Haunting Refrain (23 page)

Still on her knees, Kate grabbed the phone from the desk. Between the tears blurring her sight and her shaking hands, she could hardly punch in the numbers, but she managed to tell the dispatcher what had happened. Turning back to
Venice
, she saw John carefully covering her with an afghan he pulled off a chair.

“I know I can't move her, but she feels so cold. Shock and loss of blood, I guess. Whoever did this is long gone. I would guess it happened last night. Stay here,” he said. “I'll go watch for the ambulance.”

The police and the paramedics arrived within seconds of each other. While the paramedics dealt with
Venice
and one of the officers checked the house, Kate and John went into the living room with the second officer. Kate couldn't concentrate on the questions directed to her for watching over her shoulder for
Venice
. A short time later, one of the medics stuck his head in the door and told them which hospital they were going to, adding, “She was wearing a wig. It probably saved her life.”

The first officer came back to say the back door had been jimmied.
“A real hatchet job.
Definitely not a pro.
The lock is old and would have been easy to open.”

Kate and John looked around the house with the police but couldn't tell if anything was missing. Obvious targets such as a television set and several pieces of silver had not been disturbed. Kate hardly listened. John did most of the talking and suggested the police notify Detective Waite, in case there was a connection to the Landrum murder.

“Oh, she’s that psychic! Yeah, someone might think she knows something, whether she does or not. The guy was probably waiting for her when she came home. That purse on the floor indicates she'd just walked in.”

Although Kelly Landrum’s killer had been in the back of her mind, Kate hadn't fully faced the possibility of their being in danger. She clutched John's arm for support as a wave of nausea rose to her throat and cold sweat broke out over her forehead. He quickly sat her in a chair and shoved her head between her knees, brushing her hair out of her face. The policeman brought her a glass of water from the kitchen.

After the police finished, Kate picked up
Venice
's purse and keys. Stopping at the desk, she saw the crystal ball that
Venice
insisted housed
Ramses's
spirit. On impulse, she lifted it, cradling it in her arms, christening it with her tears. “What happened here, Ramses?”

“Why don't you take it to her at the hospital? She might find it comforting. Come on. I'll drive and we can get your car later.” John locked the house and, taking Kate's
keys,
locked her car.

* * *

In the hospital, on the way to the elevators, Kate suddenly swerved, almost tripping John. “Wait, I have to get something,” she said, darting into the gift shop.

He expected her to come out with flowers. Instead, she held a helium-filled balloon—a large purple heart.

John stayed in the hospital waiting room with Kate, holding her hand and bringing her drinks. He asked if there were anyone who should be notified. Kate thought of Martin Carver, but she knew of no one else. John called the college and, telling the switchboard it was urgent, had a message delivered to the professor in class.

As they waited for news, Kate alternately paced the floor and huddled next to John.

Martin, breathless, ran in just as the doctors came out to explain
Venice
's injury and talk with them.

“She's resting comfortably. She has a concussion, and she’s lost a lot of blood, but the injury is not as bad as we first thought. She had her hair pinned up under the wig, and that, with the wig, protected her skull somewhat, cushioning the blow. It didn't do nearly as much damage as it might have.

“Now, if we can keep her from getting pneumonia, I think she'll be all right. She's conscious, but groggy. She doesn't remember what happened, and I don't want her upset. You can see her, one at a time, for a few minutes, but no questions.”

“This is hers,” Kate said, holding up the crystal ball. “I think it would comfort her to have it. Is it all right?”

The doctor looked blankly at the ball but agreed.

Kate slipped in and put Ramses on the table beside
Venice
,
then
tied the purple heart to the foot of the bed. “
Venice
?”

Venice
opened her eyes and greeted Kate with a weak smile on her colorless face. She seemed almost transparent. Her gray hair with the shaved patch and bandage added to the fragile picture. She saw the
purple heart
floating above her and smiled. “You remembered.”

“For being wounded in action. Yes. And I brought Ramses to stay with you.”

Venice
brightened when Kate showed her the ball.

A few minutes later, Martin, looking only marginally better than
Venice
, came out of her room, shaking his head.
“A bad business.
Someone needs to stay with her. What if he tries again?”

No one had to ask who
he
was.

“I'm going to talk to Detective Waite. She might be able to assign someone to stay here. At least she can make an official request for the hospital to keep an eye on her. If not, I could get one of the nursing students from Poinsett. The doctor would let one of them stay.” Martin left them to go to the nurse’s station.

Before they left the hospital, Kate left a message on Gwen’s answering machine. Martin arranged for a male nursing student to spend the night with
Venice
and had a notice posted at Poinsett, canceling tonight’s
para
group meeting. “I felt having a man in attendance would be more discouraging than if a woman were with her.” He also talked with Detective Waite, extracting a promise from her to stop by when
Venice
was able to talk.

