Daddy's Gone a Hunting (20 page)

“Thanks. That would be great,” Hannah agreed, even while she thought, Kate’s temperature is dropping but I’m grasping at straws if I try to think she’s out of the woods. I know that any fever, even if it has come down, is still dangerous.

Jessie went to the elevator while Hannah went to the ladies’ room, which was in the other direction. Carrying her bag, Hannah went in
and saw that no one was there. With a quick motion, she kicked off her heels and peeled off her jacket, blouse, and dress slacks. I’m taking a chance on someone walking in by doing a quick strip here, she thought, but trying to change in one of those narrow stalls would take twice as long.

She was back in the waiting room just in time to see her father disappear into the ICU. I’ll leave him alone with Kate, she thought. Knowing him, fifteen minutes is about as long as he’ll stay. Within five minutes Jessie was back with the coffee and sandwiches. As they unwrapped them, Hannah jerked her head in the direction of the ICU. “Doug is here. He didn’t see me. Let’s see how long he lasts.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were finished eating. They were putting the wrappings and the empty Styrofoam cups in the wastebasket as Doug came into the room.

Jessie’s first thought was one that she often had when she came face-to-face with Douglas Connelly. He was a stunningly handsome man with sculpted features. His charcoal-brown hair was flecked with gray on the sides and at the temples. His midnight-blue eyes were wide apart and framed by long lashes. His smile revealed perfect teeth, and if they were capped, it was not obvious. He was impeccably dressed in a striped shirt, tie, and cardigan. Hannah had told her that she understood that his new designer of choice was Armani.

With all his good looks and impeccable style, Doug still gave the impression of being the kind of man who was also an athlete. Jessie knew that was an accurate take. She had been with him and the girls on a number of occasions when he was accepting a country club championship trophy for golf or tennis. And she knew that when he was younger he had also played polo.

“Hannah, I just spoke to Dr. Patel inside there,” he said. “He’s very encouraged that Kate’s fever is dropping.”

“Yes, I know,” Hannah replied.

“I’d stay longer, but I think those fire marshals want to talk to me tonight. I can’t imagine what the rush is, why it won’t hold till morning. Have you heard from them?”

“No, I haven’t. Not since Thursday night.”

“I imagine they’re with Jack Worth now.”

Doug looks worried, Jessie thought, and I don’t think it’s all about Kate’s condition.

Doug kissed Hannah tentatively on the cheek and said, “I am sure our prayers are being answered. The fever seems to be under control.”

“Yes. And I’ve been away from Kate too long,” Hannah said. “Good-bye, Dad. Jess, a thousand thanks.”

She was gone, on her way back to the ICU. Jessie was glad to have the chance to have a few minutes alone with Doug as they made their way down the elevator and out to the hospital entrance where Doug’s car was waiting. “I’d offer to drive you home,” he said, “but those marshals are coming and the crosstown traffic is always heavy.”

“That’s fine,” Jessie said. “I see a cab coming.” She raised her hand to hail it. “But Doug,” she added quickly, “don’t forget I’m representing Kate. Anything I can find out to help her, if she’s charged with being involved in the explosion, is very important. I’d really like to know what the marshals are up to.”

“I’ll call you in the morning if there’s anything to report,” he promised as he got into the car. The minute he was inside, with the door closed, he pulled out his cell phone and called Jack Worth. “Have you spoken to those guys yet?”

“Yes. You know that wrecked van that was in the back parking lot?”

“What about it?”

“Some vagrant has been making it home-sweet-home
for the last couple of years.”

“For the last couple of years?” Doug repeated in a nervous whisper.

“Yes. They’re wondering if he might have started the fire. That’s good. At least it’s one more angle that might take any suspicion off Kate.”

“I can see that and I agree that’s good. How often do they think he’s been there?”

“From the newspapers they found, he was there pretty regularly and almost definitely the night of the explosion.”

“So if he didn’t set it, he could be a witness.”

Douglas Connelly did not want to consider what that could mean. He broke the connection.

45

F
rank Ramsey and Nathan Klein had left Jack Worth and driven over the 59th Street Bridge into Manhattan. When they arrived at the upscale apartment building of Douglas Connelly, they were told by the doorman that he had just returned home. They went upstairs to find the same scenario they had witnessed a few nights earlier. Sandra answered the door and walked them back to the library, where Connelly was sitting, a drink in his hand.

“I just wanted you to know that Kate is running a fever and, as you can see, Douglas is very distraught,” Sandra said. “I hope that you make this very short because he needs to relax and have something to eat. The poor man is at the end of his rope.”

“We are both very sorry if Ms. Connelly’s condition has worsened,” Frank Ramsey said sincerely. “If Mr. Connelly intends to go back to the hospital tonight, we certainly understand that, and we can make an appointment to see him tomorrow.”

“No. His other daughter is playing the martyr. She wants to be alone with her sister.”

“That’s enough, Sandra.” Still holding his glass, Connelly stood up. “What is this I hear about a vagrant who might have been living in the van?”

“
Was
living in the van, Mr. Connelly,” Frank Ramsey corrected.

“And I understand that he may have been there over a period of years?”

“At least two. There are newspapers going back that far.”

