Read Online Still Life by Joy Fielding - Free Book Online Page B

down,” he said.
    What? No!
    “You understand I have to ask.”
    I understand no such thing.
    “I know the drill, Detective. I also understand the husband is always the prime suspect in cases like this. But you have to understand that I’m on the verge of being made a full partner with one of the city’s premier law firms, and that I make a very substantial living of my own. I’ve never been interested in my wife’s fortune. And I was in my office, conferring with a client, at the time she was being run down. I’ll be happy to provide you with a list of at least a dozen people you can talk to who will verify that I didn’t leave my desk all day, not even for lunch. I was there when the hospital called….” Again his voice cracked. Again he coughed in an effort to disguise it.
    “Do you hold any life insurance policies on your wife, Mr. Marshall?”
    “No.”
    “That doesn’t sound very lawyerly,” Detective Spinetti observed.
    “Lawyers are notoriously lax when it comes to their own personal affairs. Besides, Casey is young, she was in excellent health, and we don’t have any children. I guess we both assumed there was lots of time to talk about those things.” His voice drifted into the air, where it hung suspended for several seconds before evaporating. “I didn’t marry my wife for her money, Detective. I married her because I love her. I love her so much.”
    Oh, Warren. I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.
    “If I could change places with her, I would.” His voice cracked a third time. This time he made no effort to hide the sound.
    The door suddenly swung open.
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” someone said. “I guess I should have knocked.”
    “Dr. Ein,” Warren acknowledged, pushing back his chair. It scraped against the floor, knocked against the side of the bed. “This is Detective Spinetti with the Philadelphia police.”
    “Did they catch the person who …?”
    “Not yet,” Detective Spinetti answered. “But we will.”
    “Awful business,” the doctor said.
    “Yes,” the detective agreed. “Look, why don’t I get out of here, let you have some privacy.”
    No. You can’t just walk in here, announce someone tried to kill me, point the finger of suspicion at virtually everyone I know, and then leave.
    The sound of another chair being pushed back.
    “You’ll keep me informed?” Warren said.
    “Count on it.”
    “Everything all right?” the doctor asked as soon as the detective was gone.
    “You tell me,” Warren countered.
    Casey felt the doctor approach the bed, imagined him staring down at her.
    “Well, all things considered, your wife’s doing very well. She came through the tracheostomy with flying colors. The trach tube looks good. It shouldn’t leave too much of a scar. And her breathing is stable at fourteen breaths a minute.”
    “Which means what exactly?”
    “Which means that we can hopefully start weaning her off the ventilator pretty soon.”
    “Is that wise?”
    “I assure you we won’t do anything until the time is right.”
    “And once the ventilator is removed? Once Casey is breathing on her own, what then?”
    “Then we remove the trach tube.”
    “And after that?”
    “I don’t know,” the doctor admitted after a lengthy pause. “Look, I wish I could give you something more concrete to go on. But we’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”
    One day at a time, Casey thought after everyone was gone. One day at a time, she repeated wordlessly as the noises of the day dimmed into the whimpers of the night.
    Someone deliberately ran me down, she was thinking as sleep began circling her brain, like a helicopter looking for a place to land. Someone is trying to kill me.
    Somebody wants me dead.
    Who?
    “Where were you on the night in question?” a man asked suddenly.
    Detective Spinetti?
    “I was home all night,” another man answered.
    Who’s that? Is someone here?
    “Was anyone with you?”
    “No. I was alone.”
    I don’t