One Grave Too Many (28 page)

“I’m coming, I’m coming. Keep your pants on,” came a muffled voice inside. The door opened tentatively. “Oh, it’s you, Ms. Fallon. My, what happened?”

“Someone mugged me outside the building. My purse is gone, and my keys. I have an extra set. Would you let me in my apartment, please?”

“Why, sure.” She went away for a moment and came back with a master key. As she closed the door, Diane thought she saw the tail of a cat swishing. At least she solved one mystery.

“Someone attacked you here?” said the landlady. “I don’t like that one bit. I’ve asked the police to drive by once in a while, but do they listen to me? No, they get on the television and talk about what a good police department the mayor is putting together. Well, I don’t see it.” Diane followed her upstairs. “I’ve been afraid something like this would happen. I was telling Dorothy—she’s a friend at the beauty shop—I was telling her that it’s just a matter of time, with all the growing Rosewood’s been doing the past few years and all the young people moving in from Atlanta, that we’ll start having crime. I supported the mayor in the beginning when he was talking about us having a professional police force, but I haven’t seen it. I see the talk, and they sure take out the taxes. Do you want me to call the police?”

“I’ll call them from the hospital. I just need to get in my apartment and get my keys.”

“The hospital? You are hurt, aren’t you? Well, this just won’t do.” She opened Diane’s door and followed her in. “Do you want me to drive you? I can do that, or I can call my nephew.”

Diane found her keys and started back out the door. “No. But thank you. I can drive myself. I just need to make sure I don’t have any broken ribs.”

As she closed the door she heard movement in the apartment across from hers. She hurried down the stairs as quickly as the pain would allow. The last thing she wanted was to get into a conversation with Mrs. Odell about Marvin and his allergies. The landlady followed, streams of conversation still flowing from her. Diane thanked her again when she was able to get a word in. She made it to her car, got inside, locked the door and sat in the driver’s seat, trying to breathe normally. After a moment she put the key in the ignition. She knew she was hurt more than she wanted to believe.

 

As Diane drove the distance to the hospital, she wondered several times if she should have let the landlady drive her. But after what seemed like too long, the lights of the hospital finally came into sight. She left her car in the emergency room parking and made it to the intake desk. In gasps, she told the nurse what had happened. After giving her name, address and insurance carrier, Diane sat in the waiting room. She wanted to call Frank, but he had too much on him already. She didn’t want to bring him more worry.

She watched the other people waiting. A man with a bloody rag around his hand, a child with a cough, a woman with an ice pack on her ankle, others she couldn’t tell what was wrong. Some watched her too, and she wondered what she looked like. If she looked like she felt, she looked awful. Her back was killing her. She had some serious throbbing pains in her stomach and ribs.

Who attacked her? she wondered. A mugger? Or did it have to do with the bones she was excavating? She lay her head back against the wall.

She jerked awake and noticed some of the people had switched out with newcomers. The child was gone, and so was the man with the bleeding hand. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Diane Fallon? Come with me, please. Can you walk, or do you need a wheelchair?”

“I can walk.”
Barely,
she thought.

She followed a nurse into the examining room, where another nurse asked her to remove her shirt. There were broken blood vessels, welts and bruises in perhaps a dozen places she could see.

“You were attacked?” The nurse listened to her heart and took her blood pressure.

“Yes. Hit in the stomach and kicked in the ribs and the back. That’s all I remember right now.”

“Um-hmm. Somebody worked you over good. What kind of pain are you in?”

“I hurt pretty bad.”

“We need to get some X rays for the doctor, and the police will want to talk to you. You can put your shirt back on right now.”

“Okay.” Diane started to put her shirt back on. Her locket was missing. “My locket, it’s gone. I’ve got to go look for it.”

“The police will take care of that.”

“No, you don’t understand. My daughter gave it to me. It was a surprise. She worked sweeping out the schoolroom when I was away and got the nuns to order it for her. She picked it out from a catalog.” Diane started crying.

