The Swick and the Dead
Page 1
The Swick
and the
Dead
DEDICATION
This work, the second in the series, is dedicated to the health care professionals and drug interdiction units on the front lines of the war against drugs. In this I include everyone who works to reduce the suffering caused by the use of illicit drugs of whatever form. God bless you all.
In addition, I wish to thank:
The Firewheel Fictionistas Writers’ Group for their invaluable support and assistance
Members of the Scottish community here and across the world, my inspiration and foundation
My content experts and beta readers, especially those who helped with the Spanish that appears in this volume
My long-suffering editor and brainstorming partner, Mary Foster Hutchinson, without whom none of these books would have been possible
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The font used on the covers, in the titles, and for the chapter headings in this series is PR Uncial, created by Peter Rempel. It has been a continuing source of delight throughout this endeavor and I am happy to have this opportunity to tell him so. Vielen Dank!
The Mackenzie Dress Clan Tartan is listed as WR1981 on the Scottish Tartans World Register.
Davy Crockett’s famous line is from his speech after losing his Tennessee seat in the U.S. Congress (11 August 1835),
“Since you have chosen to elect a man with a timber toe to succeed me, you may all go to hell and I will go to Texas.” As quoted in David Crockett: The Man and the Legend (1994) by James Atkins Shackford, Introduction, p. xi
“Hell hath no fury…” – William Congreve, The Mourning Bride, Act III, Scene VIII
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” – Meyer, N. (Director). (1982). Star Trek II: the wrath of Khan [Motion picture]. Australia: Paramount. Khan, citing a Klingon Proverb
“Loved not wisely…” – William Shakespeare, Othello, Act 5, Scene 2.
“The road to Hell…” – Proverb
DISCLAIMER:
Dear Readers:
This is a work of fiction. That means it is full of lies, half-truths, mistakes, and opinions. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, is unintended and purely coincidental.
Similarly, the businesses, organizations, and political bodies are mere figments of the author’s overactive imagination and are not in any way intended to represent any actual business, organization, facility, group, etc.
Dallas and Austin both exist, but the reader is warned that the author has re-shaped Heaven and Earth and all the mysteries of God to suit herself and begs the reader, for the sake of the story, to overlook any discrepancies in fact.
THE SWICK
AND THE
DEAD
Loch Lonach Mysteries
Book Two
by Maggie Foster
“Nowhere is wisdom more necessary than in the guidance of charitable impulses. Meaning well is only half our duty; Thinking right is the other, and equally important, half.”
— Samuel Gridley Howe
“Most of the evil in this world is done by people with good intentions.”
— T.S. Eliot
THE SWICK AND THE DEAD: LOCH LONACH MYSTERIES, BOOK TWO. Copyright © 2018 by Maggie Foster. First edition. Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner or form without prior written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. For information contact: Maggie Foster at maggiesmysteries@gmail.com
Cover design by M. Hollis Hutchinson
Foster, Maggie.
The swick and the dead: Loch Lonach mysteries, book two / Maggie Foster
ISBN (pbk)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9989858-1-7
ISBN-10: 0-9989858-1-3
ISBN (epub)
ISBN-13: 978-0-9989858-4-8
Fonts used by permission/license. For sources, please visit MaggiesMysteries.com
Swick
From the Old Scottish swik, deceit (1420), swyk (1513), sweke (1514), to deceive, a deceiver.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Ginny Forbes
An Intensive Care Unit (ICU) nurse at Hillcrest Regional Medical Center
Sinia Forbes
Ginny’s mother
Jim Mackenzie
An Emergency Room (ER) physician at Hillcrest
Angus Mackenzie (“Himself”)
The Laird of Loch Lonach, Jim’s grandfather
Tomas DeSoto
A Drug Enforcement Agency officer
Hue Tran
A Dallas Police Crimes Against Persons Unit Detective
Phyllis Kyle
The victim, an ICU nurse at Hillcrest
Marjorie Hawkins
ICU Head Nurse at Hillcrest
Lisa Braden
An ICU nurse at Hillcrest
Grace Edmunds
An ICU nurse at Hillcrest
Luis Perez
An abandoned five year old
Clara Carpenter
A Political Activist
Fergus Stewart
Second cousin to Ginny, a gallóglaigh
Loch Lonach is a Scottish community established before Texas became a Republic in the geographic region that would become Dallas. It has retained its culture and identity. Loch Lonach boasts its own schools, police force, churches, and other civic institutions. The head of the community is the Laird, currently Angus Mackenzie.
Thursday, Journal Entry
“Okay. I’m ready. If she’d been satisfied with merely blackmailing me, I could have overlooked it, but she’s getting too close to the truth and that I cannot have. I’ve got people counting on me. I’m their contact to the money, to the good life, to not going to prison. They need me. The planning is complete. I have all my ducks in a row. With just a little bit of luck, by morning this particular problem will be behind me. So, off to work! Write at you later.”
