Death in Paradise (30 page)

So far the conversation had been pretty much one-sided. Bernstein had sat there looking miserable. He needed a shave, an iron, a shower, and Right Guard. I knew the look; I'd seen it on my own guy. He sat close enough to smell, but wouldn't look at me. Could he actually be worrying about what he'd say to Andre? Feeling guilty about the incompetent Robin?

Nihilani had no such problem. He paced the floor, ponderous and implacable as a rhinoceros, as he snapped out questions. I wished he'd sit. I was longing for peace and quiet. My thoughts were like a spilled puzzle that had to be picked up piece by piece and reassembled. They had come to me directly from their interview with Rory. Reported that she was doing fine—I knew what that meant—and immediately launched into their questions. It must have been an unproductive interview. I was getting the benefit of the bad mood she'd left them in.

I had had only one thing to say. I said it as soon as they came into the room, and it was not a remark calculated to make relations between us smooth.

"Staked goat," I said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nihilani came to a halt. Even though hospitals are sturdily built, I wondered what his thudding footsteps were doing to the people downstairs.

I didn't think it needed explanation. I turned my head sideways and burrowed into the pillow.

"Come on, Thea, you've got to talk to us. We know you can talk. The doc said you were okay. This attitude of yours is getting us nowhere. You know that, don't you? We're trying to catch a killer. We can't do it if you won't cooperate." He gave me one of his stony looks.
Save it for someone who cares
, I thought.
I've been eyeball to eyeball with Mr. Death.

"Your killer... almost... caught... me." I'd given hour-long speeches that took less energy. He was trained to be observant. Couldn't he see what was happening here? I wanted to suggest he go run fifteen or twenty miles and get run over by a truck and then come back and we'd talk. Maybe then he'd understand that I wasn't just being stubborn.

"Nothing was supposed to happen," Nihilani said. "That's why we sent Dunn."

"Good... choice."
Jerk,
I thought. Murder and attempted murder are never supposed to happen. They smelled like pizza for lunch. It made my stomach twitchy and set my fuzzy little teeth on edge. I pulled the sheet up over my head.

"What can you tell me about your assailant?"

"Mean... SOB." Wasn't this police harassment? But what could I do? Even if I rang for the nurse, I couldn't explain what I needed. If I'd had the energy to explain, I would have just answered his questions. Where was mental telepathy when we needed it? I was so cold my teeth were practically chattering. I closed my eyes and tried to think of warm things.

He grabbed the covers and jerked them down. "Look at me, goddamn it!" he said. "This is important."

I looked at myself. Down past the faded blue-and-white johnny, rucked up to my waist. At my cheerful bikini bottom. At the bruises on my exposed stomach. At the bandages on my knee, gouged when I'd tried to dig it in and push myself away, down there at the bottom of the sea. At my pale white faraway feet with the hopeful pink polish I'd put on, thinking about wiggling my toes in the sand, back when I was trying to convince myself the trip might be fun. No tan lines. I hadn't wanted to come to Hawaii. It meant missing most of a week with Andre. But with Suzanne sick, I'd had no choice. I've never been able to walk away from a job that needed doing. Could anyone seriously have thought I'd come to play detective? But why else would someone attack me?

"Picture... in... paper. Whose idea?"

Nihilani looked at Bernstein. Bernstein looked at his shoes. I looked at both of them. Of course they wouldn't tell me anything. I wished he'd put the covers back. I was so cold I felt blue. I wondered if they really believed the doctor who had proclaimed me fine. People around me kept throwing the word around with such abandon. Didn't fine mean A-okay? Hunky-dory? Peachy keen? Did they really believe I could sit up and chat like nothing had happened? Did they have any idea how I felt? That I could barely string two words together? How could men trained to be observant could be so dense.

I even wondered, given the picture in the paper, the setup I suspected, if hauling off my blankets and leaving me cold and exposed was part of their strategy. An odd strategy, to torture the victim, but the world works in devious ways. There are those who believe that the end justifies the means.

"Look," Nihilani said, "you must have noticed something. We know how clever you are. How observant. Can't you give us something? Anything? We've got people dropping like flies around here and not a hell of a lot to go on."

