Read Online The Case of the Yellow Diamond by Carl Brookins - Free Book Online

therapy, he’ll be fine. There’s no bone damage at all.”
    I looked at the doctor. She glanced at me and then in a lower voice said, “I recommend Calvin have some counseling after he recovers some. Being shot, even with minimal damage, can be very traumatic.”
    â€œYou’ve notified the police, I assume,” I said.
    â€œOf course. They’ll be here any time now for your statement. It’s required with all gunshot wounds, even accidental ones.” The physician looked at Josie and then back at me. I could see she was wondering about my role in this.
    â€œCan we see him?” asked Josie.
    â€œOf course. He’s not yet out of the anesthetic, but he’ll wake up in a little while. You can sit with him.” The doctor turned to lead the Bartelmes to recovery.
    I took Tod’s arm, and we lagged a step behind. “You aren’t sure this was an accident, are you,” I murmured.
    He turned his head and said in a low voice, “That’s why I called you. With everything that’s happened, I just want the rest of us to be safe.”
    I nodded. “I’ll check it out. But I better not stay. Is the house open?”
    â€œYes. Somebody is there pretty much all the time.” He turned to go and I heard an undertone in his voice that suggested he wasn’t entirely happy with some of his guests.
    I slowed and let them get a step or two ahead. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Bartelme.” The doctor’s head came up. She was going to mention me to the cops. Josie didn’t look back. The trio disappeared down the wide hall and through a door to the recovery wing. Across the room an elevator dinged and two uniformed officers appeared. I nodded at them and headed for the stairs. In the ground floor lobby I found two quarters in my pocket and went to the bank of phones hanging on one wall. It was a small bank. The proliferation of cell phones has reduced the need for public pay phones in hospitals and other buildings by quite a bit.
    I left a quick message for Catherine that I was delayed and not to wait dinner. I also mentioned I was looking forward to some pillow talk a little later. Then I beat it out of there. I needed to get to Bartelmes’ without delay. In the car I made a couple of quick notes on my conversation with Tod and Josie and drove to their home. When I pulled up and parked, the neighborhood seemed unnaturally quiet. The air was still and hot. The last time I was in that driveway I recalled I’d been able to hear the sounds of suburbia: a distant mower, kids, birds, and dogs. Now it seemed as if there was a collective pause, a silence while the neighborhood waited to learn Calvin’s fate. Maybe it was just me.
    â€œHe’s going to be fine,” I said. Then I said it a little louder, maybe to persuade myself, maybe I was trying to reassure the fence, or the garage, or the birds in the bushes. I wasn’t sure, but I said it again, firmly, out loud. A tiny breeze stirred the lilac bush beside the fence where Calvin had met me. I pushed through the gate and walked around the house to find three people on the deck clutching tall drinks. They looked like rum. The drinks did.
    Alvin Pederson was closest, standing beside a small mobile bar loaded with the makings of various cocktails. He was about to add ice to a depleted drink when I appeared.
    Farther along, sprawled primly in a chaise was his wife, Maxine. Her glass was empty except for what appeared to be a dark straw. She smiled and did one of those things with her shoulders that women know how to do. It made her thin blue blouse gap wider in front. She didn’t appear to be wearing a bra. When she smiled up at me as I advanced up the steps, I deduced that she’d been drinking. Her look had that almost-focused gaze of too much booze too fast or on an empty stomach.
    The third porch squatter was a man I had barely met at the last rendezvous, Richard Hillier.