me if I needed to have my flowers moved. I hadn’t even noticed them. She tossed the cards at me, and bustled out to the ding-linging of someone else’s call bell.
Maury had sent some sunflowers. He knows I like them. Cousin Jack Littlepage had sent a huge bunch of daisies. Nice of him to think of it. Bobbi and her mother had sent a philodendron. Kim and Tom and Punk sent a bunch of balloons. Harry had sent a cactus. I squirmed into a less painful position and said a grateful prayer those weren’t funeral arrangements.
The in-bed phone rang. Good thing I had a private room.
It was Harry Rucker. “Lil, are you well enough to talk?”
“I think so,” I said cautiously. “Everyone okay?”
“Well, my fat cousin had a conniption about jurisdiction but the state police handled him quick enough. Nothing fatal, alas. Lil, there’s no easy way to say this. I just found out myself.”
“Boris?” I squeaked.
A pause ensued. And stretched. Then Harry said gently, “Vera Collier’s house burned down. Lieutenant Breeden called me. They were going back this morning to help with that inventory for you…it was nothing but char and ashes, he said. Still smoking.”
I felt dizzy. “And no Colliers in sight.”
“Not a one.”
I pressed the call button for the nurse. I told Harry thanks, and hung up. The nurse arrived, her mouth smiling, her eyes furious. A woman with too much to do. I knew the feeling.
“Is it pain, dear?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “How soon can I get outta here?”
***^***
They let me go despite Aunt Marge, who insisted in her genteel way that they were idiots and I was a fool. “I refuse to participate,” she informed us all. She shifted her bag on her shoulder. Thermoses clanked. More of her famous juices and purees and soups. One had celery, cucumber, lime and cilantro. It was a favorite of mine, but I didn’t think I had much chance of getting it. “If you want to release her, when she is clearly in no condition to be trusted with her own safety, then you may do so without me.”
Roger knew better than to put an arm around her. He instead told me, “I’ll drive you home. Boris’ll be glad to see you.”
Aunt Marge hitched her bag back up, eyes narrowed. She maintained a discreet silence as I signed the paperwork, then let loose the minute we were in the parking garage. Her voice bounced off the concrete, her vocabulary and diction as well-modulated as she’d been taught at finishing school. “I never thought to say it, Lil, but I am ashamed of you! You drove home alone! From Paint Hollow! That is an act so irresponsible, so inappropriate that it leaves me speechless!”
“Hardly,” said Roger under his breath, but fortunately for him, Aunt Marge didn’t hear him.
“When I think of all the hard work you did to get into Georgetown—to get your master’s—to get into the Bureau and then to get out of it—and then you nearly throw it all away!”
My cell phone warbled. I took it with a silent apology to Aunt Marge, and when I had hung up, she was clearly seething. She wanted to rant, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. “What was so important?”
“Lieutenant Breeden,” I told them both, glad to slide into the backseat of Roger’s car. I was not as steady on my feet as I’d have liked. The pills they’d given me for pain also seemed to counteract gravity. “Beau Collier confessed to running me off the road. He’s in custody.”
“Did he kill Vera?”
I swung my legs up along the back seat. I had to bend my knees. Roger’s not a luxury car kind of guy. “He says no.”
“Why in the name of God did he try to kill you?” asked Aunt Marge, her fury re-directing to an equally tangible and more deserving target.
I almost sighed. “He’s not saying. And he isn’t saying anything about the fire, either.”
“What fire?” asked Aunt Marge.
I grinned. The ride home suddenly looked a lot shorter.
***^***
Dr. Vidur’s
Maury had sent some sunflowers. He knows I like them. Cousin Jack Littlepage had sent a huge bunch of daisies. Nice of him to think of it. Bobbi and her mother had sent a philodendron. Kim and Tom and Punk sent a bunch of balloons. Harry had sent a cactus. I squirmed into a less painful position and said a grateful prayer those weren’t funeral arrangements.
The in-bed phone rang. Good thing I had a private room.
It was Harry Rucker. “Lil, are you well enough to talk?”
“I think so,” I said cautiously. “Everyone okay?”
“Well, my fat cousin had a conniption about jurisdiction but the state police handled him quick enough. Nothing fatal, alas. Lil, there’s no easy way to say this. I just found out myself.”
“Boris?” I squeaked.
A pause ensued. And stretched. Then Harry said gently, “Vera Collier’s house burned down. Lieutenant Breeden called me. They were going back this morning to help with that inventory for you…it was nothing but char and ashes, he said. Still smoking.”
I felt dizzy. “And no Colliers in sight.”
“Not a one.”
I pressed the call button for the nurse. I told Harry thanks, and hung up. The nurse arrived, her mouth smiling, her eyes furious. A woman with too much to do. I knew the feeling.
“Is it pain, dear?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “How soon can I get outta here?”
***^***
They let me go despite Aunt Marge, who insisted in her genteel way that they were idiots and I was a fool. “I refuse to participate,” she informed us all. She shifted her bag on her shoulder. Thermoses clanked. More of her famous juices and purees and soups. One had celery, cucumber, lime and cilantro. It was a favorite of mine, but I didn’t think I had much chance of getting it. “If you want to release her, when she is clearly in no condition to be trusted with her own safety, then you may do so without me.”
Roger knew better than to put an arm around her. He instead told me, “I’ll drive you home. Boris’ll be glad to see you.”
Aunt Marge hitched her bag back up, eyes narrowed. She maintained a discreet silence as I signed the paperwork, then let loose the minute we were in the parking garage. Her voice bounced off the concrete, her vocabulary and diction as well-modulated as she’d been taught at finishing school. “I never thought to say it, Lil, but I am ashamed of you! You drove home alone! From Paint Hollow! That is an act so irresponsible, so inappropriate that it leaves me speechless!”
“Hardly,” said Roger under his breath, but fortunately for him, Aunt Marge didn’t hear him.
“When I think of all the hard work you did to get into Georgetown—to get your master’s—to get into the Bureau and then to get out of it—and then you nearly throw it all away!”
My cell phone warbled. I took it with a silent apology to Aunt Marge, and when I had hung up, she was clearly seething. She wanted to rant, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. “What was so important?”
“Lieutenant Breeden,” I told them both, glad to slide into the backseat of Roger’s car. I was not as steady on my feet as I’d have liked. The pills they’d given me for pain also seemed to counteract gravity. “Beau Collier confessed to running me off the road. He’s in custody.”
“Did he kill Vera?”
I swung my legs up along the back seat. I had to bend my knees. Roger’s not a luxury car kind of guy. “He says no.”
“Why in the name of God did he try to kill you?” asked Aunt Marge, her fury re-directing to an equally tangible and more deserving target.
I almost sighed. “He’s not saying. And he isn’t saying anything about the fire, either.”
“What fire?” asked Aunt Marge.
I grinned. The ride home suddenly looked a lot shorter.
***^***
Dr. Vidur’s
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