Sue Grafton - G Is For Gumshoe

"Mrs. Gersh? I'm Dr. Stackhouse." He and Irene shook hands and then he leaned against the desk. "I'm afraid we lost her."

"Oh, for God's sake," Irene snapped. "Can't anybody keep track of her?"

Uh-oh, I thought, Irene wasn't getting it. "I don't think he means it that way," I murmured.

"Mrs. Grey went into cardiac arrest," he said. "I'm sorry. We did everything we could, but we weren't able to revive her."

Irene grew still, her face blank, her tone of voice nearly petulant. "Are you saying she's dead? But that's impossible. She couldn't be. You've made some mistake. Clyde said her injuries were minor. Cuts and bruises. I thought he talked to you."

I was watching the doctor and I could see him pick his words with care. "When she was first brought in, she was already showing symptoms of cardiac arrhythmia. She was confused and disoriented, suffering from exposure and stress. In a woman her age, given her fragile state of health…"

Irene let out a sigh, finally taking it in. "Oh, the poor thing." Her eyes filled with sudden tears, which spilled down her cheeks. Blotches of color had come up in her face and neck. She began to tremble uncontrollably, quivering like a wet dog in the midst of a bath. I grabbed her hand.

Clyde appeared in the doorway. From the look in his eyes, he'd been told what was going on. The receptionist had probably informed him as soon as he came in.

Irene turned beseechingly. "Clyde… Mother's gone" she said. She reached for him, coming out of the chair and into his arms. He seemed to fold her in against him. For the first time, I realized how tiny she was. I looked away, not wanting to intrude on their intimacy.

I saw Dietz through the open doorway, leaning against the wall. His posture was identical to my first sight of him. Cowboy boots, his tweed coat. The hospital down in Brawley. All he needed was the toothbrush in his pocket, sticking up like a fountain pen. His gaze moved casually to mine, moved to Irene, came back to mine and held. The look in his eyes was quizzical, perplexed. His expression shifted from self-assurance to uncertainty. I felt an unexpected flash of heat. I broke off eye contact, feeling flushed. My gaze drifted back. He was still looking at me, with a wistfulness I hadn't seen before.

We all waited uncomfortably for Irene's tears to pass. Finally, Dr. Stackhouse moved toward the door and I followed. The two of us withdrew, moving out into the corridor. As we walked back to the emergency room,

Dietz fell into step with us, placing his hand on the back of my neck in a way that made me feel curious and alert. It was a gesture of possession and the physical connection was charged with a sudden current that made the air between us hum.

Dr. Stackhouse shook his head. "God, I'm sorry. It was a lousy break. Are you her granddaughter? Someone's going to have to talk to the police officer."

I focused on the situation as if coming up for air. "I'm a friend of Mrs. Gersh's. Kinsey Millhone," I said.

He glanced at me. "The one she was asking for."

"So I'm told," I said. "Do you have any idea what it was?"

"Well, I can tell you what she said, but I don't think it means much. She kept saying it was summer. 'Tell her it used to be summer…' Is that significant?"

"Not to me," I said. In her mind, it was probably connected to the long rambling tale she'd told me down at the desert. Emily and the earthquake, the Harpster girls and Arthur James. "That's all she said?"

"That's the only thing I heard."

"Will there be an autopsy?"

"Probably. We put a call through to the coroner's office and a deputy's on the way. He'll talk to the pathologist and decide if it's warranted."

"Which pathologist? Dr. Yee or Dr. Palchak?"

"Dr. Palchak," he said. "Of course, the deputy may just go ahead and authorize us to sign the death certificate."

"What about Agnes? Can we see her?"

He nodded. "Of course. She's just down the hall here. Whenever Mrs. Gersh is ready, the nurse will take you in."

Agnes had been moved temporarily to a little-used examining room at the end of the hall. Once we were gone, she'd be wheeled down to the basement and left in the refrigerated darkness of the morgue. Dietz waited in the hall with Clyde while Irene and I stood silently beside the gurney on which her mother lay. Death had smoothed many of the lines from her face. Under the white sheeting, she seemed small and frail, her beaky nose protruding prominently from the peaceful folds of her face.

There was a discreet knock at the door. A young uniformed police officer came into the room and introduced himself. He'd brought Agnes in and he talked to Irene briefly about his encounter with her mother. "She seemed like a very nice person, ma'am. I just thought you might like to know she didn't give me any trouble…"

Irene's eyes brimmed. "Thank you. I appreciate that. Was she in pain? I can't stand to think about what she must have gone through."

"No, ma'am. I wouldn't say so. She might have been confused, but she didn't seem to be in pain or anything like that."

"Thank God for that. Did she ask for me?"

Color tinted his cheeks. "I couldn't say for sure. I know she mentioned somebody named Sheila."

"Sheila?" Irene said blankly.

"I'm pretty sure that was it. She did cry some. She said she was sorry to be a bother. I kept talking to her, telling her everything was fine. She quieted down after that and seemed all right till we got here. I know the staff did everything possible to save her. I guess sometimes they just go like that."

Irene's chin began to quiver. She pressed a handkerchief to her mouth while she shook her head, whispering. "I had no idea she was dying. My God, if we'd only hurried we might have been here in time…"

The officer shifted uneasily. "I'll step out in the waiting room and finish filling out my report. I believe the sheriff's deputy's out there now. He'll need some information as soon as you're up to it." He moved out into the hall, leaving the door ajar.

After a moment, Clyde came in. He put his arm around Irene's shoulder and walked her out toward the reception area. Before the door closed again, I caught a glimpse of the sheriff's deputy in the corridor, conferring with his STPD counterpart. I gathered the city police had reported the death to the county coroner's office since Agnes was listed as missing and the last hours of her life were still unaccounted for. The coroner would make a determination as to the circumstances, manner, and cause of death. If she should be classified as a homicide victim, the city police would assume responsibility for the criminal investigation. I was guessing the death would be considered "nonreportable" in coroner's terms, but that remained to be seen. An autopsy might be done in any event.

Alone with the body, I lifted one corner of the sheet, reaching for the cool, unyielding flesh of Agnes's left hand. Her knuckles were scraped. Two nails were broken. On her ring finger and her pinkie there was soil impacted under the nails. The receptionist came into the room behind me. I slipped her hand under the sheet again and turned. "Yes?"

"Mr. Gersh said to tell you he's taking his wife out to the car. The other gentleman is waiting."

"What happened to her personal effects?"

"There wasn't much. Dr. Stackhouse set aside the articles of clothing for disposition by the coroner. She didn't have anything else with her when she was brought in."

I scribbled a note to Dr. Palchak, asking her to call me. I left the message with the ER nurse as I passed the desk. Dietz wanted to call a cab, but Clyde insisted on dropping us back at my place. Irene cried inconsolably all the way home. I was grateful when Dietz finally unlocked the door and let us in. In the backseat of the Mercedes, he'd placed his hand beside mine, our little fingers touching in a way that made me feel my whole left side had been magnetized.