I buzzed and flapped my wings. Then I held out my hand and flapped my fingers feebly at him. "I tried. Evidence. Fingernails. Marks. Torn suit. What more? Please. I'm cold."

The door had opened while I was delivering this lengthy speech. Dr. Pryzinski, in a borrowed white coat, stethoscope over his shoulder, entered, followed by Marie. Ignoring the twins, he came directly to me, felt my skin, peered into my face, and pulled up the covers. Then he rang for a nurse. "Don't worry," he said, "we'll get you some blankets. Do you think you could drink a little tea? Marie noticed a kitchen down the hall. I'm sure we could fix you something." I nodded, and Marie hurried out.

"I feel terrible about this," he said. "Responsible. If I hadn't invited you... pressured you... to come with us, none of this would have happened." Only then did he acknowledge the detectives, greeting them by name and shaking their hands. "She's doing pretty well, considering the circumstances. I suppose her weakened condition frustrates you, when you want so much for her to talk. It frustrates her, too. You can see it in her eyes. She's dying to spill her guts...."

He noticed my reaction and smiled ruefully. "Sorry. Unfortunate choice of words, under the circumstances. I mean, she's anxious to talk to you and tell you what she knows, and she can't. She's a strong, healthy woman, though, and you're going to see dramatic improvement over the next few hours—"

"The ER doc said she was fine," Nihilani said. I thought I detected a trace of uncertainty in his voice. Might just have been wishful thinking, though. Experience has been a cruel teacher, but I still like to believe the cops are the good guys.

"Barring postimmersion syndrome, that's exactly right," Pryzinski agreed. "He meant no long-term damage. He didn't mean she'd be ready to jump up and go dancing two hours after such a traumatic experience. Why do you suppose they admitted her, in this era of managed care, instead of sending her back to the hotel to rest?" He studied Nihilani's face. Bernstein was still studying his shoes. Boring brown wing tips. In need of polish.

"Oh, no!" he said. "You think she's playing hard to get, don't you? You think she's being uncooperative. Honestly, Detective! Sometimes I think you guys can't tell the good ones from the bad ones. We should all be thanking our lucky stars that this little gal isn't spread out on an autopsy table instead of resting up so she can talk to us."

He turned to me, caught the look on my face, and winked. "Marie is going to fix Thea some tea and make her more comfortable. Why don't we go get some coffee? Maybe by the time we get back, she'll be feeling a little livelier. I know she wants to talk about it, don't you, Theadora?" His use of my full name reminded me of my father, and for a minute, I felt a rush of sadness at my estrangement from my parents. I feel it most in those moments—moments I try to guard against—when I want to be safe and cared for again. When, like now, I'm helpless and needy and far from home, and it's scary to be a grown-up. I forced myself away from self-pity and back to the moment, once again getting to watch Pryzinski's effect on his fans. If I'd been able to tell them to go away, they would have stayed put, picking at me like a pair of hungry crows, but when he suggested they leave, they were as docile as sheep. It wasn't just that they admired him. He had, despite his genial manner, an air of absolute authority. He didn't expect to be turned down.

He paused at my bedside and took my hand. "Count on a good hour," he said in a low voice. "Marie will take care of you." Then he left and I was alone. Rescued before I could be pecked to death.

Marie did take good care of me. Despite my dysfunctional relationship with my own mother, I seemed to have a knack for acquiring other motherly persons to care for me. Dom Florio's wife, Rosie, was one. She was like my mom and my big sister and my best friend all rolled into one. Marie was another. She came back with tea and Jell-O.

From my too frequent contact with hospitals, I've developed quite a taste for Jell-O. Also curiosity. I wonder what the annual medical Jell-O budget is for the nation's hospitals. And what the company would do if it were ever declared unhealthy. Most hospital refrigerators contain little else. Pink Jell-O. Orange Jell-O. Red Jell-O. Rarely green Jell-O. Maybe green isn't an encouraging color. Maybe green is too much like the way patients feel. It was certainly the way I felt.

She fed me sips of tea and bites of Jell-O. She smoothed the sheets. Washed my face and hands and arms and legs. Unbraided my hair and did her best to comb the snarls out. Found an extra pillow and two blankets. Propped me up and wrapped me up and then sat back to admire her work. "Pretty as a picture," she declared. "Is there anything else I can do?"

