Murder in the Air (13 page)

“Evelyn!” Lydia trembled as she knelt beside the motionless woman. Her moan was barely audible, but Lydia exhaled with relief. Her friend was alive.

“Stay calm, dear, while I call for help. You’ll be all right, I promise.”

Lydia squeezed Evelyn’s hand, and was heartened by the slight return of pressure. She turned on a lamp and peered down at the wound. It appeared to have stopped bleeding, but there was no telling if there was internal damage.

The sound of footsteps, of the front door opening, chilled her to the quick. Lydia remained frozen, her heart pounding against her ribs as she realized how close she’d come to being swatted as well. She’d walked in while Evelyn’s attacker was still in the house!

She waited for what seemed like minutes before venturing into the hall to close the door. Still trembling, she called 911 from her cell phone. She relayed Evelyn’s age and the extent of her injuries, gave her own name and Evelyn’s address, and told them to send an ambulance as soon as possible. Next, she punched in Sol’s cell number, grateful that she’d entered it into her cell phone’s memory. She held her breath while the phone rang three times.

“Molina.”

“Sol, it’s me, Lydia.”

“Lydia.” She cringed at the impatience in his voice. “I can’t talk now.”

She felt her ears burn but forced herself to continue. “Someone’s attacked Evelyn Hammond, Daniel Korman’s fiancée. She was expecting me at seven with dinner. When she didn’t answer the bell, I figured she was napping. I went around to the back and found the door unlocked.” Lydia faltered. “Evelyn’s in her bed, barely conscious after being struck on the head. I called for an ambulance, then I called you.”

“Damn it, that place is a war zone! Sorry,” he apologized before she could protest. He paused, then asked, his voice deadly calm, “Is anyone else in the house?”

She fought to control the tremor rippling through her body. “Not any longer. The intruder made a run for it while I was with Evelyn.”

“You’ve got to stop playing detective! One of these days something terrible will happen, and I won’t be around to help you.”

She bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. She’d been trying to be a good neighbor, not play Sherlock Holmes! But now wasn’t the time to argue.

“Stay with Mrs. Hammond. I’m on my way. What’s the address?”

She told him. “It’s a few houses past mine, on the other side of the street. My car’s in the driveway.”

“See you.”

Lydia checked to make sure Evelyn was breathing, then sank into the armchair in the corner of the bedroom beside an antique armoire. Such a lovely room, she thought, as tears welled up in her eyes. Would Evelyn be well enough to live here? Would she want to live here after all that had happened?

The shrill whine of a siren growing louder startled her from her reverie and she went to open the front door.

Three young emergency medical technicians, two men and a woman, entered the house. The woman—a buxom, cheerful type—checked Evelyn’s vital signs, examined her wound, then nodded. The two men lifted Evelyn onto a stretcher.

The EMT in charge, a bearded bear of a man, asked Lydia several quick questions, which she answered as best she could. Then she said, “I’d like to go with her in the ambulance.”

“Are you a relative?” the woman asked.

“I’m her friend and neighbor. Evelyn’s almost eighty and she lost her fiancé a few days ago.”

“Sorry,” the bearded man said. “Our rules won’t allow you to ride in the ambulance.”

Lydia opened her mouth to argue, when she felt a tug on her arm. She turned and was astonished to see Sol Molina. When had he arrived?

“I’ll drive you to the hospital after the crime scene team arrives. Meanwhile, I’d like you to fill me in on everything you know.”

*

Half an hour later they were traveling swiftly along Sunrise Highway on their way to Brookhaven Hospital. Lydia glanced over at Sol, but his face was as unrevealing as a mask. She found it both surreal yet oddly appropriate that she should be riding beside him in his unmarked car on their way to see Evelyn. He’d questioned her in detail regarding what she’d seen and heard before entering the house—if she’d heard cars pass while still at home or if she’d noticed any parked on the street. As she had nothing to offer, the interrogation lasted five minutes. When Sol asked her to accompany him to the hospital, she was puzzled but saw no point in asking him why. Of course she agreed to go.

Sol pulled up to the curb of the emergency room entrance. “Lydia, why don’t you go and find where they’ve put Mrs. Hammond. I’ll park and catch up with you.”

She nodded and stepped out of the car. She stopped at the security desk for her visitor’s pass and learned that Evelyn was being attended to in the ER. She could go right through.

