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

strange homicide case. All those innocent victims.”

“Three in the hospital,” Judith said. “The number

three was symbolic to Jim. His brother had saved three

lives—Jim’s, and two children who were rescued by

Bob from a house fire. It was as if Jim had to do just

the opposite—take three successful lives, including

that of the mirror twin who had saved him from drowning. The three homeless men may have—perhaps subconsciously—symbolized his own inferiority. Jim felt

like them—a loser.”

“I wonder,” Renie said, “if Bob was really as big a

jerk as Jim and the rest of the family indicated.”

“I’ll bet he was,” Judith replied. “Big sports stars

can be very hard to live with.”

“What,” Joe inquired, “about Addison Kirby getting

run down? Was that an accident or something Jim

cooked up?”

“I’m not sure,” Judith admitted. “I’m not even certain who was driving. It might have been Jim after he

got the homeless man to steal the Camry from the dealership. He might have told the guy to run over Addison, or at that point Jim himself may have been

driving. If so, he may not even have seen Addison

Kirby. We’ll know when Woody checks for hairs and

fibers.”

“Good Lord!” Renie cried. “Jim may have driven

our car? It’s a wonder we didn’t find it in pieces!”

“He wouldn’t have driven it far,” Judith said dryly.

“Jim had used the homeless to help him get around, no

doubt stealing cars and returning them, perhaps before

the owners knew they were gone. This time, he had to

leave Bill and Renie’s Camry because of the bad

weather. Plus, the last homeless victim was staying

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closer to the hospital because the camp had been

moved from under the freeway. The snowstorm

worked both for and against Jim Randall. And of

course he couldn’t take a chance of being seen with his

stooge.”

“Say,” Renie put in, “was Jim Randall the one who

got into my suitcase? And who was it you glimpsed in

the ICU?”

“I still don’t know who was in the ICU,” Judith

replied, “but I’m sure it wasn’t Jim. It was dark, he

couldn’t see well, and I can’t think of any reason why

he’d be interested in us.” She gave Woody a shrewd

look. “Why don’t you tell us who the intruder in our

room was? Could it be the same person I saw in the

ICU?”

“Ah . . .” Woody looked embarrassed. “I’m not supposed to say . . .”

“Come on, Woody,” Judith coaxed. “Tell us.”

Woody glanced at Joe. “She exerts a certain irresistible power, doesn’t she?”

“In more ways than one,” Joe murmured, the gold

flecks flashing in his green eyes.

“I guess it’s all right to reveal the truth,” Woody said,

though he cast a wary gaze on the closed door. “The intruder in your room was Harold Abernethy.”

“Who?” Judith and Renie chorused.

Woody bestowed his engaging grin on the cousins.

“I knew you wouldn’t know who he was. Well,” he

amended with a quick glance at Judith, “I sort of

thought you might have found out his real name.”

“Mr. Mummy!” Judith exclaimed. “His name wasn’t

really Mumford Needles?”

“No,” Woody replied, looking faintly amused. “That

was his working alias. Blanche Van Boeck hired him to

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try to solve the murders before Restoration Heartware

changed its mind and decided to withdraw its takeover

attempt.”

“But,” Renie put in, “I thought Blanche actually

sounded sincere when she expressed regret about the

takeover.”

“She probably was,” Woody responded. “But it was

the only way Good Cheer could survive. It was either

that, or turn the place into condominiums. Dr. Garnett

blamed Dr. Van Boeck for the hospital’s problems. That

was probably professional jealousy. Sister Jacqueline

and Van Boeck were fighting an uphill battle, like so

many other chiefs of staff and administrators.”

“So,” Renie murmured, “that’s why Mr. Mummy—

I mean, Harold Abernethy—checked out last night.

The takeover had happened, his job was ended. No

wonder he was so snoopy. But why was he interested

in us?”

“Harold was interested in everybody,” Woody said.

“He probably went through your things to make sure

you were what you appeared to be. Of course we knew

about his investigation, which was why we agreed,

along with county law enforcement, to keep the lid on

everything, including the media. Blanche, Dr. Van

Boeck, Sister Jacqueline, even Dr. Garnett all agreed

that it was the best way to handle the situation. Given

that Good Cheer is the only orthopedic hospital inside

the city, they felt that publicity should be kept to a

minimum. The main fear, aside from the damage to

Good Cheer’s reputation, was that people who really

needed surgery would be put off and possibly cause

themselves serious harm.”

“But,” Judith asked, “did Harold ever learn the

killer’s identity?”

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Woody shook his head. “No. He felt like a big failure. He’s been a private detective for over thirty years,

and he insisted that he’d never come across such a baffling crime.”

Joe shot Judith a rueful look. “The cunning killer

never dreamed he’d come across my dear wife.”

“Now, Joe . . .” Judith began, then turned to Woody.

“What are you going to do about Jim Randall? I know

he’s probably not in any condition to be arrested right

now, but later when he . . .”

Woody was looking remorseful. “Judith, I’m sorry.

The truth is, we have no evidence. Even what’s been

collected before now doesn’t prove Jim Randall was

the killer.”

“What was collected?” Renie asked.

“The containers,” Woody said. “Sister Jacqueline

saved all the containers, including the whiskey bottle.

The fingerprints were smudged, but Sister had the

dregs analyzed. You’re right, the drugs were in the

juice and the soda and the liquor. But what did that

prove? It was impossible to pin down who had delivered them to the hospital, and in the first two instances,

Margie Randall had brought the items to Joaquin Somosa and Joan Fremont. No one paid any special attention to the homeless men being at Good Cheer

because the nuns offer them free medical care.”

“But,” Renie argued, “now you can have the technicians who gave those medical tests testify that they

didn’t give them to Jim Randall.”

“That’s possible,” Woody allowed.

“You can do better than that,” Judith declared.

Woody seemed skeptical. “How?”

Judith turned to Joe. “Could you ID the suspiciouslooking man you saw in the park?”

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Joe grimaced. “Maybe. It was pretty dark.”

Judith nodded. “I’ll bet you can when you see Jim

Randall. But there’s another way.” She looked at

Woody. “If you check Jim’s clothes, I’ll bet you’ll find a

surgical instrument or two among his belongings. He

hasn’t been able to go home because of the snow, and he

wouldn’t risk throwing them away. He couldn’t be sure

that there might not be some residual evidence implicating him. Nor would he have had time to get rid of them