No Harm (The Kate Teague Mysteries Book 1)

by Wendy Hornsby

Without breath or composure to speak she could only shrug her shoulders.

  Tejeda looked at the crowd gathering around them. “Stay here,” he ordered. Hand on his service revolver, he ran toward the street.

  Murmuring like trees in the wind, the bystanders drew into a circle around her, keeping at a small distance. Eyes bright, they watched her, as if disaster still clung to her and might strike again.

  To get out from under the collective stare she stepped to the curb to gather the remains of Miles’s belongings scattered on the pavement. The shaving kit was smashed, the robe soiled in the gutter, bringing realization of her near-miss crashing down in a heavy, nauseating wave. The car had come so close, closer than the stones on the stairs. Even with Tejeda beside her.

  She knelt by some shrubbery and vomited Esperanza’s quiche.

  Police sirens wailed past the broken gates, disrupting traffic on the busy street beyond the parking lot. The angry skidding, braking, and honking merged with the buzzing in her head and swelled in her ears to an almost overwhelming crescendo of confusion.

  Hugging the remains of Miles’s bundle tight against her chest, Kate pulled herself to her feet and looked around for something solid to hold onto, to steady herself.

  It seemed like a long time before Tejeda came back. He wedged his way through the crowd and wrapped a protective arm around her. Chest heaving from running, his breath came in short gasps. “Missed him. Do you have any idea who it was?”

  “No. It was so black.”

  “Did you leave your keys in the car?”

  She looked around the pavement until she located her handbag. With shaking hands she opened it and pulled out her mother’s key ring.

  “Doesn’t matter. Anyway, he wasn’t after the car. Left it in back of the hospital in a delivery bay.”

  “He got away?”

  “Only for the moment.” He patted her back absently while he spoke.

  “Ouch.” She recoiled as he hit a tender spot.

  “You okay?” He held her by the shoulders and looked into her face, concern etching deep lines in his forehead. His face relaxed into a crooked smile. “Hate to tell you this, but you’re going to have a beautiful new shiner.”

  TWELVE

  “SUICIDAL MANIAC.” Kate shifted the ice-filled towel away from her swelling cheek and used it to push the mug of bitter hospital coffee away from her. Some coffee sloshed onto the police reports littering the formica table, and the sight of it made her gag back the sharp taste of the quiche she had left in the landscaping. “Why me, for God’s sake? I liked being beaten up by the police better. Damned kamikaze.”

  Tejeda let her vent off steam for a while before he said anything. “Why do you say this character is suicidal?”

  “Why else would he-she come after me with a goddamn car?” She leaned closer to him. “This person was ready to risk capture, or, better yet, death, to get rid of me. Know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think that, in a twisted way, this is a very generous person. If he’ll risk getting caught himself, he must be doing this to benefit someone else.”

  “Interesting idea.” He dropped a stack of napkins on the spilled coffee and started wiping it up, a reflexive gesture, she thought, of a man accustomed to keeping house for himself. “Fortunately, our culprit doesn’t know beans about how to commit a nice, clean murder. What a bungler.”

  “Don’t sound so disappointed,” she said.

  “There’s hope,” he smiled. “Maybe he’s a quick study.”

  “He’s had lots of practice, anyway. Three assaults.”

  “Three?”

  “Counting the attack on Mother.”

  “He was a lot more effective on that one.” Tejeda reached across the table and gently turned Kate’s face to the light. “Put the ice back on. You got quite a bump.”

  Kate put the frigid, sopping towel against the right side of her face. “Reece told me you confiscated Miles’s cricket bats. Find anything?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “All the lab tests aren’t in, but the prelims match it with your mother’s wounds.”

