She hung up, looking a bit mystified. “Voice mail means she’s probably overwhelmed. Maybe decided to have a nervous breakdown.”
David poured wine into two glasses, looking thoughtful. “Time to relax,” he said. “Try.”
They moved their dinner to the living room coffee table and couch. The wine was wonderful, and the pasta, aromatic with magic spices bringing forgetfulness. They’d been famished.
“Delicious, glad I had this idea,” David joked, and Jill smiled and smacked his arm. Jesse slept just feet away, his crib a permanent fixture in their small living room. Ditto his toys, crowding the shelves and the rug, a minefield of colored little things that squeaked if you stepped on them. Jill kept threatening to clean, and David kept saying, What for?
They turned on the news, curling up together.
Feuding politicians, floods in Colorado, a volcano erupting somewhere…and suddenly, “This just in!” blared a graphic, dissolving to excited crowds lining a lit sidewalk, then a close-up of a sign over what looked like a bar, and a voiceover saying, “…called Blue. Blue for police and for the Blues this cop band plays, according to a spokesman. Crowds are still waiting to get inside, already jammed with” – switch to interior shots – “partiers crowding the small dance floor, and the bar packed with supporters of Reid Wylie, who has maintained his innocence in the Merrill/Jarrett murders, and insisted on making his twice-a-week appearance.”
“Well lookey there,” David said softly, leaning forward.
Jill blinked and stared.
The picture switched to dimness, and there filling the screen was the rangy, spot-lit figure, his tousled head down, his harmonica cupped to his mouth, blowing low, sexy chords and just ending a number.
Eruption. Flashbulbs. “Hey Reiiid!”… “Yo, man!”… “Yesss!” went the crowd. Breasts jiggled and torsos swayed in boogie rhythm. The band guys waved and blew kisses, then joined Reid for a blasting short encore.
Jill still stared, holding her wine glass. “He is good.” Then she hesitated. “Can’t beat lurid headlines to make you an instant super celeb.”
David nodded. “The red-hottest scandal for people tired of the old ones.”
They watched Wylie’s harmonica come away, and his arm gesture theatrically to a table in front.
“I’d like to call up my wife,” Reid said huskily to the mike. A spotlight searched, and, to whistles and cheers, found an embarrassed Deborah Wylie sitting with Robin Abel and a smiling, applauding Eric Rennie.
“Oh,” Jill said dryly. “Guess Deborah’s not having a breakdown.”
They watched her hug Robin and Eric, then unsteadily ascend the stage past the grinning band to Reid, who pulled her close and kissed her full on the mouth.
Squeals and swoons. Look how he adores her! Him, hurt anyone? Cell phones flashed; camcorders whirred. Deborah, looking flustered, touched the mike self-consciously.
“Thank you, all of you,” she said soulfully, “for your support during this difficult time. I love my husband. I’m behind him all the way, and we feel such joy knowing that you are, too.”
The picture showed Robin and Eric Rennie cheering as she left the stage. A rhythmical handclapping started: “We’re with you, we’re with you…” as Reid signaled the band, who hit their guitars. His smoke-house voice started Mona, an old blues song David recognized. “Moan-a-a,” Reid sang, really dragging it out, and the house was back to jiving, loving it. He raised his harmonica, and a final shot caught Deborah on her feet, smiling, taking his picture.
“The proud wife,” Jill exhaled as the TV quieted, switched to a Jeep ad.
David’s dark blue eyes turned darker as he frowned at the flickering images, looking thoughtful again.
They were nearly asleep when his phone by his head buzzed.
“Light blue.” Mary Brown told him in excitement. “Really light blue.”
“Meaning, penicillin was present.” David held his phone and moved closer to Jill on the pillow. In the dimness, her eyes opened wide.
“I’ll say. Penicillin like, gangbusters. It floats before it doesn’t.” Mary sounded thrilled to be part of this. “And if it dropped that much in that pipe, there must’ve been more that just swooshed past. You know, it didn’t hit until after you two left. Is this about the Jody Merrill case? I loved that show.”
