wouldn’t get mixed up in this if I were you. I mean it.”
Judith drew in a sharp breath. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” Joe said.
“Get mixed up. In this.” Judith winced.
“Something’s not right,” Joe said, “but it’s not up to
you to find out.”
“No,” said Judith.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
After Judith hung up the phone, she gazed at Renie.
“We are in danger.”
“Yes,” said Renie, and took a big bite out of another
biscuit. “Ith thapend befwo.”
Judith nodded. She knew it had happened before,
but the thought didn’t make her feel any better.
NINE
“WHAT ELSE AM I supposed to do while I’m lying
here like a big lump?” Judith demanded. “At least I
can speculate.”
“Which, being in a helpless condition, you figure
is a harmless pastime,” Renie replied, finally finishing her meal and starting to clean up the mess.
“Meanwhile, I get to drag my battered body around
doing all the grunt work.”
Judith glared at Renie. “I thought you were encouraging me. What would you expect me to do
with people dropping like flies and the police not investigating? Don’t you find this whole situation
highly suspicious?”
“I do,” Renie admitted, shoving boxes and napkins and garbage into her now-overflowing wastebasket. As ever, Judith envied her cousin’s
metabolism, though sometimes she wondered—
perhaps with a touch of malice—if Renie didn’t
have a tapeworm. “You know,” Renie said with a
scowl, “we’re not in very good shape to defend
ourselves.”
“If somebody wanted us out of the way,” Judith
persisted, “we’d have been dead by now. We’re past
the deadline for early dismissal from Good Cheer.
138
Mary Daheim
Besides, what have we done except show a normal
amount of curiosity?”
Renie gave a shake of her head. “Curiosity killed the
you-know-what, and I don’t mean Sweetums, who appears to be an indestructible force of nature.”
“Do we look dangerous?” Judith shot back. “Here
we are, a couple of middle-aged matrons swathed in
bandages and looking like the you-know-what dragged
us in the you-know-whose small door.”
Renie climbed into bed. “There’s no dissuading you,
right?” She gave Judith a look of surrender.
“Let’s think this through,” Judith said, reaching for
her purse and taking out a small notebook and pen.
“Joaquin Somosa, Joan Fremont, Bob Randall. Except
for being well-known, the only connection is that they
all died in this hospital after routine surgery.” She
paused to finish writing down the trio of names. “All
three died in less than a month.”
“Maybe there is another connection,” Renie put in,
her umbrage evaporated. “What if they were all involved in some charitable cause or some other activity
not directly tied to their professional careers?”
Judith tipped her head to one side, considering. “It’s
possible. But who goes around bumping off people involved in good works or other civic activities?”
Renie shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“That’s fine,” Judith said. “Think all you want. It
helps. Anyway, we’ve got two causes of death allegedly nailed down—Somosa and Fremont, both from
illegal drugs. Randall may be the same, though I’m
guessing it was something different from the other
two, who were different from each other.”
“A different source for drugs?” Renie suggested.
Judith nodded. “We weren’t here so we don’t know
SUTURE SELF
139
the circumstances of the first two deaths. But Ecstasy
and that—whatever the date-rape drug is called—provide different kinds of reactions. Street drugs are available to anybody who knows where to get them. It’s a
little trickier to put them in an IV.”
Renie had placed the leftovers—such as they
were—into one of the smaller boxes and slipped it into
the drawer of her nightstand. “How do we know it was
an IV?”
“We don’t.” Judith made another note, then glanced
at her water carafe. “Everybody who has surgery is instructed to drink plenty of fluids. Not everybody likes
Bill had slipped a little something into it?”
“He couldn’t,” Renie replied. “The cans are foolproof.”
“I mean, more accessible beverages. Besides,” Judith
went on with a sly smile, “Bill could doctor your Pepsi
after you’d opened it.”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Renie cried. “He knows better
than to screw with my Pepsi.”
“You know what I mean.” Judith twirled the pen in
her fingers. “The problem is, we don’t know what the
three victims were drinking at the time of their deaths.
I wonder if the staff took the possibility of tampered
beverages into account.”
“Judging from the state of denial they’re in,” Renie
said, waving her current can of Pepsi at Judith, “I
doubt it. The party line seems to be that each victim
was some kind of addict.”
“Which brings us to motive,” Judith said. “Hospital
politics. Who benefits from ruining Good Cheer’s reputation?”
“Dr. Garnett comes to mind,” Renie said. “He wants
to take over from Dr. Van Boeck.”
140
Mary Daheim
Judith sighed. “Would a doctor really go to such extremes?”
“He’d know how to do it,” Renie said.
“True. Still . . . I like Blanche as a suspect. She’s
such a self-serving pain.”
