“Thank you, doctor.”
I continued dialing Wolfgang until he finally returned my call on the cell.
“Your wife’s in the hospital,” I stated darkly.
“She’s where?”
“You heard me.”
“Is she okay? What happened?”
“No, she’s not okay. She has a concussion, bruises, maybe other serious stuff. They’re still checking her out. She fell down the stairs and she’s been trying to reach you ever since.”
“Oh, man. Oh, I’m so sorry, Gwyn. Really. I’ll be right over there.”
“Why didn’t you call her?”
“Oh-work. I don’t know. You’re right. I should have.”
“Yes, you sure should have. If not for me she might have lain there waiting for who knows how long.”
“Listen, Gwyn. It’s not what you think. She calls me every minute of every freakin’ day with something. If I called her back every time she called me I’d never get any work done.”
“Well, that’s still no excuse. Look what happened.”
“I know. You’re absolutely right. I’ll be right over.”
Fifteen minutes later he stepped through the sliding glass doors. I watched as he approached the desk and spoke with the nurse in charge. He acknowledged me with a raised hand as the woman before him pulled out forms and a clipboard with a pen attached. He walked over and took a seat beside me.
“I guess they’re putting her in a room pretty soon,” he said.
“Yes.” I looked him over. He wasn’t in his work clothes, but a pair of tan slacks and a brown leather jacket. I had to assume he’d taken the time to change at the house before coming over.
He studied the forms on his lap, flipping the pen between two fingers. “I need a coffee. You want one?”
“I guess. Sure.”
He stood and looked down at me, and I could see the impression of his muscular thighs bulging beneath his slacks.
“How do you like it?”
“What?”
“Your coffee. How do you like it?”
“Oh, cream and sugar. But don’t bother. I can get it.”
“Don’t worry about it. How much sugar?”
“Just a little, a spoon.”
He stepped over to the coffee machine.
He made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like being alone with him, especially being this near to him. Could this be the man who’d killed my sister? I’d never bothered to try and figure the guy out, or to look behind the obvious flirtatiousness to see what might be lurking there.
Wolfgang held the Styrofoam cup toward me. “It’s hot. Be careful.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.”
He sat down and scooted his chair closer to mine, then balanced the clipboard on his knee. With a half smile, he leaned in toward me. “Tell me why in this age of instant information we still have to fill out these idiotic things.”
“I don’t know. Guess they need updated information.”
“Yeah, guess so.” He bent forward and began filling in the blanks.
After a minute, I glanced over his shoulder. “So, what is it they need to know so badly?”
He turned to face me. “Boy, you must be bored.”
“No. Just asking.”
“You sure are a funny gal. Now don’t take this wrong, because I’m just asking. But I get the feeling you don’t like me very much.”
“What?”
“Hey, it’s okay. I can see you’re a very private person. You don’t warm up to people that easy. I’m a little that way myself. Not everybody can take my sense of humor. And … maybe there’s something about me that kinda turns you off. I don’t expect everybody to like me. It’s not a problem.”
“I don’t dislike you, Wolfgang. I don’t. I just don’t know you very well. I’m sorry if you got that impression.”
“Okay, that’s fair.”
“But I do worry about Linda. You didn’t call her back when she needed you. That upset me very much. And she absolutely refused to let me call her an ambulance.”
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, she should have. What, you think I’d care? If she’s hurt, for sure I want her to call somebody.”
I studied his body language. He appeared sincere, but there was something glib and rehearsed about his answers, as if he’d already anticipated the questions. “Will you excuse me for a minute?” I said. “I need to call Trevor and tell him what’s going on.”
“Sure thing.”
I walked a short way down the corridor, then dialed my cell. Trevor didn’t answer, so I left a message explaining everything and telling him to drop by the hospital on his way home, or if that wasn’t possible, I’d see him later. I stopped to use the restroom, and when I returned to the front desk, Wolfgang was gone.
The nurse motioned me over. “Mrs. Lehman is in a room now if you’d like to make a short visit.”
“Yes, I would.”
She gave me the room number and directions.
Linda and Wolfgang were talking softly as I entered the private room. Wolfgang was seated close to the head of the bed, his hand gently stroking Linda’s hair. Though still sickly looking, Linda seemed happier.
“Hi, pumpkin,” I said. “I stopped to use the restroom or I would have been here sooner. Of course, they only announce anything when you’re not available. How are you feeling?” I pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed from Wolfgang.
“Better now. Tired though.”
Wolfgang looked over to me. “We have to keep it short. The doc just stuck his head in and doesn’t want her getting too tired. I told him you were on your way.”
“What did he say? Is she okay? Did they find anything internal?”
“No, she’s fine. Concussion and bruises, some scrapes. They’ll probably let her out tomorrow. She’s tough.” He patted her arm.
Linda smiled weakly at Wolfgang, then turned to me. “It was so stupid. I was moving some boxes and I tripped. I dropped the box, but missed the handrail. It happened so fast.”
“You have to be more careful,” I said.
“Oh, I know. I don’t want to come here again. Gwyn, could you call the club, let them know I won’t make my tennis lesson?”
