of the season. Last year we didn’t get more than a couple of dustings.”
“It cuts down on our visitors,” said Renie, who had
followed Judith and Corinne down the hall. “Which is
good. I don’t like playing hostess when I’m recovering
from surgery.”
The door to the staff lounge opened and a red-faced
Dr. Van Boeck came storming out. When he spotted
the cousins and Corinne Appleby, he stopped in his
tracks, adjusted his white coat, and forced a smile.
“Enjoying the weather?” he remarked in his deep
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177
voice. “Very nice, as long as you’re inside.” Van Boeck
nodded and continued on his way.
“Is he upset?” Judith asked of Corinne.
“I couldn’t say,” Corinne answered, her freckled
face masking any emotion. “Doctors are always under
such stress, especially these days.”
Judith didn’t comment, but resumed looking out the
window. As far as she could tell, there were at least a
dozen or more cars in the parking lot, almost all of
them buried under several inches of snow, except for
an SUV that probably had four-wheel drive.
“We should head back,” Corinne said. “You don’t
want to sit up for too long the first time out. I’m going
off duty now, but Heather will get you up again this afternoon.”
“Okay,” Judith said, feeling proud of herself for
making progress. “By the way—have you had a problem with theft at Good Cheer?”
“Theft?” Corinne looked mystified. “No. The sisters are very, very careful about the people they hire.
Plus, they pay better wages to the nonprofessional
staff than most hospitals do. Why do you ask?”
“Oh—just curious,” Judith replied. “You hear stories
about hospitals and nursing homes having problems
with stealing. Plus, we were told not to bring any valuables to Good Cheer.”
“That’s for insurance purposes,” Corinne responded
as she turned the wheelchair around. “The only thing
that goes missing around here are lunches from the staff
refrigerators, occasional boxes of Band-Aids, and,
lately, some of the surgical instruments. They started
disappearing before Christmas, and Dr. Van Boeck said
that maybe somebody wanted to use them to carve the
Christmas goose.”
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Mary Daheim
At that moment, Dr. Garnett came out of the staff
lounge. He looked tense, Judith thought, and wondered
if he and Van Boeck had had a row.
“Good morning, Doctor,” Judith said with a big
smile. “How are you?”
Peter Garnett straightened his shoulders and regained his usual urbane expression. “Very well, thank
you. It appears as if Dr. Alfonso has done his usual outstanding job. I see you’re out and about today.”
“Yes,” Judith responded, “I’m very grateful to him.
In fact, I appreciate everyone on the staff here at Good
Cheer. When I get home, I’m going to write a thankyou letter to the board.”
Dr. Garnett’s trim mustache twitched slightly.
“You are? That’s very kind. Now if you’ll excuse me,
I must return to my office.”
“My,” Judith said as Corinne rolled her down the
hall, “Dr. Garnett seemed sort of surprised that I’d
write a letter of appreciation. Don’t patients do that
once in a while?”
“I believe they do,” Corinne replied in her noncommittal way.
“Maybe I shouldn’t send it to the board,” Judith
mused. “Maybe I should send it to Dr. Alfonso directly.
Would it be passed on to the rest of you?”
“It might,” Corinne said, steering Judith past the
luncheon carts, which had just arrived on the floor.
Renie paused to examine the carts, but the sliding
doors were locked.
“I’ll have to think about the addressee,” Judith said.
“What would you do, Nurse Appleby?”
“About what?” Corinne asked as they reached Judith
and Renie’s ward.
“The letter,” Judith said. “Who would you send it to?”
SUTURE SELF
179
“That depends,” Corinne said. “Here, let’s get you
lined up with the bed.”
Judith figured it was useless to press the nurse with
further questions. Corinne was a clam. Or, Judith considered charitably, very discreet.
Feeling more confident, if not actually stronger, she
was able to get back into bed without much difficulty.
Judith was surprised, however, to discover that her excursion down the hall had tired her out.
“I can’t believe how weak I am,” she sighed as
Corinne adjusted the IV drip.
“That’s natural,” Corinne said. “That’s why you
have to go at it slowly but steadily.”
Ten minutes later, after Corinne had taken the
cousins’ vitals and gone on her way, Judith and Renie
went back to their speculations.
“I thought Bob Jr.’s remark about his mother being
‘the vessel’ was very interesting,” Judith said. “What
do you think he meant?”
“Whatever his goofy mother meant when she told
him that,” Renie replied. “I kind of think Margie Randall might enjoy being an Angel of Death.”
“I think she meant something else,” Judith countered. “I mean, what if Margie was the one who . . .”
She stopped, her forehead furrowed in thought. “What
if she was the one who had unwittingly delivered the
drugs that killed Somosa and Fremont and maybe her
own husband?”
Renie frowned at Judith. “You mean in Randall’s
Wild Turkey or something that one of the other two
had brought in from outside?”
Judith nodded. “Somebody—maybe it was
Heather—mentioned that other patients besides us had
had food or beverages smuggled into the hospital.
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Mary Daheim
Whoever got them for the patients may have conned
Margie into delivering the stuff. Maybe that’s where
the drugs were administered, rather than in the IVs.”
“Creepy,” Renie remarked as their luncheon trays
arrived. “Creepy,” she repeated, lifting lids and taking
sniffs. “What now, plastics?”
Judith, however, usually enjoyed what looked like
chicken-fried steak. She liked green noodles, too, and
lima beans. “I can eat it,” she said, taking a bite of the
chicken. “It’s not bad.”
Renie’s response was to heave her lunch, tray and
all, into the wastebasket. “Berfle,” she said in disgust.
“Where’s Mr. Mummy?”
“Coz,” Judith said with a scowl, “you’re not going to
order out again, are you?”
“Why not?” Renie said, picking up the phone. “Lots
of places are probably delivering today. They’ve
chained up.”
But Renie’s attempts proved futile. Even Bubba’s
Fried Chicken had decided to close for the duration.
“This town is full of scaredy-cats,” Renie declared.
“They’re too cowardly to go out in a little bit of snow.”
“You won’t drive in it,” Judith noted. “You never do.
Why should other people risk it?”
“Because they have hamburgers and french fries and
malted milks to deliver, that’s why,” Renie declared.
“Forget it,” Judith said, scooping up lima beans.
“You’re getting on my nerves.”
“So what am I going to eat for lunch?” Renie demanded.
“Dig some of it out of the wastebasket,” Judith said