Moon Music (28 page)

Poe could make out her words, could almost see her features with clarity. He grunted out, "Where am I?"

"University Medical Center."

Ah, so he
was
intelligible. That was good. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday afternoon."

Poe did the simple mathematics. He had been bitten in the wee hours of Saturday morning. He'd lost about three days. Two things flitted across his brain—Alison and his mother, in that order. So much for filial loyalty. Rukmani kept petting his face. Specifically, one side of his face. The other side seemed as if it had been smashed with a meat tenderizer.

"My mother?" he got out.

Rukmani said. "She's doing great. I've set her up with the nurse at my place. I'll stay with her until you've recovered. Don't worry about a thing."

Rukmani continued to stroke him as though he were a cat or a talisman.

He must have had one foot in the grave. "And Alison?"

Rukmani stopped caressing him for a second, then continued her loving movements. "What about her?"

"Is she all right?"

"Far as I know." She paused. "She hasn't come to visit, though. But Steve has. He sends his best wishes for a speedy recovery. So do the others—Patricia, Weinberg, Y, your brother…all of them were here."

How touching
, he thought. Then wondered why he felt so cynical. Probably because he had been flattened by a steamroller. With effort, Poe managed to hoist his tortured body into a semireclining position. The back of his eyes throbbed as his visual field moved with each turn of his head. He took in the surroundings. Muted sunlight coming through orange translucent drapery. A curtain rod encircled his bed, an IV was hooked up to his arm, a tube from his body carried urine into a bag. He'd been catheterized.

He sensed his face going hot. Not only had he been intruded upon but demeaned as well.

No bad thoughts, Rom. Keep going.

The room held a ceiling-mounted TV, a bed, a nightstand, and a phone. He had a blanket over his legs. His left wrist and arm were bandaged, but his fingers were exposed. He could wiggle them, although it smarted when he did. There was tightness over the right side of his face. He touched his neck. His throat had been wrapped in gauze. He wore a hospital gown. He wondered who had undressed him.

Slowly, he turned his head until the phone came into view. He stretched out his right arm and picked it up. He pressed nine, but nothing happened. "How do you get an outside line in this place?"

"Romulus, what are you doing?"

"Making a phone call—"

"Give that to me—"

"Stop scolding me. Please just answer my question."

Her eyes rolled. More resigned than angry. "You press eight."

"Thank you." With calculated movements, he managed to dial Steve's pager. This time his beeper kicked in. "What's the number here?"

"Here? You mean your room or the hospital?"

"My room."

"Four seven two eight."

"What's the prefix?"

"Eight three three."

Slowly, Poe punched in the numbers. "Eight…three…three…seven—"

"
Four
seven."

Poe hung up and tried again. "Eight three three…"

"Four seven two eight."

"Four…seven…" He looked up and waited.

"Two…eight," Rukmani filled in.

"Got it."

He finished the number and pressed the pound sign. Jensen's pager started beeping. Success, albeit a limited one. He handed the phone to Rukmani, who laid it into the cradle on his nightstand.

"Got a mirror? I want to see what I look like."

"All I have is a small compact."

"Is it bad?"

"It's…extensive. It runs from your temple down to your throat. Luckily the facial wound is in your beard line. Y was really on the ball. He asked for a plastic surgeon. The work looks very clean and very precise. I'm sure that when it heals, you'll look very…masculine."

His line rang. Rukmani picked up the phone and gave it to Poe. He croaked out, "Poe."

Jensen spoke with false cheeriness. "Hey, buddy. Good to hear your voice."

"Is Alison okay?"

"Could you hold on a moment?" A half minute later, Jensen returned to the line, all pretense of merriment gone. "I can't talk long. I'm in the broom closet—"

"You're at the station house then."

"Yeah. I don't want anyone else hearing."

"What's wrong?"

"She had a breakdown, Rom." His deep voice cracked. "I had her committed on a seventy-two-hour hold. Doctor's orders. I didn't want to, but she kept talking about killing herself. And given her family history—"

"You did the right thing."

"She's racked with guilt."

Poe felt his heart sink. At least she was temporarily safe. "Is she coherent?"