John drove Kate back to get her car and arranged to see her for dinner. “Be careful, Kate. You won't be as easy a target as
Venice
, but that won't stop a murderer.”

“Believe me, I'll be careful. I have to go by the studio and run a few errands. Then I'm going home and barricading the doors until you come.” She was amazed at how easily she had accepted his presence in her life.

“You shouldn’t stay by yourself. I have a spare bedroom. Why don’t you stay at my house?”

“I’ll try to get Gwen, but if I can’t, I’ll take you up on your offer,” she said. Did she just want to be with John, or was she really scared to stay in her house alone? Where was her vaunted independence? What was happening to her?

“Tonight,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Kate, having no appointments, locked herself in at the studio and checked the answering machine for messages.
There was only one. The timid voice belonged to Rita Nelson, but the girl asked that Kate not call her house. She said she would call back. Maybe Rita had something for her. Anything!

Looking at her hands, Kate’s pulse quickened. Touching something of Charlene’s was a long shot, but what else did she have to go on?

Working in the quiet theater building held little appeal, and after unloading her film and trying Gwen’s number once more, Kate left the studio. She hoped Rita would try her at home.

Still feeling guilty about checking on Gisela with Helmut’s neighbor, she rejected the idea of picking up something for dinner at the
Black Forest
. Maybe she could cook something simple. Or better yet, she thought hopefully, if she had a few things in the house, maybe John would cook.

Vegetables.
She needed vegetables. Her diet was lousy, she knew. Maybe if she put a little more effort into it, she would feel better, be more clear-headed. Heaven knew she hadn't been thinking clearly lately.

The parking lot at the Farmer's Market was full, so Kate pulled into the adjacent parking lot at Maitland Pharmaceuticals. At this hour, people were beginning to leave for the day, and she would only be a few minutes. She slipped her wallet into her pocket, leaving her purse on the floor of the car, and started toward the market when a battered gray Buick caught her eye. It looked like the one she had seen so much of recently, right down to a place on the driver's door where the paint had worn off, exposing the rust-stained metal. It had to be the same car, she thought, wondering whom it belonged to.

Intent on the car, Kate almost missed the man unlocking the green Jaguar a few spaces down. She turned to ask him about the Buick.

Damn! It was Thomas Andrews, Gwen's new friend. At least he could give her the information she wanted. “Thomas. Hello,” she called, signaling for his attention as she walked over.

“Kate.” He
nodded,
a rather stiff smile on his face. He stood motionless beside his car, waiting as she approached him.

Maybe he was embarrassed or put out about asking her out, especially if he knew she and Gwen were friends. He certainly seemed uncomfortable. She felt a little awkward about it herself. Well, she couldn't do anything about it now. She just wanted information. “Do you know who that gray Buick belongs to?”

“Yes. Polly Sherwood, one of the bookkeepers here.”

A woman?
She hadn't considered that. She studied the car. It must be the same one. “Do you know where she lives?”

“I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered. I thought she might live near me,” she answered. She couldn't think of a plausible excuse, but continued her questions anyway. “What does she look like? How old is she?”

“I guess she's in her forties.
Short, with grayish hair.”
He paused and then, with a puzzled look on his face, added
,
 
“
She's a nice person.”

“Is she married?” She was sure a man had been driving the car.

“I believe she's divorced. Are you thinking of asking her out?”

Startled, Kate turned from studying the gray car and saw that he had been joking. She forced a small laugh. “I know this sounds strange. I thought I'd seen this car lately, and I wondered who owned it.”

“Polly.” He shrugged. “How was your appointment the other day, Kate? I’m sorry you had to rush off.”

“Oh. It was a portrait—went well.” She wished Gwen would find someone else, but if she were to continue seeing him, they’d have to get past this. Thomas was extremely handsome in a neat, almost fastidious way. Here he stood, in his three-piece suit, leather briefcase in hand, beside his very expensive car. There was nothing wrong—most women would jump at a chance for a date with him. Maybe she would have if it weren’t that he reminded her of J. B.

Awkwardly she turned back toward her car, the vegetables forgotten. “I have to be going, but thanks for asking.”

Empty-handed, she returned home. John was sitting on the top step of her porch.
“Your railing’s about to self-destruct.
You’d better get your landlord to fix it before someone falls through it.”

“I’ve been meaning to call, but I forget when I’m at work during the day.” She unlocked the door and let him in. “I meant to pick up something to eat, but I forgot that, too.”

“No matter,” he said, following Kate to the kitchen. “The police haven’t learned anything about the attack on
Venice
. I checked before I left the office. Tell me what those people said about Helmut.”

“There is absolutely no way Helmut would hurt
Venice
. I don’t care what Gisela did, or how upset he was. It’s not Helmut.”