Suture Self (21 page)

Renie gave a slight nod. “Yes, I realize that. Bill and I'll talk it over when he gets out of the doghouse. So to speak.”

Sister Jacqueline looked pleased, if vaguely puzzled. “That's wonderful. I'll pray that you make the right decision.”

A voice erupted sharply from the hallway. “Sister! Come at once! We need your help!” Blanche Van Boeck stepped inside the door, beckoning with an imperious finger.

“What is it?” Sister Jacqueline inquired.

“We have decisions to make,” Blanche declared. “With Jan not feeling well, you're going to have to help with this crisis. After all, you
are
the hospital administrator.”

“Crisis?” The nun quickly crossed herself. “Of course.” She nodded vaguely at the cousins. “Good night, God bless.”

“Wait!” Judith cried. “Does this have anything to do with my husband, Joe Flynn?”

Blanche scowled at Judith. “Not unless he's the CEO of Restoration Heartware,” she snapped.

As the two women left the room, Judith sighed with relief. “That scared me. I thought something had happened to Joe.”

“If it had,” Renie said dryly, “they wouldn't have called in Blanche and the hospital administrator. There must be some new word out of Cleveland about a possible takeover.”

“At this time of night?” Judith asked. “It must be going on eleven o'clock back there.”

“Big business never stops working,” Renie said. “In fact, I think the late-night sessions are strategic. They wait to make decisions until everybody's so exhausted that they give in just so they can go home.”

Judith didn't comment immediately, and when she finally spoke, it was of a different, if related, matter.
“Who benefits from unexpected deaths in a hospital? I mean, in a business sense? I assume that the mortality rate is important when it comes to rating a hospital.”

“Of course,” Renie replied. “Reputation is vital. Admit it, weren't we nervous about coming here after Joaquin Somosa and Joan Fremont died?”

“Yes,” Judith said. “I certainly was. If Bob Randall had died before I was admitted, I might have changed my mind. Or at least postponed the surgery. But what would be the point of indiscriminately killing off patients?”

Renie thought for a moment. “I understand they all had different doctors, so it can't be that somebody's out to get just one surgeon. Still, the ultimate responsibility rests with Dr. Garnett as head of surgery, and of course with Dr. Van Boeck as chief of staff. So I suppose it's possible that someone may be after one of them. But I can't imagine who'd benefit.”

“Garnett, wanting Van Boeck's job?” Judith suggested.

“That's a possibility,” Renie allowed. “Or Van Boeck trying to ruin Garnett to eliminate a potential rival.”

“That doesn't wash,” Judith countered, “not as long as Blanche Van Boeck wields so much clout. Anyway, what's the point of any of it if the hospital's about to be absorbed by some big company from the East? Aren't they likely to put in their own people?”

“That depends,” Renie said. “Sometimes corporations like to leave the locals in charge. It's good public relations, and it's good business if the people in place are already doing a satisfactory job for a particular company. Then there's the tactic where the headquarters' chieftains move slowly, not wanting to upset the
apple cart. Changes are made, but the powers that be take their time doing it.”

Judith grew thoughtful. “I don't see how dead patients can be to anyone's advantage. Unless,” she added slowly, “it's someone trying to scare off Restoration Heartware from making the merger.”

“That,” Renie said, “would be the current owners, who happen to be a religious order. Can you picture Sister Jacqueline cold-bloodedly killing helpless people?”

“No,” Judith admitted, “but as you said earlier, nuns are human, too. Hasn't this order been around the Pacific Northwest for well over a hundred and fifty years? Weren't they the first women in the territory? Pride is a sin, but they have a right to be proud of their heritage. They were pioneers, especially in medicine. All those years that the sisters dedicated themselves to their hospital work is down the drain in this city if they lose control of Good Cheer.”

Renie shivered. “I hate to even consider such an idea.”

“Me, too,” Judith agreed as Mr. Mummy appeared in the doorway.

“Just dropped by to wish you a restful night,” he said in his cheerful voice. “By the way, I assume that the man who was stabbed is no relation to you, Mrs. Flynn.”

“He's my husband,” Judith said tersely.

“Oh!” Mr. Mummy slapped at his bald head. “I'm so sorry! I thought the name was just a coincidence. Whatever happened?”

“Someone attacked him,” Judith said. “The assailant hasn't been caught, as far as I know.”