“Why would she sabotage her own husband’s hospital?” asked Renie.
“Maybe she doesn’t like her husband,” Judith suggested.
“Maybe Sister Jacqueline doesn’t like either of
them,” Renie said.
“Are you considering a nun as a suspect?” Judith
asked, aghast.
“Well . . . nuns are human. Maybe it’s for the greater
good. You know, all those moral theology questions. Is
it a sin for a father to steal medicine to save his child’s
life? Et cetera.”
“Don’t go Jesuitical on me,” Judith cautioned.
“Okay, I’ll admit you have a point. We can’t rule anyone out.”
“What about the victims’ nearest and dearest?”
Renie inquired. “Since when have you not considered
them as prime suspects?”
Judith ran a hand through her short salt-and-pepper
hair. “Since nonpersonal motives seem more obvious.
Hospitals are big-bucks institutions. Not to mention
the power involved in running them. Let’s face it,
we’ve got at least four high-profile people involved—
Dr. Garnett, Dr. Van Boeck, Mrs. Van Boeck, and Sister Jacqueline.”
“Agreed,” said Renie. “But you can’t rule out the
lesser players.” She rolled over as far as she could on
her right side. “Look at it from this point of view—
maybe only
one of the three victims needed to die. But
SUTURE SELF
141
in order to throw suspicion off, all three get killed so it
looks like a serial kind of thing. What if a rival player
on the Seafarers team wanted to get rid of Joaquin Somosa? Better yet, a rival actress at Le Repertoire who
felt Joan Fremont was standing in her way? Or something even more basic, such as Margie Randall being
sick and tired of Ramblin’ Robert?”
Judith reflected for a few moments. “All of them
could have some kind of enemies, I suppose. That is,
in a personal and professional sense. The trouble is, we
don’t know much about their private lives.”
“Exactly,” Renie said, lying back on the pillows.
“I’d rule out Addison Kirby, though,” Judith mused.
“I can’t help but think that the killer was the one who
ran him down this afternoon.”
“It could have been an accident,” Renie pointed out.
“Do you really think so?” Judith asked with a frown.
“No. That is, I can’t be sure. People drive like such
nuts these days.” Renie plucked at her blankets. “Not
to mention taking cars that don’t belong to them.”
“I figure that Addison’s on to something,” Judith
said, remembering to drink her water and taking a big
swallow. “Maybe not who the killer is, but related to
the motive.”
“Why Cammy?” Renie said. “Our Toyota is exactly
the most popular brands in America. Why not steal a
Mercedes or a Cadillac or a Beamer?”
“Addison has been covering city hall,” Judith went
on, “which means he’s probably got the inside dope on
Blanche Van Boeck. But if it’s something ruinous, why
not kill him instead of his wife? Why kill Somosa and
Randall? Or, given Blanche’s clout, why not get Addison fired?”
142
Mary Daheim
“What,” Renie demanded, “were those morons at
the Toyota place thinking of? They’re usually so reliable. Why wasn’t somebody watching Cammy? Why
did they leave the keys in the car?” She stopped and
made one of her typical futile attempts to snap her fingers. “Because they’d finished their work and sometimes they tuck the keys under the floor mat on the
driver’s side.” She hung her head. “Oh, my God, until
my shoulder heals, I won’t be able to drive Cammy for
months! Maybe we won’t ever ride in her again! What
if she’s been driven over a cliff?”
Judith sat up straight and glared at Renie. “Will you
shut up? ”
“Huh?” Renie swerved around to face Judith.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought,” Judith said in an irritated voice, “we
were trying to sleuth.”
Renie stifled a yawn. “We were. We were trying to
figure out what happened to Cammy.”
“No, we weren’t,” Judith argued. “We were speculating about methods and motives.”
“You were,” Renie shot back. “You can afford to do
that, you have two cars, your Subaru and Joe’s MG.
Bill and I are now demoted to taking the bus.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Judith sniffed. “You have insurance, you can rent a car until Cammy turns up.
And if she—I mean, it—doesn’t, you can buy another
one.”
“Easy for you to say,” Renie snapped. “Go ahead,
feel all smug. See if I care.” She reached out with her
good arm and pulled the curtain between them.
Again, the room was silent. Someone was paging a
doctor over the intercom. A glimpse of hospital equipment could be seen rolling down the hall. Somewhere,
SUTURE SELF
143
female voices laughed. Judith sat up in bed, her arms
folded across her chest, her lower lip thrust out.
It was she who broke the silence. “Coz. We never
fight. What’s wrong with us?”
Judith heard Renie sigh. “We’re tired, we hurt,
we’ve been through major surgery, and we got a room
next to a corpse. My car’s been stolen, you’re stuck
with a major life decision about telling Mike who’s
who on his family tree. What else could be wrong?”
