"Don't worry," her father said. "The operation went well. They took out her spleen and stopped the internal bleeding. There's lots of bruising and she'll have some sore ribs, but she'll be all right, Lacey."
She looked over at her father. "I know. I spoke to the nurse outside. Where were you, Mrs. Arch, when this happened?"
"Your mother got by me, Lacey. One minute she was there watching a game show on TV, the next minute she was gone. I'd just gone down to the kitchen for a cup of tea."
She looked at her father. He seemed remote, watching the woman who had been his wife for nearly thirty years. What was he thinking? Did he expect her to say something against him when she regained consciousness? "Father, tell me what happened."
"I was backing out of the driveway to go to the courthouse. I heard this loud bump. I'd hit your mother. I never saw her. The first thing was to get her to the hospital, then I called the police. It was a Sergeant Dollan who found a witness to the whole thing. His name's Murdock."
"What did he tell them?"
"That she ran out into the driveway. He said he couldn't figure out why she'd do such a stupid thing."
She had to go talk to this Mr. Murdock herself.
"You don't believe your mother's crazy tale that I tried to run her down, do you?"
"No. You're not stupid."
He'd been tense before but now he relaxed. He even smiled. "No, I'm not stupid. Why did she do that?"
"Probably to get your attention."
"Now that's nuts, Lacey."
"Maybe more of your attention would be a good thing."
She looked down at her mother. She was so still. Here she was lying in a hospital bed with a squirrelly brain and no spleen.
"I'll think about what you said. Where are you going?" "To talk to Mr. Murdock. No, Dad, I don't doubt you. I just want to hear him tell it. Maybe it will help us both understand her a bit better."
Lacey left her mother's hospital room and stopped again at the nurse's station.
"Mrs. Sherlock will be fine," Nurse Blackburn said. "Really. She'll be asleep for another three or four hours. Come back to see her later, about dinnertime."
Lacey called the precinct station. Ten minutes later, she was driving to a Mr. Murdock's house, three doors down from her parents' home on Broadway. It was a fog-laden afternoon, and very chilly. She felt cold to the marrow of her bones.
It wasn't nearly dark yet, but a light was shining in the front windows of his house. A desiccated old man, stooped nearly double, answered the door just when she was ready to give up. Standing next to him was a huge bulldog. Mr. Murdock nodded to the dog. "I walk him at least six times a day," he said first thing. "Bad bladder," Mr. Murdock added, patting the dog's head. "He needs more potty time than I do." He didn't invite her in, not that she wanted to step into that dark hallway behind him that smelled too much like dog and dirty socks.
"You saw an accident, Mr. Murdock? A man in a car struck a woman?"
"Eh? Oh that. Yes, I did see the whole thing. It happened yesterday afternoon. This real pretty women I've known by sight for years is standing kind of bent over in the thick oleanders. I start to call out to her, you know, I thought she must have some kind of problem, when she suddenly just steps out into the driveway. I hear a car hit her. It was weird. The whole thing was weird. That's what my nephew said too when I called him about it. What do you want, Butchie? You got bladder needs again? All right. Go get your rope. Sorry, little lady, but that's all I know. Either the woman ran out into the , car's path on purpose or she didn't, and that makes it an accident, plain and simple."
Lacey walked slowly back to her rental car. Why had her mother done such a ridiculous thing? Was it really that she wanted more attention from her husband? That was far too simple, but maybe it was a place to start. She hadn't understood her mother for nearly all her life. Why should she begin understanding her now?
Her father came back to the hospital at seven o'clock that evening.
"She's just the same," Lacey said.
He said nothing, just walked to the bed and looked down at his wife.
He said, "Did that old man tell you that I didn't try to kill your mother?"
"Yeah, he did. Look, Dad, you know I had to go talk to him, hear everything in his own words."
"You're my kid. I can understand that. I called a new psychiatrist to come talk to your mother tomorrow. I told her what had happened, what you thought. We'll see. I'm glad you didn't think I was stupid enough to try something like that."