Chapter 1
Day 1 – Thursday night / Friday morning
Hillcrest Regional Medical Center
Death surrounded her. It hung in the very air she breathed. It slid across the tile floor and seeped around the corners, into and out of the rooms where the patients lay. It was there, always, waiting.
One a.m. in the Medical ICU at Hillcrest Regional meant the beginning-of-shift tasks were done and the patients settled for the night, as much as was possible. The ceiling lamps glowed at quarter-strength, casting muted shadows. Voices ebbed and flowed as the staff went about its business and the alarms, turned down as far as they would go, were swiftly silenced, to give the illusion of peace.
In some of the rooms frail humans fought for life, in others they slipped toward death. Ginny Forbes, RN, hovered outside her patient’s door, grimly determined that he would live, at least until the dawn. After that—well, death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a man.
She frowned at the calculator, then ran the math again. In the glow from the monitors, her skin was the color of green tea. Her eyes, behind thick lashes and lowered brows, could barely be seen, pale and cold and hollow, to match her mood. Once she was sure she had the right dose, she put on the protective clothing mandated by hospital infection control policies and stepped to his side.
She was halfway through the carefully timed injection when she heard a sound just outside the door. Her head snapped up, but there was no one there. No one checking on her. She frowned. It was bad enough to be afraid of making a mistake. Even worse to be afraid of being caught.
Glancing down at the syringe, she found she had inadvertently pulled it out of the intravenous line port. She swore to herself, changed the contaminated access device for a clean one, and finished the
injection. When it was done, she pulled off the gown and gloves, stepped out of the room, and accessed the computer link.
“I start classes in January. I’ve already explained to Ms. Hawkins and asked her to cut back my hours so I’ll have time to study.”
Ginny looked up to see two nurses emerging from the break room, coffee in hand.
“What are you going to focus on?”
“Patient safety, of course.”
The first speaker was Phyllis Kyle, a velvet-covered steamroller quietly saving the world. Her companion was Susan Reed, a level-headed collector of human foibles.
“Well, duh. What in particular?”
“My proposed dissertation topic is ‘Best Practices for Spotting Nurse Imposters.’ It’s ridiculous that anyone can get away with pretending to be a nurse, but there’s at least one in every Bulletin.”
“What made you chose that topic?”
Phyllis shrugged. “Oh, you know. Someone said something last summer and it got me thinking.”
“Did she give you any trouble, Hawkins, I mean?”
“She didn’t look happy, but the big bosses want us to continue our educations, and they’re paying for it, so she had to give in. She’ll manage. She always does.”
They passed out of earshot and Ginny went back to work, scowling at the computer displays. It was taking her twice as long as it should to complete her assigned tasks. Not that she could pack up and leave if she finished early. It didn’t work that way. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to do her job. Usually she did. Usually, she was good at it.
She dragged her mind back to her task, wondering why she was having so much trouble concentrating. Knowing the answer. Trying to ignore it, to turn her back and move on.
“Hello.”
Ginny started, twisting toward the voice. She found her heart pounding and her breath tight in her throat, but it was only Jim. He was wearing a lab coat over his scrubs, embroidered with Dr. Mackenzie, Emergency, proof that he was both legitimate and on duty.
“You scared me.”
“So I see.” He frowned slightly. “I was wondering if you could take a break.”
Ginny shook her head. “Not at the moment. Maybe later.”
He kept his voice down, in deference to the hushed hour. “Would you like me to get you something from the cafeteria?”
Ginny shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” She smiled at him, trying to pretend she was all right.
He stepped closer and she could smell the faint scent of the emergency department on his clothes, a mixture of bandages and betadine and not-quite-fresh skin.
“You need to eat.”
She nodded. “I know. I brought something.”
“You also need to take a break.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Another hour at least.”
He didn’t raise his voice, but she could hear the note of authority in it. “Find someone to relieve you.”
“I’m fine, Jim. Stop worrying about me.”
He reached out and brushed her cheek with his fingertip. “I can’t help it,” he said. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Just let me catch up so I’ll be ready for my admission.”
He sighed and slipped a power bar into her hand. “Here. Better than nothing. I’ll check on you later.”
She watched him leave, her brow furrowed. She didn’t want him hovering, didn’t want him telling her what she should do, didn’t want him reporting back to the Laird. And the only way she was going to get him to stop trying to help was to prove she didn’t need it.
* * *
Nine hours later, Ginny sat with her head down on the conference room table. It was two hours past her bedtime and, in spite of the situation, she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Somebody had to go last, she supposed, and she’d made the mistake of staying behind to help pick up the pieces. Stupid conscience.
She heard the door open behind her, then felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Ginny?”
She pried her eyes open and looked at Jim. His face was close and a bit distorted, seen sideways like this. He looked upset.