“My, my!” Mr. Mummy was agog. “Do you know what provoked the attack?”

“No,” Judith said, unwilling to elaborate.

Mr. Mummy appealed to Renie. “Mrs. Jones, surely you have some ideas on the matter? A clever guess, perhaps.”

Renie shrugged. “Not a clue. There are plenty of loonies out there. Most of them don't need any provocation to harm an innocent person.”

“That's so,” Mr. Mummy remarked, looking puzzled. “Still…Have you spoken with the police?”

The question caught Judith off guard. “What? No, I…ah…I guess I was too focused on my husband's condition to think of it.”

“You can hardly be blamed for the oversight,” Mr. Mummy allowed. “You mustn't fret too much and make yourself ill. I'm sure Mr. Flynn is getting the best of care.”

“It's very kind of you to look in on us,” Judith said, trying to smile. “We hope you have a good night, too.”

The obvious, if tactful, dismissal seemed to hurt Mr. Mummy's feelings. “Really, I didn't mean to intrude. Or to upset you. I had no idea that the Mr. Flynn who was—”

“Forget it,” Renie said with a wave of her hand. “See you in the morning.”

Mr. Mummy, with a rueful expression on his round face, nodded and left. Judith turned to Renie. “He was right about contacting the police. I should have done that right away. But I've been too worried about Joe to think logically.”

“You probably won't learn much even if you call,” Renie pointed out. “Unless, of course, you could talk to Woody.”

“Woody.” Judith pressed her palms together, as if in prayer. “Of course. I'll call him at home.” She reached for the phone.

Sondra Price answered right away. “Judith?” she said in surprise. “How are you? How's Joe? I've been afraid to call the hospital.”

“You know?” Judith asked, giving Renie a high sign.

“Yes,” Sondra replied. “When Woody heard what happened, he demanded to be assigned to the case. Do you want to talk to him?”

“Of course,” Judith said. “I'm so relieved that Woody's involved.”

“How are
you?
” Sondra inquired. “I tried to send flowers yesterday, but nobody's delivering until the streets are clear.”

Judith informed Sondra that she was doing all right. Sondra, sensing Judith's urgency, put Woody on the line.

“I don't know much,” Joe's former partner admitted in his mellow baritone. “Joe had talked to me about the previous homicides involving homeless people, but there wasn't much I could tell him. I hadn't worked either of those cases, so all I could do was look over the reports the other detectives had filed.” He paused, then his voice turned apologetic. “Joe may have mentioned that, as a rule, indigent murders don't get a high priority. It's a terrible shame, but with such a shortage of personnel these days, that's the way it is.”

“Were there any leads at all?” Judith asked.

“Not really,” Woody answered. “When the first one occurred a month or so ago, one of the other homeless persons told the detectives that he'd seen a guy in a raincoat hanging around late that evening. Two of the killings took place at night, you see, when everybody was asleep. Have you heard anything new on Joe?”

“No,” Judith admitted. “I keep waiting for word. To
be honest, I'm scared. Someone meant to kill Joe, I'm convinced. What if they try again? Plus, Renie and I think someone searched our room last night. It's occurred to me that we might be in danger, too.”

Woody didn't answer at once. “Well,” he finally said, “maybe I can get a patrol officer to watch out for you folks. Though if Joe was stabbed in a homeless camp, I doubt very much that his assailant would show up at the hospital. Whoever it was probably wouldn't know where he'd been taken. Not to mention that the attacker may assume Joe is already…ah…dead.”

Judith winced at the word, but Woody continued: “As for you and Serena, I wouldn't worry too much. Was anything stolen?”

“No,” Judith admitted.

“Then,” Woody said, “whoever searched your room—and he or she might have been just a compulsive snoop—did you no harm. It's doubtful that this person would come back.”

“You may be right,” Judith allowed, though her concern ebbed only a jot. “I guess it's just that my anxiety over Joe makes me more sensitive to potential peril. The uncertainty about whether Joe will recover may have addled my brain.”

“Joe'll be fine,” Woody said, and Judith hoped that he had a good reason for the confidence in his voice. “When he comes to, he may be able to give some sort of description.”

“They said he was stabbed in the back,” Judith said, having difficulty getting the words out. “I have a feeling he never saw his assailant.”

