The Night Visitor (26 page)

The orderly grabbed the phone from her hand and ended the call.

“Did you get it?” A second male orderly stuck his head into the bathroom.

“Yep.” The first one walked out, putting the phone into his back pants pocket.

The other guy said, “You’re lucky. Dr. O would have had your ass.”

Rory walked into the room. The other guy had already left.

The one who’d lost the phone said to Rory, “Don’t screw up again.” Before he was out the door, he turned back. “The less said about this the better.”

* * *

Rodriguez passed Auburn’s desk and caught a glance of a photo of Anya’s dead face. “She did something to piss somebody off.”

Auburn closed the murder book and stood, fishing in his pocket for his car key. “Be back later.”

54

Richard Tate opened the front door of the villa holding a scotch on the rocks. If finding Auburn on his front porch disturbed him, he didn’t let on. “Detective. Just in time for cocktails. Come in.”

Auburn followed Richard into the villa.

Walking to the ballroom, Richard said, “The bar’s in here. What can I get you?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

“Evelyn’s dressing for dinner. I’ll tell her you’re here.” He took out his cell phone and began typing a text.

“I’m not here to see Evelyn.”

“Oh?”

“I’m here to see Rory.”

Richard used tongs to drop fresh ice from a crystal bucket into his drink. He uncorked a bottle and splashed in more scotch. “I’ll let Evelyn talk to you.”

“Isn’t Rory here?”

Richard’s cell phone buzzed and he looked at it. “Evie will be right down. Have a seat.” He walked to a grouping of chairs and sofas. Before he sat, he asked, “Sure I can’t get you something?”

“No, thank you.” Auburn sat when Richard did. He looked around, annoyed.

Richard took a quick sip of his drink and blurted, “You golf?”

“A little.”

“We should get a game together. I play with your boss sometimes. The chief.” He imbued the title with momentousness. “I told him I wouldn’t play with him anymore if he doesn’t let me win at least once a year. There’s my bride.”

They both stood when Evelyn entered the room.

“Hello, Detective. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Richard interjected, “He’s here to see Rory.”

“Rory?” Evelyn sat on a wing-backed chair and plucked at her slacks. “She’s not available.”

“Where is she?” Auburn struggled to keep the irritation from his voice.

“That’s a confidential matter,” Evelyn said. “Why is it so urgent that you speak with her?”

“I just got off the phone with her.”

“That’s impossible.” Evelyn nearly stood but regained her composure. “How?”

“She called me at the station.”

“When?”

“Half an hour ago.” Auburn recalled Rory’s urgent, muffled voice followed by the voice of a man who seemed to have taken the phone from her. “Where is she?”

Evelyn shot a glance at Richard. He said, “Detective, Rory’s in a hospital. A convalescent hospital…to rest.”

“They don’t allow her to make phone calls?”

Evelyn said, “She needs to rest.”

“Is she under a mental health hold?”

Evelyn stood and began pacing. “This is painful for me to talk about. Rory started hallucinating and nearly jumped off a fire escape.” She faced Auburn with her hands out. “I had no other choice.”

“Where is she?” he asked.

“At Casa del Fuente. Please honor my wish that she not be disturbed. I’m sure they won’t let you talk to her anyway. I have no idea how she got access to a phone.” Evelyn rubbed her arms. “What did she talk to you about?”

“That’s confidential.”

Evelyn stood in front of Auburn and planted her hands on her hips. “Confidential! You can’t keep that from me. I have a right to know what my daughter’s doing.”

Richard got up and stood behind Evelyn, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Evie…Let’s calm down.”

She shrugged him off. “Calm down? This is my baby’s life we’re talking about.” She angrily pointed at Auburn. “He can’t keep secrets from us.”

Auburn watched her dispassionately.

Richard managed to lead Evelyn to a chair.

“Mrs. Tate, it appears that both your daughters kept secrets from you,” Auburn said.

Evelyn coldly eyed him. “I sincerely hope that you’re not referring to Anya’s pregnancy. Dr. Templeton told me you were in his office. I don’t know what you intend to make of that.”

“It looks as if she planned to become pregnant,” Auburn said. “Dr. Templeton’s file shows she’d been using a birth control implant for years. She’d had the implant removed three months before her murder. Dr. Templeton remembers Anya being ecstatic about the pregnancy.”