  “Oh, damn.” Feeling defeated, she slid back against the plastic seat. The news about the bats was only confirmation of what she already suspected. So far, every step of the investigation had brought this thing closer to the family circle. But who? Reece, Carl, Mina, Dolph, Esperanza, Helga? At least Miles was out of it. She tried to fathom what any of them had to gain in sufficient measure to exterminate her. She discounted money as the motive; it just wasn’t that important to any of them. Not as important as her right to influence the decisions made over Grandpa Archie’s estate, including the law firm, investments, and the seven juicy acres. After seeing Mother’s plans to build condos on the bluff, she could understand why someone would passionately want to get rid of Mother. But why get rid of Kate? Other than some painting and cleanup of her own house, she had no intention of interfering with the status quo. Unless that was the problem.

  Tejeda nervously drummed the table with his fingertips, drawing Kate from her ruminations and making her aware she had been staring at his face, focused on the deep ebony eyes set in honey. Embarrassed, she turned away, catching the people at the next table staring at her. She smiled as they snapped their faces frontward. They had seen the incident in the parking lot and were probably curious, Kate thought, about the couple who had come so close to mayhem. Maybe they still felt a little excited to have danger so near.

  The ice was beginning to give her a headache. She put it down amid the clutter in front of her and leaned closer to Tejeda, close enough to smell the coffee on his breath, close enough for some privacy from the other people. “Did you see my mother in the morgue?”

  He nodded, swallowing hard.

  She understood the reflex, having the same wad of bile in her throat every time she thought about the morgue. “Someone close, close enough to get the bat and return it later, bashed her head to Jello-O. The same person then, had easy access to keys: Mother’s car keys today, Miles’s back door key last night. And he has easy access to me. What’s going to keep him from trying again? Where was your surveillance team this afternoon?”

  “What makes you think they were watching you?”

  “Then what am I? Bait?”

  He thought about it. “In a way.”

  “Wonderful.” She sat back, folding her arms across her chest. “I thought they were hanging around trying to prevent my untimely demise.”

  “We’re detectives.” He reached out and gripped her shoulder, a crooked smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “We don’t prevent crimes. We solve them.”

  “That isn’t comforting.”

  A tall, very young, uniformed policeman came into the cafeteria and looked around, searching for someone. Tejeda waved to him and he came over, bobbing and weaving around the irregularly placed tables and chairs. When he stopped next to Tejeda’s chair Kate noticed his adolescent acne wasn’t quite healed yet.

  “Officer Frank Little,” Tejeda said, “this is Kate Teague.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He gave Kate a quick nod and appraisal before he turned his attention back to Tejeda. “Everything’s cleaned up outside, sir. Car’s in the impound lot.”

  “Thanks.”

  Little looked doubtfully at the soiled papers on the table. “If Mrs. Teague has signed the releases, I’ll take them in with me.”

  “What releases?” Kate asked him.

  “Standard release forms absolving the city of responsibility for your injuries.”

  “The city didn’t injure me.”

  Little aimed a finger at Tejeda. “He’s the city.”

  The lieutenant’s color deepened from gold to red-bronze. “I threw you to the ground, remember?”

  “And landed on top of me.” She massaged her sore elbow. “I was in such a snit, I didn’t even ask you if you were hurt.”

  He gently touched the thick shiny hair on the crown of his head. “Just a little bump.”r />
  “Sorry.” Kate offered her dripping towel full of ice. “Want a turn?”

  “No, thanks.”

  A young busboy in an oversized white jacket appeared immediately at Tejeda’s elbow. “Quieres mas hielo?”

  “No, gracias.” Tejeda slipped a coin into the boy’s palm and waved him away. “No more ice. I don’t know why people always assume I speak Spanish. My folks grew up right here in Santa Angelica, for chrissake. I had to take Spanish in school so I would know what people are all the time saying to me.”

  Little chuckled. “You need me anymore, Lieutenant?”

  “Yeah. What time is your shift over?”

  “Ten.”

  “Good.” Tejeda turned to Kate. “Where are you going now?”

  “Upstairs,” she said. “It’s my turn to sit with Miles.”

  “Okay, Little,” he said, glancing around at the wall clock. “For the next hour and a half, I want you to stay close to Mrs. Teague. Stick with her until a replacement shows, okay?”