“That's possible,” Woody said. “But Joe might have seen someone suspicious before the attack. I imagine that the members of FOPP will be very concerned
about this. They wouldn't have hired Joe if they weren't serious about making the homeless camps safer.”

“It's a worthy cause,” Judith said, though when it came to Joe's welfare, FOPP's anxieties couldn't possibly be as serious as her own. “Who are these people, anyway?”

Woody chuckled faintly. “Are you thinking of suing them?”

“It crossed my mind,” Judith confessed. “But Joe took on the job, and thus assumed the liability. I doubt that we'd have a case.”

“That I can't say,” Woody responded, his tone solemn. “But FOPP's members mean well. And they're building political momentum.”

“How is that?” Judith asked, not particularly interested. She suddenly felt as if she should get off the phone, just in case she was tying up the line and making it impossible for Joe's caregivers to contact her.

“FOPP's president is one of the city's biggest movers and shakers,” Woody replied. “In fact, you may know who she is. Does the name Blanche Van Boeck ring a bell?”

“S
O
,” R
ENIE SAID
after Judith had finished speaking to Woody Price, “Blanche hired Joe?”

“Blanche or one of her minions,” Judith replied. “She certainly does have a finger in every pie around this town.”

“And now she's going to try to run it,” Renie mused. “As mayor, I mean.”

“Yes,” Judith said absently, then after a pause turned to face Renie. “What if some political rival is trying to discredit Blanche because she's on the hospital board and her husband is chief of staff?”

“That's a stretch,” Renie said, still thoughtful. “On the other hand, if the current administration and the board are so good at running this place, why does Good Cheer have to be absorbed by Restoration Heartware?”

“Good point,” Judith responded. “Except that so many hospitals can't go it alone these days. Good Cheer is owned by a religious order. If Dr. Van Boeck has been ineffective, why not just fire him?”

“Maybe the Sisters of Good Cheer are too kindhearted,” Renie said.

“The Sisters of Good Cheer are very sensible businesswomen,” Judith asserted. “If they weren't,
they wouldn't have been around for so long. It's not their fault that medical care in this country has gone down the drain.”

Dr. Garnett entered the room so quietly that the cousins didn't notice him until he was at Judith's bedside. “Mrs. Flynn?” he said as Judith gave a start. “I've just come from the ICU.”

Judith tensed. “Yes?”

The bedside lamps left Dr. Garnett's face in shadow. “I thought that you and Mrs. Jones would want to know that Dr. Van Boeck has been moved out of the ICU and is spending the night in a private suite. He ought to be able to—”

“What about Joe?” Judith interrupted.

“…return to the job in a few days.” Dr. Garnett looked at Renie. “I didn't want you to think you'd caused any real harm to our chief of staff.”

“Thanks,” Renie said in a bleak voice. “But what about Joe?”

“No change,” Dr. Garnett said with a shake of his head before looking again at Judith. “You'll make sure you discourage all visitors to your husband, won't you, Mrs. Flynn?”

“Of course,” Judith said, trying to overcome her distress. “I doubt that anyone would try to come out to see him in this weather.”

“We've already had at least one inquiry,” Dr. Garnett said with a frown. “Most insistent, I understand. It's very important that Mr. Flynn is kept absolutely quiet.”

“Yes,” Judith agreed, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. “Who wanted to see him?”

“I don't know,” Dr. Garnett responded. “I believe someone at the main switchboard took the call. Whoever this person was, I understand that he or she was
difficult to put off. You'd think people would know better. That's what happens when these incidents get on the news.”

“Joe's stabbing was on the news?” Judith gaped at the surgeon. “Oh, dear! I didn't see that. I turned off the news when dinner arrived.”

“Perhaps that was just as well,” Dr. Garnett said, his expression sympathetic. “You shouldn't become overly upset so soon after surgery.”

“Upset?” Judith felt as if her eyes were bugging out. “How can I not be upset when my husband is hovering between life and death?”

“I meant,” Dr. Garnett said carefully, “that sometimes learning bad news through the media can be far more disturbing than hearing about it from a friend or relative.”

Judith glanced at Renie. “I still passed out,” Judith said.

“Yes, so you did.” Dr. Garnett put a cold, dry hand on Judith's. “But you seem to be doing much better now. I'll see to it that the night nurse brings you some more Valium so you can sleep.” He withdrew his hand and headed for the door. “Please don't distress yourself, Mrs. Flynn. You'll hear immediately when we have any news about your husband.”