David thanked her and speed-dialed Ted Connor, who sounded bad, going on his nerves. Groaned that he was still at his desk, going through evidence and party guest interviews and getting nowhere.
“So there was penicillin in that damned glass. It got rinsed and the stuff went beyond the trap.”
“Looks like it.”
“Whoa, they missed it, this is incredible. Our lab hasn’t gotten the results from your connector pipe yet.” Connor pulled in a deep, exhausted breath. “So – oh hell - if Jody was poisoned at home, it could have been someone not at the party.”
“Or someone there who followed her home.”
“And if it wasn’t Arender – we think it was - this expands the suspects past sixty party guests. That’s great. Just great.”
“But no forced entry,” David said. “It was someone Jody trusted, which narrows it back down.”
“Maybe not. Zienuc’s been thinking it could have been someone not even in our radar. Or some writer at the door mad but fake-begging Jody to take back what she said about him being a hack because the baby needs new shoes. And they argued - or, hell, it could have been someone from her old coke days. She was upset and wanted coke again. Prove it wasn’t a dealer, mad because she’d blown him off, no pun.”
David touched Jill’s cheek. Her eyes were grim in the dimness. Her long, dark hair spilled over the pillow, and she had her fist to her mouth.
On the other end, Connor was sounding beyond frustrated. “We’ve got nothing concrete on anyone. Reid Wylie’s circumstantial and even Arender’s circumstantial – we’ve got him for Break and Entry but we can’t pin him to the night of the murder. We’re nowhere. Dead end.”
“Interview him tomorrow. His surgery went well, no permanent brain damage. He may be able to talk.”
“Well, my brain’s stopped working. Zienuc just fell asleep with his face in his papers.”
“Where are Kerri and Alex?”
“Upstairs sleeping.”
“Join them.”
“I still like Arender for this! No way he didn’t do it!”
“Come tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
“I think I will. Thanks. And big thanks for your find in that connector pipe. That’s really something. Wait ‘till the CSU hears about this. Why don’t you officially join the police force?”
David hung up and put his arm over Jill. She had rolled onto her back, staring as if haunted at the shadowy ceiling. “So it was the glass in the sink,” she whispered. “Jody still loved Reid…charming, dazzling Reid. Could he be the killer after all?”
She complained of feeling chilled, full of dread. David spent the next fifteen minutes trying to calm her.
32
Somehow she slept, but her feeling of cold dread continued the next morning through patient rounds. Six healthy babies born during the night. Six new moms, relieved to hear David pronounce them in good shape, fascinated to watch him – the handsome face they’d seen in the news - teach his interns, residents, and third year med students on rotation. A big rounds group today. TVs in the rooms burbled low. There’d been nothing new on the Merrill/Jarrett murders, just the same file tapes shown over and over, and there was scant interest in watching Reid Wylie perform.
“He looks conceited,” one of the mothers said, making a face; and another new mom, watching him kiss Deborah before his mike, said, “That looks so stagey. I think he did it.”
She was happier talking about her beautiful new daughter.
Later, as the group stood in the hall hearing David discuss antibiotics and uterine infections, Deborah Wylie called.
Jill’s heart clenched as she stepped away to answer.<
br />
“I can’t believe this.” Deborah was upset. “Jay arrested? For break and entry? What in God’s name was he doing?”
“Using a crowbar to get into Jody’s apartment,” Jill said, deadpan. “Was looking for something, apparently.” In her call last night she’d said nothing about diamonds. Now went into slight detail about Arender’s injury - bashed by me, ha - adding that he could be visited today.
“So soon after surgery?”
“Yes.” Jill caught David’s eye. They had anticipated Deborah returning Jill’s call. Had laid out a plan.
“I’m calling from the office,” Deborah said. “Should I…tell the others? We’ve been wondering why Jay didn’t show up.”
We meant Reid too. Was he listening? Had he instructed the little wife what to say?
Jill said yes, tell the others. “Would you like to visit?”
“Oh…yes.”
“Come around two.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe a little after. Jay’s woozy from meds. He’ll be clearer by then.”