“Of course.”
She sighed. “I’ll have to ask the doctor when I can play again, and Thanksgiving’s coming up.”
“Don’t worry about all that,” I said. “Just get well.”
A few minutes later a nurse appeared in the doorway and shooed us out.
Wolfgang hurried alongside me down the hall. “She’s out of it,” he said. “But she’ll be okay.”
“Yeah.”
It was already dark outside the double doors of the hospital. A raw icy wind had kicked up its heels, and I stopped to button my jacket before heading out. Wolfgang waited for me, then walked with me across the parking lot to our cars. I called Trevor again, but no answer, so I left another message, told him I was leaving the hospital and not to come by.
Trevor’s Cadillac was parked in the driveway when I pulled in. I walked inside, noticing a fire in the fireplace as I hung up my coat. A clinking of plates and silverware came from the kitchen. “Trevor?”
“In here, my tired girl.”
He smiled as I stepped into the kitchen.
“You’re cooking?” I asked.
He finished placing silverware on the table, then came over and hugged me. “I felt bad about not making it over to the hospital. So I thought you might like dinner-a-la-Trevor as an apology.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“How’s your sister doing? Okay?”
“She’s hurting, but she’ll be okay. I didn’t really expect you to make it to the hospital. I knew you’d come if you could.” I squeezed him closer still. “What a day. How was yours?”
“All right, except for your news. I w
as in a meeting when I got your message. I wanted to call back, but I had to play happy, I-have-no-other-life, Realtor. You know how it is.”
“Mm-hmm.” I sniffed the air. “So what did Chef Trevor prepare for dinner tonight?”
“Well, I had big plans in the beginning, thought maybe I’d try something gourmet. I actually looked through a couple of your cookbooks for ideas. But that scared me off, so instead we’re having broiled chicken with a really awesome barbecue sauce, plus a baked potato and a salad. I still have to make the salad. You got here sooner than I thought you would.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No. No you won’t. I’m looking for hefty paybacks in the form of sizzling female flesh. Whoa, hang on a minute. Need to add a log to that fire, I think. Don’t want it to die down too quick.”
I laughed as he hustled from the room.
When dinner was ready, he pulled out my chair and brought our plates to the table. He actually wasn’t a bad cook. The chicken was done, not raw or overcooked, as was the potato. Of course, at that moment, it didn’t matter to me one bit how it tasted. I wouldn’t think of criticizing his efforts.
He lit a candle for the table and turned down the lights, and by the time we’d moved to the living room and the hypnotic warmth of the fire, I was ready to love Trevor again, the way I’d loved him in the past, before I’d discovered Kelly’s letter.
Chapter 5
The drive to Denver was bleak. Rain turned quickly to sleet, a heavy slushy mess that my windshield wipers struggled hopelessly to remove. I strained to see the road, slowing to just under fifty, made more nervous as other less intimidated drivers flew by on Route 70 hurling splatters of the heavy stuff against the van.
I’d rented a large cargo van to carry all of my artwork and the panels I would display it on. The Jeep was just too small. Unfortunately, I didn’t expect to be driving with an unfamiliar vehicle in such nasty weather. Still, it would take a lot more than bad driving conditions for me to cancel. I’d arranged this particular mall exhibition at Vista Meadows a year in advance, before the mall was even completed. An art agent I’d met at one of Linda’s parties had mentioned that the new mall would be a good opportunity for newer artists, if they moved quickly.
I’d brought twenty pieces to display, a feat, considering all the setbacks in the past two weeks. Eight of the paintings were new. I also had a large stack of four-color brochures I’d designed which had turned out really spectacular, and a nice looking mauve plastic name tag with my name in gold.
It would be late afternoon by the time I arrived at my hotel, enough time to have dinner, then call and make sure all the arrangements I’d made earlier, and confirmed by phone, had not somehow been lost in the shuffle of changing mall personnel.
As much as I wanted to do this show, I didn’t like the idea of leaving when things were so unsettled. They’d discharged Linda from the hospital on Thursday, yesterday, and I’d visited her at home and brought her favorite pastries and other treats, along with lots of sympathy. Each time I asked her about the accident, as subtly as I could considering her tendency to close up on me, I got the same response. She’d tripped on the stairs. She said again she hadn’t been able to reach Wolfgang and she didn’t want the neighbors asking a lot of nosy questions, so she’d called me. Simple as that.
I’d made a decision to show Linda the letter as soon as she recovered. I suspected Wolfgang was the one responsible for Kelly’s murder, but I had no answer as to why. At the time Kelly died, Linda and Wolfgang had been married for a year and a half, certainly sufficient time for him to get to know Kelly fairly well. Maybe something had been going on. Was he afraid that Kelly would expose the affair and jeopardize his marriage to Linda? No, that didn’t seem reasonable. Wolfgang had to know that Linda wouldn’t leave him. Not for any reason. Not as crazy as she was about him.
Kelly had mentioned a box … that he may have found the box. This box must certainly be the clue that tied everything together. Could Kelly have stumbled onto something, some secret Wolfgang didn’t want revealed? Or possibly, Kelly, with her habit of writing everything down, had put what she’d learned into the box, and Wolfgang had found that. Or maybe not. Maybe it was something entirely different. What was so important about this box?
