Murder With All The Trimmings Part 14

"He's asking for you," the nurse said. "He's very agitated. He says he has to tell you something, for your ears only. I'm sorry to call you at this hour, but he insists."

"Will he make it until morning?" Josie asked.

"There's always hope," the nurse said, which told Josie there might not be.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Josie said.

Josie s.h.i.+vered in the early-morning cold. She pulled her robe tighter around her and called Jane. "I'm sorry to wake you, Mom. I know this is an awful time, but the hospital said Nate is asking for me."

"Oh, no," Jane said. "I hope he makes it until his poor father shows up."

"Me, too, but I have to see him now. Will you keep an eye on Amelia? She's asleep, but I don't want her to wake up alone in the morning."

"I'll be right downstairs."

Josie threw on a sweater and jeans and dragged a comb through her brown hair. She heard the patter of her mother's slippered feet on the back steps and opened the door. Jane was s.h.i.+vering in a thick royal blue robe. Fat round rollers stuck out of her silver hair like a pink plastic crown.

"Go," Queen Jane commanded. "Quit staring at me."

Josie went. The night was clear and cold. A single yellow light burned upstairs in Mrs. Mueller's house. Josie wondered if the old woman was watching. Living next door to the Marcus family must be like having her own private soap opera.

Maplewood had a small-town peacefulness in the early morning. The big old last-century houses had wide porches meant for hot summer days, not dreary winter nights. The bare tree branches rattled like old bones. Footsteps marred the perfect white blanket of snow on the wide lawns.

Josie couldn't stand the empty quiet. She turned on the "all news, all day" radio station and caught the end of a newscast. The announcer said, "And a sixty-seven-year-old woman died of kidney failure just before midnight at Holy Redeemer Hospital in Maplewood. The victim was Mrs. Sheila Whuttner, the Big Loser contestant on radio station KPVC."

The announcer had trouble hiding his glee at this bad luck for a rival station.

"Mrs. Whuttner publicly pledged that she would lose fifty pounds by Christmas to win fifty thousand dollars. At her last weigh-in Friday morning, Mrs. Whuttner had lost forty-eight pounds. Mrs. Whuttner's daughter, Lorraine, said her mother died after eating a chocolate snowman cake from Elsie's Elf House. Hospital sources say an autopsy has yet to confirm a connection between the cake and Mrs. Whuttner's death. The owner of Elsie's Elf House could not be reached for comment. KPVC's manager said the station regrets the death of Mrs. Whuttner and the Big Loser contest is canceled. Even though Mrs. Whuttner was within two pounds of her goal at her last weigh-in, the prize money will not be awarded."

That was cold, Josie thought. The poor woman was canceled, along with the contest. Big Loser indeed.

Josie swung into the hospital drive at three thirty, parked her car under a bright light in the nearly empty lot, and hurried in the night entrance. There was no one in the lobby but a uniformed guard, who took her name, made a call, and issued her a badge for the ICU.

Maddie was at the ICU nurses' station. She was a fireplug with blunt-cut gray hair and a no-nonsense air.

"How is Nate?" Josie said.

"He's had a restless night," Maddie said. "He wants to talk to you. He's awake and off the ventilator. You can go in now."

Josie was shocked by Nate's appearance. His face was sunken and covered with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Nate," Josie said. "Are you okay?"

"h.e.l.l, no." His voice was a hoa.r.s.e whisper. He managed a ghost of a smile. "Whoever thought I'd be done in by a chocolate cake?"

"The nurse said you wanted to talk to me," Josie said.

"Throat hurts from that ventilator thing." He swallowed. Josie offered him ice chips from a foam cup. Nate waved them away. "There's a key in my leather jacket. It's for my storage unit by the airport. Company name's on the key ring. What's in there is for you. And don't give me any s.h.i.+t about drugs, Josie. You need that cash and so does my daughter. For once in your life, do it the easy way."

Josie opened his closet door and felt in the zippered pockets until she found a bra.s.s key. It had a yellow plastic UR-Storage tag with an address on Airport Road.

"Got it?" Nate asked. Josie nodded and dropped the key in her purse.

"Good." Nate seemed to relax. "I also have a life insurance policy. I left it with my father. Should come to about a hundred thousand U.S. You're the beneficiary, but the money is for Amelia. Put it in trust. Make sure she goes to college. Don't let her get knocked up like her mother."

"Amelia has more sense than her mother," Josie said.

"And her father," Nate said. His eyelids were at half mast and his voice was a mumble. He was drifting off. "Tell her I love her."

"She already knows that," Josie said.

"I'm sorry, Josie," Nate said, and squeezed her hand.

But before Josie could learn what he was sorry about, Nate drifted away on soft waves of sleep. Josie held his hand until she followed him into soothing blackness.

About five thirty in the morning, they were awakened by a too-cheerful phlebotomist. The thin dark-skinned woman had a big smile and a rattling cart. "I'm Angela. I'm here to take your blood," she said.

"Is there any left?" Nate asked. "You got it all yesterday."

Angela laughed at the feeble joke.

Josie turned her head while the nurse filled two tubes with rich red blood. By the time Angela packed up her gear and rattled her cart to the next room, Nate had drifted off again.

Josie was awakened half an hour later by a cleaning woman, who noisily emptied the wastebasket and moved a mop around on the tile floor, pus.h.i.+ng the needle caps and bandage wrappers under Nate's bed. He slept through the racket.

Breakfast arrived at seven thirty. Nate woke up and managed a smile for the young woman carrying the tray. "Why don't you get yourself something, Josie?" His words were slurred.

"Maybe some coffee," she said.

