Murder With All the Trimmings (16 page)

“Beer,” Nate said.

“Not unless the doctor approves it,” Josie said.

“Not even for a hundred thousand dollars?” Nate said, in a sad attempt at banter.

“Not for a million,” Josie said. “Your daughter is crying her eyes out because you’re sick. She wants you to get well.”

“Everyone wants something I can’t give them,” Nate mumbled, and slipped back into sleep. His hands scrabbled across the covers like crabs on a beach. The sight chilled Josie. She didn’t like the dark bruises under his eyes or the yellow tinge to his skin.

Soon Nate was snoring, his breathing full of stops, starts, and snorts. Waiting for him to resume snoring was nerve-racking.

This is not good, Josie thought. Nate really might die. She tried to push the ugly thought away, but it seemed to squat on her chest. I wished him dead the other day. I wanted him out of my life. Now I’m about to get what I wanted.

Josie dozed off again. She vaguely remembered two or three doctors coming in, looking concerned. A nurse with squeaky shoes took Nate’s vital signs and checked his IV.

I need to call Mom, Josie thought. She took out her cell phone and went into the stairwell to make the call.

“I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Nate’s father,” Jane said. “Please tell me that boy is still alive.”

“Nothing’s changed, Mom, but he doesn’t look good. What couldn’t you tell me about Amelia?”

“She wants to see her father in the hospital.”

“Children aren’t allowed,” Josie said.

“She’s nine,” Jane said. “She’s old enough to say good-bye.”

“I think he’s dying,” Josie said.

“All the more reason she needs to see her father,” Jane said. “And he needs to see her. You’ve made a hash of this by lying. Amelia will never forgive you if you deny her this opportunity. You can’t protect your daughter from the unpleasant facts of life.”

“I’ll think about it, Mom,” Josie said.

“No! You’ll listen to me for once, Josie Marcus, and do it. I’ll bring Amelia after school. I’ll prepare her first.” Jane hung up before Josie could answer.

Josie went back to the ICU unit. She could see through the glass that Nate was asleep. His room door was closed.

Josie opened the door slowly and bumped into a shaggy-haired man in a white lab coat. He was standing in front of the closet, with his hand in Nate’s bomber jacket.

“May I help you?” Josie asked.

Then she stared at the doctor. “Mitch!” she said.

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me after all these years,” he said, a smarmy smile on his face. “I’ve put on a few pounds.” He patted his gut like a beloved pet. “And my hair is grayer.”

Those “few pounds” looked like fifty to Josie. His black hair was now iron gray. But his slablike forehead and jutting jaw were the same. He still had odd, crooked teeth, like tombstones in an old cemetery. His sneer was unchanged.

“I recognized you immediately, Mitch, as soon as I saw your hand where it shouldn’t be,” Josie said.

“You never let me forget that one mistake, Josie. I made a pass at you, but it was a compliment.”

“I was dating your best friend!” Josie said.

“You were doing more than dating, sweetheart. It’s too late to act all pure and innocent. The evidence is about nine years old now, I think.”

“How dare you!” Josie said, and started to punch him in the mouth.

Mitch grabbed her arm. “Quiet,” he said. “We don’t want to wake Nate, do we?” He squeezed Josie’s arm until she cried out in pain.

“Where is it?” Mitch asked, pulling her closer. She could smell cigarettes and cheap shaving lotion.

“Where’s what?” Josie said.

“Don’t play dumb. The key. I want the key to the storage unit.”

“I don’t have it,” Josie said.

Mitch bent her arm back until Josie was afraid he’d dislocate it. “You’re lying. I want that money. It’s half mine. That’s why Nate came back. To give me my share. The rest goes to his lawyer.”

Just when Josie thought she couldn’t take any more pain, she heard the rattling of a cart, and the big, scuffed door opened. It was the cheerful phlebotomist.

“I’m here for more blood,” Angela said, with that wide smile.

