Dead Man Dancing

Nine

Four days before Christmas, Ruth left a message on my cell, asking if I’d stop by J & K to critique the routine she and Hutch had been practicing for Shall We Dance? Paul was working late at the Academy, getting finals marked and end of semester grades turned in to the academic dean, so I thought, why not.

On the way, I braved the icy roads, stopped off at Graul’s Market to buy a pound of coffee and a pint of half and half, so I got to J & K a little late, only to discover that Hutch had beaten both me and Ruth to the studio. ‘How’s it going, Hutch?’ I asked, peeling off my hat, gloves and scarf as I entered the studio and the air enveloped me in a superheated wave.

Hutch tapped his watch, as if it might be broken. ‘Ruth’s late, and she didn’t call. With the icy roads and all, I’m a little worried.’

I shrugged out of my coat. ‘She’s probably delayed in traffic.’ I hoped I sounded more reassuring than I felt. In point of fact, Ruth would be coming from downtown and using the same roads I had, and there had been absolutely no traffic problems for me. ‘She’ll be along.’

‘I tried her cell phone,’ Hutch said, ‘but it goes straight to her voicemail.’

Now that was odd. Ruth never turned her cell phone off. By the worried look on Hutch’s face, I realized he knew that, too. ‘Maybe the battery died,’ I suggested.

‘Maybe.’ But he didn’t sound convinced.

‘Are Jay and Kay here?’

‘No. We’re working with them tomorrow. Just Chance.’

‘Let’s sit down,’ I suggested, casting about wildly for ways to distract the man. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’ We settled ourselves comfortably on one of the spectator benches, then I patted Hutch’s knee and said, ‘So, truth or consequences. Where are you taking Ruth on your honeymoon?’

Hutch brightened. ‘I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell.’

‘Ruth’s been a bit cagey, but she’s got everything else organized within an inch of its life, so I figured the honeymoon was laid on, too.’

‘I’ll give you a hint, Hannah. It’s warmer than Annapolis in the wintertime.’

‘Surprise, surprise, surprise!’

‘If you won’t tell Ruth that I spilled the beans…’

I pantomimed locking my lips and throwing away the key.

‘We’re booked into a resort called Maya Tulum on the Yucatan peninsula. Alicia taught yoga there and recommends it highly. Alicia says it’s perfect for us, a modern resort, but with New Age sensitivities. Eco tours, beach front cabanas, vegetarian cuisine, the whole mind-body-spirit sort of thing.

‘Sounds very Ruth,’ I said sincerely. Ruth would love it.

‘It is.’ Hutch hopped to his feet. ‘So, where the hell is she?’

‘Car trouble?’ I offered, hopefully. Ruth drove a clunker, a battered green Ford circa 1990. ‘I didn’t see her Taurus in the lot.’

‘Damn thing died. Not worth fixing. She’s driving a rental until we can replace that old heap.’

‘What kind of car is she renting, Hutch?’

‘A Ford Focus.’

Suddenly I could hardly breathe. I could picture the car clearly. I’d just seen it outside, a red Focus, bright as lipstick against the snow bank that had been plowed up into piles all around the parking lot. ‘Is it red?’ I asked, praying that it wasn’t.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Oh my god! There’s a red Focus in the lot. Come with me.’

Without taking time to grab our coats, Hutch and I flew out the door. ‘This way!’ I yelled. We raced around the building and through the lot, slipping on patches of black ice where the day’s run-off had refrozen on the tarmac.

‘That’s it, that’s the car,’ Hutch shouted, pointing wildly.

By that time, I was close enough to the vehicle to see through the window on the passenger side. ‘No one’s inside.’ I paused, breathing hard. ‘Maybe it’s someone else’s car.’

‘No. That’s Ruth’s. See that striped hat in the back window? That’s hers.’ Hutch swerved to avoid a pothole, tripped, arms pinwheeling to keep his balance. By some miracle, he managed not to fall.

