hall.
“Who’s that?” Renie asked, following her cousin’s
gaze.
Judith didn’t answer right away, listening to see if
she could hear anyone speak. “I couldn’t see, but I
wonder if it’s Addison Kirby. I’m almost sure they
took whoever it was into Bob Randall’s private room.”
“How can they?” Renie demanded. “Isn’t that what
you’d call a crime scene?”
“Not as far as the hospital officials are concerned,”
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93
Judith said with a frown. “I don’t get it. Nurse Appleby
told us that the county has jurisdiction in a sudden hospital death. So why haven’t we seen the sheriff and his
men prowling around? The only real cop who showed
up was Johnny Boxx, who looks as if he hasn’t
sprouted a beard yet.”
“A beat cop at that,” Renie remarked. “Not a detective.”
“Exactly. Coz?” Judith leaned in Renie’s direction
and gestured toward the hallway with her thumb.
“Could you?”
Renie finishing cleaning up from her picnic lunch.
“Yeah, yeah, I can. I have to go to the bathroom anyway. I’ll do that first.”
“Good. See if you can hear anything through the
wall,” Judith urged.
Renie was in the bathroom for almost five minutes.
When she emerged, she looked triumphant. “It’s Addison Kirby, all right. I could hear a doctor talking to
him. A very humble doctor, I might add.”
“Which one?” Judith asked.
“I don’t know. Shall I?” Renie moved toward the
door.
“Please.” Judith tried to sit up a little straighter as
Renie peered out into the hall. “Anything?”
“Hold on.” Renie waited for at least a full minute before turning back to Judith. “It’s a damned parade,
coming from the other direction. TV people, with cameras and sound equipment, in apparent pursuit of a
woman in a sable coat.”
“Sable?” Judith was impressed.
“And a gold turban,” Renie noted. “I’m impressed.”
She turned to look at Judith. “It’s Blanche Van Boeck.
I recognize her from her photographs. They’ve stopped
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down by that alcove with the seats for visitors. It looks
as if there’s going to be a press conference.”
“Is Mavis there from KINE-TV?” Judith asked,
once again undergoing a bout of frustration.
“It isn’t KINE, it’s KLIP,” Renie replied. “I don’t
know any of these people, do you?”
“No. Can you hear them?”
Again, Renie didn’t answer right away. Finally, she
stepped back into the room. “They’re too far down the
hall. I don’t dare go any farther because Dr. Garnett
just came out of Addison’s room and he’s standing
about six feet from where I parked myself. He doesn’t
look very happy, I might add.”
“It was Garnett next door, huh?” Anxiously, Judith
pleated the sheet between her fingers. “Let me get this
straight—Van Boeck is chief of staff, Mrs. Van Boeck
is queen of the world. Peter Garnett, chief of surgery,
is second in command to Van Boeck. Thus, Dr. Garnett
has a stake in all this.”
“You might say that,” Renie conceded, glancing
back into the hall.
“Any sign of Sister Jacqueline?” Judith inquired.
“Not that I can see,” Renie replied. “She’s tall, too.
I should be able to spot her.”
“Yoo-hoo,” called Mr. Mummy from across the hall.
“Don’t we have excitement around here today?”
“Yes, Mr. Mummy,” said Renie. “Have you heard
anything about what happened to Mr. Randall?”
Mr. Mummy lowered his voice, and Judith could
barely hear him. “I heard he took poison. Isn’t that
dreadful?”
“Yes,” Renie agreed with a sad shake of her head
and a rise in her own voice. “Taking poison is a bad
way to kill yourself.”
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95
“It may not be true,” Mr. Mummy said. “What do
you think?”
“I think,” Renie said slowly and clearly, “that too
many healthy people die in this hospital.”
“Exactly.” Again Mr. Mummy’s voice dropped,
forcing Judith to lean far over to the side of the bed. “I
don’t believe a word of it. The poison, I mean. Where
would he get it?”
“Where indeed?” Renie said a bit absently as she
tried to keep track of what was going on down the hall.
“Can you move just a little closer?” Judith asked in a
humble tone.
“Well . . . Dr. Garnett is wandering off toward the
media,” Renie said. “I’ll try to sneak up behind him.”
As her cousin disappeared, Judith propped herself
up on the pillows and considered patience as a virtue.
But there wasn’t time to practice it. A moment later,
Renie back-pedaled into the room with Heather Chinn
right behind her.
“Please, Mrs. Jones!” the nurse admonished, shaking a slim finger. “How many times do I have to tell
you to stay out of the way?”
“Sorry.” Renie trudged back to bed. “I was curious,
that’s all. You can’t blame me when the guy next door
kills himself, another guy gets run over outside my
window, and Mrs. Van Boeck holds a press conference
just down the hall.”
Heather grimaced. “Yes, it has been an eventful day.
But you won’t make a good recovery unless you rest
more. Now let me take your vitals.”
“This,” said Renie, holding out her left arm, “is not
a restful place. On TV I’ve seen war zones in Bosnia
that were more peaceful. Speaking of TV, what’s the
interview down the hall all about?”
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Mary Daheim
“I’m not sure,” Heather answered a bit nervously. “I
gather Mrs. Van Boeck has taken it upon herself to speak
out on the hospital’s behalf.”
“In defense of Good Cheer, huh?” Renie said before
the nurse popped the thermometer in her mouth.
“Something like that,” Heather replied.
“Is Blanche Van Boeck on the hospital’s board of directors?” Judith inquired.
“No,” Heather responded. “Since Dr. Van Boeck is
chief of staff, that would be a conflict of interest.”
“How long has Dr. Van Boeck held that position?”
Judith asked.
Heather cocked her head to one side. “Mmm . . .
Nine years? I trained at this hospital, and he was chief
of staff when I started seven years ago.”
Raised voices could be heard in the hall. Heather
turned toward the door, her forehead furrowed in apprehension.
“. . . no right to speak out on this issue,” an angry
male voice shouted. “I’ll take this before the board.”
A woman’s shrill laugh cut through the air like
jagged glass. “Don’t be silly, Peter. As a member of the
city council, I have a right to speak out.”
Judith’s eyes widened as the backs of the sable coat
and gold turban filled the door. Apparently, the confrontation was taking place just a few feet away.
Heather had removed the thermometer from
Renie’s mouth and started for the door. Grabbing the
nurse’s wrist with her good left hand, Renie shot her a
warning look.
“Don’t even think about closing that door,” Renie
ordered.
“Mrs. Jones, you mustn’t use physical force,”
Heather reprimanded.
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