She found Evelyn being cared for in one of the cubicles set off by vinyl curtains.

“How is she?” she asked the young woman taking Evelyn’s blood pressure.

“In and out of consciousness. Breathing on her own.”

The nurse moved aside and indicated Lydia could take her place. Lydia reached for Evelyn’s hand. “Hi, Evelyn. It’s me, Lydia.”

Though Evelyn’s eyes remained closed, Lydia was gratified to see a ghost of a smile.

“You’ll be fine,” Lydia said emphatically to cheer them both up.

A volunteer—a sweet-faced woman in her late sixties—asked Lydia if she had the patient’s information. When Lydia said she did, the woman directed her to a secretary seated behind the round office in the center of the ER. Lydia pulled out Evelyn’s Medicare and secondary insurance cards from her wallet—which Sol had reminded her to bring along—and handed them to the secretary. She answered what questions she could, and gave the secretary her phone number and that of Evelyn’s daughter, whom she intended to call as soon as she found a spare moment.

Sol strode into the ER and returned the greeting of an attractive young nurse with a wink and a smile, causing Lydia’s heart to thump with jealousy. His smile faded as he caught sight of Lydia.

“How’s Mrs. Hammond doing?”

“Coming along. They’ll take a CT scan and keep her overnight for observation.”

“Good. Be right back.” Sol disappeared inside Evelyn’s cubicle. It was minutes before he rejoined Lydia. “I hope you don’t have anywhere important to be for the next two hours.”

“Not really,” Lydia said. “What’s happening?”

“The doctor’s in there with her. He expects her to be fully conscious in an hour. When she is, they’ll put her in a semi-private room. I’ll post an officer outside her room throughout the night.”

Lydia’s heart quickened. “Do you think whoever did this will come to the hospital to finish what he began?”

Sol grimaced. “I’ve no idea, but I intend to keep her safe while we find out.”

Lydia shuddered. “Maybe Polly was right. Maybe someone did kill Daniel and now he’s after Evelyn.”

“First things first. When the doctor gives his okay, I want to ask Mrs. Hammond a few questions. And I’d like you to be there.”

“So that’s why you had me come along.” Despite her willingness to help Evelyn any way she could, Lydia felt deflated. She should have known his request had nothing to do with her!

“Of course. Your friend will feel more comfortable with you beside me.” He offered her a half smile. “I’m sorry for snapping at you before. I tend to do that when I’m worried.”

Lydia nodded. “Apology accepted.”

“Why don’t you go ahead to the cafeteria? I’ll catch up with you there after I make a few phone calls.”

“Sure.” Lydia forced a smile, but Sol was gone, off to hold his conversations in private.

She checked on Evelyn. Reassured firsthand that her friend was indeed recovering, she called Evelyn’s daughter. In the calmest tone she could conjure up, Lydia left a message for Gayle to please call her on her cell phone as soon as she arrived home, and gave her the number. Then she headed for the hospital cafeteria.

Something rankled her, and she was determined to figure out exactly what it was before Sol joined her because she knew damned well it concerned him. But what troubled her exactly? He hadn’t coerced her into coming to the hospital. She would have come, regardless.

And she had no objection to being on hand while Sol questioned Evelyn. But all this waiting around in a hospital cafeteria was maddening. That was it, she realized! Sol was calling the shots. Virtually giving her orders and expecting her to follow them.

Trying to be fair-minded, she regarded the situation from his point of view. Why shouldn’t he be the one issuing orders? She’d called on him in his professional capacity, and he’d rushed over ASAP. It was his job to find Evelyn’s assailant and to ascertain if he was the same person who had murdered Daniel. If Daniel had been murdered. Sol was making it clear he was in charge because Lydia had interfered so often in the past.

Interfering, hah! Lydia let out a huff of exasperation, causing a passing resident to stare at her. It wasn’t her fault people around her were dying or being attacked! She couldn’t help but take action. She was a take-charge kind of person. As CEO of her company she’d acted on the principle that every problem had a solution. Just as every murderer had an identity. Which would reveal itself, she was firmly convinced, after enough poking and prodding.

It dawned on her that Sol knew exactly how her mind worked. He was aware of the force within her and felt challenged by it.

Or was he threatened?

