by Judith Mehl
“Do you want to stay at my house at night when Nick is working?”
“Thanks Maddy, but Nick is rearranging his schedule to be at home more often until this situation settles. At least the carpet caper is over and he sleeps at home every night.”
Maddy knew she was worried when she wouldn’t even say the word ‘murder,’ and tried distraction for comfort. “So did you stay awake all night watching the nurses vamp Carl?”
“I waited awhile to see how far they’d really go but I think the doc dosed me with a sleeping pill. By the time everyone left last night I was drooping. As it was, I slept all night. Once I was awake and alert, Carl left.”
What she didn’t see in her mirror, and what Carl didn’t notice as he toyed with the hospital personnel, was the shadowy figure down the hall behind him. The man hovered in the alcove of the stairwell, waiting for hours for a chance to enter Kat’s room unnoticed. Inside the closed doors he paced the landing platform endlessly, furious that he was stymied once again in reaching the woman. He’d propped the door open slightly with a pencil, enough to keep the latch from signaling his movement when he peaked down the hall repeatedly to see if Carl was still around.
Carl was a flirt and outrageous. He was also vigilant and a professional. Worse, he drank every cup of coffee the female entourage brought him, and didn’t once take off to relieve himself.
Kat was blessed. As she slumbered, free of nightmares and danger, time ran out on her skulker. The staffing traffic picked up near dawn. They had all used the elevator so far, but not willing to risk being seen, the man left, cursing his bad luck.
Kat wouldn’t have slept so well, knowing he’d been there and Maddy wouldn’t have been so relieved. Even Maddy’s iron façade appeared on the thin side with this murder investigation, and Kat’s contingent accidents. Kat hid her uneasiness at Maddy’s distress until she left. She twitched to be released and start her own manhunt. Convinced either Lauri or David Nettle caused her accident, she wanted to talk again with Burrows and pursue their guilt until one confessed. Knowing this wasn’t logical she squelched the idea.
She barely hid her amazement as Daryl, the university maintenance man, knocked on her open door, stuck his hatless head inside and asked quietly. “Ms. Everitt? Can I come in?” Still startled at the clean cut hair she’d never seen before, and the neat blazer, she merely nodded vigorously. She relaxed quickly as she sensed his need for calming. The man seemed agitated about something.
“Ms. Everitt, my missus asked me to bring you these home-made muffins. They’re hot from the oven.”
He offered the carefully wrapped package as if it was the proverbial hot potato. Kat thanked him graciously, opening a corner and providing a sincere swoon at the marvelous scents drifting out. She waiting patiently for the purpose of the visit, though from her point of view the muffins were enough. Daryl seldom left campus or home so she suspected more.
Finally, as his fidgeting settled, he said, “Me and the guys have been keeping an eye on things at the tournament.”
Kat nodded approvingly.
He added as if to assure her. “Nothing official-like. We just thought you’d want to know if anything strange happened. So far, the tennis players have kept their practice schedules and the matches have gone off without a hitch.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to such loyalty. Fortunately Daryl expected nothing. She thanked him again as he repeated, “There ain’t no murderers lurking round as far as we can tell.”
He shook his head up and down and smiled as he’d accomplished his mission and left quickly.
Seeing Daryl reminded her of the tournament, other aspects of her job, and her friends. It was nice for once to remember good things instead of murder.
Surprised from her reverie by a visit from her old neighbor, Annie, Kat thanked the woman for the gorgeous bouquet of daisies. Knowing they were from Annie’s lovingly tended garden brought tears to her eyes and she hugged her tight. They spoke for a while, of gardens and growing, of herbs and health, of sunshine and healing. She wondered how widely her accident was known if the reclusive Annie, heard she was in the hospital, but the woman in her brogues, dress pants and cardigan sweater, settled more comfortably into the chair in the corner and told Kat all about it.
