Ew.
I stared in a daze at the blue-speckled tiles on the floor. I wanted to think, but my brain was on overload. I closed my eyes. My head was splitting, and a few realizations were dawning. It was the middle of the night. I had no money, no ID, no phone, and no way to get back to the shop, or home. I was stuck. Too bad this wasn’t jail, because if it were, at least I’d get to make one phone call.
A nurse invited me back into the treatment room. Rosie was attached to several monitors and I was shocked to see her looking so small and pale. She had a mask over her face and it was attached to oxygen tanks. They were small versions of what I used in the studio to power my torch.
“Are you here with Ms. Lopez?” the doctor asked. He seemed grim, and I was hoping that was his general mood, and not an indicator of how badly Rosie was doing. I nodded, and he continued. “I’m Dr. Patel, the doctor on duty tonight.” He gave me a perfunctory handshake, and offered me a seat near the foot of Rosie’s bed.
“We are treating Ms. Lopez conservatively, given our concerns about her possible lack of oxygen,” said Dr. Patel, as he sat down on a short stool and rolled over to me. “Can you tell me more about the circumstances of her accident?”
I filled him on the details of how I’d found Tracy and Rosie on the stairs, how I had seen Rosie struggle and pass out, that we had cut the necklace, and that the ambulance came soon after.
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked. It was a question I’m sure Dr. Patel heard many times a day.
“Her airway is open, and it appears there is no serious damage to her esophagus. I believe she lost consciousness for a period of time, but we do not think she stopped breathing entirely.”
“I’m glad I found her when I did.”
“Yes, she’s a lucky woman to have a friend like you.”
Her friend? I suppose saving her life made me a friend.
“We’re running a panel of tests, which will likely not reveal anything serious. She should have a full recovery. For now, however, we will be keeping her here for a day or two for observation, and to complete our diagnostics.
“Okay, thanks, doctor,” I said stifling a yawn. I’m sure he could see how tired I was.
“And I suggest you go home and get some rest. There is nothing you can do here tonight.”
I turned to leave, trying to figure out which door would get me back to the waiting room.
“Oh, and I’m curious,” Dr. Patel said, “she had a series of unusual welts around her neck and some significant bruising. What kind of necklace would leave marks like that?”
“It was a necklace made of beads. Big, beautiful glass beads.” I was too tired to explain any more. I found my way back to the lobby and straight out the door into the darkness.
The chilly air hit me and felt good on my face. Like a splash of cold water, it helped to clear my head. What I needed now was to get home. I saw a taxi on the corner and ran-like-a-girl over to it. I’m glad I had on my good Mary Janes tonight. I’d done more running, dancing, and rescuing in these shoes than I’d ever expected, all of which would have been more difficult in my tall heels.
A hefty black woman was in the driver’s seat. She didn’t look like someone you’d want to mess with, and for a female cab driver, that was a good thing. I was hoping she’d take pity on me, a fellow woman in distress.
“Hi there,” I said, flashing a big grin. Mom always told me a smile was the best way to make a new friend, and right now, what I needed most was a new friend. “I’m sort of stuck—I brought someone here to the hospital and, well, I left without my handbag or my phone, so I don’t have any way to get home.”
“You drunk?” she asked bluntly, folding up the newspaper she’d been reading and tossing it into a pile of garbage on the floor. I’m sure she often dealt with people who were trying to figure out how to get home after a drunken bar brawl had left someone injured enough they needed to be dropped off at the hospital. I was insulted she thought I looked like one of those people.
“No, definitely not drunk. Look, my friend was hurt when she fell and I brought her here. Can you please take me home? I have money there. I promise.”
“Ya know how often I hear that? Couple times a night. Sometimes people are tellin’ the truth, sometimes they’re not. Right now, I’m not really feelin’ like being a trustin’ person, ya know?”
“Look, I can give you…” I looked myself over. What did I have I could give her? “My necklace. Do you like this?” I asked, as I unclasped it and handed it to her. She examined it carefully.
