Beverly Connor - One Grave Too Many

“Frank’s told us a lot about you,” his partner said. “I’m glad to meet you. Frank’s tough. I’m sure he’s going to pull through this.”

“I think he’ll be just fine,” she said, trying to believe her own words. That’s what they wanted to hear too. No small talk, just Frank’s going to pull through.

“Oh,” said Izzy. “We found this in the bushes.” He handed her her cell phone. “No sign of your purse.”

“Thanks. I imagine it’s in a gutter somewhere.”

After that exchange, Diane had to explain what had happened to her. The two Atlanta detectives were surprised at the coincidence. Maybe they would give Izzy a nudge, she hoped.

She excused herself and went to the nurses’ station to ask if she could see Frank when he was awake.

“Are you a relative?”

“No, a friend.”

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed. His wife is with him now.” The nurse was curt, and she started to turn her back on Diane.

“He doesn’t have a wife,” said Diane.

The nurse stopped and stared at Diane with sparkling black eyes.

“That is probably his ex-wife,” continued Diane. “They’ve been divorced for five years, and she’s been remarried for five years. However, they have a son who needs to hear how his father is doing. So it’s a good thing for her to see for herself. There’s also a little girl upstairs whose whole family has been murdered. Frank is her guardian, and she needs to hear how he’s doing. If she had been responsible for what happened to her family, Frank wouldn’t be lying in there now.”

“Are you Diane?” asked another nurse who had been openly listening to Diane’s diatribe.

“Yes.”

“He’s been asking for you. He’s pretty insistent. I think the doctor will allow you to see him.” She eyed the first nurse as she spoke.

“If the doctor says so. .”

Cindy Reynolds came through the double doors from the recovery rooms, and the first nurse frowned at her. Cindy didn’t notice. She headed for Diane, and the way her eyes were tearing up, it frightened her.

“How is he?” asked Diane, afraid of the answer.

“He looks so pale. But the nurse says he’s doing well under the circumstances.”

“And Kevin?”

“He doesn’t know yet. He’s at my mother’s. I didn’t want to say anything to him until I. . I had to see for myself.”

“Of course. Star’s just terrified.”

“That poor child. If anything happens to Frank, it’ll be as bad on her as it will on Kevin-worse, in a way. Kevin has family who love him. Star’s all alone.” Cindy took a breath and bit her lip. “Let me know how he’s doing.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a card. “Here’s my cell phone.”

“If there’s any change, I’ll call.”

All animosity that Cindy may have been harboring from their last encounter had evaporated. At least that was one good thing-Diane couldn’t handle any more verbal sparring.

She had to wait another hour before she could get in to see Frank. She was tired, and all the adrenaline that had been keeping her pain-free was dissipating and her back was throbbing, as were several muscles that weren’t hurting before.

When one of the nurses told her she could see him, she hoped she didn’t look like she was on her last legs.

Cindy hadn’t exaggerated when she said Frank looked pale. He was so white he could have been dead. Diane held the door frame so she wouldn’t fall.

“He’s doing much better now,” said the nurse. “I’ve had a chance to work with him for a couple of hours now, and his blood pressure is up to normal. So is his temperature. You’re Diane, right? He’s been asking for you.”

Diane came over to his side and took his hand. It was cold. “Frank, it’s me, Diane.”

His eyes opened slightly and she thought she saw him attempt a smile. He gave her hand a weak squeeze.

“Don’t try to talk. I’ve seen Star. She’s worried, but I told her you’re going to be fine. When I leave here I’ll go back up and tell her I’ve seen you.”

He nodded his head. “You?” he whispered.

“I’m doing great. Healing up just fine.”

“Liar,” he whispered.

“Don’t try to talk anymore. Just get well. That’s an order from Star.”

His lips turned upward and he closed his eyes. She looked at the nurse.

“He’s fine,” she assured Diane. “He’s going to be in and out of it. I’ll keep him alive. It’s what they pay me for.”

“Please,” she said and squeezed his hand before she left.

She felt she should feel better than she did, but he looked so weak, and the last time she saw him he was so strong. She put a smile on her face and went into Star’s room. She was still asleep. Diane sat in a chair and watched her. It was a comfortable chair, and they both needed the rest. She leaned back and went to sleep, not waking up until she heard her name whispered. It was Star, awake and looking at her.

“Uncle Frank. Have you seen him? How is he?”

“I saw him”-she looked at her watch-“an hour ago. He’s doing fine. Very weak, but recovering.”

“He’s not going to die?”

“No.” Diane hoped that was true.

Tears welled up in Star’s eyes and trickled down the sides of her face. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You don’t worry about that now. Get well yourself.”

“I’m sorry I was mean to you.”

“Don’t worry about that either.”

“Why did this happen to him? Is it because of me?”

“Because of you? No. This isn’t your fault. The police think it was a robbery. He was getting money out of the ATM.”

“Yeah, a robbery. First you, and now Frank. Like I believe that was coincidence.”

“Neither do I. But don’t think about any of that. It would make him feel really good if he came in to see you getting better. Concentrate on that.”

Diane left Star dozing and went down to see if she could find Izzy. She caught him as he was going out the door.

“Any more news about Frank?” she asked.

“He’s in critical condition. That’s all they’ll say. How did he look to you?”

“Very pale and weak, but the nurse said he was doing well. I’d like to take her word on it. Izzy, will you give me the name of the little girl who witnessed the shooting?”

“Now, you know I can’t do that.”

“You’ve already discounted her as a witness. What’s the harm?”

He studied the tile floor for several seconds before he took out his notebook and scribbled something on a page and tore it out.

“This didn’t come from me, but if you find anything out, let me know first.”

“I will. Thanks.”

The sun was setting, and the address Izzy had given her wasn’t in a section of town she wanted to visit at night, but she wanted to hear what the little girl saw.

Diane knocked on the door of a small paint-peeled white house with bright white lace curtains in the window. She saw an older black woman peek out the window before she came to the door.

“Yes, can I help you? Are you out of gas?”

“No ma’am. My name is Diane Fallon.” She showed the woman her driver’s license. “Is this the Stillwood residence?”

“Who is it, Mama?” A younger woman came into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“Some woman who says her name is Diane Fallon. I asked her if she run out of gas.”

“I’ve heard that name, just today. Something about digging up bones. Something about the museum?”

“I’m director of the RiverTrail Museum, and I’m also excavating some bones on a farm outside of town.”

Diane thought the best policy was to be as honest as she could. Having some white stranger coming to her house at night wanting to talk with her small daughter would not be something the mother would warm up to.