just come from the ICU.”
Judith tensed. “Yes?”
The bedside lamps left Dr. Garnett’s face in shadow.
“I thought that you and Mrs. Jones would want to
know that Dr. Van Boeck has been moved out of the
ICU and is spending the night in a private suite. He
ought to be able to—”
“What about Joe?” Judith interrupted.
“. . . return to the job in a few days.” Dr. Garnett
looked at Renie. “I didn’t want you to think you’d
caused any real harm to our chief of staff.”
“Thanks,” Renie said in a bleak voice. “But what
about Joe?”
“No change,” Dr. Garnett said with a shake of his
head before looking again at Judith. “You’ll make sure
you discourage all visitors to your husband, won’t you,
Mrs. Flynn?”
“Of course,” Judith said, trying to overcome her distress. “I doubt that anyone would try to come out to see
him in this weather.”
“We’ve already had at least one inquiry,” Dr. Garnett
said with a frown. “Most insistent, I understand. It’s
very important that Mr. Flynn is kept absolutely quiet.”
“Yes,” Judith agreed, trying to concentrate on the
matter at hand. “Who wanted to see him?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Garnett responded. “I believe
someone at the main switchboard took the call. Whoever this person was, I understand that he or she was
240
Mary Daheim
difficult to put off. You’d think people would know better. That’s what happens when these incidents get on
the news.”
“Joe’s stabbing was on the news?” Judith gaped at
the surgeon. “Oh, dear! I didn’t see that. I turned off
the news when dinner arrived.”
“Perhaps that was just as well,” Dr. Garnett said, his
expression sympathetic. “You shouldn’t become
overly upset so soon after surgery.”
“Upset?” Judith felt as if her eyes were bugging out.
“How can I not be upset when my husband is hovering
between life and death?”
“I meant,” Dr. Garnett said carefully, “that sometimes learning bad news through the media can be far
more disturbing than hearing about it from a friend or
relative.”
Judith glanced at Renie. “I still passed out,” Judith
said.
“Yes, so you did.” Dr. Garnett put a cold, dry hand
on Judith’s. “But you seem to be doing much better
now. I’ll see to it that the night nurse brings you some
more Valium so you can sleep.” He withdrew his hand
and headed for the door. “Please don’t distress yourself, Mrs. Flynn. You’ll hear immediately when we
have any news about your husband.”
“Wow,” Renie said in a dejected voice, “I’m racking
up some big scores around here when it comes to upsetting people, you included.”
“That’s not your fault,” Judith countered. “Somebody
had to tell me about Joe. I’d much rather it was you.”
The male night nurse, whose name was Avery, arrived with the Valium. Judith eyed the small yellow
tablet and told the nurse she’d take it a little later. It
was too early to try to go to sleep.
SUTURE SELF
241
After Avery had left, Renie gave Judith a suspicious
look. “Every so often, I can tell when you’re lying.
What’s up, coz?”
“Nothing,” Judith replied. “Nothing concrete.”
Renie looked at her watch, which said that it was
eight-thirty. “Shouldn’t you let Carl and Arlene know
what’s happened to Joe?”
Judith shook her head. “It’s hard for me to pass the
news on. I’m actually glad I couldn’t reach Mike.”
“I’ll call the Rankerses,” Renie volunteered. “If they
haven’t seen it on TV, they’ll begin to wonder when
Joe doesn’t come home.” She picked up the phone and
dialed.
Just as Renie greeted Arlene, Judith’s phone rang.
She grabbed the receiver and almost dropped it in her
eagerness to hear if there was news of Joe.
“Mrs. Flynn?” said a familiar voice that Judith
couldn’t quite identify. “I just heard about your husband’s stabbing. Can you give me any details?”
“Who is this?” Judith inquired.
“Addison Kirby, your next-door neighbor. Excuse
my butting in, but you have to understand that it’s almost impossible for a reporter to lie here helpless and
not know what’s going on.”
“Oh.” Judith relaxed a little, then gave Addison the
bare bones of the incident.
“You say he was working for FOPP?” Addison said.
“As in Blanche Van Boeck’s do-good group?”
“That’s right,” Judith responded, trying to listen in
on Renie’s conversation with Arlene. “Do you think
Blanche is sincere?” Judith asked of Addison.
“Blanche is sincere about Blanche,” Addison said.
“Look, if some project polishes her image, she’ll take
it on. But I don’t think she gives a hoot about the
242
Mary Daheim
homeless or any other category—unless she can convince them to vote for her.”
“You may be right,” Judith said, again glancing at
her cousin.
“Honestly, we don’t know the details,” Renie was
saying on the phone. “Of course Judith’s upset. That’s
why she didn’t call you herself . . .”
“In the past few weeks, I heard some rumors around
city hall,” Addison said. “The first two homeless victims had just made some money. They bragged about
it, and that same night they were killed.”
“So call Herself if you want to,” Renie was saying to
Arlene. “Yes, she has a right to know, even if she is
sunning her body down in Florida . . .”
Judith stared at Renie. The mention of Joe’s first
wife’s name distracted her, and a sudden feeling of
resentment roiled up in the pit of her stomach. The
emotion was more from habit than any real threat
posed by Vivian Flynn. But Arlene was right; Herself
should be informed. She was the mother of Joe’s
daughter, Caitlin. In fact, Judith realized, Caitlin
should also be notified at her home in Switzerland
where she worked for an international banking firm.
Herself could make the call. Judith didn’t have
Caitlin’s number with her.
Getting back on track with Addison, Judith asked if
he thought the men had been murdered for the money
they’d acquired.
“That was the weird part,” Addison replied. “According to what I heard, at least one of the victims still
had the money on him. Damn, if only I could get out
of bed and use a different phone. I could do some
checking myself.”
“You’re using your phone now,” Judith pointed out.
SUTURE SELF
243
“I can only make calls inside Good Cheer,” Addison
grumbled. “I can’t get an outside line. And of course
you can’t use a cell phone in a hospital. They won’t
work and they can screw up the high-tech equipment.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Judith said. “Where did those
homeless men get the money? That’s very strange. I
wonder if this most recent man who got killed also had
cash on him.”
“I’ve no idea,” Addison replied. “I only heard about
your husband through the grapevine here. I won’t
watch TV news. Those so-called pretty-faced reporters
and anchors don’t know their heads from their hind