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

don’t know anyone on Heraldsgate Hill who reminds

me of the possible suspect.”

Addison looked disappointed. “So I can’t ask who

it is?”

“Don’t feel bad,” Renie put in. “Sometimes, when

she really gets whacked out, she won’t even tell me

who she suspects.”

Addison grinned. “You aren’t going to tell me who

I should be wary of? Remember, I almost got killed out

there in front of the hospital.”

Coincidentally, Torchy Magee poked his head in the

door. “Mrs. Jones? That’s your Camry, all right. At

least it is if you live at this address I copied down.” He

recited the house and street number from a slip of

paper. “That yours?”

“It sure is,” Renie said with a big smile. “Thanks.

I’m relieved that the car is safe.”

Suddenly angry, Addison was staring at Renie.

“ Your car was the one that hit me?”

“I’m afraid so,” Renie said. “Our Toyota Camry was

stolen from the dealership. I didn’t recognize it when I

saw it hit you because it looks like every other midsized sedan these days. Besides, I’m not used to looking down on it unless I’m on a ferry boat’s upper deck.”

Addison was frowning. “I don’t get it—somebody

stole your car and then hit me . Was it deliberate?”

Renie glanced at her cousin, who shrugged.

“Who?” Addison asked, still frowning.

“I’m not sure what his name is,” Judith replied, “but

he may be dead.”

As Judith rolled out of the room with Renie behind

her, Addison made a request.

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“Hey—you never told me who I should watch out

for.”

“I told you,” Judith said, over her shoulder. “The

man who hit you might be dead.”

“He was the man who killed my wife? For God’s

sake, I have to know that.”

“No,” Judith responded. “He didn’t kill your wife.

He didn’t kill anybody. I’m not entirely convinced that

your accident wasn’t just that—an accident.”

Addison wasn’t finished. “Am I in danger?”

“I don’t think so,” Judith said, “but it’s always prudent

to trust absolutely nobody in this kind of situation.”

“Not even you two?” Addison shot back.

“Not even us,” Judith replied. But she smiled.

Judith was intent on talking to Sister Jacqueline.

Heather Chinn thought that the hospital administrator

was in a meeting, probably something to do with the

Restoration Heartware takeover. But she promised to

convey the message to Sister Jacqueline.

“Meanwhile,” Judith said, “I’m going to see Joe.”

Renie made a face. “Are you sure you’re up to it?

That shower must have taken a lot out of you.”

“Of course I’m up to it,” Judith asserted, once again

sitting up on her own. This time she managed to swing

her legs around to the side of the bed, put her feet on

the floor, and start to stand up. “See? I can . . . Oops!”

Judith started to topple forward and caught herself on

the wheelchair.

“Good grief,” Renie muttered, hurrying as fast as

she could to help her cousin, “I warned you about

being too rash.”

“Okay, okay,” Judith grumbled, “let’s get out of

here.”

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The cousins paused briefly outside the door to what

had been Mr. Mummy’s room and now was tenanted

by Jim Randall. Two nurses and a doctor Judith didn’t

recognize were hovering over Jim’s bed.

“He must have been almost blind,” Judith remarked.

“Otherwise, he might not have gotten a cornea transplant.”

The lunch carts had been removed from the hallway;

the Pakistani woman was polishing the floor with an

electric cleaner; the two nurses at the station, one of

whom was a nun, were consulting over charts. No one

stopped Judith and Renie as they proceeded to the elevator.

But they were stopped anyway. An OUT OF ORDER

sign was on the door of the car.

“Damn!” Judith cursed under her breath. “Where’s

the freight elevator?”

Renie didn’t know. “It’s probably down this hall,”

she said, pointing to their right. “It’s the only place I

haven’t been yet.”

Judith was about to suggest that they try it when Sister Jacqueline appeared from the stairwell. “You

wanted to see me?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Judith said, then added, “when will this elevator be fixed?”

“Curly’s working on it now,” Sister Jacqueline

replied. “Our elevators are not only too few, but too

old. I imagine Restoration Heartware will install new

ones. Among other things,” she concluded on a baleful

note.

The three women returned to the cousins’ room,

where Sister Jacqueline tentatively seated herself in

Judith’s visitor’s chair. The nun looked as if she either

expected to be ejected from the chair by force, or else

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didn’t want to be there in the first place. A real hot

seat, Judith thought as she got back into bed.

“You’re probably going to think I’m nuts,” Judith

said with a self-deprecating smile, “but would it be

possible for you to find these dates for me?” She

handed the nun a slip of paper on which she’d already

written her request.

Sister Jacqueline looked startled. “That would be a

breach of patient confidentiality,” she said. “Why on

earth do you want this answered in the first place?”

“Sister,” Judith said earnestly, “would you believe

me if I told you it was a matter of life and death?”

It hadn’t been easy, but Judith had finally convinced

Sister Jacqueline that it was imperative to provide the

information. Mike returned shortly after the nun left.

“Did you know the elevator’s broken?” he said upon

entering the room.

“Yes,” Judith retorted, “we know. We tried to get up

to the fourth floor to see Joe. How is he?”

“Good,” Mike replied, taking the chair that Sister

Jacqueline had just vacated. “He seemed better than

when I saw him earlier. Woody Price is with him.

Gosh, it was great to see Woody after all this time.”

“Did Joe see who stabbed him?” Judith asked anxiously.

“That’s what Woody was asking,” Mike replied.

“Joe told him that he thinks he saw the attacker before

it happened. At least he saw some guy who was acting

suspicious. Joe has an instinct for that sort of thing,

being a cop for so many years.”

Judith could barely contain her excitement. “Who

was it?”

Mike gave his mother and his aunt an ironic smile.

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“That’s the weird thing. He didn’t look like most of the

homeless types.”

Judith nodded. “I’m not surprised.”

“Huh?” Mike looked puzzled. “What do you

mean?”

Maybe, Judith thought, it was only fair to enlighten

her son. But before she could say anything, Bill Jones

came through the door, panting mightily.

“Bill!” Renie cried. “You’re alive!”

Bill leaned one thermal-gloved hand against the

door frame and panted some more. “Huhuhuhuhuhu,”

he uttered.

“Did you bring me some snacks?” Renie asked,

smiling widely.

Bill, his tongue hanging out, shook his head.

“Uhuhuh.”

Renie’s face fell. “Oooh . . .”