Oh, this was good. They had the cops coming at one and the lawyers at two. When they’d awakened, David had called first thing to check on Arender’s status. He was doing well, neurologically fine including his restored sight. David had next called Kerri and Alex, telling them one o’clock was good, don’t come before then. It had been his idea: keep them all at bay until he and Jill had their own go at Arender, who wasn’t about to talk to the police, and would be guarded to the max with Deborah and anyone else she spread the word to in their tangled, showbiz web.
“I saw you on TV last night,” Jill said to Deborah. “Nice. Great moment when Reid kissed you before the cameras.”
“Oh don’t remind me, I was a wreck. Reid had to drag me to that thing, never said he was going to call me up to the stage.” A hesitation that sounded pained. “He’s flamboyant. I’m not.”
He’s also a manipulator. “So you make a good mix. You balance each other.”
Deborah groaned. “I don’t know…” There was a pause at the other end. She said something to somebody, and a door closed. Then she came back to the phone.
“I…” A troubled sigh. “Jill, you mentioned you once went through anxiety, depression.”
“Depression, mostly.”
“Did you ever have panic attacks?”
“No, just the depression.”
“I’ve been having them, the…attacks. They’re horrible. I can’t seem to shake this thing.” There was a stifled sob in her voice. “Depression, anxiety… I feel pulverized. It’s hard to move, even.”
Jill really felt for the woman. “You will recover,” she said in her most gentle, bolstering voice. “Everyone goes through horrible times. Do you have someone you can talk to? Someone who isn’t going to there-there you, but give real psychological help?”
“I did. I’m going to go back to him. A really good shrink in the Village. Otherwise, well, it’s comforting talking to you.”
“I hope so. We can speak more – give me a call when you come?”
“I will. Thanks…so much.” Deborah started to weep. She was suddenly hard to hear.
“David’s comforting, too,” Jill said into the unhappy silence. “We may both be available, or just me.”
“You are so, so lucky. Can I call you my friend?”
“Yes, of course.” Jill’s voice was gentle, warm. “I’m here for you. Call when you get here.”
She hung up, and stared for a moment at an empty wheelchair. She took a deep breath, and turned.
Ramu Chitkara was discussing Lasix and Magnesium Sulfate with some interns. Tricia, Woody and Gary Phipps were bitching to each other about having been up all night, and Charlie Ortega was asking a nurse about something in her notes. The group emitted a tired, droning sound. They were exhausted, facing a long day ahead, and it was only nine a.m.
David detached tensely from the group. “All lined up?” he asked low, referring to their plan.
Jill nodded with something close to a smirk. “Arender’s visitors will be making appearances like a stage play, one actor at a time.” Then she quickly described her discussion with Deborah. “Bad. She sounds ready to crack.”
He made a pained sound. Started to say something and was distracted by Charlie asking him about schedules. Then he turned back frowning with his hand to his brow, as if trying to get his mind back on course.
“I’ve switched your clinic until just noon. Meet me at five after in Arender’s room, 816 on the surgical floor. We’ll get time with him before the cops come and shut him down.”
“One of us is gonna get called,” Jill complained. “What are the odds?”
A shrug. “So whichever of us is free at twelve goes. Fake nice like they do. Tell Arender you’re sorry for clunking him and let him talk. Prod with silences.”
“I know the drill.”
“Yeah, you’re good at it. I’ll arrange for you not to be called between one and two. You can even turn your phone off.”
“I’ll leave it on vibrate.”
“Okay.” Suddenly David’s phone chirped. He listened, said okay, and hung up.
“Sam in the ER,” he said stiffly. “Woman just admitted, in labor and having seizures.”
“Eclampsia,” Jill groaned. “Go.”
He kissed her cheek and was off, muttering about texting when he could.
Jill headed the other way with Tricia and Woody, who’d just been called to an uncomplicated-sounding birth.
Then she ran down the stairwell to the clinic.