She seemed pleased with herself and explained how every evening she watched out the window as dusk fell, and finished her pot of tea until the last light escaped from the sky. When she noticed no activity at their house, and knowing Kat and Nick were involved in another murder investigation, she called Nick’s agency. An employee alerted him when a call came inquiring about Kat, but he told her his wife was fine, just in the hospital to recover from her accident.
Realizing how well Annie could see the road to her home, Kat questioned her about the sedan seen recently at the end of the drive. The elderly woman was slow to respond, but had been searching her memory.
“There’s been nothing these last couple of days. I’ve been watching carefully, especially since I heard you were in the hospital yesterday afternoon. Further back I’d have to think about. I usually don’t sit at my window once it’s dark.”
When the nurse came to acquire blood for one last test, Annie scampered out quickly.
“If I remember anything I’ll call you, but I ‘m not staying around near them there needles.”
Left again with her thoughts, Kat pondered making another suspect list, eliminating those that had alibis according to Detective Burrows, and those that the handwriting analysis culled. Additionally, there were the misfits, like Rita Mae, who would be removed. Even though her handwriting was suspicious, her story was too wacky to be a lie. A much shorter list would be appealing, as well as more rational than zeroing in on just two people based on instinct. Maybe with that approach, Detective Burrows would be willing to share and confer.
Thoughts halted during her session with Dr. Bradley, then lethargy settled in and stole her energy. It left her restless and unable to concentrate. She wondered if the IV was more than saline solution. Maddy’s fears resurfaced. Too much television or not, she starred at the IV, mesmerized by the drip, contemplating whether it was lethal, sliding into her veins. Would she feel pain?
Salvation from her idle speculation came in the guise of Glinna Faraday bearing an overwhelming bouquet of herbal flowers and fresh clothes to wear home. She included Kat’s prized Giuseppe Zanotti spike-heeled sandals which brightened her day considerably. Stuck in the hospital till the afternoon by her promise to Nick, Kat welcomed Glinna’s arrival. She provided diversion accompanied by a heavenly scent and a feast for discussion on the various medicinal plants. Only Glinna could have pulled them all together with feathery ferns and colorful bows.
Her visit contributed needed deviation from boredom and fear. A discussion, non-medicinal, and non-murderous in intent soothed her nerves. Glinna needed advice on what to do with her mysterious stranger. Before long, the day’s relaxed milieu picked up ominous overtones as they hatched a sinister plot to unmask the stranger. His handsome features and healthy physique, and even his mild mannered attitude while repeatedly touring her shop, left behind only frowns and uncertainty.
Glinna paced around the hospital bed while Kat pulled out her pad and planned. Eventually, they devised a scheme the quiet Glinna could live with. The nurse bustled up to remove the IV Her deep scowl triggered instant fear in Kat.
“What’s wrong?
The suddenly flustered nurse spoke. “It sounds like you’re planning to murder someone!”
Both women laughed and Maddy explained. When the relieved nurse left they finished the scheme.
Their plot was simple in execution. Upon the stranger’s next visit, Glinna would immediately call Kat and then engage the man, ignoring that he was a handsome devil, or playing up to the fact, whichever felt most comfortable, in casual conversation.
Her shyness took root as they played out the scene and Kat was afraid she’d be tongue-tied. “You can do it Glinna. Just be open an
d lighthearted, ‘Hi, I’m Glinna Faraday, owner of the Apothecary.’”
Glinna nodded. She did that every day. She could do that. The rest bothered her. Kat advised that she play the shop owner throughout. She asked her to practice what she would say.
“I’ll tell him all about the history of the shop, point out the different sections, the loose herbs, the books for sale, the library, etc. and be very friendly.”
“That’s it. What’s the problem?”
“Kat, I haven’t spoken with the man once since he started coming in. Won’t he think it strange that now I’m chatting him up?”
“Maybe. But what’s he going to accuse you of? Excessive kindness?” She settled more comfortably in her bed and fluffed her pillows. “With any luck, I’ll be arriving in minutes and can be hovering in the background, playing customer. It’s difficult, though, to see him becoming violent over your friendliness.”
“What do you expect will happen?”
