I certainly didn’t expect this unexpected.
Chapter 32
Divide & Conquer
We decided to rehash some ideas after dinner for a novel approach to get to the bottom of what was going on. Betty and Hazel were busy going over notes on their digital tablets. Tony and Martha were checking their emails.
I sat down on the leather chair, propped my feet up, and sipped my coffee. “So, anyone come up with anything?”
Martha tore her eyes from her phone. “After a day of research, nothing but dead-ends all around, including Tony. Nothing on Phil.”
“Same here,” I said, after a day of dead-ends of my own. Then an idea hit. “I know this sounds ridiculous but why not attack this FBI/Mafia style?”
I received blank stares. Except for Tony. He appeared wary, yet somewhat intrigued by my statement.
“Like we’re looking for an informer,” I explained.
Tony shook his head. “I don’t give out trade secrets.”
“We need to start background checks on all of them.”
Tony perked up. “Okay. Good. Find their weaknesses.”
“No,” I shot back. “We need history on each one.”
He grinned. “So we can blackmail them? I like this.”
Through clenched teeth I said, “No, Tony, I want to see if maybe there’s some kind of connection.”
He winked playfully. “To the mafia? Hey, you never know.”
I knew Tony was needling me for attention and ignored him. Instead I addressed Martha, “I know we got in late last night, but research what you can. about Marilyn.”
“Let me,” said Tony. “I know my way around women.”
I ignored him again. “Get a photo ID, too, Martha.”
“Will do,” she said. “First thing after breakfast.”
“Hazel and Betty. How about looking up the tax records on that rental house I stayed at, going back fifteen years.”
Hazel asked, “Why fifteen?”
“I want to see who owned it before and after I rented it.”
“Got it,” said Betty, now understanding my reasoning.
I then turned to Tony. “And you, my dear fellow?”
He sat to attention. “Yeah? Want a few legs broken?”
“No. Ask your Jersey associates if there is any word on the street on our Bill.”
“Me?” I announced to everyone, “I’m going to do a background check on Bill for starters.”
“I could do that for you,” Martha offered. “I knew both him and his wife, Mary, from my cruise, remember?”
“Okay, but don’t let your interest in him interfere or color your judgment, okay? I need rock hard information.”
“Want me to informally check his bank balance too?”
I smiled. Why not? “Do that too.”
They all waited to hear what I was going to do.
“Since I must go to rehab, let’s hope I get lucky this time and someone actually shows up so I can acquire some useful information from them.”
Hopefully, with me concentrating on interviewing other rehab patients, I’d uncover tidbits of information someone might have seen or heard that would help us. Maybe even something as simple as an overheard conversation on a cellphone.
Credible witnesses could potentially be a wealth of assimilated useful details without realizing it. I’d nuance something from those patients before they realized what hit them. I swear, with Marilyn and Anne, or without them, I was going to figure this out if it was the last thing I did.
Little did I know how close I’d come to doing just that.
Chapter 33
Morsels Of The Unknown
The next morning, having overslept and skipped breakfast, I was eager to begin my inquiries and determined to find out something significant, even if it meant dating the receptionist myself. After checking in at rehab, I was given a table facing the front area. Perfect. I could keep an eye out for anyone coming and going. I texted the crew to let them know where I was. We arranged to meet for an early lunch in New Hope.
I glanced up while exercising and stopped cold, flooded with relief. Both Anne and Marilyn had walked in at the same time. Planned? But then again, maybe just a coincidence. They were both holding onto a cookie platter. They were having words, but I was too far away to catch what they said. Was it contentious? I was torn as to who I should try to talk to first, and hoped one of them would be assigned the exercise table next to mine, making that decision easier.
I texted my friends on this latest sighting. By the time I glanced up again, Anne was heading toward me with the cookie platter. A treat like this was not an unusual sight to see at rehab. Clients were always bringing in homemade or store-bought cookies.
Smiling, Anne approached then offered me one of the Linzer tart cookies.
“That’s one of my favorites,” I said, eagerly taking it.
“One of mine too,” she said. “How are you, Samantha?”
I gave her a quick once over. I noticed a scrape or two, on her arms, but that was it. “I think I should be asking you that.”
Anne replied lightheartedly, “Even the most careful of us have accidents.”
I bit into my cookie. It was delicious. “Did you know that after my last accident and losing my hazard insurance, I was placed in a high risk pool.”
Anne laughed. “Great line for one or your mysteries.”
“Hey, a little levity never hurt. You here to exercise?”
She nodded. “Soon as I hand out the rest of these.”
I took another bite then wrapped it up and threw the rest of it in my purse for later. I then took a swig from my water bottle. A few minutes later, Anne returned to the exercise table next to mine.
“Phil said you fell on some steps?” I asked.
“Luckily, I tripped near the bottom and only suffered from minor scrapes, and of course, some self-confidence. I should have been more careful.”
“Don’t blame yourself. It happens to the best of us.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, lightheartedly. Her cell dinged. She’d gotten a text. She read it, promptly picked herself up, said goodbye, then spoke to Phil on her way out before I even got a chance to ask her one single question.