"Oh no."
"I've found myself wondering if I could have done it. Maybe, if it had been dark and we'd been in the Andes with no possible witnesses who spoke English." "You're joking."
"Yes, I'm joking." He looked at his watch. "I've got to be in court early tomorrow. I'll see you at lunchtime, Lacey." He paused in the doorway. "You know, it's easy to fall into certain ways of thinking, of behaving. You know that your mother could irritate the hell out of a saint. We'll see."
She spent the night in her mother's hospital room on a cot an orderly brought in for her. She lay there, listening to her mother breathing, thinking about Dillon, and wondering, always wondering where Marlin was.
She got a call from Dillon at nearly eleven o'clock, which made it two o'clock A.M. his time. She'd called him earlier and gotten his answering machine.
"I was going to leave you be, at least for tonight, but I couldn't. How's your mom?"
"She'll make it. I personally interviewed a witness who told me that my mother appeared to be hiding in some bushes, then dashed out when my father was backing out of the driveway. I had a good talk with my dad. He's bringing in a new psychiatrist to see her tomorrow. I mentioned that maybe she was trying to get his attention. Should I have opened my mouth? What do you think?"
"I still think it sounds like your mother really wants something she's not getting from your father. You're the daughter. Of course you should say what you think. You know, she might really be just mentally unstable."
"As my dad said, 'we'll see.'"
"You hanging in there?"
"Yes, don't worry about me. Any word on Marlin Jones?"
"No. It's driving everybody crazy. It's as though he's just disappeared off the face of the earth. Oh yeah, Hannah called me about an hour ago. She wanted to come over and talk. When I said no, she told me how you'd attacked her in the women's room this afternoon. She told me you'd accused her of blackmailing me so I wouldn't fire her. She said you were furious that we'd slept together."
The last thing she needed in this crazy mix was Hannah. "I don't think so, Dillon. But that's a thought. Let me consider it. I don't know, she's pretty strong. It's possible she could take me down."
He grunted. "Yeah, she probably could. Call me at the Bureau tomorrow with an update. Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"I miss you really badly. I had to go to the gym by myself. It used to be just fine-in fact, I used to like going by myself-but now all I could do was one lat pulldown before I was looking around for you."
At least she was smiling when she gently laid the phone in its cradle.
When a shaft of light from the hospital corridor flashed across her face, Lacey was awake in an instant, not moving, frozen, readying herself. It had to be a nurse, but she knew it wasn't. She smelled Douglas's distinctive cologne, a deep musky scent that was sexy as hell. She remembered that scent from the age of fifteen when he'd first come into their lives.
She lay very still. She watched him walk slowly to her mother's bed. He stood there for the longest time in the dim light sent in through the window, staring down at her mother.
She saw him lean down and kiss her mother. She heard him say quietly, "Evelyn, why did you do this stupid thing? You know he's a bastard, you know, surely, that he'll always be a bastard. What did you expect to prove by running out like that behind his car?"
Her mother made no sound.
Douglas lightly caressed her face with his cupped palm. Then he stra
ightened and turned. He froze in his tracks, staring down at Lacey.
"My God, Lacey. What are you doing here?" "I wanted to stay with my mother," she said, very slowly coming up onto her knees, her back against the wall. She was wearing one of her favorite Lanz flannel nightgowns that came up high on her neck and covered her feet. "Didn't my father tell you I was staying with her? No, I guess not. What are you doing here, Douglas?"
He shrugged. "I was naturally worried about her. I just wanted to make sure she was all right. I wanted to see her when I knew your father wouldn't be here."
"Visiting hours were over a long time ago. How did you get in?"
"Not a problem. I know the nurse, Lorette. She let me in. Seeing you is a surprise. I didn't know you'd come. That Marlin Jones jerk is still free. I didn't think you'd ever leave the hunt."
"Why were you kissing my mother?"
"I've known your mother for many years, Lacey. She's a good woman, almost like a mother to me."
"That kiss didn't look at all filial."
He ignored that, saying, "I don't want anything to happen to her, anything more, that is."
