The Edge

  I turned slowly to face Paul. “Why would anyone take Jilly?”

  “I don’t know,” Paul said. “But somebody may have been afraid she’d remember everything that happened Tuesday night. She was gone for three hours, dammit. Where did she go? What did she do?” He added on a whisper, “Maybe it was Laura. I don’t understand what was going on between Jilly and Laura anymore. Who else would have done it?”

  I pictured Laura in my mind and I couldn’t begin to believe she could have done anything like that. But Jilly had said that Laura had betrayed her, that Laura was dangerous.

  “Fine,” I said. I took Paul’s arm and pulled him out of Jilly’s room as I said, “Excuse us, Maggie, Rob, but I’ve got to clear something up with Paul, and it just can’t wait.”

  “Maybe Laura took her,” Paul said again once we were in the empty hospital corridor.

  “Let’s say that Laura did take her. Did she have a gun to her head? Maybe Laura was carrying her over her shoulder? That means that someone must have seen Laura with her. It’s ridiculous, Paul, just plain ridiculous. Now, I dragged you out here because I want the truth out of you and I want it now. Did you sleep with Laura?”

  “All right, so I didn’t sleep with her,” he said, and my nerd brother-in-law actually flushed up to his eyebrows.

  “Why would you tell a lie like that about an innocent woman?”

  “I wanted to sleep with her, but she turned me down. I wanted to get even.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, Paul. You never knew I’d even meet Laura Scott. How would that be getting even?”

  “It wouldn’t. Look, Mac, I wanted to sleep with her. It was a fantasy, nothing more really, just lay off. It’s not something I’m proud of doing, but I did it. Now I’m undoing it.”

  I said slowly, “Jilly told me that Laura had betrayed her. If you didn’t sleep with Laura, if you made it all up, then what did Jilly mean?”

  Paul shrugged. “I guess Jilly must have believed that Laura was my lover.”

  “I suppose you made some comments that Jilly might have misinterpreted?” I wanted to slug him. It was hard not to.

  “Look, Mac, Jilly and I were married for eight years. You can’t be married that long and not have some problems. We had our share.”

  “According to Jilly in February when I saw her, you and she were in the sack all the time, having a fine time.”

  “Yeah, well, sex isn’t everything.”

  “Paul, was Laura at your house last Tuesday night?”

  “Of course she wasn’t there. Why would she be? I already told you, Mac, it was just Jilly and me and the halibut we broiled. What the hell does that matter anyway? I’m going back to Jilly’s room.”

  I watched him until he disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. I heard Maggie speaking to Rob as they walked out of Jilly’s room, over the security guards’ voices, all of them talking over one another, making no sense really.

  Mrs. Himmel caught sight of me and waved me down. I saw at least half a dozen hospital personnel milling about behind her. She was wringing her hands. I’d never seen Mrs. Himmel flustered before. She looked like she was going to burst into tears. Her pallor worried me. “Mrs. Himmel,” I said, gently touching her shoulder.

  “Oh, Mr. MacDougal, it’s all my fault. Oh, God, Mrs. Bartlett is gone and it’s my fault.”

  I pulled out my firm, very matter-of-fact voice that sometimes worked to calm things down. “Let’s go someplace quiet, Mrs. Himmel. I need your help.” I followed her to the nurses’ lounge. There were two nurses inside, drinking coffee. I heard one of them say, “People said that she’d tried to kill herself. Well, now she just left to do it right this time.”

  The other nurse jumped to her feet when she saw me. “Oh, Mr. MacDougal.”

  “Excuse us, please. Mrs. Himmel and I need to be alone for a moment.”

  The nurses were out of there in under two seconds. I led Mrs. Himmel to an old brown vinyl sofa that had seen better days maybe three decades ago. “Tell me what happened,” I said, sitting down beside her.

  She drew a deep breath, her fingers curling into a fist. I saw that she was a strong woman. Her biceps rippled as she clenched and unclenched her hands. She was regaining some healthy color, thank God. “Mrs. Bartlett was very quiet,” she said finally. “I just thought she had a lot on her mind, and no wonder. I’ve heard a lot of the stuff that’s been going on, so many questions, so much that people wanted her to tell them. I heard her say today that everything from that night was blurry. Well, I suppose that’s possible, but I really don’t think so.