“Gotta go,” Mitch said. “But I’ll be back, Josie. I won’t forget. Don’t you forget, either.” Then he disappeared down the hall.

Chapter 17

Josie waited until she heard the
ding
of the elevator. The doors whooshed open and then shut again. She hoped that meant the frightening Mitch was gone. She stuck her head out of Nate’s door, saw the hall was empty, and ran straight to the ICU nurses’ station.

A young red-haired nurse working on some notes looked up. “May I help you?”

“I found a strange man in Nate’s room when I came back from the cafeteria,” Josie said. “He wore a white lab coat, but I didn’t see any hospital ID. He was going through Nate’s jacket.” She didn’t add that the man had threatened her.

“What’s his description? I’ll call security,” the nurse said.

Josie gave her the details, without much hope that anyone would catch Mitch. A gray-haired man in a white lab coat would be invisible in a hospital.

Nate was still sleeping when Josie returned to his room. He seemed to be growing smaller, as if his life were slowly leaking away. Who would have thought my handsome young pilot would end like this? she thought. Nate looked old and exhausted. His skin had an unhealthy yellow tinge.

“Nate,” she whispered. “Fight. Your daughter needs you.”

Nate didn’t move. Josie squeezed his hand, and wished she wasn’t so useless. There was nothing she could do but wait. She settled into the uncomfortable turquoise chair next to the bed. Her arm ached where Mitch had manhandled her. Why didn’t I give Mitch the key to the storage locker? she asked herself. I don’t want that money.

Because Nate doesn’t want Mitch to have it. But what am I going to do with a storage locker full of cash? There are worse problems to have, Josie decided. She held Nate’s hand and eventually drifted off to sleep.

“There you are,” a man said. His loud voice startled her awake. Josie had been asleep—and drooling. Lovely.

She blinked and saw Nate standing at the room door. He was thin again, and muscular. His hair was thick and gray, but it was her Nate, hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket, confident smile on his face.

“Nate?” Josie said.

“Jack Weekler,” the man said. He had a slight British accent. He shook Josie’s hand. “And you must be Nate’s . . . erm.” His voice trailed off.

Nate’s erm, Josie thought. That describes me as well as anything.

“I’m Josie Marcus,” she said, standing and shaking his hand. “I’m sorry we have to meet in a hospital. My mother, Jane, called you in Toronto.”

“Fine woman. She was kind enough to pick me up at the airport. Jane is parking the car. She told me to go on up and see my son. How is he?”

“I’m not sure,” Josie said. “He was talking a little while ago, but he sleeps a lot. I’m not a relative, so I can’t get a complete report from the doctors.”

Jack studied the pale, still form of his son. “Doesn’t look good, does he? Was he on a bender?”

“He’d been drinking a little,” Josie said.

“A little? You don’t have to lie to me, Josie. If Nate was drinking, it was a lot.”

“Okay, he was drunk,” Josie said. “But I’m not sure this was caused by alcohol. Nate might have been poisoned.”

“Poisoned! The only poison Nate ever took was in a beer bottle. He’s nearly destroyed his liver with drink. The doctors warned him to sober up.”

“I don’t think he took poison on purpose,” Josie said. “It may have been accidental. They suspect it was in some chocolate cake.”

“Nate doesn’t eat cake,” his father said. The man’s voice grew louder with every sentence.

Nate opened one bleary eye and said, “Hi, Pop. Why are you bellowing in my room?”

“I came to see you, you idiot,” his father said. “What kind of mess are you in now?”

“I think I’ve been killed by a cake,” Nate said. “I knew there was a reason I drank. Can’t trust food.”

“You’re not dead yet,” Jack said. “What can I do for you?”

“Quit staring at me like a sick basset hound. Make sure my daughter, Amelia, gets my life insurance.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” Jack said.

“Then shut up so I can sleep,” said his son, and closed his eyes.

“Have you eaten yet, Mr. Weekler?” Josie asked.

