What a fantasy that was.
One, she had no use for human contact; and, two, she was busy.
The case was all but wrapped. The only enduring mystery of the night was a skinny little bum who roamed the halls, carrying soda cans and bags of potato chips – and wearing Mallory’s leather coat. He never strayed far from her, his only source of change for the vending machines. The bum approached her now, and she mechanically dipped into her pockets to give him more quarters.
Her face was a bare inch from the glass window in the door to the intensive-care unit. Riker joined her there. Together, they watched Charles Butler bow down to the patient on the bed, holding Nedda’s hand so gently as he strained to catch her words. A doctor and two nurses were also in attendance and showing grave concern.
Detective Mallory was persona non grata among these tender caregivers. Never mind that she had walked through fire to save this woman’s life.
That’s my Kathy.
She was always on the outside looking in, but she never whined about her lot, and he had to love her more for that.
In one hand she clutched a paper bag. Mallory called its contents evidence – Riker called it a dead bird. The kid was clearly not herself tonight. She was entirely too patient as she waited her turn at the elderly patient on the other side of the glass.
She faced Riker, asking, „What’s the body count?“
„One less than we figured. Bitty’s father was there all right, but he didn’t die inside the house. Looks like old Sheldon was the first one out the door. What a man, huh? A couple of patrol cops found him a few blocks away. He was dead. Looks like a heart attack.“ Riker held up a yellow pad lined with fountain-pen dollops of ink amid the flourishes of a witness’s old-fashioned penmanship. „We got this statement from an eighty-year-old priest. You’ll like it. It really classes up our paperwork for the night.“
For this special occasion of wrapping a case, he donned the reading glasses that he never wore in public and read the priest’s observations on the death of Sheldon Smyth. „ ‘The poor man was terrified, as if the devil himself was after him. And he even smelled of smoke. Chilled me, it did. So he was running to beat the devil, all in a sweat from hellfire, when he clutched at his chest. His eyes rolled back to solid whites. Blind he was – and dead. I’m sure of it. That was the moment. Yes, it was. And here it gets strange. I swear to you, he was still running – stone dead – maybe three steps before he dropped to the ground.’“
Riker quickly pocketed his spectacles. „It’s enough to make the fire a mitigating factor in his death. So, if you like Sheldon for hiring Willy Roy Boyd, we’re done. We’ve got three dead. Four if we count that little skeleton in the trunk. Bitty loses both her parents and her uncle in one night. I wonder what she’ll do now?“
„Maybe she’ll grow,“ said Mallory.
Riker shrugged. It was a good thing that Lieutenant Coffey had broken the news to Bitty Smyth. Mallory was no good at this part of the job, whether the newly made orphans were forty years old or four.
„There was someone else in that house,“ she said. „You know who it was?“
„No, kid. Everybody’s accounted for. The body count squares with what Bitty told us. Nobody else was in that house.“
„Then who turned on the radio?“
Oh, back to that again. „The firemen never found – “
The ICU door opened, and Charles stepped out into the corridor. One look at his eyes and anyone could see that he was destroyed. Riker turned away. Charles’s strong personal attachment to Nedda was something he had never foreseen.
And the damage of this night just went on and on.
„Mallory,“ said Charles, „she wants to see you. But before you go in… she doesn’t know about Lionel and Cleo. That was my decision. So, please… you can’t tell her they’re dead. It’s just too much, too cruel. Nedda’s already in a world of pain. And I think she knows that she’s dying. She won’t take the morphine until she’s spoken to you.“
Mallory did not have all night to wait for him to finish. The ICU door was closing on her back.
Lieutenant Coffey made room for Charles Butler on the bench by the nurses’ station, then turned back to the chore of editing his senior detective’s report. He drew thick black lines through all the passages that incriminated – damned to hell – District Attorney Buchanan, who had dragged his heels on the protection order for Nedda Winter. The woman was not expected to live through the night; but Riker’s career was ongoing, and Jack Coffey planned to keep it that way. One more line was crossed out, and Detective Riker’s pension was saved.
Mallory’s statement posed a different problem. The arson team had already interviewed her, and so he could not erase the passage about the radio. He added a line about oxygen deprivation. That would fix it.
The lieutenant laid his pencil down on the clipboard and turned to the sorry-looking man beside him. „Charles, you look like hell.“
„I’ve been there.“ The man leaned far forward, elbows propped on his knees, and buried his face in both hands. „Mallory only told me six times that Nedda was in grave danger. I should never have been trusted to look after her.“
„Hey, Charles, if it makes you feel any better, Mallory never trusted you to look after that woman.“
The man’s hands fell away from his face, and Jack Coffey could only describe this naked expression in terms of a slaughterhouse steer stunned with a bat and awaiting the blade that would slit his throat.
The lieutenant rushed his words to explain all the failures of the night, naming the names in Riker’s original, unedited report and describing the precautions taken. „It was our job to keep Nedda Winter alive, not yours.“ He ended this litany with the officer who bungled the last watch. „Bad timing all around tonight, and everybody gets a piece of the blame – except you.“
Nothing said had undone the damage to Charles Butler, for he was hearing none of this. The psychologist’s eyes were fixed on the window of the intensive-care unit, where Nedda, his only patient, lay dying.
The old woman seemed so frail, so tired and older now by at least a decade. And, once more, she had been invaded by high technology. Wires ran from the bandages that taped electrodes to her flesh and connected her to monitors perched on a pole by the bed. Wavy lines charted every function of her body. Tubes ran in and out of her, carrying fluid to the veins of her bruised arm, and other liquids were carried away and emptied into plastic bags. Her eyes opened and closed in long slow blinks.
As Mallory approached the bedside, Nedda asked, „Did the fire destroy the house?“
„No, it’s still standing. Lots of smoke damage everywhere, but the fire was contained on the second floor.“
„Poor house.“ She turned her eyes to the detective. „That night in the park – I always wondered – why did you return my ice pick?“
„I thought you might need it.“
„So you didn’t think I was paranoid, just a crazy old woman.“
Oh, yes, Mallory had believed that this woman had been driven insane long ago, but now she said, „No.“
„You’ve seen the trunk with Sally’s bones?“
Mallory nodded.
„You risked your life to save me tonight,“ said Nedda. „It’s greedy, I know… but I have a favor to ask.“
„Name it.“
„Mercy for Lionel and Cleo.“ Her words were more labored now. „See them as I do… as they were… children with no one to love them. All they ever had was each other. I promise you… they didn’t kill Sally… They could never – “ She coughed up a bit of blood, but stayed Mallory’s hand as the detective reached for the nurse’s call button. „Please, listen… Those three children shared a bond of abandonment… and loss. Can you understand that?“