  “Oh damn, let me just get it off my chest. It is all my fault. If I hadn’t eaten shrimp for dinner, I would have been at my station just down from Mrs. Bartlett’s room or actually with her in her room, tending her, and nothing would have happened!”

  “Shrimp?” I must have blinked because she leaned over and patted my hand. She was in control again. “How could you possibly know? I’ve had a bad reaction to shrimp in the past, but it looked so good that I wanted to eat just a little bit. Well, I did and it hit me really hard. I was in the bathroom most of the time, sicker than Mr. Peete down the hall who just had a chemo session. Because I wasn’t at my post, Mrs. Bartlett could have just walked out with no one stopping her or asking her questions, probably with no one even noticing her. And of course she had her own clothes. Dr. Bartlett brought her a suitcase this afternoon. She’d been fretting about it, you know, so he gave in and brought her the clothes she wanted.”

  Paul could describe what Jilly was wearing.

  “When we walked in here just a few minutes ago, I heard Brenda Flack, one of the ICU nurses, talking about Mrs. Bartlett leaving to kill herself. I hate to say this, Mr. MacDougal, but it’s possible.”

  “No,” I said. “Jilly told me very clearly that she lost control of her car. She didn’t try to kill herself. I believe her. Why did she walk out of here without telling anyone? I don’t know. But count on it, I’m going to find out everything. Can you think of anything that happened today or this evening that wasn’t quite right?”

  “Well, there was a phone call from that young lady who was here yesterday.”

  “Laura Scott?”

  “Yes, that’s her. She asked to speak to Mrs. Bartlett, but there was a foul-up and she never got through to her. But why would that be important? They were friends, weren’t they?”

  At three in the morning we still had exactly zilch. No one had seen Jilly. No one had seen anyone carrying her out of the hospital or carrying much of anything, for that matter. Maggie Sheffield had an APB out on her. Since we had no clue about a car, there wasn’t much to say other than to give a description of Jilly, and from Paul, a description of the clothes she was wearing, a gray running outfit with black trim and black-and-white running shoes.

  I put pressure on the phone company and found out that there’d been a phone call to Jilly’s room from the single pay phone on Fifth Avenue, downtown Edgerton, at 8:48 P.M. Laura’s call had come in about eight, but she hadn’t spoken to Jilly.

  I found Paul sitting in the chair in Jilly’s room, his head in his hands.

  I said, “Someone called Jilly from a pay phone in Edgerton earlier this evening.”

  “There’s only one public phone,” Paul said. “It’s on Fifth Avenue, right in front of Grace’s Deli.”

  I said, “Anyone could have ducked out of the party to go make the call. You included, Paul.”

  “Yes,” he said, not looking at me. “Cotter disagrees with me. He thinks Jilly was pissed off that everyone had assumed she was trying to kill herself. She wanted to make all of us worry that she just might try it again. She wants to make us suffer. She’ll show up soon, laughing at us. Oh, yeah, Cotter was here earlier, helping look for her.”

  I said, “Let’s get some sleep. It’s late. My brain’s scrambled. There’s nothing more we can do until morning. Come on, Paul, let’s go home.”

  I wanted at least three hours’
sleep before I went to Salem to see Laura.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was just after seven the next morning when I pulled my car into a guest parking spot in front of a parkside condo complex. I got out and looked around. The complex didn’t look more than three or four years old, designed in a country French style, three condos to each building, all of them garnished with pale gray wooden siding. The park was quite pretty, all pine and spruce trees, and playgrounds for kids, and even a pond for ducks and lily pads. As I walked into the complex, I saw a swimming pool off to the left, a clubhouse, and a small golf course. I remembered Laura saying that the library didn’t pay much. That was interesting. This place wasn’t cheap.

  Laura Scott opened the door and blinked at me as I said, “Nice digs.”

  “Mac, what are you doing here?”