“Wow,” Renie said in a dejected voice, “I'm racking up some big scores around here when it comes to upsetting people, you included.”

“That's not your fault,” Judith countered. “Somebody had to tell me about Joe. I'd much rather it was you.”

The male night nurse, whose name was Avery, arrived with the Valium. Judith eyed the small yellow tablet and told the nurse she'd take it a little later. It was too early to try to go to sleep.

After Avery had left, Renie gave Judith a suspicious look. “Every so often, I can tell when you're lying. What's up, coz?”

“Nothing,” Judith replied. “Nothing concrete.”

Renie looked at her watch, which said that it was eight-thirty. “Shouldn't you let Carl and Arlene know what's happened to Joe?”

Judith shook her head. “It's hard for me to pass the news on. I'm actually glad I couldn't reach Mike.”

“I'll call the Rankerses,” Renie volunteered. “If they haven't seen it on TV, they'll begin to wonder when Joe doesn't come home.” She picked up the phone and dialed.

Just as Renie greeted Arlene, Judith's phone rang. She grabbed the receiver and almost dropped it in her eagerness to hear if there was news of Joe.

“Mrs. Flynn?” said a familiar voice that Judith couldn't quite identify. “I just heard about your husband's stabbing. Can you give me any details?”

“Who is this?” Judith inquired.

“Addison Kirby, your next-door neighbor. Excuse my butting in, but you have to understand that it's almost impossible for a reporter to lie here helpless and not know what's going on.”

“Oh.” Judith relaxed a little, then gave Addison the bare bones of the incident.

“You say he was working for FOPP?” Addison said. “As in Blanche Van Boeck's do-good group?”

“That's right,” Judith responded, trying to listen in on Renie's conversation with Arlene. “Do you think Blanche is sincere?” Judith asked of Addison.

“Blanche is sincere about Blanche,” Addison said. “Look, if some project polishes her image, she'll take it on. But I don't think she gives a hoot about the
homeless or any other category—unless she can convince them to vote for her.”

“You may be right,” Judith said, again glancing at her cousin.

“Honestly, we don't know the details,” Renie was saying on the phone. “Of course Judith's upset. That's why she didn't call you herself…”

“In the past few weeks, I heard some rumors around city hall,” Addison said. “The first two homeless victims had just made some money. They bragged about it, and that same night they were killed.”

“So call Herself if you want to,” Renie was saying to Arlene. “Yes, she has a right to know, even if she is sunning her body down in Florida…”

Judith stared at Renie. The mention of Joe's first wife's name distracted her, and a sudden feeling of resentment roiled up in the pit of her stomach. The emotion was more from habit than any real threat posed by Vivian Flynn. But Arlene was right; Herself should be informed. She was the mother of Joe's daughter, Caitlin. In fact, Judith realized, Caitlin should also be notified at her home in Switzerland where she worked for an international banking firm. Herself could make the call. Judith didn't have Caitlin's number with her.

Getting back on track with Addison, Judith asked if he thought the men had been murdered for the money they'd acquired.

“That was the weird part,” Addison replied. “According to what I heard, at least one of the victims still had the money on him. Damn, if only I could get out of bed and use a different phone. I could do some checking myself.”

“You're using your phone now,” Judith pointed out.

“I can only make calls inside Good Cheer,” Addison grumbled. “I can't get an outside line. And of course you can't use a cell phone in a hospital. They won't work and they can screw up the high-tech equipment.”

“Yes, that's true,” Judith said. “Where did those homeless men get the money? That's very strange. I wonder if this most recent man who got killed also had cash on him.”

“I've no idea,” Addison replied. “I only heard about your husband through the grapevine here. I won't watch TV news. Those so-called pretty-faced reporters and anchors don't know their heads from their hind ends.”

“I appreciate your feelings,” Judith said as Renie suddenly gave a start, apparently at something unexpected from Arlene.

“Judith doesn't know anything about it,” Renie said, wincing. “Are you sure?”

The comment rattled Judith, who decided she'd better terminate the conversation with Addison. “I'll let you know when I hear anything about Joe,” she said into the receiver. “Thanks for calling.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Renie said to Arlene. “We'll let you know when we hear anything about Joe. Bye.”

“What was that all about?” Judith inquired.