“I’m hoping he will open up and explain what he is doing roaming your store, spying on you, or your liniments—whatever he’s been investigating every time he comes in.”
Glinna paced a little, rearranged the daisy bouquet on the windowsill, and pursed her pink-painted lips. “Sounds innocent enough. I can do this.”
Praying that the man was indeed honorable and free of malevolence, Kat encouraged, “Of course you can. Once he shows an interest in a special area of your shop you know you’ll have plenty to share with him.”
“Yeah, with my luck I’ll be sharing my best secrets with someone who wants to open a shop down the street. Worse, what if he doesn’t respond?”
“Well, he’ll either walk out—no great loss. Or he’ll let you talk for a while and walk out. By then I’ll be there and can follow him. Once we have a license plate number, or a store that he comes from, or his place of residence, we can trace him.”
Glinna whirled around from her pacing. “Kat, I’m beginning to not like this. You’re here in the hospital, possibly because of your meddling. If it smells bad to me, Nicks really not going to like it!”
“Glinna, I’ll be taking a casual stroll down Main Street, not exactly an alley in the South Bronx. What can go wrong?”
She swung her legs off the bed. She’d had enough lingering. It was time to get dressed and break out of this joint before someone came along with an excuse to call her an invalid for one more day. Glinna would prove a great way out of the medicinal prison. Though it wasn’t quite lunch time one could stretch it somewhat and say that afternoon neared at a rapid pace, thus fulfilling her promise to Nick to stay till afternoon.
“Anyway, I’m glad you could come by to give me a ride. Only you have enough room in that van of yours for that gorgeous bouquet of flowers, and that is definitely coming home with me. Besides, I need a list of every flower in it so I can check out the medicinal value.”
Glinna was hooked. “You could tell?”
“Of course, gorgeous and clever, very clever, Glinna. Can you help me on with this vest? My arm is already healing nicely, just a tad sore.”
Kat rung for the nurse, the final papers, and the requisite wheel chair before Glinna realized she was an escape route. She knew enough to call Nick’s office and leave a message that she was leaving with Glinna and would be heading straight home. Once there, she made a few phone calls, checked on the progress of the plans for the closing day ceremonies, and told Tom she’d be back at work before the final match, scheduled for one in the afternoon the next day. She decided a brief nap was in order and proceeded to sleep away the afternoon.
She awoke to the aroma of a simple dinner, lovingly prepared by Nick, and she gingerly showered and joined him. G. L. arrived shortly after with dessert. They shared wine, chocolate cake, and laughter, keeping the topics light. Nick reminded Kat of her father’s threat to bring up the baby alligators to help, and G. L. insisted on a clarification. Once they explained he replied, “How does your dad manage all this? I thought Florida law protected those harmless, armored, half-ton creatures that attack humans?”
As he spoke he sketched, something so common to his nature that Kat and Nick barely noticed, until Kat saw the easily recognizable shape of an alligator forming. She couldn’t stop giggling. Nick delighted in the sound. The week’s stress still seared his good spirits, making it difficult to breathe easily when Kat was out of his sight. Finally G. L. elicited the reason, turning red as Kat explained. “Drawing alligators shows a preoccupation with sex!”
She eventually settled down and answered his question. “Alligators seldom attack humans, unless provoked, of course. Dad has a license. Only specially licensed people can have live alligators.”
G. L. shook his head in despair. “Yeah, they’re special people all right.”
His dismay at her father’s retirement business was well known, right up there with his dislike of Florida’s official state reptile.
Chapter 24
Is a hypocrite a killer? Open ovals at the bottom of letters, leaving them unfinished, can be a sign of dishonesty. Is it a precursor of something even worse?
“The Little Giant Encyclopedia of Handwriting Analysis” by The Diagram Group
Fans billed the tournament a smashing success, and Ted Wright and Eric Jorgen had yet to warm up for the final match. Polished trophies nearby reflected the ordered chaos of the stands and awaited quietly for the contenders to resolve the championship.