Josie took the elevator to the hospital cafeteria on the first floor. Her face felt oily and her clothes were rumpled from sleeping upright in the chair by Nate's bed. She bought a cup of watery coffee, then called her mother in the cell phone area.

"How's Nate?" Jane asked.

"He's eating breakfast now. How's Amelia?"

"She's fine," Jane said. "She's right here, eating breakfast, too." Jane's voice was too cheerful.

"She's not fine, but you can't talk," Josie said.

"That's right," Jane said.

"Is she still crying?"

"Right again," Jane said. "We're leaving for school shortly. I'll pick up Jack Weekler at the airport about noon and he can stay in my guest room. Amelia wants to make a Charlie Brown Christmas tree out of that tree by the back stairs, and decorate it with suet and seed for the birds."

"Sounds like a good idea," Josie said. "Is Amelia studying birds in school?"

"She's supposed to look for a Eurasian tree sparrow," Jane said. "The Audubon Society says there's a flock of them nearby in Dogtown. Little brown birds. Amelia's showed me a picture. Look like plain old chippies to me."

Josie hung up and went back to Nate's room. His untouched tray was filled with unopened containers of juice, apple sauce, gelatin, and a dry m.u.f.fin.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Josie asked.

"Not hungry," Nate mumbled and closed his eyes. "Can you get me a drink?"

"Do you want juice or water?"

"Beer," Nate said.

"Not unless the doctor approves it," Josie said.

"Not even for a hundred thousand dollars?" Nate said, in a sad attempt at banter.

"Not for a million," Josie said. "Your daughter is crying her eyes out because you're sick. She wants you to get well."

"Everyone wants something I can't give them," Nate mumbled, and slipped back into sleep. His hands scrabbled across the covers like crabs on a beach. The sight chilled Josie. She didn't like the dark bruises under his eyes or the yellow tinge to his skin.

Soon Nate was snoring, his breathing full of stops, starts, and snorts. Waiting for him to resume snoring was nerve-racking.

This is not good, Josie thought. Nate really might die. She tried to push the ugly thought away, but it seemed to squat on her chest. I wished him dead the other day. I wanted him out of my life. Now I'm about to get what I wanted.

Josie dozed off again. She vaguely remembered two or three doctors coming in, looking concerned. A nurse with squeaky shoes took Nate's vital signs and checked his IV.

I need to call Mom, Josie thought. She took out her cell phone and went into the stairwell to make the call.

"I'm on my way to the airport to pick up Nate's father," Jane said. "Please tell me that boy is still alive."

"Nothing's changed, Mom, but he doesn't look good. What couldn't you tell me about Amelia?"

"She wants to see her father in the hospital."

"Children aren't allowed," Josie said.

"She's nine," Jane said. "She's old enough to say good-bye."

"I think he's dying," Josie said.

"All the more reason she needs to see her father," Jane said. "And he needs to see her. You've made a hash of this by lying. Amelia will never forgive you if you deny her this opportunity. You can't protect your daughter from the unpleasant facts of life."

"I'll think about it, Mom," Josie said.

"No! You'll listen to me for once, Josie Marcus, and do it. I'll bring Amelia after school. I'll prepare her first." Jane hung up before Josie could answer.

Josie went back to the ICU unit. She could see through the gla.s.s that Nate was asleep. His room door was closed.

Josie opened the door slowly and b.u.mped into a s.h.a.ggy-haired man in a white lab coat. He was standing in front of the closet, with his hand in Nate's bomber jacket.

"May I help you?" Josie asked.

Then she stared at the doctor. "Mitch!" she said.

"I didn't think you'd recognize me after all these years," he said, a smarmy smile on his face. "I've put on a few pounds." He patted his gut like a beloved pet. "And my hair is grayer."

Those "few pounds" looked like fifty to Josie. His black hair was now iron gray. But his slablike forehead and jutting jaw were the same. He still had odd, crooked teeth, like tombstones in an old cemetery. His sneer was unchanged.

"I recognized you immediately, Mitch, as soon as I saw your hand where it shouldn't be," Josie said.

"You never let me forget that one mistake, Josie. I made a pa.s.s at you, but it was a compliment."

"I was dating your best friend!" Josie said.

"You were doing more than dating, sweetheart. It's too late to act all pure and innocent. The evidence is about nine years old now, I think."

"How dare you!" Josie said, and started to punch him in the mouth.

Mitch grabbed her arm. "Quiet," he said. "We don't want to wake Nate, do we?" He squeezed Josie's arm until she cried out in pain.

"Where is it?" Mitch asked, pulling her closer. She could smell cigarettes and cheap shaving lotion.

"Where's what?" Josie said.

"Don't play dumb. The key. I want the key to the storage unit."

"I don't have it," Josie said.

Mitch bent her arm back until Josie was afraid he'd dislocate it. "You're lying. I want that money. It's half mine. That's why Nate came back. To give me my share. The rest goes to his lawyer."

Just when Josie thought she couldn't take any more pain, she heard the rattling of a cart, and the big, scuffed door opened. It was the cheerful phlebotomist.

"I'm here for more blood," Angela said, with that wide smile.

"Gotta go," Mitch said. "But I'll be back, Josie. I won't forget. Don't you forget, either." Then he disappeared down the hall.

Chapter 17.

Josie waited until she heard the ding of the elevator. The doors whooshed open and then shut again. She hoped that meant the frightening Mitch was gone. She stuck her head out of Nate's door, saw the hall was empty, and ran straight to the ICU nurses' station.

A young red-haired nurse working on some notes looked up. "May I help you?"

"I found a strange man in Nate's room when I came back from the cafeteria," Josie said. "He wore a white lab coat, but I didn't see any hospital ID. He was going through Nate's jacket." She didn't add that the man had threatened her.

"What's his description? I'll call security," the nurse said.