33
Something hit while she was racing between cubicles, doing routine physicals, pregnancy and post-delivery checkups. The something just glimmered at first, but by her sixth patient - a fourteen-year-old with gonorrhea - Jill found herself standing in the middle of the OB/GYN waiting room, talking quietly with the girl’s fifteen-year-old boyfriend.
In previous crises, when killers lurked and…killed, this waiting room had frightened her. It was full of strangers. Among the usual waiting relatives were sometimes individuals who eyed Jill in a way that sent her scurrying back into the clinic.
Now she sat next to the boyfriend, ignoring the stares, explaining quietly that he should get tested too. Also asking the pair if they’d had sex with others. The boyfriend finally admitted that he had. Next came a horrible screaming match, with the girlfriend literally attacking the kid, who got enraged and brandished a knife, and Security guys came running, then a shouting uniformed cop with his hand on his holster.
Jill stepped away but held steady.
That’s when the glimmering cleared, and she realized: I have changed.
She’d barely even blinked at the knife. A transformation had happened in her. Fear was gone. Anger remained, like a force that boiled and impelled her.
Previously, fear and the fury for revenge had collided, left her a mess.
No more. She was sure of it.
She left the cop and Security to deal with the brawling, screaming pair, and went back into the clinic. Felt her pulse. Seventy beats per minute. Terrific, normal. One of the interns, Kate Olsen, looked scared and said, “We all heard. My God, you never know what’s going to happen out there.”
“Or in here,” another intern Mari Withers shuddered.
Jill shrugged. “You’ll get used to it. That stuff, anyway. Woo hoo, I can handle the waiting room.”
Not until two patients later did she find herself using a scalpel to tear open a paper-wrapped speculum, and she stopped, staring at the scalpel.
In her gloved hand, clearly, she saw the scalpel turn into the missing S-shaped dagger.
She dropped the scalpel with a ping! and ran out of the cubicle, trembling.
“What?” Jim Holloway said, coming to her in the aisle.
“Huh?” She stared blankly at the second year resident.
“You just cried out. What happened?”
“Uh, nothing.” Had she cried out? No, couldn’t be. “I’m fine
,” she said shakily. “Just had a bad moment.”
She saw Jim frown, peer at her face. “You’re white as a sheet,” he said gently. “C’mon, what happened?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
He made a kind face and reached for her wrist.
No sense denying. She held her breath while his index and third fingers felt what she felt. Her pulse was racing, her heart rocketing. That kid’s knife, the dagger, the dagger…
“Pulse is one-ten.” Jim’s frown deepened. “Something happen in there?” His gaze switched to the cubicle with a surprised patient peering out, then back to Jill, insisting she was fine, fine! She’d just go back in there and resume.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I heard about the kid with the knife. Just what you needed, huh? Okay, this is a delayed response. Go calm down. Mari will take this patient.”
Jill blinked and saw Mari Withers suddenly there, standing next to Holloway. When had she come up?
“Get some coffee - decaf,” Mari urged, touching Jill’s arm. “That kid with the knife triggered such… Ugh, I can’t watch the news anymore. It’s all what you’re going through.”
Holloway put an arm around Jill’s shoulder and gave a gentle shove. “Go.”
She went. Sat in the small coffee break area with her brow in her hand, trying not to see Jody back, yakking happily with them in her favorite chair right there, or M.E. Kim waving the wax dagger taken from Celie’s body. “Must have scared the pirates.” She felt tears and nausea threaten. Was aware of a nurse coming in to turn off the cable news. Then an intern named Brian coming and bending to her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking up. “Jim send you?”
“Uh, yeah. To check your fever chart.”
“Tell him I’m okay. Really.” Jill managed a smile. “And…thanks.”
When Brian left she took a deep breath and checked the time. Eleven-fifty already? Oh boy. Time to go see Arender.
She rose from her table and dumped her empty paper cup into the trash. Stood staring for a moment at her cup, piled on top of other cups and sandwich and candy wrappers - and felt an idea flash. She pulled her cup back out and stared at it.
EMBRYO 5: SILVER GIRL (EMBRYO: A Raney & Levine Thriller) Page 16
