Still Life (30 page)

“Auntie Casey is singing!”

No!

“Lola …”

“What?”

“She wasn’t singing,” Drew said.

“Yes, she was. I heard her.”

No. No.

“What exactly
was
she doing?” Warren crossed to the bed in two giant strides.

“It was really more of a groan than anything else.” Drew glanced warily at Casey.

“Why are you looking at her that way?” Warren demanded. “Do you think she can see you?” He suddenly reached over and ripped Lola’s zebra painting off the wall, waving the colorful stripes back and forth in front of Casey’s eyes. “Can you see this? Can you?”

“You’re ruining my picture,” Lola cried.

Casey tried closing her eyes, but it was too late.

“You blinked,” Warren said. “Dear God, you blinked.”

“What does that mean?” Drew said.

“It means she can see.”

“Is that true? Casey, can you see?” Drew grabbed Casey’s hand. “Squeeze once for yes.”

“What are you doing?” Warren’s face registered first shock, then amazement. “Are you saying she’s responsive? For God’s sake, Drew. If you know something about my wife’s condition that I don’t, tell me. Don’t you think I have the right to know?”

There was a long pause.

No. Don’t tell him. Please, don’t tell him.

“Casey is conscious,” Drew said finally.

No. Oh, no.

“What? For how long?”

“I’m not sure. Probably just a few days.”

“A few days?” he repeated. “How do you know?”

“She’s been squeezing my hand, spelling out words.”

“Spelling out words?” Warren repeated dully. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I don’t know,” Drew said again. “I’m so sorry.”

Warren sank into the armchair beside the bed and lowered his head into his hands.

“Please don’t be angry,” Drew said. “This is such great news. We should be celebrating. Casey can see. She can understand. She’s starting to communicate. Soon she’ll be walking and talking and as good as new. Isn’t that wonderful, Warren? Casey’s come back to us.”

THIRTY-TWO

“I
s she asleep?” Warren asked from Casey’s bedside several hours later.

Drew stepped into the room. “Out like a light. I guess she was pretty exhausted, what with Gettysburg and then all the excitement with Casey.”

“It’s been quite the day,” Warren agreed.

“It certainly has. How’s my sister doing?”

“She seems to be resting comfortably. Looks like the Valium the nurse gave her is finally starting to take effect.”

“Do you really think it was necessary?” Drew approached her sister’s bed. “I mean, it seems a shame to knock her out just when she’s starting to come around.”

“Casey was awfully agitated, Drew. You saw the way she was carrying on when Mrs. Friedlander was here. She’s confused and terrified. I don’t want her falling out of bed and hurting herself.”

“I guess you’re right. Were you able to reach any of her doctors?”

“Not yet. I called the hospital; I’ve left messages all over the city. So far, nothing. It’s Sunday night—what can you expect? I’ll keep trying.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“How could you keep something like that from me?” Warren asked, his voice incredulous.

“I don’t know. I was just so mad at you, I guess. I wasn’t thinking straight. And then today, we were having such a good time, and you were so wonderful with Lola, and I wanted to tell you, I was
going
to tell you …”

“It’s all right,” Warren said after a pause of several seconds. “What’s important is that I know now.” Another pause. “So, you think a little champagne is in order?”

“Champagne?”

“To celebrate the great news.”

Drew hesitated. “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t …”

“Come on. You’re sleeping here tonight. You won’t be driving. One glass. I won’t let you have any more than that.”

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

“I think Casey deserves a toast in her honor.”

Drew laughed happily. “I guess she does.”

“Be right back.”

As soon as he was gone, Casey reached through the dense fog enveloping her head and grabbed Drew’s hand.

Drew gasped with fright. “Casey, my God. You scared me. I thought you were asleep.”

“Help me,” Casey said, opening her eyes, not sure whether she’d said anything at all.

“What? I don’t understand.”

He’s trying to kill me.

“You’re not making any sense. Just try to relax. Do you want me to get Warren?”

Casey twisted from side to side, squeezing Drew’s hand with all the strength she could muster.
No!

“Okay, okay. Please try to calm down. Warren’s right. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep thrashing around like this.”

Warren didn’t call the hospital. He has no intention of trying to reach my doctors. He’s going to get you good and drunk, and then he’s going to kill me. Tonight. Then he’s going to find a way to put the blame on you.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

He’s going to kill me! You have to get me out of here.

“Please try to calm down, Casey. I know this is frustrating, but you’re not making any sense. Get some sleep, and in the morning when you wake up, I promise you’ll be feeling much better.”

I won’t wake up in the morning. It’ll be too late.