  “Why didn’t you go to see Jilly yesterday? You told me you were going to visit her.”

  She just shook her head at me. It made her long hair swing and lift. She was wearing nice-fitting jeans and a loose T-shirt, and running shoes on her feet. I thought she looked elegant and sexy.

  “Come in, Mac. Would you like a cup of coffee? It’ll take me just a few minutes to brew.”

  “Yeah,” I said and, having no choice, followed her into one of the most beautiful homes I’d ever been in. The foyer was small, tiled with country peach-shaded pavers and whimsical accent tiles of French country scenes. Off to the left was a beautiful oak staircase leading upstairs. I followed her through an archway into a living room that was octagonal-shaped, giving it complexity with lots of nooks and crannies. There were bright colors everywhere, window seats, small flashes of scarlet pillows, and richly colored South Seas–patterned material on a sectional sofa. There were lamps and chairs and small groupings and nearly every inch of the room was filled with something extravagant, brightly colored, and utterly useless. It coaxed you right in.

  There were plants and flowers everywhere. A mynah bird stood on the back of a chair watching me. He squawked, then began poking under his wing feathers.

  “That’s Nolan,” Laura said. “He doesn’t talk—which is probably a good thing—just squawks occasionally.”

  “Squawk.”

  “That’s his greeting.”

  “Hi, Nolan.” I followed her through the dining room into a small kitchen that looked right out of Bon Appétit magazine. All in all, the condo was a good-sized place, not as big as my own house, but not bad.

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “Three upstairs and a study downstairs.”

  I accepted a cup of coffee, shook my head at the offer of milk or sugar. “You’ve got a really nice place here, Laura.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did I see a two-car garage for each condo?”

  “Yes. Before you raise that sarcastic eyebrow of yours even higher, let me tell you that my uncle George left me this condo in his will. About eighteen months ago, just in case you wondered.”

  As, of course, I had. It was at least something solid and real that I could check out. “So Uncle George lived here?”

  She nodded and sipped her coffee. Her head was cocked to the side, sending her loose hair hanging like a shining curtain beside her face. I wanted to roll around in that hair of hers, smooth it over my hands, let it tumble over my face. I’d noticed immediately that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I noticed again, and swallowed.

  I forced my libido back into its case and got back to what I’d come for. “I was thinking that the complex doesn’t look more than three years old.”

  “That’s about right. My uncle George bought it when they’d just begun building. He died a year and a half ago. I’ll never forget the first time I walked in here. The place was painted dark colors and filled with heavy, old pieces. I just shoveled everything out and had the greatest time making it mine.” She motioned toward the living room, and I followed her back out.

  “Squawk.”

  “Nolan likes coffee but I only give him a tiny taste just before bedtime.”

  I elected not to sit in the chair that was Nolan’s current hangout. I sat opposite Laura on a pale yellow silk-covered chair. There was a hand-painted wooden magazine holder beside the chair. I saw two suspense novels, a world atlas, and three travel books. No magazines or newspapers to be seen.

  “I didn’t go see Jilly yesterday because I had to work. There was a meeting with the Board of Trustees in the afternoon and I had to make a presentation. I didn’t go last night because, frankly, I didn’t feel well. I’m going to see her this afternoon.”

  Ill? Had she eaten some of Mrs. Himmel’s shrimp and spent the night in the bathroom?

  “You look just fine now, Laura. The flu bug gone? Or was it food poisoning?”

  “No, it was a bad headache. Not quite a migraine, but still unpleasant. Maybe it came from all the stress. I came home about four in the afternoon and slept on and off until this morning. I called the hospital just an hour ago to see how Jilly was doing, to see when I should come, but no one would tell me anything. Of course, it was only six o’clock. The most anyone would say was that Mrs. Bartlett was unavailable. Why are you here, Mac? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “What was your presentation to the Board of Trustees about?”

  Her mouth curved into a grin. “It was titled ‘The New Century’—on library economics in the first decade and what the library should do in order to survive.”

  “I’m here because Jilly’s gone.”

