The Night Visitor (7 page)

The caterers had straightened toppled chairs and tables and put out the food that had been already prepared. The police objected to alcohol being served while they were conducting their investigation. Paige Tate had ceded that issue and served soft drinks.

“Sounds like Danny might have been high,” Rodriguez said. “Guests saw him acting weird, talking to himself, being confrontational.”

Auburn said, “People are also saying that Rory was acting strangely even before Danny got up on stage. Having trouble getting through her speech. Closing her eyes. Her fiancé said she was nervous and might have had a little too much champagne. Wonder if she had an encounter earlier with Danny that rattled her.”

The detectives watched as two EMTs pulled up the gurney, extending its accordion legs. They rolled Danny’s body across the lawn.

Auburn turned toward the villa’s western wing. Lights blazed through the French doors of a ground-floor corner room. “Time to talk to Ratsy and Richie.”

“Who?”

“You work in Pasadena and you don’t know Ratsy and Richie? That’s what people call the Richard Alvin Tates three and four. I hear there’s a five too.

“What was it some writer said? The rich are different from the rest of us.”

Auburn threw the toothpick into a flower bed. “Yeah. They have more money.”

16

“Tom. Thank God.” Evelyn saw him through the glass wall of the ICU room and went to hug him when he entered. He was still wearing his tuxedo.

“Got here as soon as I could.” He looked at the empty area surrounded by electronic devices where the bed would be rolled in. “Where is she?”

“They’re still running tests.”

“Have you heard anything?”

Her hands began trembling in Tom’s grasp. It reminded him of when he had found Rory in the library earlier that evening.

Something’s going to happen.

“Dr. Reece Gaspar, our family doctor and an old friend, examined Rory. He said that she bumped her head pretty badly and has a concussion. Fortunately she doesn’t have any other serious injuries. But he said…” Evelyn struggled to get out the words. “He said that Rory’s in a light coma.”

The words sent a chill down Tom’s spine.

“A neurologist will assess how badly her brain is injured.” Evelyn sobbed into her wad of tissues.

“Let’s stay calm. We don’t have all the facts yet.” He was giving the message to himself as much as to Evelyn.

“You’re right. Think positive. You’re my rock, Tom. I’m glad you’re here. Graehme went to make a statement.” She twisted the tissues. “This waiting is getting to me.”

Tom recalled Rory’s words.
It’s the doves
…
They’re like a bad omen.

Evelyn dug inside her purse and took out a compact. “I must look a fright.” She scrutinized her image and snapped the compact closed with a groan without making any repairs.

“Evelyn, this evening did Rory seem…off to you?”

“She was tired and her color could have been better. She always pushes herself to the edge. I worry about her. What do you mean ‘off’?”

Tom recalled what Rory had said on stage:
Danny. So, it’s you.
It was as if the bad omen she’d sensed had been realized.

“Did she talk to you about seeing doves?”

“Doves? We’d talked about releasing a flock of doves at the end of the moment of silence.”

“It’s nothing. She was stressed, as you said.”

“She’s been under tremendous pressure, launching the Anya fragrance and the ad campaign. Then there’s Richie with his behind-the-scenes shenanigans, trying to undermine her. He can’t seem to understand that Rory’s success with Langtry Cosmetics shines right onto him. I still can’t believe that he tried to get the board of directors to remove her. He papers it over by saying it’s just business. I warned Rory that if she took Tate money to start her company, a Tate would come with it.”

Tom was glad that Rory hadn’t told her mother about her premonition. Rory and Evelyn seemed to have a mutual protection society, sparing each other bad news, shielding each other from pain. He guessed it had started after Anya’s murder, when Rory’s and Evelyn’s lives had been turned on end, and they had finally drawn closer after years of chilly civility.

Evelyn plucked at her evening gown. “It’s ridiculous for Richie to take out his anger with me on Rory. His father and I have been married for seventeen years. His mother, Boo, had been dead for four years when we wed. It’s time for Richie to get over it. He thinks I’m some gold digger and his dad married beneath him, you know.”

Tom had heard this tale many times. He nodded and didn’t comment.

A nurse sped into the room, first pausing to dim the lights. She was followed by orderlies pushing a bed that held Rory.