"That's hard to believe, Douglas. You were kissing her like she was a lover."
"No, Lacey, you're way off base. Why are you looking toward the door?''
"I'm waiting for Candice to burst in here. She always seems to show up when you're with me."
"I left her sleeping. She isn't coming here." Then he laughed. "But she'll hate herself that she missed such an opportunity. Here you are in your nightgown in the same room with me. Yeah, she'd go wild."
"Well, I'm not up to anything wild tonight. Are you certain she's home asleep?"
"God, I hope so."
Lacey stood up, her nightgown like a red-patterned tent around her. There was sweet lace around the wrists and the neck. "I think you should leave now, Douglas. I don't want her disturbed. I need to get some sleep. Oh yes, my father would never hurt her. She ran out behind his car on purpose."
"That makes no sense."
She had to smile at that. It seemed to be everyone's litany recently.
She closed the door after Douglas had left. She took a deep breath once she was in the blessed darkness again. She heard her mother's even breathing. She burrowed under the three hospital blankets. It still took her a long time to get warm.
Why had Douglas spoken to her unconscious mother as if she were his lover? Or had she imagined it?
Her head began to pound. She wanted nothing more at the moment than to go home, to Dillon.
33
I DIDN'T RUN INTO THE driveway. Your father saw me pruning some oleander bushes. He called out to me, told me he wanted to talk to me about something. When I walked onto the driveway, he gunned his BMW and deliberately ran into me."
Lacey said very quietly, "Mother, there was a witness. He's an old man who lives just down the block from you. He claims you were hiding, then ran out so that Father could run into you."
"Old man Murdock," her mother said, her voice deep with anger. Then she winced at the pain. "That old liar. He wanted me to have an affair with him, years ago, after his poor wife died of breast cancer. I told him where to shove it. So this is his revenge. The malicious old moron."
"It's all right, Mom. Just relax. That's better. Breathe deeply. You can push that button if you want pain medication."
"How do you know what to do?"
"When I was hurt, that's what they told me. It helped. Please, Mom, help me understand what this is all about. Why would Dad want to kill you?"
"To get my money, of course, so he can marry that bimbo lawyer clerk of his."
"What money? What clerk? Danny Elbright is his law clerk."
"I don't know her name. She's new, works with Danny. I don't really care."
Judge Sherlock came into the room. "Ah," he said from
across the room, "you're awake, Evelyn. How are you feeling?"
In a querulous old-woman's voice, Evelyn Sherlock said, "What are you doing here? You're always at the courthouse this time of the morning. What do you want, Corman?"
"This isn't exactly a day to have business as usual. I'm here to see how you're doing, naturally."
"I'll live, no thanks to you. I'll be pressing charges, you can count on that. Oh my, my head feels all soft. What's on TV, Lacey? I always watch Oprah. Is she on yet?"
"Oprah is on in the afternoon," Judge Sherlock said. "Get a grip, Evelyn."
"Oh, then it's The Price Is Right. That's a great show. I can guess the amounts of money better than those stupid contestants. Do turn it on, Lacey."
It was down the rabbit hole, Lacey thought as she switched on the TV, then handed her mother the remote.
"You can leave now, Lacey, I'm not going to die. Your father didn't hit me hard enough. I guess he couldn't build up enough speed to get it done once and for all."
"All right," Lacey said. She leaned down and kissed her mother's white cheek. "You take it easy, okay?"
"What? Oh yes, certainly. I'll bet that powerboat with all that stuff on it costs exactly thirty-three thousand five hundred dollars."
As Lacey walked from the room, she heard Bob Barker call out, "It's thirty-four thousand!"
She wasn't aware her father was there until he stepped into the elevator with her.
"I'll see that she's well taken care of. I've decided Mrs. Arch just isn't keeping good enough control. She never should have let her get away like that. Also, after the new shrink sees her this afternoon, I'll call and let you know what she says. I'll tell you one thing, though. Right now she certainly doesn't sound as if she wants any attention from me. She sounds as if she wants me hung up by my balls."