Evelyn said, “Anya was losing Jonah Donati and desperate to do anything to hold on to him. She got pregnant by him and it didn’t make any difference, I’m sorry to say.”

Auburn said, “I spoke with Jonah earlier today. Anya never told him she was pregnant.”

Evelyn threw up her hands. “You think he’d admit that? He’s married now, to that cocktail waitress he dumped Anya for.”

“I still have to wonder why the medical examiner didn’t include Anya’s pregnancy in his autopsy report.”

“Detective, I happen to know Gene Hedges. He’s a fine doctor with an impeccable reputation.” Richard took the lid from a silver box on a side table, scooped out a handful of peanuts, and fed them into his mouth through his cupped fingers.

“I’m aware that you’re friendly with Dr. Hedges, Mr. Tate. You sit on two boards with him and Tate Partners has a large investment in a start-up venture of his.”

Richard looked surprised that Auburn knew this.

“You’ve been busy, Detective Auburn.” Evelyn started laughing. “You remind me of the detective in my movie Kill Quiet, Kill Fast. He found conspiracies everywhere too.” Her amusement turned to anger. “No one in this family had anything to do with Anya’s murder, Detective. It’s time you move on and let us live our lives. Haven’t we been through enough?”

Richard downed the last of his scotch and stood. “Detective, thank you for enlivening our ordinary day with your tales of intrigue. These discussions upset my wife, so please direct any further communications through our attorney, Leland Declues.”

“I can find my way out.” Auburn stood but instead of heading toward the door, he went to admire the portrait over the fireplace. “A member of the family?”

Richard said, “My first wife, Abigail. She passed away many years ago.”

Auburn looked at the painting of the beautiful young woman with pale skin and dark hair standing alone wearing a deep-blue evening gown. He moved closer and peered intently at the portrait.

Richard stepped up to Auburn. “Can I help you with something, Detective?”

“Good evening.” Auburn went up the ballroom steps and left.

55

It was the middle of the night in the subacute unit. Junior’s noises and movements didn’t immediately draw the janitor’s attention. He resumed emptying the garbage can. He’d seen the patients in the vegetable garden acting creepy before. He also worked in the hospital morgue, but he hated the subacute unit more. At least in the morgue you knew who was dead.

Still, something about Junior didn’t seem right, even for that place. His eyes were frantic and his lips were blue. His crooked arms and legs spastically jerked.

The janitor stepped into the hallway. There was no one at the nurses station. Soon he saw the night nurse heading down the hallway. “Hey, Keith. Something’s wrong with Junior.”

Keith picked up his pace. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think he can breathe, man.”

“What?” Keith jogged to the room. From the doorway, he saw that Junior’s respirator tube had been removed and the monitor had been unplugged.

Keith bolted inside, pushing past the janitor. Junior wasn’t breathing.

“Oh shit.” Keith retrieved the respirator tube and hurried to reattach it. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. The trach tube’s been pulled out. Go get the on-call doctor.”

Keith threw the respirator tube aside, pinched Junior’s nose, slapped his hand over Junior’s mouth, and put his mouth over the hole in Junior’s neck. He inhaled and exhaled into it.

The panic in Junior’s eyes faded as they clouded over.

* * *

Rory was asleep in her room at Casa del Fuente, dreaming about her and Anya. They ran through an open field near their Aunt Donna’s house. Rory stopped. She couldn’t breathe.

Anya turned back. “What’s wrong?”

Rory was suffocating. She started to panic. There was a hole in her throat. She reached in and pulled out a snake. It came and came…

She tumbled from the bed to the floor, grabbing her throat, her breath strangled. This wasn’t a dream. She crawled to the door and tried to turn the doorknob with both hands. She got it open and fell into the hallway. She crawled on the polished linoleum, vaguely aware of footsteps coming toward her. She felt herself sliding down, deeper into the creeping blackness.

56

Rory was wheeled into a treatment room directly from the ambulance that had sped her to Huntington Hospital. A nurse was taking her vital signs while another nurse asked her the same questions the EMTs had asked her in the ambulance. “What’s your name?” “What day is it?” “What year is it?” “Who’s the president of the United States?”

Rory correctly answered all their questions.

“Do you remember anything before you passed out?”

