"
"ls Garret staying?" she asked.
"Yes. He's really looking forward to it."
"What are you going to do?"
"I have to run a favor for a friend. It shouldn't take long."
"All right," she said as she squirmed into her clothes. "Whatever."
* * *
St. John watched helplessly as the nurse injected his IV. He felt the wave of numbing narcosis sweep through his brain. When Lieutenant Graziano strode into the ICU, Mace could do little more than smile wanly.
"How are you?" the lieutenant asked. Deep lines of worry creased his forehead.
"I'm cool," St. John said. It sounded as if he were speaking underwater. He struggled to surface. He was lost in the corridors of his brain, wandering, trying to follow a path of thought to its logical conclusion. But then, like a dream, just when he felt as if he was getting somewhere important, the thread of his reasoning evaporated and no amount of effort could bring it back. He kept having the same dream about surgeons dancing around a corpse.
"The important thing is to rest, get well," Lieutenant Graziano said. "The bills will be covered, Caroline will be looked after. We take care of our own."
"The Bergman murder," Mace said.
"I've already got another detective on it. He's got your notes. If there's any questions he'll come see you for clarity. Don't worry We're on it."
"Who's on it?"
"Owen," Graziano said. "He said the two of you have already talked."
"Oh, shit," St. John groaned. "The guy is useless. He already compromised the case with his big mouth."
"Which case?"
St. John licked his lips. He was confused for a moment. Owen had screwed up and talked about his rape case, not the Bergman murder. "Robin Davies. Ask him about Robin Davies."
Graziano patted St. John's shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything's under control. You just get well."
"Wait a minute." St. John meant to hold up his hand, but when he looked down, it was still lying across the blanket. "The blue fibers that I found in the footprints. Check them against blue disposable booties like the kind criminalists and hospital personnel use. The person who dumped Diane Bergman's body on the side of the freeway might have been wearing hospital booties over his shoes."
Unfinished Business - Barbara Seranella Page 17