“What is this—plastic? Cheap crap made in China?”
“No, no, no. It’s handmade. I made it. It’s made of glass, in a torch, you see. I melt glass and then I add colors and clear glass in layers to make a design, and—”
“I like the color. Red. I think it’ll be a nice addition to my wardrobe,” she said, holding up the necklace to the black polo shirt stretched across her broad chest. I didn’t really care what she was going to wear it with, I just needed a ride. “I think it might look better on me than around your scrawny white neck.”
“Yes. Totally. It looks great on you.” I wasn’t going to disagree with her. I had to admit, it was a perfect necklace for her.
“Hop in.”
I had never heard such beautiful words in my life.
A few minutes later, the taxi pulled up outside my house.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, as I slammed the door harder than needed. I’d just given away one of my favorite necklaces in exchange for a fifteen-minute cab ride. Now I was standing at the front door of my house. And I didn’t have any keys to get in. Dammit.
I rang Val’s doorbell ten times, and then I saw the entry light come on. I knew she was looking through the peephole at me. I gave her a little wave, and she yanked the door open.
“What on earth are you doing out here at one in the morning, sweet-cheeks?”
“There’s too much to explain right now. I need sleep, and then we can talk.”
“Val?” I heard a man’s voice. “You going to come back? We’ve still got a few minutes left to watch on this movie.”
“Who’s in there? Don’t tell me it’s Rudy.”
“Well, you see…,” Val said, trying to find a good way to break the news to me.
I stared at her and said nothing.
“It’s Rudy,” she confessed.
“Rudy!” I’d been telling her she needed to try to look past the outer beauty of people and look at their inner beauty, but this seemed to be taking it to extremes. Rudy was the ugliest and scariest-looking guy I’d met in a long time. “And what, you’re in there watching porno?”
“No. Not porno. I guess it’s time for you to know the truth.”
I stood on her doorstep, staring and waiting, not very patiently. It was way past my bedtime.
“I hate to admit this, but I love the Star Wars movies. They remind me of my childhood—Harrison Ford, all cute and everything. When Rudy came over yesterday, he was wearing this paint-splattered Han Solo t-shirt and so we got talking,” Val said. “After the party broke up early, I invited him over to watch one of the Star Wars DVDs. We’re watching the first movie, which is actually the fourth one in the series. I just got the newest re-mastered edition—”
“Can we talk about your Star Wars obsession another day?”
You think you know someone. You live next door to them for a couple of years, and then you find out something completely random like this. Val was always surprising me. “I need your spare key,” I said, leaning my forehead against the doorjamb. I was tired, and I wanted to go to bed.
“I don’t have it, silly. I gave it to you earlier this evening to give to Marla, or Margo, or whatever the name is of that crazy woman with the dog.”
“Marta.” Of course. Marta was in the house. I knocked on the door, and waited. And waited.
“Where are you, Marta?” I grumbled, as I rang the bell and kicked the door with my foot, scuffing both my sho
e and my door.
No answer.
I went around the side of the house and headed down the long alley between my house and Mr. Chu’s. I usually left a key to the studio in a Hide-A-Key on the underside of the bistro table at the back door. It had been a long time since I’d used it, and I was thankful to find it still there. I let myself into the studio, not sure if I needed to be quiet. I wondered if Marta was here, since she hadn’t answered the door. Maybe she was still at the bead shop, although I doubted the party had kept going after Rosie’s accident.
I heard the skittering of dog paws on the hardwood floor and the sound of galloping headed right for me. I was about to be hit in the knees by Stanley’s head, followed by the full force of his squatty body.
“Stanley, sit!” I said, taking a complete leap of faith it would work. I’d seen Marta use the command earlier and hoped if I said it with enough conviction, it would work for me too.
And it did. For the first time tonight, things were working as I had hoped.
The sound of galloping dog feet ceased. I could see Stanley outlined in the doorway, the hallway light cast a long dog-shaped shadow onto my feet. I had stopped him in the nick of time.