I felt ungrateful asking for more. Thus far, no nurse had ever appeared. If it hadn't been for Marie, I'd still be a smelly, sticky, freezing mess. But there was one more thing. "Toothbrush?"

"Let me see what I can do." She reappeared with toothbrush, toothpaste, a basin, and a bottle of ginger ale. Pretty soon I was so spiffy I could have gone dancing if I could have stood up. "Your little friend Laura was awfully upset," she said. "She thinks it's all her fault because she was distracting the police officer. I told her that it wasn't her problem and it wasn't her fault. She was just a kid. It was up to the adults to decide how they would behave. She's a very engaging child, isn't she?"

I nodded. "Oh, listen to me," Marie said. "You're supposed to be resting and I'm babbling on like an idiot. Here, have some ginger ale. That's good. Now close your eyes and get some rest. I'll be right over here with my knitting."

Marie with her lethal knitting needles was far better than an armed guard. No wonder she and Ed carried so much luggage. She was from the be-prepared school of travel. She sat in a chair by the window, humming softly to herself, the needles clicking rapidly. And I, warm and clean and finally feeling a little bit safe, closed my eyes and went to sleep.

I expected they'd only give me a little nap before the crows were back, pecking away, but when I opened my eyes again, the sun was low in the sky and the sweater Marie was knitting was nearly finished. "Oh, hi," she said. "Feeling any better?"

"Much." It was true. The restorative powers of peaceful sleep. I didn't feel great but I did feel slightly human. "How long have I..." I wasn't in full voice, but at least I could speak.

She looked at her watch. "A good two hours. They came back a while ago and were going to wake you, but then they got paged. That little girl. Laura. She had something she wanted to tell them. So off they went. And a good thing, too. They didn't need to wake you. That little sleep has done wonders." She laid her work aside and came over to the bed. "Yes. You're much better, aren't you. I wouldn't be surprised if they let you go." She hesitated. "If that's what you want, I mean. I know I never spend a minute in a hospital that I don't have to... when I'm not working, I mean. I expect you're the same way."

"I hate hospitals."

"Right. Eddie's gone to see if he can find you something to put on. He should be right back. I'll just go and see about getting you discharged, shall I? Oh... I forgot. We've got your stuff. From the boat. It's in the car. So we've got your shoes." She giggled. "Eddie did a good job getting those detectives out of the way, didn't he? He's such a good man. When he likes someone, he'll do anything for them. And he really likes you. He says he hopes that Andre knows how lucky he is."

I nodded. Where did she get the energy? She was wearing me out just listening to her. When she was gone, I closed my eyes again and relished the peace. I tried not to think about all the things back at the hotel that I ought to be worrying about, like introducing the dinner speaker and reassuring the board that they hadn't lost another member. And letting Laura know I wasn't mad.

While she was gone, Eddie came back clutching a plastic bag. "Found you this," he said, pulling something out. "I'm afraid it's not the greatest, but just to get you home, uh, back to the hotel... it ought to do. I hope. I'm not much of a shopper but Marie didn't want to leave you." He held it up. It was a long, shapeless green dress. A pale, pleasant green. Rather like my complexion right now. "Sorry about the green. It was all they had in large and Marie said I had to get large. I'm used to buying things for Marietta and for her, nothing can ever be too small. She's such a little bit of a thing."

He laid the dress on the bed. "So, I'll get out of here and you can get dressed. I go see if I can rustle up a wheelchair. It's kind of a long walk to the car." He hesitated. "I suppose I ought to call them and let them know that you're returning to the hotel so they don't have to drive back here. They get very unhappy when they're stressed, I've noticed. No sense in antagonizing them." We both knew who "they" were. I nodded. He left.

The phone rang. Jolene, sounding worried. "Thea, are you all right? I... we..." She hesitated so long I was afraid she'd called to report another disaster. "We heard what happened to you... on the boat... and when we called the hospital, they said you were going to be fine, that they were just keeping you a little while for observation, and then I just ran into that detective, Bernstein, and he said you were still in the hospital."

"I'm just getting ready to leave right now."

"Are you going to be here in time to introduce our banquet speaker?" she asked.