I recognized the hat, too, so I pumped my legs harder, rounding the rear of the vehicle and arriving at the driver’s side.

Ruth lay sprawled on the ice, face up, whimpering. At first, I thought my sister had slipped on the ice and fallen. Until I saw the blood.

I knelt on the cold ground beside her. ‘Ruth! What happened?’

She simply moaned.

Hutch screeched to a halt behind me, his arms dangling helplessly at his sides. ‘Ruth. Oh, god. You’re hurt.’

‘He stole my purse,’ she sobbed. ‘It had the cash receipts for the day in it. I couldn’t let him… Ow!’ she cried as I touched her leg.

‘Screw the money, Ruth.’ I looked up at Hutch. ‘I think her leg is broken.’

Ruth sucked in her lips and rocked her head from side to side.

Hutch knelt beside me and squeezed my arm. He jerked his head in the direction of Ruth’s leg, and I saw what he saw. A piece of metal – Glass? Bone? – poking through the fabric of Ruth’s blood-soaked tights.

‘Hutch is here,’ I told my sister as her fiancé and I, via some form of telepathy, agreed to exchange places. Hutch lifted Ruth’s head to his thigh and pillowed it there. ‘You’ll be fine, Ruth,’ he soothed.

‘The son of a bitch stole my money! Eleven hundred dollars!’

‘It doesn’t matter, Ruth. It’s only money.’

While Hutch tried to calm Ruth down, I walked around to the other side of the car and dialed 9-1-1.

‘9-1-1. What is your emergency?’

‘There’s been a mugging,’ I told the operator. ‘We need police and an ambulance.’ I gave the woman our address, then went back to see about my sister.

‘Hand me her scarf,’ I told Hutch.

I was afraid to touch Ruth’s wound, but I used her scarf as a makeshift tourniquet, wrapped it as tightly as I dared around her thigh and twisted it tight, hoping to stop the flow of blood that continued to ooze from her calf and on to the pavement. ‘How did you break your leg,’ I asked as I worked. ‘Did you fall? Did he push you down?’

‘He whacked me with a baseball bat.’

‘Oh, love, why didn’t you just let him have the stupid purse?’ Hutch said desperately.

‘No way that motherfucker was going to get my purse,’ Ruth said.

‘I suppose you told him that.’

‘Uh huh.’

Hutch rolled his eyes. ‘Why didn’t you call me on your cell phone?’

‘He smashed that, too.’ Ruth raised an arm, then let it drop to the pavement. ‘It’s around here somewhere.’

‘I see it,’ I said. ‘It’s under the next car.’

And it was, if you could call a scattering of plastic shards, circuit boards, SIM cards and batteries a cell phone. ‘The good news is, I think you’ll be getting that iPhone you wanted for Christmas.’

In spite of everything, Ruth managed a weak smile. ‘I’m cold,’ she said after a few seconds.

‘Don’t worry. The ambulance is on the way,’ I said, willing it to hurry.

Hutch had already pulled the flaps of Ruth’s jacket together and buttoned them up to her neck, but he cradled her more closely to the warmth of his chest. She gazed into his face, and burst into tears. ‘Oh, Hutch, I’m so sorry. We won’t be able to audition for the TV show, will we?’

Hutch lowered his cheek to her cheek and stroked her wet and matted hair. ‘Shhhhh. It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. The only thing that matters to me is you.’

Ruth’s face was white as the fresh snow that covered the snow banks behind her, and she started to sob, gasping uncontrollably. ‘She’s hyperventilating, Hutch,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘She may be going into shock. Lower her head, and we’ll need to keep her warm.’

‘Shit. Why did we leave our coats inside?’ Hutch raised up on one hip, eased a hand into his pocket and withdrew a fist full of car keys. ‘There’s a football blanket in the back seat of my Beemer.’

When I returned with the blanket, Hutch helped me wrap it tightly around my sister. She shuddered, air hissed raggedly in and out between her clenched teeth as we waited together for the welcoming wail of an approaching siren.