“Jack, please. I feel old enough already. I had some food on the plane. I’m not really hungry. Maybe later. I’ll go talk to the head nurse and see what I can find out.”

Jack had been gone about five minutes when Josie’s mother came in, cheeks bright pink from the cold, every hair in place. Jane took off her coat, and Josie saw that her mother was wearing her new rust-colored pantsuit. It made her look slim and stylish.

“You wouldn’t believe the hospital parking lot,” Jane said. “Every space was taken. People were double-parking in the driveway. I finally found a place by a Dumpster and hiked here. How’s Nate?”

“About the same,” Josie said. “How’s Jack?”

“He’s cute,” Jane said.

Cute? Her mother was calling a man “cute”?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jane said.

“Because you sound like your granddaughter. You really think Jack is cute?”

Jane shrugged. “He’s a good-looking man with nice manners. These are trying circumstances, Josie, but he’s behaving well. He’s offered to take me out to dinner tonight.”

“Are you going?” Josie asked.

“I’m thinking about it. But a woman shouldn’t be too available.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mother.”

“Call me old-fashioned, Josie, but sometimes the old ways work,” Jane said.

“What old ways?” Jack asked. His trip to the nurses’ station had aged him by ten years.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jane.

“Let’s step into the family waiting room down the hall,” Jack said.

The little room was furnished with comfortable pale pink couches, a basket of apples, a pile of magazines, and a TV that played mindless shows at high volume. The set had no OFF switch.

Jack reached up and yanked the TV’s plug.

“Thank you,” Josie said. “Now I can hear myself think. You look like you got bad news.”

“I did. They think it’s poison, possibly antifreeze. They’re testing the cake carton you brought in, Josie. My son’s liver and kidneys are damaged. His ammonia levels are up, which is a bad sign. They’re going to try dialysis, but they’re not holding out much hope.”

“I’m sorry,” Josie and Jane said together.

“They said a woman already died of antifreeze poisoning. At least that’s what the autopsy found. Nate ate the same thing she did. That damned cake.”

“Why would anyone try to kill Nate?” Josie asked.

“Nate ran with a bad crowd for a while, Josie. He’s kept money hidden away for years. I don’t know where, but I suspect it’s a lot. They may be trying to get it. But I don’t think they’d poison a cake to get my Nate. They’d be better off pouring antifreeze in his beer—or shooting him.”

“Nate wasn’t a regular at Elsie’s Elf House,” Josie said. “I think he only went there once, to buy a treat for Amelia.”

Josie watched the horror register on Jane’s face. Her granddaughter had been nearly poisoned.

“It must have been random, like those horrible Tylenol killings years ago,” Jane said. “Remember when that man killed those innocent people so he could murder his wife and make it look random? Otherwise, I’m sure no one would want to kill Nate.”

Except me, Josie thought. A few days ago I would have given anything to make that man disappear.

Her unspoken words seemed to hang in the air. Jane finally broke the awkward silence. “We should go back and see Nate. What time is it?”

Josie checked her cell phone clock. “Two thirty-two,” she said.

“I’d better get Amelia at school,” Jane said.

“Mom, I don’t want Amelia here at the hospital,” Josie said.

“It’s her right, Josie, and don’t argue with me.”

“Please let her come. It may help Nate,” his father said.

Josie couldn’t refuse his request, but she was worried. Amelia was so young. Would the sight of her dying father scar her for life? But if I don’t let her see Nate, she’s already scarred. A parent can’t win, Josie thought.

After a long time, Jane returned with Amelia. Josie blinked in surprise. Her daughter looked so grown-up she could have been eighteen. Amelia must have stopped at home first and changed into her good coat. Under it she wore a navy sweater and pants. She was nearly as tall as Jane, and Amelia’s rich brown hair fell almost to her shoulders. There was no doubt that Amelia was Nate’s daughter.

Jack gave a little gasp and said, “You’re beautiful, my girl.”

“Thank you. You must be my grandfather,” Amelia said gravely, and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek.