Mary Daheim - Suture Self - A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

hung up. “Do you think whoever brings it can get past

the desk?”

“Yes,” Renie declared, clicking on the old-fashioned

gooseneck lamp next to the bed. “Now dump that crap

off your tray and settle back. I should have ordered a

couple of drinks while I was at it.”

“We can’t drink,” Judith said, taking yet another sip

from her plastic water glass, “except for stuff like this.

We’re on pain medication.”

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Mary Daheim

“We are?” Renie harrumphed. “You couldn’t prove

it by me.”

The food did indeed arrive, along with Joe, Bill, and

the delivery boy. Renie had already managed to get out

her checkbook, though it was a struggle to write with

her left hand.

“Let me,” Bill sighed, tearing up the check. “This

looks as if you’d written it with your lips.”

“I should try that,” Renie murmured, struggling to

open the cartons. “Here, pass some of this to my roommate.”

Joe and Bill had come to the hospital together. The

guests were settled in, Carl and Arlene had things well

in hand, and Gertrude was spending the evening inside

Hillside Manor playing three-handed pinochle with Judith’s stand-ins.

“They’re so good to her,” Judith said, referring to the

Rankerses. “I try to ignore Arlene’s threats to move. I

couldn’t bear it if they weren’t next door.”

Taking a bite of Judith’s marinated steak, Joe

agreed. “By the way, I’ve accepted a new case.”

“You have?” Judith was surprised. “But you’re already overloaded.”

“I’m okay, I got most of the loose ends tied up before your surgery,” Joe said, sampling a sweet-andsour prawn. “But this is one I don’t feel I can refuse.

There was a call from FOPP waiting for me when I got

home from the hospital this afternoon.”

Judith’s forehead wrinkled. “FOPP? What’s that?”

“Friends of Powerless People, advocates for the

homeless,” Joe replied, eyeing another of Judith’s

prawns. “It seems that a couple of street residents have

been killed in the last month. Not that it’s unusual in itself, but these weren’t the typical murders. You know,

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41

a couple of the poor devils get into it, one brains the

other with an empty bottle of Old Horsecollar. Or

smart-ass kids hassle the homeless until it gets out of

hand. According to Steve Moeller at FOPP, the two

most recent killings appeared to be deliberate and were

committed out of sight. Both stabbings, maybe by the

same knife. I’ll get more details tomorrow.”

“What about the police?” Judith inquired. “Aren’t

they trying to find the killers?”

Joe gave a slight shrug. “Sure, but you know how it

is. Even when I was still on the job, if Woody and I got

a case that was more high-profile, then our homeless

homicide got put at the bottom of the pile. That’s why

FOPP has decided to hire a private investigator.”

Judith frowned. She’d always had a sense of security

during the years that Woodrow Wilson Price had been

Joe’s partner. A solid man of African-American descent with a walrus mustache and deceptively soulful

eyes that could wring a confession out of the most

hardened criminals, Woody had never let Joe down.

And vice versa. But that was then and this was now. “It

sounds dangerous. Furthermore, you don’t have

Woody for a partner anymore.”

Joe shook his head and grinned. “I’ll manage. The

worst of it is trying to make sense of what the witnesses will say. If I can find any witnesses.”

“Take someone with you,” Judith urged. “Bill, for

instance. He can tell who’s crazy and who isn’t.”

Joe made a face at Judith. “Bill has plenty to do, too.

He still sees some of his private patients and consults

at the university. Besides, on these investigations, I like

to work solo.”

Judith started to argue, but she was too worn out and

knew she’d lose. At the other bedside, the Joneses were

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Mary Daheim

arguing, something about the assignments of their

three children while Renie was in the hospital.

“Why,” Renie was demanding, “should Tom wash

the windows in January? He needs time to work on his

Ph.D. thesis.”

“That doesn’t mean the windows aren’t dirty,” Bill

pointed out. “Besides, he’s been in graduate school for

eight years. I don’t see that he’s in any rush.”

“He has deadlines,” Renie countered. “You know

that, you’ve been through it.”

“Not in Babylonian history,” Bill pointed out, his

voice growing more heated. “What’s he going to do

with that degree when he gets it? How many recruiters

are out there looking for an expert on the Mushkenu

social class?”

“He can teach,” Renie retorted.

“He doesn’t want to teach,” Bill asserted. “He wants

to stay in graduate school, live in our house, eat our

food, and wait until we’re carried out feetfirst, just like

his brother and his sister are doing.”

Joe, who had been fidgeting, stood up. “Hey, Bill,

maybe we should head on out. It may snow tonight.”

Bill all but flew out of his visitor’s chair. “Good

idea. Heraldsgate Hill has some pretty mean streets in

bad weather.”

Joe and Bill kissed their wives and fled.

“Do you really think they have girls lined up?” Judith asked.

“No,” Renie answered. “They have basketball

games, though. Pro and college. Besides, we’re boring.”

“Joe ate half my dinner,” Judith said in dismay.

“Bill didn’t try to touch any of mine,” Renie said. “He

knows better.”

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43

Judith checked her watch, which was lying on the

bedside stand. “It’s almost eight. I could use some

more painkillers.”

“Me, too,” said Renie. “You buzz. They hate me.”

Judith pushed the button. “I have to admit, they

aren’t exactly killing us with kindness. Excuse the

phrase.”

But Heather Chinn appeared almost immediately.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s been so busy on this

floor tonight. I’m behind in taking vitals.”

“How about victuals?” Renie said, indicating the

empty white boxes on her tray. “Could you get rid of

these for us?”

Heather hadn’t noticed the small cartons. “Oh, dear!

Did you two . . . ? Really, that’s not allowed. Lately,

our patients seem to think they can consume just about

anything they like. That’s not so. You have to keep to a

hospital diet while you’re with us. If we hadn’t been so

caught up with other patients, we’d never have permitted this.”

“Those aren’t ours,” Renie said, feigning shock.

“Our husbands brought their own dinner. We’ll both

speak severely to them about doing it again.”

Frowning, Heather removed the boxes, then began

taking Judith’s pulse and temperature. “What happened with Jim Randall?” Judith inquired after the

paper thermometer had been removed.

“Oh,” Heather said, wrapping the blood pressure

cuff around Judith’s arm, “he went home. I guess he

was upset about his brother.”

“Mr. Bob’s recovering nicely?” Judith asked.

Heather didn’t answer right away. She was listening

to the stethoscope and looking at the gauge attached to