"As you said, we'll see." She looked up at her handsome father, at the uncertainty and confusion in his eyes, at that stern set of his jaw. She lightly laid her hand on his forearm. "Take care, Dad. You don't really think she'll try to press charges?"
"Probably not. She'll forget all about it by this afternoon. If she doesn't, the cops will treat her gently and ask me to see that she has better care."
"Dad, does Mother have money of her own?" "Yes, something in the neighborhood of four hundred thousand. It's safely invested, has been for years. She's never had to touch it. Why do you ask? Oh, I know. Your mother's been claiming I married her for her money again. Not likely, Lacey."
On a hunch, she called San Quentin from the airport. Belinda's father, her mother's first husband, Conal Francis, had been out of jail since the previous Monday. She pressed her forehead against the public phone booth. Where was Belinda's father? Was he as crazy as her father had said he was?
She called Dillon from the plane and got his answering machine. He was probably at the gym. She'd surprise him. She could see him walking through the front door all sweaty and so beautiful she'd have to try to touch all of him at once, which was great fun but impossible. Suddenly, in her mind's eye she saw him and Hannah in the shower. The jealous rage surprised her. She was breathing hard, wanting to yell, but the person seated next to her on the plane probably wouldn't understand. It was in the past. Every woman he'd ever had sex with was in the past, just as Bobby Wellman and his yellow Jaguar were in her past. That made her smile.
It was raining hard in Washington, cold, creeping down into the forties, and utterly miserable. She couldn't wait to get home. Home, she thought. It wasn't her own town house, it was Dillon's wonderful house, with the skylights that gave onto heaven. She got into the taxi at the head of the line and gave the black middle-aged driver directions.
"Bad night," the driver said, giving her a huge white-toothed smile in the rearview mirror.
"I'm hoping the night is going to be a lot better than the day was," she said.
"Pretty little gal like you, I hope it's a hot date?"
"Yes, it is," she said, grinning back. "In fact, I'm going to marry him."
"This guy get lucky or what?"
"Oh yes." She leaned back and closed her eyes. When the taxi pulled up in front
of Dillon's red brick house, she was asleep. The driver got out of the cab and walked to the front door. When Savich answered, the driver gave him a big grin.
"I've got a nice little present for you, but she's all asleep in the back of my cab. I guess you're her hot date, huh? And the guy who's going to marry her?"
"She told you that, did she? That's a really good sign."
"Women always tell me everything," the driver said, walking back to the taxi.
Savich couldn't wait to get her inside the house.
"Dillon?"
"Yes, it's me. Go back to sleep, Sherlock. You're home now. But I'm not going to let you sleep very long. That all right with you?" He leaned down and kissed her nose.
"Okay," she said, and bit his earlobe.
She giggled. He thought it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard in his life.
The phone was ringing as he laid her on the bed.
"Well damn," he said and answered it. She lay on her back, just looking over at him, listening to his deep voice, his very short answers. When he hung up the phone, she said, "Have they caught him?"
Savich just shook his head. "No, but it might be really soon. That was Jimmy Maitland. A call came through from this woman in southern Ohio claiming to have seen both Marlin and Erasmus in a restaurant off the turnpike. It sounds like it's for real. They're going to check. They'll get back to us when they know one way or the other. Nothing to do now but wait."
"Is this the first time both Erasmus and Marlin have been reported being seen together?"
He nodded as he pulled his navy blue sweater over his head. He smiled at her as he unfastened his jeans.
Sometime later, she whispered in his mouth, "Please sing to me."
His rich baritone filled the air. "You're my gateway to heaven, all tied up in a bow. Let me at your hinges and I'll oil them really slow.''
The phone rang again. He held her close as he rolled to his side. "Savich here."
"We think it's Erasmus and Marlin," said Jimmy Maitland, more excitement in his voice than Savich had heard in three months. "So it looks like they're in Ohio. I'll get back to you when I hear any more."
The Maze ft-2 Page 30