“I was asleep. Dreaming. In my dream I was suffocating and then I woke up and couldn’t breathe.”

“You were unconscious for a while. We’re going to do an MRI. I’ve called your mother and she’s on her way. How do you feel now?”

“Thirsty.”

“Any nausea?”

“No.” Rory pulled at the restraints that bound her wrists to the bed. “Can you please untie me? I’m not going to hurt myself or do anything.”

The nurse looked over Rory’s chart. “Sorry, honey. I can’t do that. They’ll be here soon to transport you for the MRI. Here’s the remote for the TV. That button is the call button for the nurse.” She put the remote in Rory’s right hand.

“Can I have some water, please?”

The nurse left, returned with a cup of water, held it to Rory’s lips, and told her to take a small sip. When Rory swallowed that fine, the nurse gave her the rest. As the nurse left, she pulled the curtain partially closed over a window into the hallway.

Rory was alone. She felt okay. She was still wearing the T-shirt, drawstring pajama bottoms, and socks she’d worn to bed. She moved her wrists inside the cloth restraints, which were attached by Velcro. They were loose, but not loose enough to pull her hand through. Her ankles were not restrained.

Rory sat up in bed as far as she could and raised her right hand until the restraint stopped her. She bent forward. She could almost reach her wrist with her head. She took her time, letting her muscles release. After a while, she was able to bite the Velcro strap with her teeth. She slowly pulled it open. Her right hand free, she freed her left.

“Thank you, years of yoga classes.”

She lowered the bed rail, crept from the bed, and peeked out the window past the curtain. A doctor was at the station down the hallway typing on a keyboard. Other nurses and aides were busy with patients or moving with purpose. For a moment, Rory’s corner of the hallway was empty of hospital personnel. She left the room, walking quickly and not looking back.

57

“They tried to murder Junior. They nearly did it.” Sylvia had bolted from Junior’s hospital room to meet Detective Auburn as soon as she saw him approaching.

He quickly put on protective clothing. Sylvia helped him with the gown’s ties. “Keith called me right away and told me what happened, but the hospital won’t make any comments pending further investigation, they say. It’s bullshit, Henry.”

Auburn saw Fermina standing beside Junior’s bed, murmuring behind her face mask as she recited the rosary, her fingers working around the string of beads she held between her hands.

Auburn placed his hand on Sylvia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She spoke in a low voice so her mother wouldn’t hear. “All these years I was hoping Junior would…pass away. I wanted to pull all the machines off him myself and let him go. But what someone did last night…They can’t get away with that.”

“How is he?” Auburn looked in at Junior.

“Hard to tell exactly, but he hasn’t woken up. He usually wakes up when Mom’s here. This detective came by to talk to us.” Sylvia handed him the business card of a detective from the local precinct. “He thinks whoever tried to kill Junior sneaked in and hid out. The cleaning crew goes through the back door to get to the Dumpsters. He could have come in that way. I told this detective they should be looking for a
she.
I want to know where Rory Langtry was last night. She’s sneaked in to see Junior before.”

“Rory didn’t do this,” Auburn said.

“Why are you so sure? She tried to kill Junior five years ago,” Sylvia said. “You need to arrest her.”

“She’s in a hospital.”

“Is she sick again?”

“She’s under observation.”

She gave him a piercing look. “For what?”

“I can’t reveal that.”

Sylvia slid her eyes away. “So, her family thinks she’s crazy. The nurses told me about when she was here, face-to-face with Junior, just like Danny used to do. Does she say she’s communicating with Junior like Danny did? Tell me, Henry. Please don’t put them ahead of us.”

“Her family is concerned about her well being.”

Sylvia weighed this. “Is that the Tates’ new strategy—Rory’s crazy? Then they can go for an insanity defense.”

When he didn’t respond, she pressed her lips together and loudly exhaled through her nose. She looked into the room at her mom, who hadn’t broken her focus praying. “I wish I could be like her. Have faith. I do, but not like her. Just look at the world. But sometimes I wonder.”

Sylvia joined her mother beside Junior’s bed. Auburn followed her inside. He nodded to Fermina.

Fermina leaned over Junior’s bed and began kissing him.
“Mijo,
you’ve come back to us. Mother Mary, thank you for bringing my son back.”