Cat In The Dark

26

MAVITY'S hospital room at Salinas Medical was guarded by a thin, young deputy who had been on duty most of the night. His chin was stubbled with pale whiskers, and his uniform was wrinkled. Sitting on a straight-backed chair just outside Mavity's half-open door, he was enjoying an order of waffles and bacon served in a plastic carton. A Styrofoam cup of coffee sat on the floor beside his chair. He was present not only to assure that the suspect did not escape-a most unlikely event, considering Mavity's condition-but to bar intruders and protect the old woman in case she was not Jergen's killer but was a witness to his death.

Mavity's room was not much larger than a closet. The steel furniture was old and scarred, but the white sheets and blanket were snowy fresh. She slept fitfully, her breathing labored, her left hand affixed to an IV tube, her right hand clutching the blanket. A white bandage covered most of her head, as if she were wearing the pristine headgear of some exotic eastern cult. She had been in the hospital since one A.M., when she was transferred there by ambulance from an alley in Salinas where she had been found lying unconscious near her wrecked VW. She had not been able to tell the police or the nurses her name or where she lived. The Salinas police got that information from the registration of her wrecked car. They had notified the Molena Point PD only after an alert was faxed to them that a woman of Mavity's description was missing and was wanted for questioning in last evening's murder.

Salinas Medical was an hour's drive from Molena Point, lying inland where the weather was drier and warmer. The hospital complex consisted of half a dozen Spanish-style buildings surrounded by a circular drive. It was a training facility for medical staff and a bulwark of specialized medical services for the area, including an excellent cardiac unit and a long-term-care wing for patients in need of intensive nursing. Wilma, Clyde, and Charlie arrived at Salinas Medical at five-thirty A.M.

When Wilma had received Max Harper's phone call at four that morning, she and Clyde left her house in her car, making two stops, the first to drop Dulcie off at Clyde's place, an arrangement about which Dulcie was not happy. The last Wilma saw of the little cat, Dulcie was sulking alone on Clyde's steps, her ears down, her head hanging, looking as abandoned as she could possibly manage.

Wilma knew that the instant she drove away Dulcie would bolt inside to Joe, pacing and lashing her tail, complaining about the indignities a cat was subjected to by uncaring humans.

"They won't let you into the hospital," Wilma had told her. "And I don't want you alone here with Bernine."

"I could go in a shopping bag. They'd think I was extra clothes or homemade cookies. Don't you think I care about Mavity? Don't you think I care that that man might have killed her?"

"Or that she might have killed Jergen?"

"Nonsense. You know she didn't. I would fit in that canvas book tote. You could just…"

"Hospital security checks all parcels. They won't let you in. They'd throw you out in the street."

"But…"

"Stay with Joe," Wilma had snapped, and had unceremoniously tossed Dulcie into the car where she hunched miserably on the front seat.

The second stop had been to pick up Charlie, who was waiting in front of her building before the antique shop, sucking on a mug of coffee and snuggled in a fleece-lined denim jacket. She slid into the front seat between Clyde and Wilma, frowning with worry over Mavity.

"Has she remembered her name? Does she know what happened to her?"

"We haven't talked to the hospital," Wilma said. "All I know is what Harper told me when he called, that she was confused and groggy."

"Was she alone in the car?"

Clyde put his arm around her. "As far as we know, she was. They found the VW smashed against a lamppost, outside a pawnshop in the old part of town. Not a likely place for her to be in the middle of the night."

As they sped east on the nearly empty freeway, the dawn air was damp and cool through the open windows, helping to wake them. On either side of the road, the thickly wooded hills rose dark and solid against the dawn sky. Soon they were inland between flat fields, the crops laid out in long green rows, the dawn air smelling of onions. When they arrived at Salinas Medical, Mavity was asleep, an IV tube snaking up her arm to a slowly seeping bottle. In the corner of the room on a hard wooden chair, Max Harper dozed, his long legs splayed out before him. He came fully awake as they entered.

"I've been here about an hour," he replied to Wilma's questioning look. "Haven't gotten much out of her-she's pretty confused."

Clyde went out to the nursing station to get some chairs, and Charlie went to find the coffee machine, returning with four large cups of steaming brew that tasted like rusted metal.

"She has a cerebral contusion," Harper said. "A lot of swelling. They had a shunt in for a while, to relieve the pressure, to drain off some of the fluid. And she's had trouble breathing. They thought she'd have to have a tracheotomy, but the breathing has eased off. She's irritable and her memory's dicy, but that's to be expected. Not much luck trying to recall yesterday afternoon. And when she can't put it together, she gets angry. They're waking her every two hours." He sipped his coffee. He looked like he could use a smoke.

Wilma smoothed Mavity's blanket. "Were there any witnesses to the wreck?"

Harper shook his head. "None that we've found. We don't know yet whether another car was involved or if she simply ran off the street into the lamppost."

Mavity woke just after six and lay scowling at them, confused and bleary. Her wrinkled little face seemed very small surrounded by the thick white bandage and snowy bedding. When Wilma spoke to her, she did not respond. She frowned at Charlie's wild red hair and glared angrily at Harper. But soon something began to clear. She grew restless, and she reached up her hand to Wilma, trying to change position, kicking out of the blanket with one white, thin leg.

Wilma looked a question at Harper, and he nodded. She sat down on the edge of the bed, helping Mavity to get settled, holding her hand. "You had a little accident. You're in Salinas Medical. We came over to be with you."

Mavity scowled. Wilma smiled back. "Do you remember cleaning for Mr. Jergen yesterday afternoon?"

Mavity looked at her blankly.

"Mavity?"

"If it was his day, I cleaned for him," she snapped. "Why wouldn't I?" She looked around the room, puzzled. "I was fixing supper for Greeley-sauerkraut and hot dogs." She reached to touch her bandage and the IV tube swung, startling her. She tried to snatch it, but Wilma held her hand. "Leave it, Mavity. It will make you feel better."

Mavity sighed. "We had a terrible argument, Dora and Ralph and me. And the hardware store-I was in the hardware store just a minute ago. I don't understand. How did I get in a hospital?"

"You hit your head," Wilma told her.

Mavity went quiet. "Someone said I wrecked my car." She gave Wilma an angry glare. "I've never in my life had a wreck. I would remember if I wrecked my little car."

"When did you make sauerkraut for Greeley?"

"I-I don't know," she said crossly, as if Wilma was being very rude with her questions.

"When did you and Dora and Ralph argue?" Wilma persisted.

But Mavity turned over, jerking the blankets higher and nearly dislodging the IV, and soon she dropped into sleep. They sat in a tight little group waiting for her to wake.

When she did wake, she jerked up suddenly, trying to sit up. "Caulking," she told Wilma. "Caulking for the shower. Did I buy the caulking? Pearl Ann is waiting for it."

Wilma straightened the bedding and smoothed the sheet. "Pearl Ann sent you to buy caulking? When was this?"

But already she had forgotten. Again she scowled at Wilma, puzzled and disoriented, not remembering anything in its proper order. Perhaps not remembering, at all, Winthrop Jergen's ugly death?