by Steve Richer
He truly felt as if he was finally coming out the other side of his breakdown.
So maybe it was even time to put himself back out into the job market, rather than existing day to day on freelance scraps. He had qualifications, he had a lot of experience, and he still had some good connections.
He looked every so often. Guilty moments with the jobs websites, like that night Libbie had come around and asked him what he had on his laptop. Guilty because he’d never mentioned to Alice that he was looking, for fear of the desperately eager look she would get on her face as she grasped at the hope he was finally getting back to normal.
And there was a difference between those guilty checks to see what you were missing out on, and what was in his head now, the resolve that now was the time to take the next step.
He pulled up in the yard behind Alice’s car. She’d said she was going into the office, but maybe that had been too much to face.
He felt briefly guilty again, that he should feel so buoyant when things around them were going so wrong, and when Alice’s own career was in danger of nosediving. Would she think he was trying to reassert himself, taking the opportunity of her difficulties to make himself the main breadwinner again?
They would talk it through. She would understand. They were good when they were a team, he reminded himself.
He climbed out of the car.
Why was the front door open like that?
Had she just gotten home? Left the door so she could come back to get something from her Ford?
“Alice?”
He went inside. No sign of her.
“Alice? Sweetie?”
She was in the kitchen. Slumped over the big table as if she’d fallen asleep in the chair.
He went to her. He knew it wasn’t right as soon as he’d spotted her.
“Alice?”
He crouched by the chair. Put a hand to the side of her face, felt that familiar clammy heat. Her breathing was shallow, her pulse fast.
He saw the diabetes paraphernalia on the table. The discarded syringe.
She’d given herself a shot of glucagon, so why hadn’t it worked? Why was she in full-blown hypoglycemic shock?
Had she been too late? The shot should still have helped. Had she just applied it, in which case it was just a matter of time before it kicked in?
He knew the procedure. If he’d been with her throughout he’d know exactly what she’d tried so far and what he could do, but walking into the middle of it, he could only assess what was before him and make the call to 911.
He’d been through this with her before, but not for a couple of years. That experience didn’t make this any less scary, though.
And he knew the risks.
He couldn’t imagine a life without Alice. A life where he was no longer part of that team.
He fished his cellphone out of a pocket and was just about to key the numbers when he heard the wail of an approaching siren. He went to the kitchen window and saw an ambulance swinging into the yard.
Had she called herself? He hadn’t noticed her phone among the clutter on the table. Maybe she’d dropped it on the floor.
He went to the front door, swinging it open just as the first paramedic was reaching for the bell.
“Sir? Can you tell us where it is? We’re responding to a call about a possible fatality. Can you tell us where the body is located?”
His mind went blank and he stared stupidly at the man.
Finally, he managed to say, “Body?!”
He glanced back toward the kitchen. Alice had been breathing!
“She’s through here,” he said. “My wife. She’s in hypoglycemic shock. Appears to have given herself a shot of glucagon, but there’s no sign of recovery as yet. Through here, in the kitchen.”
The emergency technician pushed through, a heavy bag swinging from one shoulder. A second paramedic loitered outside.
Body? Tom’s mind still raced. He didn’t understand.
From the kitchen, the first man called out, “Hey, Joey. Would you bring the gurney? We got a hypoglycemic shock, danger of full-blown hypo coma.”
Tom felt sick. The other paramedic met his look, nodded reassuringly, then turned to open up the back of the ambulance.
And then stopped.
“Hey, Dwayne. You might want to come and see this.”
“Ugh?”
“I think I found the body, Dwayne.”
Another reference to a body… What was going on?
Tom hesitated, knowing his place was at Alice’s side. Then he went out and joined the other EMT where he had paused at the corner of the house.
A motionless body lay just beyond the step. The man’s legs were twisted. A big pool of vividly red blood had spread out from around his head.
It looked like Walter, but he couldn’t be sure.
What had happened here?! Had Walter and Alice fought? Had that somehow triggered Alice’s hypo?
Was it even a hypo? Had she been hurt too?
Tom turned and rushed back into the house.
The other paramedic was still tending to Alice. He flashed a look at Tom. “Listen, mister,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you have to just keep out of the way right now, you hear me? We have this lady to help and whatever my partner’s dealing with out there. The cops are on their way.”
“My wife. That’s my wife.”
“Okay, bud. Whatever. Let’s just keep this calm, okay?”
Tom understood. There had clearly been some kind of incident outside—they didn’t know yet if it was an accident. The EMT didn’t know if violence had taken place, and here was Tom behaving erratically.
He felt as if he was going to burst with the injustice, and with the frustration. Still, he had to stay calm, do the right thing for Alice. He couldn’t afford for the paramedics to be distracted right now.
He nodded, raising his hands, palms facing out. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay back here. I’ll wait for the cops. Just do what you have to do for my wife, okay?”
The paramedic nodded and turned his attention back to checking Alice over.
When they arrived, the police officers treated him like a suspect.
“I don’t even know what’s happened,” he protested. “I just got back. I saw my wife’s car here, came in and found her like this. She’s diabetic. She’s in hypoglycemic shock.”
The officer paused to glance at the EMT, who nodded in confirmation.
“I didn’t even see anyone else was here,” Tom went on. “Not until the other paramedic shouted. What’s happened out there?”
“Guy hit his head,” said the cop. “Or had it hit. We’re open to all possibilities right now.”
“My God.” It still hadn’t sunk in. “I think I know him. I think that’s Walter Jones. Works with my wife at Pierson Newport. I don’t know what he’d be doing here, though.”
The two paramedics had lifted Alice onto a gurney now and were preparing to take her out of the house. Another team had turned up to deal with Walter outside.
“Listen,” Tom began “I understand you have to look at all possibilities here. But that’s my wife they’re just about to wheel out. I need to be with her. When she comes out of this, she’s going to be disoriented. She needs me.”
He didn’t think the cop was going to let him go. For long seconds, the guy stared at him, then he shrugged, and said, “Gimme a minute.”
Tom watched him go outside and talk to another officer. There was some gesturing, some more shrugging, then the first cop came back. “Okay, Mr. Granger. You go with your wife. We’ll take care of things here. We’ll need to talk to you later.”
“Thank you, officer.” Tom nodded toward the side of the house. “What happened out there?”
“We’ve yet to ascertain that. But you folks really should take more care of your garden implements.”
Tom didn’t try to work out the cryptic comment. He was too concerned with Alice.
He watched as
the paramedics wheeled her up through the back doors of the ambulance, and then, at a nod from one of them, he stepped in after her.
She looked pale as paper, apart from the heavy shadows under her eyes. Her skin looked slack, her breathing shallow.
He’d never seen her looking so sick.
And he’d never been so scared in his life.
Chapter 31
Libbie hung back. She desperately wanted to get involved, put herself at the middle of the drama. Not just so she could hear what they were saying and assure herself she’d not made any mistakes.
But simply to be there.
There’s nothing quite like the buzz of life or death drama.
Alice going into shock.
Walter. Too late to save him.
Alice could easily die too. Should.
How funny for her to go into shock like that and give herself what she thought was a life-saving injection of… water.
And Libbie had done all of it.
She was good. Very, very good.
She forced herself to stay away though. Now was not the time to draw attention to herself. She knew Tom and Alice had turned against her. She would have to tread carefully.
And that meant holding back rather than getting involved.
So she hung back at Zak’s. Ordered a coffee and sat at one of the four small tables at the bakery. Watched out of the window as the ambulance rushed past, then two police cars, and finally another ambulance.
That seemed a lot for an accident and a blood sugar drama. Had they worked out already that Walter hadn’t just tripped and hit his head? That would sure spoil the fun.
She sipped her coffee. No rush.
Sometime later, one of the ambulances passed the other way.
Body or Alice? she wondered. Dead creep or Mrs. Boring?
There was only one way to find out.
At last, she allowed herself to stand and head outside. She’d parked out back and now she went around, climbed inside the dull, suburban Toyota and set off for home.
The cops had blocked off the drive, so she parked in the street behind Walter’s Hyundai. A big officer built like a linebacker stopped her as she approached.
“You have business here, Miss?” he said.
She gave him her best wide-eyed innocent smile, with a hint of not-at-all-innocent pout. “Why, I live here, officer. What’s going on?”
He was thrown, as she’d known he would be. That pout, the way she’d walked up to him, the way she stood, arms folded, framing her breasts. Even now she was unable to resist the easy old games.
“Miss, I’m afraid you can’t go in here right now.”
She liked the way he called her Miss, and not Ma’am.
“But officer!” She gazed past him, saw the cluster of uniformed emergency workers on the path to her apartment. “Oh my… What’s happened? Who is that? I live here, in the basement apartment. Are Tom and Alice Granger okay? This is their house.”
“The Grangers are fine,” the officer said. “I mean… Mr. Granger’s okay. Mrs. Granger was taken to the hospital. She just went in an ambulance. Both of them did, but it’s Mrs. Granger who’s in a bad shape.”
“Oh dear. Will she be okay?”
Libbie put the back of a hand to her forehead, all B movie melodrama. She shouldn’t be enjoying it this much, should she?
“I’m afraid I can’t comment.” He’d clearly just realized he’d said too much already.
“So who’s that?”
“Ma’am. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask if you have anywhere else to go right now. We’ll contact you when it’s okay to return.”
Ma’am now. So he was getting formal, trying to assert his authority. But the good thing was that they didn’t seem to be treating this with any great urgency, or suspicion. Already the other police cruiser was reversing out of the driveway. They didn’t seem to be in any rush to get a statement from Libbie, or question her.
“Ma’am?”
“Oh yes, sorry. It’s just all such a shock. I have errands to run in town. I can be out for a couple of hours. Would that be long enough? I’ll give you my number. Just be sure to call me.” She hesitated, then batted her eyes and added, “Any time.”