“Oh, I think I hear Warren coming with the champagne.” Drew looked toward the bedroom door.

Don’t have anything to drink. Please, Drew. It’s important you stay sober.

“Is there a problem?” Warren asked, entering the room.

Casey closed her eyes, released her sister’s hand.

“Casey was groaning a bit, but she seems okay now. Here, let me help you with those glasses.”

Please, Drew, Casey thought, refusing to give in to the sleep that was hovering over her head like a plastic bag. Don’t have a drink.

“Dom Pérignon,” Drew said. “How nice.”

“I’ve been saving this bottle for a special occasion,” Warren said.

“Which this definitely is,” Drew agreed, as Casey heard a loud pop, followed by the sound of her sister’s high-pitched laughter. “Careful. It’s spilling on the carpet.”

“So we’ll buy new carpet,” Warren said, laughing now as well. “Hold out your glass.”

No. Don’t. Please don’t take a sip. One sip will lead to another. You know it will. You know what will happen.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” Warren asked.

“Absolutely fabulous.”

“You hear that, Casey? It’s absolutely fabulous,” Warren said. “To the love of my life.”

“Welcome back, Casey,” Drew seconded.

Casey pictured her husband and her sister raising their glasses in her direction.

“Hurry up and get better,” Drew urged, “so you can sample some of this incredible champagne.” Casey pictured her sister quickly emptying the contents of her glass. “Oh, man, I forgot just how good great champagne can be.”

“Let’s have another toast,” Warren suggested. “Your turn to go first.”

“My turn,” Drew repeated. “I think I need a little more champagne first. Thank you. Well, let’s see. To my sister, whom I love with all my heart, even if I don’t always know how to show it.”

“Here, here,” Warren said. “And to health and wealth and …”

“… the American way.”

Warren laughed. “To the American way.”

“I don’t suppose I could tempt you into topping off my glass again,” Drew said moments later.

No, Drew. Please, don’t do this.

“I guess I can let you have just a little bit more.”

“You’re a real sport. Aw, come on, Warren. You can do better than that, can’t you? My sister’s come back from the dead. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“All right. But this is it.”

Casey listened to the sound of liquid being poured into a glass.

“To true love,” Drew said.

“True love,” Warren echoed.

Casey felt sleep gently massaging her temples, and her eyes rolling back in her head. It took all her concentration to keep from drifting off.

“Think I’ll ever find it?” Drew asked wistfully.

“True love? I don’t see why not. You’re a beautiful girl….”

“A
rich
, beautiful girl,” Drew amended.

Warren laughed. “And you’re funny and feisty and …”

“Fabulous.”

“And fabulous.”

“Like this champagne,” Drew said, giggling. “How about just one more glass? I promise I won’t ask for more.”

“All right. But absolutely no more.”

“It goes down very smoothly for something with so many bubbles.”

“That it does.”

“I like things that go down smoothly.” Drew giggled again.

“And speaking of going down,” Warren said, “what happened with you and Sean?”

“Who?”

“Sean? Your old boyfriend? The one who wanted to get back together with you?”

“He did?”

“He didn’t?” Warren asked.

“He probably did,” Drew said, and laughed again. “I mean, why wouldn’t he? I’m funny and feisty and … what else am I?”

“You’re fabulous.”

“I’m fabulous.”

“Yes, you are. And you’re a very fast drinker. I can’t believe your glass is empty already.”

“That’s because you’re a very slow pourer.”

“Well, then, let me correct that.”

“You’re a kind and generous man.”

“And you are a sweet and sensitive woman.”

“Thank you. Don’t let me drink too much.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I have a very high tolerance for alcohol, you know.”

“I can see that.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“Everybody needs a hobby.”

Drew laughed as if this was the most hilarious thing she’d ever heard. “You’re very funny. You know that? Funny and feisty.”

“What happened to fabulous?”

“You’re pretty fabulous, actually.”

“Thank you.”

Again the sound of liquid filling a glass.

“So, have you heard anything from Jeremy?” Warren asked.

“Who?”

“Jeremy. Casey’s former therapist. I was sure he’d get in touch.”

“Oh, right. Him. Actually he did call. Yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

“He didn’t waste much time.”

“I guess you had him pegged.”

“What did he want?”

“I’d left a note for him at the hospital, asking him to call. You know. Just to see if he was all right.”

“And was he?”

“He said he was pretty upset at first, so he took a few days off. He’s okay now.”

“Good man.”

“He
is
a good man.”

“Drink up,” Warren said.

“You’re a good man, too.”

Warren laughed. “So where is he taking you on your first date?”

“Who says he’s taking me anywhere?”

“I had him pegged, remember?”