Rory thrashed and kicked under a light blanket. Her face was pinched. She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow and moaned, “No, no…”

The orderlies moved the bed into place and left.

“Hi, Rory,” the nurse said in a quiet voice. She elevated the head of the bed slightly. “I’m Joy. It’s nice to meet you.”

Evelyn rushed to Rory’s bedside and reached under the blanket to grab her hand. “My baby. My beautiful baby.”

Tom stood a few feet away, dumbstruck.

Joy efficiently went into action, hooking up monitors, noting Rory’s vital signs, working quickly, firmly moving Evelyn out of the way. “Excuse me. Need a little room here.”

Tom put his arm around Evelyn’s shoulders on top of her fur stole and led her to a corner.

Joy made notes on a clipboard. “Are you her mother?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes.” Evelyn absently patted her hair. “Yes, I’m Evelyn Langtry Tate. This is Tom Fuller, Rory’s fiancé.”

“Rory’s suffered a brain injury.” Joy spoke softly. “She’s easily agitated, so it’s important for us to keep the environment calm and quiet. Her injury lowers the seizure threshold, meaning that loud noises, light, and activity could provoke seizures. I encourage you to talk to her and touch her, but please do it gently and keep your conversations in front of her positive.”

Evelyn asked, “Can she understand us?”

“She might,” Joy said.

Tom looked at Rory, the woman he was planning to spend the rest of his life with, whom he felt closer to than anyone on earth. Her eyes were open to slits. She was thrashing back and forth, moaning in a way that was almost feral. Before, her condition had been theoretical. Now it was real. With that reality came a fear that their life together, as it had been, was over. Even if she recovered, things would never be the same. The thought occurred to him without any more emotion than the round clock on the wall reporting the time as 2:17.

“When’s the wedding?” Joy asked, not pausing in her work.

Tom cleared his throat. “June, next year.”

“A June wedding,” Joy said. “How wonderful. A big wedding?”

“It’ll be the wedding of the decade,” Evelyn replied, as if she refused to consider any other outcome.

Rory mumbled something unintelligible.

“You’ll be a beautiful bride, Rory,” Joy said. “You have to get well for your wedding to your handsome fiancé. I’m going to insert a catheter, Rory. It’s going to be uncomfortable for just a second.”

Rory tried to pull away when the nurse touched her. She let out a muffled, strange scream, the tone warbling higher then lower and going on and on.

Evelyn yelped in sympathy with her daughter’s distress and in shock at her strange behavior.

“Dn sh…plebby hel…” Rory said more clearly, “Dn…go. Don’t!”

Tom looked away, rubbing his forehead.
It’s like she’s possessed.
The notion zoomed from that place where unguarded observations reside, arriving clear and pure in his mind.

“No.” Rory reached and yanked the IV needle from her arm.

“Oh dear.” Joy bandaged the bleeding wound. “I’m going to have to see about restraints.”

She began to insert the IV in a different spot. “You’re going to feel a little pinch, Rory.” She had to hold hard on to Rory to complete the procedure.

Rory cried out, the effort guttural.

“Restraints?” Evelyn said.

“They’re for her own good,” Joy said. “She’s very active. That’s positive. It means she’s trying to wake up.”

Tom asked, “What’s your experience with a case like Rory’s?”

Joy walked to the door and said quietly, “Each patient and each brain injury is different. But Rory’s trying hard to come back. Dr. Ballard will be in to speak with you soon.” She pulled off her latex gloves, dropped them into a wastebasket, and left.

17

“Detective Auburn. How the hell are you, old sport?” Richard set down a brandy snifter and rose from his desk chair.

“Mr. Tate.” Auburn shook his hand.

“Leland, you remember Detective Hank Auburn?”

Leland stood to shake Auburn’s hand. “Of course. Hello, Detective.”

“Nice to see you. And it’s Henry.”

“Ah yes.” Richard smiled. “Detective ‘Don’t Call Me Hank.’ And you know my son, Richie.”

Auburn shook his hand. “This is Detective Gabe Rodriguez.”

Rodriguez tipped his head.

Richard opened a wooden box of cigars on his desk. “Cigar?”

The detectives declined.

Richard set his lit cigar on a brass holder. “Detective Auburn, don’t tell me you’re hooked up with our bunch of boneheads again.”

“Detective Rodriguez and I have the case.”