“She was only six years old. I have to find it. You don’t understand, she . . . she died, and she gave it to me.” Out of context, she knew her story didn’t make much sense, but she couldn’t find the words to explain it any better. The woman probably thought she was crazy.

“I’m sure the police will find it.” The nurse’s voice was calm and soothing.

She must deal with hysterical people in the emergency room all the time,
Diane thought.

After almost an hour and a half, she was taken to be x-rayed; she waited another half hour to see the doctor. The doctor on call told her nothing was broken but he was concerned about her right kidney. He thought it was only bruised, but would like to keep her overnight.

“Fine,” Diane told him, and after another hour she was taken to a private room. Coincidentally, on the same floor as Star. All during that time, no policeman showed up.

The floor nurse gave her one of the nightgowns with no back, and as she removed her bra, the locket fell to the floor. She snatched it up and cried. The fastener was broken, but it could be fixed. When she got in bed she put it under her pillow in the small case that held her driver’s license.

In about an hour, another nurse came in to take her blood pressure. It was Loraine Washington, the nurse who had helped Star.

“Didn’t I just see you in here visiting a while ago?”

Diane explained what had happened.

“Right after you left here? That’s terrible. Right at your own front door?”

“Thanks for taking good care of Star. A lot of people are pretty down on her right now.”

“I always say a person is innocent until proven guilty, and if they do turn out to be proven guilty, then how you treated them is about the kind of person you are, not the kind of person they are.”

“Those are nice sentiments. Can I quote you?”

“Certainly.” She handed Diane a couple of pills and a glass of water. “These will help with the pain and help you sleep.”

Diane swallowed the pills and lay back on the pillows. “I could use a good night’s sleep.”

She expected nightmares, but as far as she remembered, she didn’t even dream. She woke up in the morning almost too sore to move, but she managed to make it to the bathroom. She took a quick shower but had to put back on yesterday’s underwear. If she’d been thinking, she’d have grabbed a change of clothes while she was at her apartment. But they’d probably release her today.

Breakfast arrived while she was showering. Cereal, eggs, toast, orange juice and coffee. She ate the cereal and drank the juice. As she finished, a policeman, Izzy Wallace, arrived with his partner. He walked in the door looking sheepish.

“I wanted to apologize, Dr. Fallon, for the misunderstanding. Frank told me . . . well, about your experience. We’re sorry too, we didn’t get here last evening. A lot of things going on in town last night.”

Diane felt too sore to argue with anyone at the moment. She merely nodded.

“Can you tell us what happened?”

Diane explained about the attack, and no, she didn’t see a face, but he was male. Why? Because she saw him running and it was a male and he was strong. “He was around six feet tall,” she said.

“How do you know that?” asked Izzy’s partner.

“He was taller than me. He ran past the cars. I could tell where the top of the cars came to on him.”

“Did you hear his voice?”

“No, he didn’t say a word. He did make sounds when I kicked him, pulled his finger back and bit him, but nothing I’d recognize.”

“How about smells? Did you notice anything distinctive?”

Diane thought for a moment. “No. No, I didn’t.”

“You say he took your purse?”

“I assume so. It was gone.”

“What was in it?”

“My checkbook, keys, about twenty-five dollars, lipstick, a notepad.”

“Credit card, driver’s license?” prompted Izzy.

“I carry them separately in a pocket. A habit I picked up from traveling.”

“A wise thing to do. We’ll probably find your purse dumped somewhere and empty. I doubt we’ll find the guy. Just nothing to go on.”

“What if it wasn’t a mugging? What if it was connected to the bones?”

“Bones? Oh, the bones. You think it might be?”

“I don’t know. It’s a possibility.”

“Has anyone threatened you?”

“You mean, besides the mayor? No.”

Both Izzy and his partner looked sheepish again.

“Or it could be related to the break-in at the museum. Have you found any leads there?”

“No. That’s a dead end right now. Since nothing was taken . . .” He let the sentence trail off. Diane knew they weren’t following up, but she couldn’t resist making him feel uncomfortable.