I worried about showing the letter to Linda. I worried that she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut, that she’d either intentionally or accidentally reveal the contents of it to Wolfgang. Then the both of us would be at risk.
The sky was the same dull gray and still sleeting when I pulled the van into the parking lot of the four-story Bingham hotel. I folded a newspaper to cover my head, then stepped outside the van and peered through the rear windows. None of my artwork appeared to have seriously shifted. I’d protected it well.
The van came equipped with an alarm system, so I wasn’t too worried about theft. Plus, it seemed to be a good area of town, though I’d never been on this side of Denver before. Tonight, after the mall closed for business, I’d drive over and set up for tomorrow.
I checked into the hotel and took the elevator to the second floor. The place wasn’t exactly new or exactly old. Its best quality as far as I was concerned was its proximity to the mall, just a few miles away.
The elevator doors opened and I stepped out onto plush green carpet framed by walls of pale mint. I found my room number, inserted the keycard into the slot, which signaled green and allowed me to enter.
The room was decent enough, continuing the green motif of the hall, patterned spread on the king-size bed, ginger jar lamps, telephone. I pitched my suitcase onto the bed, then sat down to use the phone. I called home first. Trevor wasn’t there, so I left a message, said I’d arrived safely, the weather was crummy here too, that I was starving and thirsty-and lastly-that I loved him. I told him I’d call later in the evening. I left a similar message on his cell phone
I ordered room service, turkey sandwich and tomato soup, then lay back on the bed and tried to relax.
The hotel was on the northeast edge of Denver, not so far from downtown that I couldn’t sightsee if I had more time. It had been three years since I’d made a trip to Denver purely for pleasure. Kelly had been with me. We’d visited the Denver Art Museum, exploring the many wings of the huge free-form structure. Since then the museum had added an entire floor devoted to European paintings and textiles. I wanted to see them, but it would have to wait until another time. I tried to remember why Linda hadn’t come along on that trip, some excuse, but she’d rarely joined me if Kelly was invited.
My snack arrived and after I finished it I checked my voicemail for messages. I had only one since I’d last looked, the time given, eleven a.m. I didn’t recognize the number, though it seemed vaguely familiar. And then it clicked … Josh.
“Hi, Gwyn. It’s just me. I said I would call and here I am, calling. I’m over at my mom’s again, a short trip only, but since I’m in town I thought of you and our lunch date in Aspen. I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. I’m bored as hell here. I love the family, but I can only eat, sleep, and yak with them so much. Are you very busy? Could you drop whatever you’re doing and meet me for a drink? I realize this could be awkward, but we are old friends, more than old friends. I got the feeling last time that there’s more we need to talk about. I could anyway. So, give me a jingle.”
He’d left his mother’s number and his cell phone. I checked the time. It was now five-thirty. He sounded nervous and needy and I could have punched myself if I thought it would do any good. Look what I’d done.
I debated returning his call. Rude if I didn’t, considering I’d given him my number though he hadn’t asked for it. Of course, maybe he wouldn’t answer and I could leave a short message, tell him I was out of town, thank him for the call, and leave it at that. Then let a week go by. He’d get the idea. He was no idiot.
I moved to the edge of the bed, thinking, contemplating the phone. I picked up the receiver and dialed. It rang once, twice, and just as I was
about to believe it would all work out, he answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Josh. It’s Gwyn.”
“Oh-well great. I’m glad I picked up the phone. I’m in my car.”
“I got your message, a little late. I just got it now.”
“Oh, well I’m glad you called. I didn’t think I’d be in town again so soon, but I am.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong? Oh, you mean my mother? No, she’s fine. They’re all fine. No, my sister’s getting married, and at first I didn’t think I’d be able to make it, but I did. The wedding’s tomorrow. You want to be my date?”
Before I could answer, he continued. “I’m kidding, of course. It’s that whole church, morals thing. You know, married woman, single man. My family is so not with it. I don’t give a damn, but they might.”
He had me laughing now.
“Oh, Josh. So, which sister is it?”
“Amy.”
“Well, give her my congratulations.”
“I will. Say … do you have a minute? For that drink, I mean.”
“Would you believe I’m in Denver?”
“You are? No. Why?”
“A good reason. A big solo exhibition at a mall.”
“I see.” Then sounding happier, he said, “That’s great. Are you done for the day?”
“No. No, it doesn’t start until tomorrow. I set up tonight after the mall closes.”
“Which mall?”
“I don’t think you’d know it. Vista Meadows. New, kind of classy, I guess.”
“No, I don’t know it. But I’ll be going to the airport on Sunday. I have some business in Denver. Maybe I can stop by.”
“Well, I guess you could,” I said, hesitating, “but I won’t have much time to talk. I’ll be busy trying to sell.”
“Then maybe I’ll buy something. I haven’t seen anything you’ve done in a while. Are you expensive?”
“If I don’t sell anything Saturday, the prices could get a lot lower by Sunday.”
Her Last Letter Page 6