"Who knows? She doesn't talk when I visit. Her shrink says she's profoundly depressed. They've pumped her up with pills, but it's too early to tell. She could be released as early as Friday. But that's doubtful, according to her shrink. Poe, I don't know what to do. I've got two boys at home who miss their mother.
I
miss her. I need her home, but I need her alive. I feel like
I'm
going crazy."

"Your sons are depending on you, Steve."

"I know, I know. I'll pull through."

"Would it help if I told her I wasn't angry?"

"I'll ask her psychiatrist to relay the message."

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to call Alison myself."

Jensen paused. "First you'll have to talk to the shrink. It's a her. I'll give you the number. Hold on."

Poe turned to Rukmani. "I need a pencil and a piece of paper."

Rukmani started rummaging through her purse. "Do us both a favor and dictate it to me."

Poe's head seemed split by a cleaver. As much as he wanted to tough it out, his body told him that she was making sense. He gave her the numbers as Jensen read the digits over the line.

Steve said, "Nice to hear you talking, Poe."

"Did you have a chance to speak with Patricia?"

"Yes. She filled me in. You chasing the hat, then losing him—"

"Just for a minute—"

"Then you heard Alison screaming…her…attack. Fat Patty and Marine Martin looked around the crime scene Friday night, then again on Saturday morning. I would have come down myself, but I was busy with Alison."

"Did they find anything?"

"Bits and pieces. No breakthroughs. You can deal with it later, Poe. First get better."

"You might want to check your beeper, Jensen. When I paged you Friday night, it wasn't working."

"Yeah, I figured that out after I got your message on my phone machine. The battery was gone."

"Gone?"

"Either I dropped it and the battery fell out, or someone took it out."

"Who would do that?"

A long pause. "Sometimes Gretchen gets tired of being interrupted. I'm not saying she did it, just…it won't happen again."

Poe said, "Talk to you later."

"For what it's worth, I've called it quits with Gretchen. I know I'm no angel. But if you walked in my shoes, you'd—"

"Jensen, right now, it's all I can do to keep my head above water. Let's forget about the personal crap and go solve some homicides. Just make sure your beeper works."

"Fair enough."

"I'm relieved to hear that Alison made it home."

"Cops found her holed up near Red Rock at four-thirty in the morning. She was crying uncontrollably…babbling. But at least she was talking." A beat. "I've got to go."

"Bye." Poe gave the receiver to Rukmani. He looked at the IV. "What are they shooting into my veins?"

"Glucose, antibiotics…Demerol as needed."

"That's probably what's making me nauseated. I don't do well with opiates."

Rukmani felt his forehead.

"Hot?"

"Maybe a hundred." She paused. "Not that I want to pry, but who clawed your face?"

He sighed. "Alison."

"
What?"

"She wasn't in her right mind." Poe gave her some scant details. "She was shaken after her attack. I didn't realize how badly until it was too late. Jensen just told me that he had her committed. I need to talk to her. In person. I've got to get out of here."

Rukmani's voice turned hard. "The only thing you've
got
to do is get better."

"She's locked up, Rukmani."

"Judging by your wound, I'd say she's right where she should be."

"Look, I know you hate her—"

"I don't hate her, Rom. I don't even really know her." She took his good hand. "Dearie, you need to rest—"

He jerked it away. "I don't need your advice or your help, Florence Nightingale. I needed you last Friday night. When you
weren't
home."

Rukmani swallowed back a lump. "I'm sorry I wasn't around when you needed me. And if you don't need me now, I'll leave." She stood. "Call if you change your mind."

"Don't go." Slowly, Poe turned his head to meet her eyes. Too much effort. He sank back into his pillow. "Don't mind me. I'm just testy."

"Understandable." Rukmani kissed his forehead. "It's wonderful to hear you talk, Romulus. I love you."

Poe answered her words with a half-smile. Even that hurt as his facial muscles pulled at his stitches. He raised his hand to her thin, bony face, stroked her smooth cheek, then brushed long strands of black hair from her eyes. Rukmani rarely wore her hair down. Normally it was wrapped in a tight braid. Only when they made love did she loosen it. She had lovely thick hair. It softened her worn face, made her look younger than her forty-three years. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, lightly kissing her slender brown fingers. "I should probably buy you a ring."