He blushed and looked away.
Such fun.
~ ~ ~ ~
Late afternoon, she turned up at the hospital.
She wasn’t sure about this. It could go one of two ways. Tom might take one look at her and demand she leave, his and Alice’s suspicions about Libbie bursting out into the open in the drama of the situation.
Or he would be polite.
He looked up, interrupting that perfect tableau of Alice flat out in her hospital bed and him sitting at her side, clutching her hand.
After a moment of hesitation, he nodded and stood.
“Libbie,” he said. “You must have heard.”
“How is she?” she said, moving into the room. “How are you?”
He shrugged, looked away. He still seemed hesitant, so she stepped it up a level.
“Oh, Tom,” she said. “This must be so awful for you.”
She spread her arms, and he let her hug him. He was too polite not to. There was a moment of resistance, even then, and finally she felt his frame slump, and his arms go around her.
“Is she going to be okay?”
He stepped back, nodding. “I think so,” he told her. “I hope so.”
This was good. Libbie could see the guilt etched onto his features now. He felt bad about doubting her, about judging her. He couldn’t believe anything bad about someone who stood here before him like this, clearly so full of sympathy and empathy.
Libbie had always been good at faking those.
“I was out at yoga,” she told him. “When I got back, there were cops all over the place. I thought there had been some kind of massacre.”
More guilt on his features. Had he forgotten about Walter? The dead body in his garden?
“They kept me away from my apartment for a few hours. I thought of coming straight here, but I figured you guys would need time to yourself. I didn’t realize…” She nodded toward Alice. “I thought Alice would be… awake.”
“It’s kind of you to come. It must have been awful for you to find all that when you got home.”
It was lovely that he felt so guilty for how this might have affected her! He really did take the polite option to extremes, particularly when only the night before he’d been telling his wife how awful Libbie was.
“She’s going to be okay, though?”
He nodded, a little more confidently this time. “Yes. Yes, everyone says so. It’s the most horrible thing, going through this with someone you love. The thought of losing them.”
Libbie gave him her best sympathy look. She put a hand on his arm and he didn’t flinch. Every move she made was a test.
“You’re not going to lose her,” she said. “You’re pulling through this. Alice is. And if you need anything, well, I’m here for you.”
He even smiled at that. He really did struggle to think badly of Libbie in her presence.
“Listen, Tom. You must have been here for hours. I bet you haven’t left Alice’s side, have you? Why don’t you take a break now? Get some fresh air. Make any calls you should be making. Get yourself something to eat. I know you might not feel like that now, but you have to look after yourself too. Alice would want it. And you have to be well if you’re going to look after her.”
Still he hesitated.
“Go on. You know it makes sense. Look, I’ll stay here so she’s not alone. I’ve got my phone. The moment she stirs, I promise I’ll call.”
Even before he’d left the room, Libbie had moved to take his place in the chair at Alice’s bedside.
And as she’d moved, she’d been assessing everything.
The view from the doorway.
The heart monitor. It was switched to silent, but the trace across the small screen showed that it was connected and working. The
moment it started to flatline, alarms would be triggered at the nearest nursing station.
Alice herself had not moved, other than the rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped slightly to one side.
An IV line ran from the back of one wrist up to a bag of saline suspended from a support by the bed.
Was that old thing about air bubbles in an IV line being fatal an old wives’ tale? She didn’t think so, but didn’t know how fast—or painful—it would be.
A knife, run quickly across the throat to sever jugular, windpipe, and carotid would be the surest thing. But messy.
She remembered the flood flowing from Walter’s head wound earlier.
Felt that thrill all over again.
She shouldn’t get carried away. Not when she’d reached this far!
She stood, paused to check the doorway again to make sure she was alone with Alice and not likely to be disturbed.
Then she reached for a spare pillow that lay on another chair by the bed.
Simple was nearly always best.
“Alice?” she said, as she stood poised, the pillow raised. “Alice are you awake?”
She didn’t expect anything. It was worth a try, though.
And then, all of Libbie’s Christmases came at once, as Alice’s eyes fluttered, opened, briefly found focus.
“Oh, Alice,” said Libbie.
She smiled, leaned closer, and even in that instant, Alice drifted out of consciousness again. She lowered the pillow toward Alice, and—
She heard a scuff of feet. In a single flowing movement, she kept going, reaching for Alice’s head to raise it as she tucked the pillow beneath.
Ignoring the presence in the doorway, she straightened, smiled, and said, “There you are, dear Alice. That should make you a little more comfortable.”
She turned, and saw a man in a scruffy suit standing there, studying her closely. What had he seen?
She smiled. Said, “Doctor…?”
The guy shook his head and came into the room. “Not Doc,” he said. “Detective. Malwitz. And you must be…?”
“Libbie Burchett,” she said. The guy was hard to read. Dark eyes that never stayed still. “Can I help you?”
“I came to see Mrs. Granger,” he said. “Or Mister.”