“Stanley, stay!” I said. Then he flumped down on the ground, where I hoped he would stay all night. “Good boy,” I said, reaching down and petting his head, to which he responded by slobbering all over my hand.
Ew.
I went into my bedroom and closed the door, trying to shut out the night’s memories: loud music, a tight strand of beads, Rosie’s pale face, a speeding ambulance, a stark hospital, a grimy taxi, an annoying dog. I pulled off the red dress and tossed it in the trash. I didn’t think I could ever wear that dress again, with all the bad memories it would bring back of this night. I put on my comfiest jammies and my fluffiest fleece socks and crept into bed, pulling one of Great-Aunt Rita’s patchwork quilts around me. It comforted me, as if she was here wrapping her arms around me. I wanted to stay here for the rest of my life, or at least until the sun was up, when daylight would make everything better. At least that is what I hoped for.
FIFTEEN
Tessa was at the front door promptly at nine o’clock in the morning, standing there with a large latte in one hand and a bag from Muffin Madness in the other.
“Tessa, you are my best friend,” I said taking the bag and giving her a big hug. I peeked inside. She’d brought me my favorite blueberry muffin.
“I thought you might want this,” Tessa said, as she dropped my purse on the kitchen table.
“Thank you for rescuing my purse. It was hard getting home last night without it.” Tessa had dark circles under her eyes. I wondered if she’d gotten much more sleep than I had.
“I bought an extra muffin for Marta,” Tessa said, stifling a yawn.
“I’m not sure Marta is here. She didn’t answer the door last night when I was pounding on it.”
“What happened at the hospital? Is Rosie okay?”
I grabbed some plates and napkins, and we sat down at the round oak table.
“The doctor thought she was going to be fine. He’s running some tests to make sure there’s no permanent damage.”
Marta shuffled out to the kitchen, looking bleary. Her green flannel nightgown covered in romping puppies was more than I could stand to look at this morning.
“Why didn’t you answer the door last night?” I asked, feeling grumpy, my mouth half-full of muffin.
“What? Oh, wait…earplugs,” said Marta plucking them from her ears. “I can’t hear a thing with them in. What did you say?”
“Never mind. I figured it out,” I said, exasperated. “Muffin?”
“Do either of you know where Stanley is?” she said, rubbing her eyes and taking the muffin.
“Last time I saw him he was lying down in the studio,” I told her, remembering the last “stay” command I’d given. That dog really knew how to obey if he was still in the same place this morning as he was last night.
Marta whistled far too loudly for this early in the morning, and Stanley came running, his long ears flipping lightly across the floor as he ran toward us. Perhaps I could have him run around the house to give the hardwoods a good dusting. At least that way he’d be useful.
I finished the muffin and coffee and sat looking across the table at Tessa. She jingled the keys in her hand. She was antsy.
“Tessa, do we need to be somewhere? I didn’t think I had anything to do until tomorrow, when I have my workshop.”
“I was at Aztec Beads until well after midnight trying to get things cleaned up,” she said, “but at some point, I just gave up and went home. There’s more to do to get the place ready for today’s workshops. I’m not sure how Tracy is doing. And Judy might need some extra help so she doesn’t have a meltdown.”
Ah-ha! Tessa was here to recruit me. She figured if she brought me a muffin, I’d do anything for her. And, she was probably right. I’d do almost anything for a good muffin. Throw in a large latte, and I’d be your slave for a day.
“If you’re coming with me to help out at Aztec Beads, we should go. Pronto,” Tessa said.
“Great, let’s go then,” I said, grabbing my purse off the kitchen table and heading toward the front door.
“What? Wait!” said Tessa, alarmed.
“You said we needed to go to the shop, so let’s go.” I was tired, and I’d had a bad night, to put it mildly. I needed to keep moving, otherwise I’d fall asleep.
“Jax? Have you noticed you are still in your pajamas?”
“Yes. It’s my new fashion statement. Everyone is doing it these days, you know, wearing flannel PJ bottoms out and about,” I said doing a pirouette to show off the stylish outfit.