Drew laughed again. “We haven’t decided yet. He said to think of something unusual. I’m supposed to call him.”

“Are you going to?”

“Maybe.”

“Have another drink.” Warren filled her glass again.

“Don’t tell me that bottle’s almost empty.”

“That’s all right. I have another one.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“He’s not good enough for you, you know,” Warren said.

“What? Who?”

“Jeremy.”

“Probably not. But you have to admit he’s pretty damn cute.”

“Not exactly my type.”

Drew laughed.

“You can do better.”

“You have anyone in particular in mind?”

“I might.”

“Wait—don’t tell me. Could his name by any chance be Willy Billy?” Drew shrieked with laughter.

“I can promise you his name is definitely
not
Willy Billy.”

“Why not? Is there something wrong with Willy Billy’s willy?” Drew collapsed in a series of loud guffaws.

“Something tells me you’ve had enough champagne.”

“Oh, come on, Uncle Warren. We might as well finish the bottle.”

“Looks like this is the last of it.”

“But you said you had another one.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Drew jumped to her feet. “Where is it? I’ll go get it.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea. We’re celebrating.”

“That we are. It’s in the fridge. Be careful on the stairs.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“I won’t.” Warren sank down into the chair beside Casey’s bed. “I have enough to worry about at the moment. Wouldn’t you say, Casey? What with old Nick screwing up again.” He began stroking her hair. “I called him earlier. He was full of his usual excuses: I hadn’t warned him anyone else might be here; what was he supposed to do? he’d had no choice but to kill Patsy.” His hand stilled, resting on her forehead. “And now he expects to be paid double. Can you beat that? He screws up, and I end up having to pay for his mistake. What the hell was Patsy doing here anyway? Stupid girl.”

Casey opened her eyes, saw Warren staring back at her. Who is this man? she wondered, watching his image split in two, then double up and circle around her head.

“ ‘You always see what nobody else sees,’ ”
she heard Janine read.

“Stop trying to fight it, Casey,” Warren was saying, his voice low and warm as a kitten’s fur. “You’re only making things harder for everybody.” He leaned over, resumed stroking her hair. “This really has to be the last of our little chats, I’m afraid. What was it you said to Janine? That it was time to move on? Well, it seems it’s almost that time again.”

Casey watched two Warrens kiss the backs of two pairs of hands as her eyelids grew increasingly heavy.
“ ‘Yet you never see what is quite plain,’”
she heard Janine read. Seconds later, her will alone no longer enough to sustain them, she gave in to their weight.

“Thatta girl,” Warren said as her eyes closed.

Casey fought to remain conscious. Stay awake, she told herself. Don’t make it so easy for him. He’ll just wait until Drew passes out, and then … what? Throw her down the stairs and somehow make it look like an accident? Or would he smother her with a pillow, perhaps even strangle her with his own hands, all the while finding a way to place the blame on Drew?

I’m so tired.

He hadn’t realized the extent of Drew’s enmity toward her sister, she could hear him tearfully telling Detective Spinetti, all the while berating himself for his stupidity. Drew had obviously gotten tired of waiting for the inheritance she considered rightfully hers, especially now that Casey was showing real signs of improvement. And she’d been drinking—she was so drunk, in fact, he’d insisted she spend the night. How could he have been so careless?

Drew would be too wasted to remember much of anything. And even were she to turn around and throw the accusations back in Warren’s face, it would be her word—the word of a drunken party girl with both motive and opportunity—against his, a lawyer with an impeccable reputation and an airtight case of reasonable doubt.

Drew didn’t stand a chance against him.

And neither did she.

You have to keep fighting. You can’t let him win.

He’d won already, she realized. He’d won the minute Drew took her first sip of champagne.

Warren suddenly jumped from the chair and walked to the door. “Drew,” he called out, as if she’d spoken her sister’s name out loud. Had she? “What are you doing down there? Drinking the whole bottle yourself?”

“I’m coming,” Drew called back. “Ready or not,” she sang out from the stairway seconds later. “Here I am.”

“What took you so long?”

Drew was chortling as she walked back into the room. “Did you miss me?”

“I missed Mr. Pérignon.”

“Then it’s a good thing I found him. It wasn’t easy either. He was hiding way at the back of the fridge. Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

“It looks like Casey finally settled down.”

“Looks that way. Stand back,” Warren said. A loud pop followed, like the pop of a gun.

“What are we toasting now?” Drew asked.

“How about world peace?”

“Always a favorite. To world peace.”

“To world peace.”

“And Madonna,” Drew said.

“Madonna?”

“She’s my idol, the way she keeps reinventing herself.”