Richie shook his head as he swirled brandy in a snifter. “What case? Hundreds of people saw what happened.”

Rodriguez looked around the room, lingering on the gun cabinet.

Richard said, “The police have to do a proper investigation. By the book, right, fellas?”

Leland crossed his long legs. “Detectives, we’ve already given statements to a supervisor. He secured the firearm and saw no need for Richard to go to the police station.”

“We just want to ask some follow-up questions,” Auburn said. “Mr. Tate, we’d like your assurance that you won’t leave town, at least for the time being.”

“You’ve got it,” Richard said.

Leland said, “I think everyone can agree that Richard did a courageous thing tonight. He saved Rory’s life and probably the lives of others. Several of your colleagues even congratulated Richard. He’s a hero.”

Rodriguez and Auburn watched Declues, their expressions deadpan.

Auburn said, “Mr. Tate, tell me where you were and what you did when you saw Danny go onto the stage.”

Richard leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. He puffed his cigar and cradled the snifter. “It took me a minute to recognize that it was Junior Lara’s brother. Even before he grabbed Rory, I knew he was up to no good. I told Richie to get the women out while I slipped around the back and headed for my office to get my gun.”

“Had Danny shown his weapon yet?” Auburn smoothed his thick brown moustache with his fingers.

“No, but I didn’t think he was up there to let us know that he’d submitted a strongly worded editorial to the
Pasadena Star-News.
”

He, Richie, and Leland chuckled.

Auburn said, “Mr. Tate, what did you do after you got your gun?”

“I positioned myself behind those hydrangeas in back of the stage.” Richard pointed through the panes of the French doors. “By that time, Danny had Rory in a headlock. What would you do if some guy were holding a gun to your daughter’s head?”

“You saw him holding a gun on Rory?” Auburn asked.

“Of course. I waited for a good clean shot. Took my time. Knew I’d have just one chance. Danny moved the gun away from her. I saw my chance and took it. It’s a sad thing. I wish it could have turned out differently.” Richard took another puff of his cigar.

“The police hostage negotiator was trying to make contact with Danny,” Auburn said. “Why didn’t you wait for the police to do their job?”

“Negotiate?” Richard said. “With a lunatic? Detective, I appreciate that you don’t want citizens taking the law into their own hands, but would you take the odds of the police talking a madman with a vendetta into putting down his gun or would you do what you could to save your child?”

Auburn looked at Rodriguez. Neither responded to Richard’s question. Auburn said, “Gentlemen, thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.”

The detectives left.

In the garden, police were still working the crime scene as news helicopters circled overhead. Most of the party guests and staff had left.

Rodriguez said, “If it was me in that situation, I’d feel justified in taking the shot.”

Auburn drew in a long breath and looked at the city lights. “The DA won’t file charges. They’ll never find a jury that’ll convict Richard Tate.”

“He acted in defense of his family and home.”

“And he used the perfect assassination tool to do it.” Auburn turned his head and frowned into the distance, as if picking out the shimmering lights of one house in particular. “Let’s go to Eagle Rock and talk to Danny’s mom and his sister. They live in the same neighborhood. I’d been meaning to check in on them and see how they’re doing, but not like this.”

18

“Good morning. I’m Dr. Toshiko Ballard.” She was Japanese American and had a slight build and straight black hair cut into a bob. “Are you Rory’s mother?”

“Yes, I’m Evelyn.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Evelyn thought Dr. Ballard looked like an eager college freshman, and that hardly inspired confidence. “A pleasure. This is Rory’s fiancé, Tom Fuller.”

The doctor shook his hand. “Hello, Tom. We’ll talk in a moment. First, let’s see how Rory is doing.”

She went to a dispenser of hand sanitizer on a wall and rubbed gel onto her hands before going to Rory’s bedside. She spoke softly. “Hello, Rory. It’s Dr. Ballard, here to bother you again.”

With her thumb and forefinger, she pulled Rory’s eyelids apart and flashed a penlight in each eye.

Rory tried to squirm away. “Nnn…Stop.” Her eyelids dropped closed when the doctor released them.

The doctor flipped up the blanket to expose Rory’s feet. She scratched the bottom of each foot with the cap of her ballpoint pen. Rory arched her feet and withdrew her legs.