"I've picked one out. I'll buy it, and you can pay me back."

"Such romance."

Rukmani kissed his hand. "The gods create some couples from the heart. Others are made from the genitals. Still others come from the head."

"I pick the second choice."

"Unfortunately, we're the third. We've always let brainwork intrude upon our personal life. Funny thing is I don't mind. And neither do you."

She spoke the truth. Poe said, "When do you think I can leave this place?"

"When you're afebrile for a twenty-four-hour period, when you're steady on your feet, and when you can pee without a tube."

"When do you think that'll be?"

"A couple of days," Rukmani answered. "Right now, the gouges are more of a medical concern than the bite. The toxin is pretty much gone from your system, although I'm sure you still feel some localized burning. For the future, you might want to keep a couple of bottles of antitoxin in your first-aid kit."

"Agreed. Think I can leave tomorrow? I really need to get back to work."

"You really
need
rest, Poe. Brittany Newel and Sarah Yarlborough are dead. Furthermore, they'll be dead tomorrow. That's how it works when you're dead."

Poe rolled his eyes. "Are you going to get me lunch?"

"I could get you some toast and tea—"

"That's a diarrhea lunch," Poe complained. "I want a real lunch!"

"First see how you do with the toast and tea." Rukmani pressed the nurse's bell. "Why did Alison lash out at you?"

"Because I told her I wouldn't sleep with her." He looked at Rukmani's curious eyes. "I told her I was in love with you. Well, what I actually said was that I was in love with someone else. But she knew who I meant."

Rukmani smiled, the tip of her nose turning red. "You told her that? Awww. I take back all my nasty thoughts about you."

Poe laughed, then winced.

A young nurse came in. Her name tag said Lilith. Rukmani ordered the food. When they were alone again, she said, "I probably shouldn't be bringing this up. Because it'll just whet your appetite for work."

"What?" Flinching, Poe brought himself to an upright position. "Tell me."

"Remember you asked me to type the grass under Sarah Yarlborough's fingers?"

Poe perked up. "What about it?"

"The blades were an unusual species. The botanist couldn't place it."

"Which means?"

She sighed. "I have been talking to local nurseries. Usual grass for the Southwest is Marathon grass—a commercial name for tall fescue grass. All of them down here only carry Marathon—in seed
and
in sod. So it looks like the grass under Sarah's nails came from a very esoteric source."

"Could the botanist identify the components?"

"Perhaps." Rukmani organized her ideas. "There are a couple of problems with further testing. First off, it's going to take a long time to get results. Second, I don't have a lot of sample to spare for testing. I've got to keep some bagged for evidence. That leaves very little left over."

Poe plunked his head back into his pillow. "You come up with important information. And now you tell me we can't process it into anything meaningful."

"It's not all that grim."

"It isn't?" Poe sneered. "Do you think my lunch is coming in this millennium?"

Again, Rukmani rang up the nurses' station. "Maybe I wasn't assertive enough."

Lilith reentered the room. "Yes?"

Rukmani said, "His lunch? If possible in this
century
?"

The nurse was taken aback. "We're backed up, Doctor." In a huff, Lilith pivoted and left.

Poe said, "Very good, Ruki. Let's hope she doesn't have easy access to potassium chloride." He paused. "You know, grass is grown like any other plant, right?"

"Eugene, Oregon. The grass-growing capital of America. Highest pollen count in the nation."

"Take a sample up to them."

"And if they identify it…then what, Rom?"

"Well, we know it isn't the usual lawn grass, right?"

"Which means?"

"If it's a special grass, maybe it has a special purpose.

And if we can determine what the grass is used for, then we can link it to a specific place."

"Like a certain casino owner's office?" Rukmani asked. "Poe, you need a warrant for that, not a botanist."

"I'd settle for a link to any golf course." He picked up the phone and dialed the station house.

Lilith returned, tray in hand. "Lunch."