  She jumped to her feet, took two steps toward me, leaned down, and yelled in my face, “No! That’s impossible, she couldn’t have died. She just woke up. She was bloody fine, the doctor said so. I called her last night. The nurse I spoke to said she was doing very well.”

  “You never actually spoke to Jilly last night?”

  “No, there was some sort of screwup. One nurse answered the phone, then another picked it up instead of Jilly. What happened, Mac?”

  “She’s not dead. She’s gone, just disappeared out of the hospital.”

  She lurched back, knocking her coffee cup off the table. The cup shattered on the oak floor, the coffee snaking toward a small silk Persian rug. She made a small sound of distress in the back of her throat and stepped back, staring down at the coffee. I got up and moved the rug out of the way. Then I just couldn’t help myself. I took her left wrist and slowly pulled her against me. She resisted, then finally she came to me, wrapping her arms around my back. I said against her hair, “She’s not dead, Laura, but she is gone. I came because I wanted to know if you knew why she left the hospital.”

  Laura was tall. She fit against me very nicely. I held her away from me. I had to or I’d never even be able to keep a modicum of objectivity.

  “When?”

  “About ten o’clock last night,” I said, taking a step back from her. “We don’t know where she is. I’d hoped you’d know.”

  She hadn’t moved. She just stood there where I’d put her. “Why should I know? Naturally I don’t have any idea where she is. How could I possibly know? She’s really missing? Just a second, Mac. I’d better clean that up.”

  I waited until she returned to the living room with a paper towel. She went down on her knees and wiped the floor clean. I said, “No one has a clue where she is. No one saw her leave, by herself or with anyone else.”

  She was cleaning up the shards of the cup, wiping more spilled coffee off the oak floor. She sat back on her heels and looked up at me. “And you think I’m involved,” she said at last.

  “I came here because I hoped you’d know. You called her last night.” I raised my hand to cut her off. “Yes, I know, you never really spoke to her. But hear this, Laura. Jilly didn’t like you. She might have been afraid of you. I know she believed you betrayed her somehow. I know she didn’t want to be anywhere near you. Surely you realize it was you being there that helped bring her out of the coma. She wanted to get away from you.

  “Your story to me about meeting Jilly at your library—s
he was looking up articles on infertility of all things, you told me. I don’t buy that, Laura. To the best of my knowledge Jilly only realized she wanted to get pregnant about six months ago, at the outside. She wouldn’t even have started to worry there was a problem yet, would she?”

  She rose slowly to her feet. She took a hard breath, her face set. “I’m not lying to you. That’s exactly how I met Jilly. I don’t personally know much of anything about infertility. How long does it take for someone to become concerned about not conceiving? I haven’t a clue. Maybe she’s been trying for quite a while and just didn’t tell you. That’s certainly possible, isn’t it? Jilly might not have been very well educated, but she wasn’t stupid.”

  “You really believe Jilly was uneducated?”

  “That’s what she told me. She said she barely scraped through high school, said that one of her teachers wanted to get in her pants and so he passed her, helped her graduate. She was always talking about how brilliant Paul was, what a genius he was, and how she was content to just be in the background and take care of him. I thought that was ridiculous, but it was what Jilly really believed, evidently what she really wanted. She said she wanted his child. She asked if I could begin to imagine how bright his child would be? Then she’d shudder and say that if the kid had her brains and her no-talent they’d all be in big trouble. I didn’t tell her that I think Paul is too skinny, doesn’t take proper care of himself, that he’s losing his hair, and that I hope he doesn’t pass that along to a kid.”

  If she was lying, I’d never in my life heard anyone better. I said, “This is all pretty strange, Laura. I guess then Jilly never told you that she’s a scientist, a researcher with a master’s degree in pharmacology? That she’d completed all her course work for her Ph.D. but put it on hold because she was more interested in the projects she was doing than writing a silly thesis, her words?

  “Why would she lie to you? Why would Paul back up her lie when you were with the both of them? Come on, Laura, if someone saw you last night, you’d better dredge him or her up because, frankly, I don’t believe you. There’s no proof of any crime yet, no proof that someone took Jilly from the hospital against her will, but as far as I’m concerned, I’d say you need an alibi.”