  “Fine with me.” Little gave Kate a more comprehensive appraisal when she stood up. “Since we’re spending the night together, you might as well call me Frank.”

  “Thanks, Frank,” she laughed.

  “Uh, Lieutenant,” Little began, “Sergeant Green said to tell you, you were right. He said you’d know what that meant.”

  Kate looked at Tejeda. “What does it mean?”

  “A line of inquiry panned out.” He drained his coffee cup as he stood up.

  “Why don’t you just tell me the whole story?” she asked. “I’m a big girl.”

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “I only have bits and pieces right now. They seem to be heading in one direction, but we could be wrong. As it is, it’s a pretty thin trail, and I can’t risk having it wiped out by a premature tip-off.”

  “So what do I do in the meantime?”

  “For starters, stay close to Little here.” Tejeda gripped her bruised shoulder and bent his head close to hers. “Had any acting training?”

  “A little,” she shrugged. “In college.”

  “Good. You’re going to need it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late. I better call Theresa. She’s taking a survival for singles class in school and tonight she’s cooking me something called cowboy casserole for dinner. I don’t want her to burn it until I get there.”

  “You’re leaving?” Kate had a flash of dread, thinking about facing her family upstairs and making everything seem normal.

  “I’ll be back.” He put an arm lightly around her and walked her toward the bank of elevators. “I’ll bring you some cowboy casserole, if it’s edible.”

  Kate nestled against him a little, enjoying the closeness, wishing it would last longer. And go farther.

  “If you get a chance,” he said, “ask your aunt again about the maid’s abortion.”

  “Does that mean I don’t have to abandon my bastard?”

  “Maybe.” He traced the swelling on her cheek. “Then again, maybe not.”

  Officer Little walked on the other side of her, watching Tejeda out of the side of his eye, perplexity clouding his face. Kate smiled, realizing the young officer was a bit scandalized by Tejeda’s familiarity with her. She wondered if it was Tejeda’s rank or age that bothered him.

  Little pushed the call button and the chrome elevator doors slid open. He got into the car and held the doors open, keeping his eyes averted from Kate and Tejeda. Kate was tempted to engage Tejeda in a long, passionate embrace, partly for the discomfort of Little but mostly because she thought she would like it.

  Instead, Tejeda gave her back a reassuring pat. “Stay close to Little. I’ll see you later.”

  Alone with her in the elevator, Little relaxed. “So, how long have you known the lieutenant?”

  “Three days,” she said.

  “I thought you must be old friends, the amount of time he’s spending on this case.”

  “Oh?” She smiled noncommittally, cautioned by his interest. “Is it unusual?”

  “I’ve never known him to give a case so much personal attention. Most of the time, he’s in his office at the station, doing administrative stuff. Normally, he only goes into the field to see what we’re doing.” He stood at the front of the elevator, watching the floor numbers flashing above the doors. “Guess there’s something different about this case.”

  “Guess so.” She looked at the dewy-soft skin under his chin, and decided he couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. He seemed too young to be so serious, to have the life-or-death responsibilities of a policeman. Then it occurred to her that she and Nugie had been just about his age when they’d made the life-or-death decisions about Nugie and her baby. It was just before her twenty-third birthday when she and Carl decided to put their shared grief over Nugie behind them and get married. Kate closed her eyes and leaned against the cold metal wall. For some decisions, maybe you’re never old enough.

  They reached the intensive care floor. Kate moved to the front of the car and waited for the doors to open. But Little motioned for her to wait. He stepped partway out into the corridor and looked around before he let Kate walk out past him. He did it all very casually, without any melodramatics, so she relaxed a bit about having to spend the evening under his watch.

  They found Dolph and Mina playing gin rummy in the hall outside Miles’s private room. Mina was running her fingers nervously through her hair so that it stood up in funny, ragged peaks. In contrast, her beautifully tailored summer dress hung perfectly on her ninety-two-pound frame, so that, to Kate, she looked like someone’s old, best-loved doll dressed up in a new frock. Her tired face looked pale and puffy under the cruel fluorescent light.