Douglas Connelly took a long sip from the glass of vodka. “Incredible as it sounds, I can understand how that could have happened. You’ve seen the shed where the vans are housed. It’s open at the front but the sides and back are enclosed. That van was parked behind all the others. In these last few years usually two of the four in the front were in constant service. The other two formed a natural obstruction of any view of the wrecked van.

“Sometimes, when we had a long-range delivery, the driver would leave in the late evening or the very early morning. But certainly no driver would have had any reason to look into that old van. If the person in it got out before people began to arrive in the morning, he wouldn’t have been noticed. If he stayed inside the van all day, the vagrant wouldn’t have been noticed, either. But, since he would have obviously needed food and at least occasionally some kind of sanitation, I would imagine that he left by early morning, when no one was around, and came back late at night.”

“I think you’re right,” Nathan Klein agreed. “Our people have been canvassing the neighborhood. A derelict dragging a cart has been observed by some in the early-morning hours, but that area, with all the warehouses surrounding your complex, has a number of homeless taking shelter at night.”

“There is another possibility, Mr. Connelly,” Frank Ramsey said. “We believe that the vagrant may have been there at the time of the explosion. He may have been a witness to what happened that night.” With narrowed eyes he watched for Connelly’s reaction.

“We know that my daughter Kate and Gus Schmidt were on the premises. But even if by any chance the vagrant happened to see
them there together, he would have no way of knowing that Kate had been lured there by Gus Schmidt.”

“And that’s going to be the official party line,” Ramsey sarcastically commented to Klein as they drove back to Fort Totten to file an updated report. When they were finished, they got into their own cars and, weary to the bone, went their separate ways home.

46

A
t 10:30
P.M.
on Monday, Kate’s fever shot up alarmingly to 104 degrees. Dr. Patel stayed through the night in the hospital. The nurse told Hannah that he was catching some sleep in a room down the hall but could be back in an instant. Beyond tears and beyond ability to think coherently, Hannah sat in numbed silence in the ICU cubicle beside Kate. Sometimes Kate restlessly stirred, setting off an alarm and causing the nurse to rush in to be sure that she did not pull out any of the tubes that were dripping medications into her arms.

By seven o’clock the next morning, Kate’s fever broke. With a broad smile, the nurse asked Hannah to go into the waiting room while they changed Kate’s gown and the sheets, which were now drenched with perspiration.

When Hannah, weak with relief, entered the waiting room, she found a priest waiting to speak to her. He stood up and greeted her warmly. He was a tall, thin man who appeared to be in his early sixties, with hazel eyes that crinkled as he greeted her. When he took her hand, his grip was firm and reassuring. “Hello, Hannah. I’m Father Dan Martin. The doctor just stopped by,” he said. “So I know Kate is doing better. You have no reason to remember me, but when you were young, your family were parishioners at St. Ignatius Loyola.”

“Yes, we were,” Hannah agreed, thinking with guilt that since Kate had gotten her apartment on the West Side and she herself had moved to the Village, neither one of them had been much for going to church except at the major holidays.

“I wasn’t at St. Ignatius in those years,” he said, “but I was on the altar at the funeral mass for your mother and uncle. I was just ordained then and since the accident I’ve thought so often of your family. You were just a baby but your sister was there. She was only three years old and holding your father’s hand. I’ve attended many sad funerals but that one has always stood out in my mind. I’ve been praying for Kate since the accident and I just wanted to stop in and see if you wanted me to visit her.”

For a moment he paused, then added, “Kate was such a beautiful little girl with that long blond hair and those exquisite blue eyes. The two caskets were in the aisle and she kept trying to pull the cloth covering off the first one as though she knew that was where her mother’s body was resting.”

“There were a lot of reporters outside the church and at the grave,” Hannah said. “I’ve seen the television clips. It was such a horrible accident. The other two couples who died were well-known in the financial markets.”

Father Martin nodded. “I made it my business to call on your father afterward and we became a bit friendly. He was in a terrible state over losing your mother and, of course, his brother and friends as well. The poor man couldn’t stop crying. He was absolutely distraught. He told me that if it weren’t for his little girls, he’d give anything to have died in the accident, too.”

He certainly got over that, Hannah thought, and then she was ashamed of herself. “I know how much he loved my mother,” she said. “When I was about thirteen, I asked him why he hadn’t remarried. He told me that Robert Browning was asked the same question after Elizabeth Barrett Browning died. His
answer was that it would be an insult to her memory to marry again.”

“A few months after the funeral, I was assigned to Rome to attend the Gregorian College, and I lost touch with your father. I’d like to give him a call now. Would you mind giving me his number?”

“Of course.” She recited Doug’s cell and home numbers and, for a moment, almost added the business number of the complex but stopped herself. Father Martin jotted them down.

Hannah hesitated, then said, “After twelve years as a student at Sacred Heart Academy, it would seem as though I should have called to have Kate receive the Sacrament of the Sick.”

“I am prepared to offer that now,” Father Martin said quietly. “So often, even to this day, people are afraid that to receive it is a sure sign that someone is about to die, which simply isn’t the case. It is also a prayer that the patient will return to health.”

When the nurse came back to invite them back to Kate’s bedside, they found her lying quietly, now seemingly in a deep, restful sleep.

“She’s under heavy sedation but sometimes she’ll say something,” Hannah whispered. “The doctor said that whatever she says is probably meaningless.”