Lydia hoped that wasn’t the case. Especially since his coolness toward her had another, more personal component. He’d finally asked her out and she’d told him she had a date, of all things!

In the almost deserted cafeteria, she bought two coffees and a tuna salad sandwich, which she carried over to a table in the corner of the room. A thought struck her and she burst out laughing. She and Sol had gone out a total of two and a half dates—the half being the other night—and the dynamics of their relationship were as complicated as those of a four-year marriage. Which was totally ridiculous! It was unfortunate she hadn’t been free when he’d asked her out, but she’d make up for it by inviting him to dinner. There! She bit into the sandwich, pleased to have solved her problems so quickly, and hoped Sol would make it to the cafeteria before his coffee cooled off.

Chapter Twelve

Sol showed up twenty minutes later. “Sorry I took so long. A call came in regarding another case and required my attention.” He took a gulp of his coffee and frowned. “Ice cold. I’ll get me another.”

When he returned, he downed the hot coffee and cake he’d bought in record time. His cell phone rang. He listened a minute. “Okay, thanks.” He got to his feet. “Let’s go, Lydia! Mrs. Hammond’s awake and alert.”

She nodded and followed him out of the cafeteria. She practically had to run to match his stride. “So this is a typical day of a homicide detective?” she asked, glad that at least she wasn’t panting.

“Typical? There ain’t no such animal.” He flashed her a smile, the first of the evening. “But today’s a good day because you saved your friend’s life. Tomorrow we go after the bastard who bashed in her head.”

Evelyn was sitting up in bed as a very tall, very thin black doctor examined her eyes with a flashlight. Lydia felt Sol’s pent up energy pulsing, his eagerness to question Evelyn.

The doctor advised his patient not to move her head. When he was done, he said in a musical West Indian cadence, “You may now see your visitors.” He turned toward them. “Lieutenant Molina, you have five minutes with Mrs. Hammond. We don’t want to tire her out.”

He left them. Sol stepped back so Lydia could stand beside Evelyn.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Lydia said.

“I am, too,” Evelyn said, her voice faint. “My head aches something awful.”

“It’s no wonder, Mrs. Hammond. I’m Lieutenant Molina.”

Evelyn smiled. “Yes, I know. I remember when you came and spoke to us last fall.”

“Did you see who struck you?”

Evelyn shook her head, then winced. “No. I was fast asleep. Lydia offered to bring dinner. At seven, we said. I figured I’d be awake by then, and if I wasn’t,” she smiled, “well then, Lydia would awaken me.”

“You mean you left the door unlocked?” Sol asked.

Evelyn stared at him. “Certainly not! Lydia has a key to our house.”

“I didn’t think to bring it with me,” Lydia admitted. “The house was dark when I got there. I rang the doorbell. When you didn’t answer, I went around to the kitchen door.”

“And found it was unlocked,” Sol said.

“I locked it before I went to lie down.”

“Who else has a key to your house?” Sol asked.

“Let’s see—our neighbors, the Bronsteins. They’re away. Stefano—he checks on our house when we’re in Florida—my daughter, Daniel’s daughters, and our cleaning woman, Flora.”

Sol had whipped out his notepad and was writing furiously. “Anyone else?”

“No one I can think of—oh, yes, Gillian, the Devil Twin. Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lydia gaped. “You actually call her that?”

“It’s something the twins cooked up, a takeoff on the good twin-bad twin thing, which, frankly, I’d never heard of before. Nicole and Gillian call themselves Angel and Devil. They love to dress for their roles.”

“Come to think of it, they do look like day and night,” Lydia said.

Evelyn gave a weak smile. “Gillian asked if she could study at our place when we were in Florida this past winter. Study, my eye. She wanted a place to be alone with her boyfriend, but who am I to stop young love?”

“I didn’t realize Gillian has a boyfriend,” Lydia commented. She caught Sol’s frown and was sorry she’d spoken.

Sol must have thought better of stopping the flow of conversation because he waved his hand. At any rate, Evelyn hadn’t noticed either the frown or the wave because she went right into her story.

“Had a boyfriend. Kyle Mendoza’s his name. He looks like Satan, with his jet-black hair and brooding eyes. Loves to wear black leather like Gillian.” Evelyn laughed, then winced in pain. “They made quite a pair. Polly thought he was a bad influence on Gillian, while I think they were mostly playacting. They both thrived on coming off as scamps.”