I looked over toward where I last spotted Marilyn. She was gone too. Another missed opportunity for both.
I began my last two sets of exercises. By the second set I felt somewhat off-kilter, the room tilting. I sat back when I began to perspire, feeling dizzy. Was it low blood sugar from skipping breakfast?
I should have finished that cookie, but the thought of eating it now wasn’t an option with nausea coming and going. I had to get home then text the others to delay lunch, hoping my nausea would pass by then.
When I arrived home, I tossed my purse aside after staggering into the house. With my head spinning and nausea hitting me bad, I barely made it up to my room. But when I fell onto my bed, I felt much worse. Another round of profuse sweating swept through me.
I took a shallow breath. “What is going on?”
I swallowed, then held onto my bed as the whole room began rotating fast, like I was being swept up into a vortex.
If I closed my eyes would it stop?
It didn’t. It felt worse. My eyes flew open. I was in big trouble and knew it. I eyed the tilting distance from my bed leading over to the doorway and downstairs. With any luck someone might be home by now to help me. Scared and nauseous, I forced myself to get up.
I had to do this.
I clung to the bed frame, strained to sit first then stand, while gripping my mattress. I reached for my night table, missing on my first attempt. Everything kept spinning even the furniture, causing me to misjudge my movements.
Usually my cell phone would be at my side, but I left it downstairs in my purse. The landline was too far at the other end of the hallway. My hands clung to the night table as I moved forward inch by inch. I swayed as a wave of nausea rolled through again. I was near collapse.<
br />
God, don’t let me fall. I’d never make it upright again.
I stilled as I ran out of table surface, but took a breath then leaned into the wall, hugging it, edging along as the nausea kept recurring over and over. I didn’t dare turn my head quickly. It only made me sicker. After another breath, and moving slowly, I made it to the back stairway door. I pulled it open, stood at the top, and called out weakly.
“Somebody, please help me!”
As I grasped the stair rail with one hand and flat-palmed the opposite wall with my other one, I called out again.
“Help! Please help me. Somebody, anybody.”
My sweat-ridden left hand, lost contact with the hand rail. Fate worked against me as I swayed at the top. Nausea kept coming in waves as I desperately clawed at the flat wall to my right, now with both hands to stop my tumbling forward in a free-fall, but gravity succeeded in winning the battle to pitch forward. My weakened legs reluctantly gave out and I was forced to let go.
But somehow I hovered in my vortex, not freefalling, as though everything was placed on pause.
Then a soft whisper said in my ear, “I’ve got you...”
Chapter 34
What Happened?
I heard discussions, voices talking over one another, as I blinked, being rushed into the ER, then into a curtained off area, then placed on a bed. My world tilted and whirled alongside nausea, which triggered a migraine, alternately sweating then shivering, I felt a prick then saw a nurse and doctor hovering over me. It was a blur of events. Four vials were filling with my blood. Ears and eyes checked. An EKG. Nasal swab. An IV quickly attached and bag hung above me. Blood pressure taken. The doctor left. A blanket placed over me. Then the lights dimmed.
What happened to me?
“We’re rushing these to the lab for results then we’ll see what we can do about that nausea and migraine. I’m letting your three grandmothers in while you wait,” said the nurse.
Three grandmothers?
I hung onto the bed, confused. Everything kept spinning.
Great, now I was delusional too.
Loud voices approached. My head... I dared a glimpse.
“Thank the Lord, she’s alive!” said a breathless Hazel.
Martha glared at Hazel. “For your information, if she were dead I hardly think they’d send us back to see her, now would they?”
Betty said, “You gave us quite a scare, young lady.”
I felt confused and tried to focus. “How did I get here?”
Just then the nurse returned, rushing in. “The nasal swabs came back, testing in the normal range. No flu or infection.” She checked my blood pressure again. “My, you are so lucky to have three grandmothers! I’m curious. How did that happen?” she asked them.
Martha jumped in. “A nasty divorce down the line.”
Not exactly wanting additional details, the nurse then shrugged, gave a half smile and left.
Martha leaned toward me, whispering, “In case that nurse comes right back, your brother will be in shortly.”
“My brother?” I croaked. “But I don’t have a brother.”
“Regardless, he’s now busy parking the family car.”
The nurse popped in. “Your urine is normal.” She left.
“Urine? When did they take my urine?” I asked.
Hazel tsked. “Poor thing, didn’t know what hit her.”
Betty patted my cheek. “You almost took a dive.”
I became more confused. “Why, was I swimming?”
For some reason they all broke up laughing at that.
“She meant down the stairs,” Martha barely got out.
Then it all came back to me. I reached down and felt my body. All seemed intact. “What stopped me from falling?”
“I did,” said a male voice.
The ladies parted for my brother.
“I knew you’d eventually break down and fall for me,” said Tony, staring down at me and squeezing my hand.
After laughing, I squeezed his hand back.
“Thanks. That’s what family is for, right?”