The noise level of the crowd rose dramatically, in a friendly way, as the men jointly promenaded onto the court. The audience settled into a mayhem of cheers and jeers as the players themselves conformed to the standard practice shots and loosened their taut muscles.
Kat marveled at her luck since the disaster of opening days, and the nearby murder. Some would consider that enough turmoil for the whole tournament but she knew how much more could have gone wrong.
Ted’s Parcheesi ankle miraculously stayed a secret, and Jonathan’s “one too many” was shared only with close friends. Today’s match would propel the winner into the big leagues. The crowd knew it. Kat could hear them acknowledge it in excited restlessness. She sat quietly in the press box listening to the buzz. She stayed just long enough to check on the students and make sure all was in order for the match. It would be an easy day for them. One match, one champion. The doubles winners had been awarded yesterday. Today’s mania would be directed all to one man. Who would it be? Ted Wright? Eric Jorgen?
Kat raced up the bleachers at the last minute to snag the spot Maddy had saved her. Maddy arrived early and settled in, but lacked her usual aplomb, a frown marring her flawless face. The squeak and crackle of the old PA system erupted with the announcer’s first words. He declared a moment of silence. Before he could relate the opening information on the two players, the bump and grind of a strip tease act pierced its way into the crowds. The bawdy music startled most; horrified Kat. The crowds roared, fortunately with good spirit. Happy to grasp the momentum any way they could, Ted and Eric turned their racquets’ into stripper’s gear and stroked them back and forth behind their backs and swayed on court.
Instantly, the tennis player who had confessed to her earlier about the paint vandalism, leapt into action. He was over the upper railing and withdrew the risqué CD from the recorder attached to the PA system. Kat had barely made her way toward the problem when Terry bounded back to Kat.
“I owed you that one at least.” He grinned sheepishly as she raised her eyebrows. “I have no idea where it came from, but I assumed you didn’t want to entertain the fans with such lusty sounds.”
Kat sank back down, though the crowds didn’t oblige and do the same. “Thanks Terry. But what do you mean you owed me?”
“Detective Burrows told me how you put in a good word for me with campus security on that vandalism mess. Since I hadn’t actually done any of the painting, they didn’t suspend me from the team.”
Eventually the announcer’s voice could be heard over the chatter, though not what he sai
d. Fortunately, most people needed no introduction to today’s players. The umpire drew attention with his one-minute warning, and finally as silence prevailed, announced, “Commence play!”
Ted Wright and Eric Jorgen shed their warm-up suits and returned to center court to battle it out for the title.
Within minutes, the audience’s thoughts turned from the burlesque as Jorgen grabbed the spotlight with a few fierce serves and wouldn’t let go. Maddy agonized. The fans switched allegiance. The men toiled on the court.
Then Ted caught his stride. Allegiance was fickle; the crowd cheered. He was back on top again, with scarcely a change in score.
Jorgen, his rough-cut face and square-cut jaw looked hewn from steel as he launched a counter attack. Ted quickly developed a better feel for Jorgen’s serves. Worse for Jorgen, Ted’s second serve loomed as a big factor in this match.
As hypnotic as tennis could be, Kat only registered the play with half her brain. Her mind wandered from one calamity to another, from one victory to the next. It was a cornucopia for thought, where all the fruit ripened at different times, and sorry was the person who didn’t notice the rotting banana in the bottom.
The stands reverberated with feeling, bringing her out of her reverie as the spectators voiced their preference of players again. Maddy surged upward with the rest of them.
Kat nudged her. “There’s a code of conduct for tennis behavior and you’ve just violated Section Four, Article B.”
Maddy barely paid attention as she sat back and responded, “Oh brother, which rule is that? I’ve been watching so carefully that I didn’t pay any attention to what I was doing.”
“You shouted louder for your man than I could for mine.”
“What!?” Her head swiveled to her friend and back again to the court in seconds. “God, Kat, I thought you were serious. Besides, you better be rooting for Ted too. Isn’t he just the best?”