“I just heard what happened.”
Ginny sat up, then rolled her head, trying to work the kinks out of her neck. She leaned back in the chair and swiveled around to face him.
“I left you a message.”
“I got it. I’ve been catching up on some paperwork, waiting for you.”
She sighed. “I have no idea how much longer they want to keep me. You’d better go home.”
He shook his head. “Not without you.”
“Okay, but you can’t say you weren’t warned.” She put her head back down on the table and shut her eyes, but wasn’t allowed to fall asleep. He put his hands on her shoulders and started rubbing and it felt really good, but that, too, was interrupted.
“Miss Forbes?”
She followed the police officer to the interview room and gave her statement, as well as she could through the haze of exhaustion, then, finally released, she let Jim lend a strong arm, steer her to his car, and drive her home.
“I’ll see you this evening.”
“I’ll be there.”
She closed the door to her bedroom, pulled the shades on the windows, and turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness. By touch she undressed and slid between the covers. She curled up on her side, willing her muscles to relax, to let her sleep. It wasn’t until she was almost there, eyes closed, just on the point of dropping off, that the full horror of the situation broke through her defenses.
It was just chance that Ginny had been the one to find the body. It could have been anyone, but it had been her. And, once seen, there was no unseeing it. Phyllis was dead, murdered, and she, Ginny, was one of the suspects. The tears slid out from under closed eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She let them go.
* * *
Chapter 2
Day 1 – Friday afternoon
Forbes residence
With a huge gasp, Ginny came awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, staring into the darkened room. She was sweating and shaking, struggling to breathe and despising herself for it. She wasn’t the target this time. What did she have to be afraid of?
She pushed her hair back from her face, then relaxed onto the pillows, trying to talk herself down. Phyllis. It was Phyllis who was dead, strangled, in the ladies’ room at the hospital. Not just any ladies’ room either, the one inside her Intensive Care Unit. Ginny swallowed, allowing herself to remember what she’d seen.
Cyanosis—the bluish tinge that meant no oxygen was getting to the victim’s brain. Swelling—as the blood fought to overcome the stricture around her neck it had spread to the surrounding tissues. Filmed eyes—like cataracts, except for the broken blood vessels. Protruding tongue—a gargoyle on the roof of a medieval cathedral. Blood—on her hands and neck where she had torn her own flesh as she fought for life. A wire—like some grotesque parody of a twist tie, clamped in place and impossible for her to remove, not alone. She had died alone. Unless her killer had stayed to watch her die.
Did murderers really return to the scene of the crime? Or insert themselves into the investigation? Had the murderer stood and watched as they tried to resuscitate Phyllis?
The faces surrounding the scene had been stiff with horror and grief and fatigue. A few were openly curious. Most were silent.
Ginny shivered. Who could have done such a thing? She closed her eyes, but could not dismiss the image of that death.
* * *
Friday evening
Cooperative Hall
The next item on the ceilidh program was Waverley and the assembled clan evidently approved the choice. As soon as announced, the dancers raced across the floor, grabbed their partners, and skidded gleefully into position in the set. Those not dancing tapped their toes on the wooden floor or clapped their hands in time to the music. The fiddler added
a jigging movement to his bowing and smiled and smiled and smiled.
Ginny smiled, too. Her eyes followed the dancers as they chased each other across the set (kilts and tartan sashes flying), weaving in and out of the line of standing dancers (an illegal move, but who was there to stop them?), then dashed back to place, arriving just in time to burst into laughter as the dancer at the bottom of the set inevitably got left behind at the start of the new rotation. Scottish Country Dancing had the power to make the heart sing, most of the time.
They were only halfway through the evening, but Ginny had opted to sit out the rest of the dances in favor of talking over the murder. Her best friend, Caroline, was across the table from her, Jim was on Caroline’s right, the Laird of Loch Lonach sat beside Ginny. They all looked worried.
“They cannot be serious!” Caroline shoved her blonde curls back from her face and nailed them in place with a headband. Ginny had seen that gesture before. Whenever she was agitated, Caroline took it out on her hair.
“The Medical Examiner puts the time of death between three and five a.m. Phyllis hadn’t done any of the four o’clock vital signs, so she was probably already dead by then. Everyone who was in the unit during that timeframe is a suspect.”
Jim had already heard the story, extracted from Ginny on the way home. It was Caroline asking the questions.
“How did you find her?”
“When she didn’t show up for shift change, we starting hunting. The break room was an obvious place to look.”
“I thought she was in the ladies’ room?” Jim asked.
Ginny nodded. “Both of the restrooms are accessed through the break room. I did the ladies’ while Peter checked the men’s. The handicap stall was locked. I peeked underneath and saw her slumped in the corner. I had to wriggle under the door to get to her and the police are mad at me for messing up their crime scene, but I thought she was just taken ill or something.”