“You’re right,” Judith said. “We’re a mess.”
“Justifiably so,” said Renie, pulling the curtain back.
“It’s going on nine o’clock and we need a nap. I’m
shutting off the light.”
“Go for it,” murmured Judith, clicking off her own
bedside lamp. “Frankly, I’m exhausted.”
“We should be,” Renie said. “G’night.”
“Mmm,” said Judith.
Five minutes later, the night nurse, whose name was
Trudy and who wasn’t given to idle chatter, came in to
take the cousins’ vital signs and replenish their supply
of pain medication. Ten minutes later, a workman in
overalls arrived to check the thermostat.
“Kinda cold tonight, huh?” he said, fiddling with the
dial.
Judith and Renie didn’t respond.
“Still snowing,” he said, pounding on the radiator
with his fist. “Must be close to six inches out there.”
The cousins remained silent.
“Lots of accidents out there,” the workman said.
“Damned fools don’t know how to drive in this
weather. All those folks who move up here from California.”
Judith buried her head in the pillow; Renie chewed
on her blanket and swore under her breath.
144
Mary Daheim
“Warm enough now?” the workman asked after yet
another bang on the radiator, which wheezed like a
dying asthmatic.
“Fine,” Judith bit off.
“Okey-dokey,” he said. “I’ll come back to check on
it later.”
“Don’t,” Renie said, “or I’ll have to kill you.”
“Har, har,” said the workman, who finally left.
Seven minutes later, Trudy returned. Judith knew it
was exactly seven minutes because she was now wide
awake and had been staring at her watch with its glowin-the-dark dial.
“You need to use the bedpan, Mrs. Flynn,” Trudy announced. “You haven’t voided for almost two hours.
Are you sure you’re drinking enough fluids?”
“Yes. No. I’m trying to sleep,” Judith said, sounding
cross.
“Plenty of time for that,” Trudy said. “It’s only a little after nine. Come, come, try to lift those hips.”
“Good Lord,” muttered Renie in a mutinous voice.
After the usual painful effort to move on and off the
bedpan, Judith mumbled her thanks to Trudy and
closed her eyes.
The radiator clanged and clanked, whistled and
hissed. After two minutes of what sounded like a oneman band, Renie pressed her buzzer.
“We can’t sleep with that damned thing making such
a racket,” she complained. “It was fine until Stoopnagle came in to supposedly fix it.”
Almost ten minutes passed before a male nurse
peeked in. Judith explained the problem. The nurse
said he’d see what he could do about it. The radiator
continued its atonal cacop
hony.
SUTURE SELF
145
“I’m wide awake,” Renie declared, sitting up and
turning her light back on. “Damn.”
“I am, too,” Judith grumbled. “It’s no joke about not
being able to get any rest in a hospital.”
“I’m hungry again,” Renie said. “I wonder if there’s
a microwave around here. Don’t the nurses usually
have one? I think I smelled popcorn earlier in the
evening.”
“Why do you need a microwave?” Judith asked.
“To heat the leftover chicken,” Renie responded. “I
don’t care much for cold chicken, unless it’s in a sandwich or a salad.”
“Go ask,” Judith said.
“They won’t tell me,” Renie replied, getting out of
bed. “I’ll take the chicken with me and see what I can
find. There’s a biscuit left over, too, and one piece of
corn. I might as well bring them along.”
“Good luck,” said Judith in a tired voice.
Renie was gone so long that Judith had almost fallen
asleep when her cousin returned.
“Pssst!” Renie called from the doorway.
“Huh?” Judith raised her head from the pillow and
tried to focus on Renie. “What?”
Renie gestured with her bag of food. “Mr. Mummy.
Sister Jacqueline just went in there and closed the
door.”
Struggling to sit up, Judith gave herself a shake.
“So?”
“Isn’t this a little late for a visit from the hospital administrator?” Renie asked, half in and half out of the
room.
“Maybe,” Judith allowed. “But is it suspicious?”
Renie stepped all the way inside, keeping her eye on
the closed door across the hall. “I think so. It’s pretty
146
Mary Daheim
quiet out here right now. I was sneaking out of the staff
room, where I found a microwave, and I turned the
corner just in time to see Sister Jacqueline outside Mr.
Mummy’s room, looking very furtive. I ducked back
where she couldn’t see me, and when I peeked around
the corner again, she slipped inside.”
“Hunh. That is odd,” Judith conceded, finally wide
awake.
Renie sat down on the end of Judith’s bed, where
she could keep an eye on the hall. “I think there’s
something peculiar about Mr. Mummy.”
“I agree,” Judith said. “He’s very vague about his
family and where he lives. I can’t think of any reason
why, with a broken leg, his doctor would send him all