  Officer Little hung back, then detoured to the nurses’ station as if he had come up on separate business. Kate felt relieved; explaining why he was there would have been difficult.

  “Kate, at last. Thank God.” Mina slapped her cards down on the white formica table. “I’m down eighty-five cents to this shyster I’m playing. Either lend me some money or take his place.”

  “You going to stand for that from her, Kate? She thinks she can beat you.” Dolph laughed but Kate noticed the bright red spots, like clown makeup, glowing on his cheeks. An overdose of adrenaline or fatigue.

  “Mina always beats me at gin.” Kate bent to kiss them in turn. “But she cheats.”

  “Where’s Carl?” Dolph put his reading glasses in his breast pocket, then came to stand beside her. “I thought he would be right along.”

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Probably stuck in that traffic snarl outside,” Dolph said. “Some sort of accident. Is that what kept you, dear?”

  “Yes. I got tied up in traffic.” Kate resisted touching her throbbing cheek. With sad resignation she accepted the fact that Dolph and Mina were both suspects, maybe a terrible threat to her. She looped her arm through Dolph’s and held on tight. “How’s Miles?”

  “I haven’t seen him yet.” He looked down at Mina and grinned. “I’ve been here only long enough to win three gin hands. But Mina has some good news.”

  “Indeed I do.” She paused for dramatic affect. “Miles spoke to me.”

  “Terrific,” Kate said. “Anything profound?”

  An impish look crossed Mina’s face. “He said, ‘wa-a-a-ter.’” A natural mimic, she dragged the word out in a low gargle.

  “It’s something, anyway,” Dolph said.

  “He’s ga-ga, but he’s not comatose anymore.” Mina’s eyes were bright with fatigue. “He’s sleeping now.”

  “We don’t all have to hang around here,” Kate said. “You two go on home. If you hear from Carl, tell him not to come. I’m okay here by myself. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

  With her brow furrowed, Mina peered up into Kate’s face, squinting myopically. Without changing her line of focus she got up and came over to Kate, and putting a hand on either side of her face, brought her down so she could see her better. “K
ate, darling, that shiner isn’t looking any better. You should have it seen to before you leave the building. Take a look, Dolph.”

  “She’s right, Kate.” Dolph perched his reading glasses back on his nose. “That close to the eye, you should be careful.”

  Kate almost laughed aloud. If only they knew. Or did they?

  “Mrs. Teague.” Officer Little was waiting by Miles’s room when Kate returned from seeing Dolph and Mina to the elevator. “The lieutenant wants me inconspicuous. So you might not always see me, but I’m here.”

  “Thanks, Frank. Hope this doesn’t get too boring.”

  “Nah.” He looked at his watch. “New shift of nurses comes on in half an hour. I’ll find something to do.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll check on my uncle.”

  The intensive care room looked like a cross between a video arcade and a morgue. Resembling a corpse prepared for burial, Miles lay in a high bed surrounded by video screens that recorded his body functions in wavy lines of green. I.V. tubes and computer cable held him in a tangled web. Over the blip-ping of the monitors Kate could hear his soft snoring, a reassuring and human sound among all the hardware.

  She tucked the thin white blanket under his chin and touched his cheek, the taut skin as smooth and thin as tissue paper. And about as lively to the touch. Seeing him brought back memories of her mother and father, and how they had looked in death. Sadly, she accepted it as a certainty that he would never leave this place and come home.

  After her father’s funeral, Miles had come into Kate’s room and held her, encouraging the tears her mother had ordered turned off.

  “Sometimes bad things happen,” he’d said, “and it takes a while to get used to them. So go ahead and cry.” For many reasons, losing Miles would be harder than losing Mother.

  Leaving the door ajar so she could hear him, she went back to the hall. Sometimes sitting on a slick, plastic-covered chair, sometimes pacing the dozen feet between his door and the nurse’s desk, she waited.

  Every time the elevator door opened, Officer Little appeared. If no one came out, he waved to her and disappeared again. Occasionally Kate heard soft female laughter from the direction he disappeared toward.