“We’ll do what we can,” he said. “I’m supposed to be going off duty, but I’ll go over to your apartment house and look around. Maybe he dropped something or somebody saw something.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Be a good idea if you have your locks changed,” he said.

After they left, a doctor, a gray-haired, athletic man who looked to be in his early sixties, came in.

“Dr. Fallon, I’m sorry to see you under these conditions.”

Diane recognized him as one of the contributors to the museum.

“Dr. Renner, isn’t it? You were at the museum contributors’ party.”

“Yes, I was there with my wife, and we thoroughly enjoyed it. We can’t wait until it opens to the public so we can take our grandchildren. This town needs a place like that. I understand there will be a restaurant too.”

“Yes.”

“That’s just grand.” He looked at her chart a moment. “I see things went well last night. That’s good. You have some bruised ribs and a bruised kidney. It’s not serious. Some bed rest and control of your fluids will take care of it. I’m going to prescribe some pills for your pain.” He gave her a packet of papers. “We’ve discovered it’s better to give out a sheet listing what we want the patient to do, as well as tell them. Just follow the instructions.”

“Thank you. Does this mean I can go home?”

“Surely. But I’m serious when I say rest. And don’t get dehydrated. Don’t overdo the fluids either. I’ll be looking forward to the museum’s opening, and I want to see you in tip-top shape. When will that be, by the way?”

“In just a couple of weeks.”

“That’s great. You’ll probably be seeing a lot of me. Take care of yourself, and if you have any problems—blood in your urine, pain that the pills can’t take care of, nausea, headaches—call me. My number’s on the card in your packet.”

“Thanks for your help. Oh, Dr. Renner. I have a question. It’s related to something else. Is it very common for children to be vegetarians?”

“More common than I like to see. Growing children need a balanced diet, and you have to be a good vegetarian to be a successful one. It’s not a matter of eating only vegetables. Of course, some children are allergic to various foods and sometimes have to stay away from meats. True food allergies aren’t that common. What many people call allergies are really sensitivities. However, some children—and adults—are allergic to cow products, for instance. That includes beef.”

“Allergies.” She hadn’t thought of that. That could be another thing that might help identify the remains. Perhaps her bones had a food allergy.

“Thanks, Doctor. Please let me know when you’re coming to the museum and I’ll give you and your family a tour.”

“I’ll do that. Maybe we can see some of the areas where you put things together.”

“You would probably enjoy the conservation lab. I’ll be sure you get to see it.”

When he left, Diane got dressed, wishing again she had clean clothes. While she waited for the nurse with her discharge papers, she walked down the hall to Star’s room. She wasn’t the only visitor. Crystal was there with her husband, Gil.

“Guard,” Star yelled. “Get them out of here.”

But the guard was not on duty. Diane walked into the room. Crystal stood by Star with a sheaf of papers, trying to force a pen into Star’s hand.

“You’d better leave,” said Diane. “If you don’t, you’ll be in more trouble than you want.”

“Well, if it isn’t Frankie’s bone woman. Heard about you on television digging in ol’ Abercrombie’s carcass pile. Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

“Running you out of Star’s room.”

“This is my—granddaughter.” She almost choked on the word.

“She’s trying to get me to sign over Mom and Dad’s property,” said Star.

“I am not. This is just something to let me keep her money safe so the lawyers won’t get it all. I explained that to her.”

“Even if you could coerce her into signing, it wouldn’t be legal. She’s a minor.”

“Not no more. They’re going to try her as an adult.” Crystal nodded her head with emphasis.

“That’s not a shortcut to majority. You’re attempting to coerce a minor. Now get out of here before her guardian comes and throws you out.”

“I have more right to be here than you.”

“You have absolutely no right to be here at all.” Frank stood in the doorway glaring at the McFarlands.

As Crystal turned to Frank, Diane saw a phrase on one of the pages Crystal held. Diane snatched the papers from her hand without thinking.