Renie gave herself a little shake. “Arlene sometimes gets things mixed up, but she's certain about this one. She got a call at the B&B today saying that Federal Express couldn't make deliveries to Heraldsgate Hill with all the snow, but they were holding two pot-bellied pigs for you in their warehouse.”

“Pot-bellied pigs?”
Judith was incredulous.

“That's what Arlene said,” Renie responded, looking
bewildered. “They're in cages. Or kennels. Or something.”

“Maybe FedEx has the wrong address,” Judith said hopefully.

“They can't deliver the pigs—if they
are
pigs—until the streets are clear,” Renie pointed out. “Don't fuss about it.”

“I can't,” Judith responded in a weary voice. “I'm already fussing too much about Joe. Who do you suppose wanted to see him? If it had been Woody, he or Sondra would have told me.”

But Renie couldn't even guess. Instead, she called home, hoping that one of her children would answer. Luckily, Tony Jones picked up the phone.

“You mean it?” Renie said, brightening at her son's words on the other end of the line. “Oh.” Her face fell. “Then hide that Uzbekistani cookbook from your father. You can't live on millet until I get back in the kitchen. Tell me,” she inquired of her son, “what's he doing with those damned Chihuahuas?”

Judith ignored Renie's anxious probing on the phone and dialed zero and asked to be connected to the ICU. Whatever Bill Jones was doing with a couple of dogs wasn't nearly as urgent as Joe fighting for his life.

It took some time for Judith to be connected to the intensive care unit. Meanwhile, she imagined that the problem reaching a nurse was because Joe had taken a sudden turn for the worse. She'd seen it happen with Bob Randall, with people shouting, running, and rushing equipment down the hall. She could visualize the same frantic movements being performed on Joe's behalf.

Finally, a tired-voiced female answered. Judith felt momentarily strangled by anxiety, but she managed to give her name and ask how Mr. Flynn was doing.

“Flynn…Flynn…Joseph Flynn,” the nurse said in a voice that dragged. “He's listed in critical condition.”

Judith flinched. “No change from earlier this evening?”

“That's correct.”

“Officially, you mean,” Judith said. “But can't you tell whether he's a little bit better or…not?”

“There's been no change,” the nurse replied and yawned in Judith's ear.

Judith and Renie hung up at the same time, then stared at each other.

“Well?” Renie inquired.

Judith's features sagged with disappointment. “No change.”

“I told you they'd let you know as soon as anything happened,” Renie said. “Take it as a good sign. Wouldn't you think that if Joe wasn't going to pull through, he would have gotten worse by now? It's almost ten o'clock.”

Judith flopped back on the pillows. “Maybe.”

Renie waited a few moments before speaking again. “Tony says Bill has the Chihuahuas in his workroom in the basement. He sits down there watching them. Then the dogs watch Bill. And he watches them watch him.”

“Maybe it's better than watching what's on TV,” Judith said without much interest.

“Bill doesn't usually conduct those kinds of experiments,” Renie fretted as Avery, the night nurse, came in for the relentless vital signs routine.

“Maybe,” Judith suggested after submitting herself to the procedures, “he did that kind of thing while he was still teaching at the university. You just never knew about it.”

“Dubious,” Renie replied before the thermometer was stuck in her mouth.

Judith bided her time, drumming her fingernails on the bedclothes. After the nurse left, she turned to Renie.

“I can't stand it,” Judith announced. “I'm getting out of here.”

Renie sighed. “I should have known. That's why you didn't take your Valium a while ago.”

“Yes.” Judith signaled for Renie to be quiet. A full five minutes passed as she listened for the voices to die down and the patter of feet to fade. “They're settling in for the night. Help me get into the wheelchair.”

“No.” Renie glared at Judith. “You'll do yourself some harm. Besides, we'll get caught.”

“We won't,” Judith asserted, laboriously starting to get out of bed. “Come on, give me a hand.”

“That's all I've got,” Renie shot back. But, seeing that Judith was determined, she got out of bed. “I really don't want to do this, coz. Where are we going? As if I couldn't guess.”

“You can,” Judith replied. “The ICU, of course.”

“Of course.” Renie shoved the wheelchair next to the bed, then used her good arm to help Judith stand. “Didn't you tell Woody you thought we were in danger? Isn't this trip a trifle risky?”

“It's also necessary,” Judith declared.

Renie sighed again as she helped her cousin prepare to sit down in the wheelchair. “Are you okay?”