“When you didn’t reply to any of our texts, we became concerned,” said Hazel, still upset by me lying there.
“We were waiting to hear what happened when Marilyn and Anne showed up together at rehab,” added Betty.
“We called, texted and left voice mails,” said Martha.
“Then we called the rehab center and they said you’d left in a rush and looked on the pale side, barely waving goodbye to Phil. That’s when we knew something was up.”
The nurse came in again. “Time for the CAT Scan.”
I barely had time to wave goodbye to the others and was whisked away down the corridor.
Bright lights, a machine, and minutes later I was back.
The nurse added some vial of liquid into my IV and left.
Then everyone asked at once, “What happened?”
“I think someone tried to poison me with a cookie.”
Chapter 35
A Hitchcock Moment...Or Two
“A poisoned cookie?” asked a shocked Betty.
“Don’t look at me. I haven’t been baking,” said Martha.
“Sounds like a conspiracy,” said a worried Hazel.
“If that’s true, you didn’t consume very much because you’re still among the living,” Martha concluded.
“Who gave you the damn cookie?” asked an upset Tony.
I explained to them about being excited when I saw both Marilyn and Anne at the rehab center. Then I explained about the cookie platter and biting into a Linzer tart. And that I never got a chance to really talk to either of them because they both left unexpectedly and shortly after that I got sick and had to rush home.
“So, Anne gave you the deadly cookie?” Martha asked.
“I’m not sure. Yes, she handed them out and could’ve slipped one in, but since both Marilyn and Anne arrived together, either one of them could’ve brought them. They both had access. I saw both of their hands on the plate, deciding who would hand them out. I guess Anne won.”
“What happened to them both after the cookies were handed out?” Martha asked.
“I remember Anne got a text and rushed out. When I looked for Marilyn, she was already gone.”
Tony thought that over. “One could’ve texted the other.”
All of us gave him an appreciative nod for brilliance.
“Observant point,” acknowledge Betty.
“And one to consider,” said Hazel.
“If they were in collusion with one another,” I said.
“Sounds like we’re grasping at straws,” said Martha.
“But it’s still a possibility, right? ” Hazel pressed.
“Why would they both plot to poison me though?” I asked, thinking clearer and feeling much better in the pain department from the IV potion that was being fed into my bloodstream.
Everyone thought that over, but no one offered a likely answer that might make sense.
“Nevertheless, we should mention that cookie incident to the nurse or doctor,” suggested Martha.
“She’s right, said Tony. “And like Martha said, if you were poisoned you didn’t consume enough to do you in.”
“I agree,” said Betty. “But we need to know for sure to be on the lookout for possible side effects.”
“Or any bad interactions with what they are giving you in that IV in your arm,” said Hazel.
Within minutes, the nurse weaved her way between everyone to get to my bedside.
“We are so busy tonight. Must be a full moon out. Every ER room is occupied and the lobby is filling up as I speak. Of all nights for us to be understaffed. Isn’t that always the case?” she asked.
I glanced up at the TV mounted off the ceiling. Some old soap opera rerun was playing with the mute button clicked on. I glanced around the room. We had our own soap opera going on with this whole mess on our hands. I was about to tell the nurse about my possible cookie poisonin
g when she raised her hand for silence.
With everyone already on edge, trust me, she got it.
“The doctor is on her way and will be here shortly. All your test results came out negative, including your blood work and CAT scan. You name it, we have tested for it. Everything came out negative, which left the doctor with just one diagnosis...Vertigo.”
Everyone gasped, including me.
“An Alfred Hitchcock moment,” Martha announced.
Chapter 36
The Mistress Of Our Suspense Explains
We were all dumbstruck. When the nurse whipped the curtain closed and disappeared, all hell broke loose.
“What is vertigo?” Tony asked, somewhat confused.
“You’ve never heard of vertigo?” asked Martha.
“Is it catchy?” he asked, stepping away from my bed.
“It was the name of an Alfred Hitchcock movie,” I said.
There was a moment of silence.
When Tony hadn’t responded, Betty responded, “Don’t you watch classic movies?”
“I sure have,” he finally said, laughing. “Goodfellas, The Godfather, Scarface, Casino, American Gangster, Pulp Fiction, just to name a few.”
“No, I mean classic scary movies,” said Hazel.
“Trust me, I know people like the ones in those movies. They are scary individuals,” replied Tony knowingly.
“Alfred Hitchcock’s movie, Vertigo,” I explained, “was about a detective’s obsessive fear of heights, causing the death of the girl he was hired to follow and a fellow officer. It’s a psychological thriller about fear and manipulation, as the detective plummets into a cycle of lies and insanity because...” I paused as it hit me. “...Nothing made sense.”
No one said zip for another moment, digesting that.
The curtain was whipped open and everyone flinched.
A female doctor stood there, smiling, but after staring at our faces, frowned. Her eyes darted in my direction. “Are you okay, Samantha?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me that instead,” I quipped.
Too Close For Comfort (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 9) Page 8