“Slippers? XXXL t-shirt with stains on it?”
I looked down at myself. Tessa had a point. I should not step outside looking like this. “Give me fifteen minutes,” I begged.
Fourteen-and-a-half minutes later I was at the front door. I was wearing the same jeans I’d worn yesterday. But, desperate times, or lack of time, call for desperate measures. I’d at least had been able to find a nice black t-shirt, and I’d thrown on my red clogs. Tessa was waiting for me, the keys still jingling in her hand.
Marta had finished her muffin and was sitting on the sofa giving a Stanley a good brushing.
“Are you headed over to Aztec Beads?” I asked her.
“In a little while. I don’t want to miss Indigo’s workshop.”
“Sounds good, we’ll see you over there.”
“Jax, when you get back this afternoon, try and be real quiet, because Stanley will be taking his afternoon nap.”
“Will do,” I said, with a little inner eye-roll, and knowing the only reason I’d tiptoe around my own house was if I thought Gumdrop might come out of hiding if I was quiet. “Please keep your eyes open for Gumdrop,” I added as I left.
I got into Tessa’s van. It was a disaster area full of soda cans, soccer uniforms, toys, a jumble of shoes favored by teen girls, ground-in dirt, and smudgy windows.
“Geez, Tessa, you need to clean the van out. It’s a mess. Either that, or just abandon this one and buy a new car. That may be a better option.”
“Very funny. You try having three kids and keeping a car clean,” Tessa said, looking ticked off and gripping the steering wheel tightly.
When we got to Aztec Beads, Tracy was sitting in her usual spot at the front of the shop, wringing a tissue between her hands. She looked more frail than usual. Like the rest of us, it was likely she had not slept much last night.
While I stopped to talk with Tracy, Tessa went straight to work making sure the classroom would be ready for the first workshop.
“Hi, Tracy. How are you? How’s your mom?” I asked softly, bending down to make eye-contact. Tracy’s face was half-hidden by her long dark hair.
“I called the hospital this morning, and they said Mama was sedated. I couldn’t talk with her. The nurse who answered the phone said they were sti
ll running tests.”
“Oh, I am so sorry. The good news is your mom is alive and the doctors are doing everything they can to help her,” I said, reaching across the counter to give her a big squeeze on the shoulders, the best hug I could give her with a display case between us.
Tracy pulled a new tissue out of the sleeve of her sweater, old-lady-style, and wiped her puffy eyes.
“I think you need to go over to the hospital and see your mom,” I suggested.
“But she won’t know I’m there.”
“Well, do it for you, then. Go on over to the hospital, and Tessa and I will clean up. It’s still a wreck around here. We’ll get things all cleaned up and handle any customers. Judy will be here soon and she can keep the workshops going. But we’d better get moving. We’ve got jewelry-making demos starting in an hour, I think.”
Without saying another word, Tracy took her purse, and headed out the door.
“Looks like there’s a lot to do around here,” I said, seeing two big bags of garbage by the back door. I grabbed the bags and headed out onto the back porch. Fortunately, someone had taken the time last night to clean up the small yard. It was back to normal, other than the small patch of grass that had been trampled last night by dancing partygoers, myself included. I dragged the bags out the back gate and down the long alley, where a banged-up green dumpster sat near the edge of the building.
I opened the top of the dumpster and threw in one of the sacks. I released the bag and then the lid. A puff of stench hit my face as the black lid slammed down.
Ew.
I opened the lid again, getting ready to throw the other bag in. Something caught my eye. A small piece of red fabric was caught on the front lip of the bin. Somehow, that small thing set off an alarm in me. I looked inside the dumpster. Under a pile of paper plates and leftover potato chips, I saw a worn red flannel shirt, a tangle of long matted hair, then part of a delicate hand, and a tiny geometric pattern tattooed on a wrist. Still and lifeless.
High Strung: A Glass Bead Mystery (The Glass Bead Mystery Series) Page 9
