The Cradle Will Fall

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHILE the jury was deliberating, Katie went into the courthouse cafeteria and sat at a table with her back to the room. She did not want anyone to join her. She felt fatigued and weak, but not hungry. Just a cup of tea, she thought. Mama always said that a cup of tea would cure the ills of the world.

She sat for nearly an hour, sipping the tea, reviewing the proceedings. The Odendall boys were blaming the fires on a friend who was killed in a motorcycle accident last November. Had she convinced the jury that they were lying?

At five o'clock she returned to the courtroom. Five minutes later the jury came in and the foreman announced the verdict: Robert and Jonathan Odendall were "not guilty on all counts."

"I don't believe it." Katie wasn't sure if she had spoken aloud.

The judge dismissed the jury curtly and told the defendants to stand up. "You are very lucky," he snapped, "luckier than I hope you'll ever be again. Now clear out of my courtroom, and if you're smart, you'll never appear before me again."

Katie stood up. No matter if the judge clearly felt the verdict was erroneous, she had lost the case. She saw the victorious smile the defense attorney shot at her. She stuffed her notes into her file. Maybe if she hadn't felt so lousy all week she'd have conducted a better case. She should have had this hemorrhaging problem taken care of a year ago instead of putting it off because of her childish fear of hospitals.

"Will the State please approach the bench?"

She walked over to the judge. "Your Honor." Katie managed to keep her voice steady.

The judge leaned forward and whispered to her, "Don't let it get you down, Katie. You proved that case. They'll be back here in two months on other charges. Next time you'll nail them."

Katie tried to smile. "Thanks, Judge." She left the courtroom and went back to her office. Maureen looked up hopefully, but Katie shook her head. Maureen's expression changed to sympathy. "Katie, I'm sorry about the Odendall verdict, but try not to take it too hard. You really look sick. Are you all right to drive? You're not dizzy or anything?" "No, really. I'm not going far. Then I won't budge till Sunday."

JIM Berkeley parked his car in the courthouse lot, went into the main lobby and checked the directory for the medical examiner's office. He had seen the expression on Richard Carroll's face last night when he'd looked at the baby. Angered, he'd wanted to say, "So the baby doesn't look like us. So what?"

After several wrong turns, he found Richard's office. The door was open and Richard came out immediately. "Jim, it's good of you to come." Jim's own greeting was reserved and cautious.

As they went inside, Richard's manner became businesslike. "Jim, we're investigating Vangie Lewis' death. She was a patient at Westlake's maternity clinic. Where your wife had the baby."

Jim nodded.

Richard chose his words carefully. "Our investigation is turning up some disturbing problems. Now I want to ask you a few questions, and I swear to you that your answers will remain in this room. But you can be of tremendous help to us if-"

"If I tell you that Maryanne is adopted. Is that it?"

"Yes."

Jim thought of Maryanne. Whatever the cost, she was worth having. "No, she is not adopted. I was present at her birth. I filmed it."

"It is quite unlikely for two brown-eyed parents to have a green-eyed child," Richard said flatly. Then he stopped. "Are you the baby's father?" he asked quietly.

"If you mean did Liz have an affair with another man? No. I'd stake my life on that."

"How about artificial insemination?" Richard asked.

"Liz and I rejected that possibility years ago."

"Might Liz have changed her mind and not told you?"

Jim looked away a moment and then said, "I've often wondered about Maryanne's coloring, but I haven't let it bother me. That baby is everything to us." He looked at Richard. "My wife is the most honest person I've ever known. Last month I decided to make it easy for her. I said that I'd been wrong about artificial insemination, that I could see why people went ahead with it."

"What did she say?" Richard asked.

"She said that if I thought she could make a decision like that and not tell me, I didn't understand our relationship. I swore I didn't mean that; went through hell trying to reassure her. Finally she believed me. But, of course, I know she did have artificial insemination. She was lying."

"Or else she wasn't aware of what Highley did to her," Richard said flatly.

AT THE hospital, the admitting clerk was briskly bright. "You certainly rate, Mrs. DeMaio. Dr. Highley has given you suite one on the third floor of the west wing. That's like going on a vacation. You'll never dream you're in a hospital."

"He said something about that," Katie murmured. She was not about to confide her fear of hospitals to this woman.

"You may be a bit lonesome up there. The other two suites on that floor are empty. And Dr. Highley is having the living room of your suite redecorated. Why, I don't know. It was done less than a year ago. Anyhow, if you want anything, all you have to do is press the buzzer. Now here's your wheelchair. We'll just whisk you upstairs."

Katie stared. "I have to use a wheelchair?"

"Hospital regulations," the admitting clerk said firmly.

John in a wheelchair going up for chemotherapy. John's body shrinking as she watched him die. The antiseptic hospital smell.

Katie sat down in the chair and closed her eyes. There was no turning back. The attendant, a middle-aged volunteer, pushed the chair down the corridor to the elevator.

"You're lucky to have Dr. Highley," she informed Katie. "His patients get the best care in the hospital."

They got off the elevator at the third floor. The corridor was carpeted in soft green. Reproductions of Monet and Matisse paintings hung on the walls. In spite of herself, Katie was reassured. The corridor turned to the right. "You're in the end suite," the volunteer explained. "It's kind of far off."

She wheeled Katie into a bedroom. The walls were ivory, the carpet the same soft green as in the corridor. The furniture was antique white. Printed draperies in shades of ivory and green matched the bedspread. "Oh, this is nice!" Katie exclaimed.

"I thought you'd like it. The nurse will be in in a few minutes. Why don't you just make yourself comfortable?"

She was gone. Katie undressed, put on a nightgown and warm robe. She put her toilet articles in the bathroom and hung her clothes in the closet. Suddenly she was swaying. She held on to the dresser until the light-headed feeling passed. It was probably just the rushing and the aftermath of the trial and, let's face it, she thought-apprehension. She was in a hospital. Daddy. John. The two people she'd loved best in the world had gone into the hospital and died. No matter how she tried, she could not lose that terrible feeling of panic.

There were four doors in the room. The closet door, the bathroom door, the one leading to the corridor. The other one must go into the living room. She opened it and glanced in. As the admitting clerk had said, it was pulled apart. The furniture was in the middle of the room, covered with painter's drop cloths.

She closed the door and walked over to the window. The hospital was U-shaped, with the two side wings facing each other across the parking lot. On Monday night she'd been exactly opposite where she was now. Where was the parking stall she'd dreamed about? Oh, of course-that one, over to the side, directly under the last light post. There was a car parked there now, a black car, just as in her dream. Those wire spokes on the wheels; the way they glinted in the light.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. DeMaio?"

She spun around. Dr. Highley was standing in the room. A young nurse was hovering at his elbow. "Oh, you startled me. I'm fine, Doctor." He came over to the window and drew the draperies. These windows are drafty. Suppose you sit on the bed and let me check your pressure. We'll want blood samples too."

The nurse followed him. Katie noticed that the girl's hands were trembling. She was obviously in awe of Dr. Highley.

The doctor wrapped the pressure cuff around Katie's arm. A wave of dizziness made her feel as though the walls of the room were receding. She clutched at the mattress.

"Is there anything wrong?" The doctor's voice was gentle.

"No, not really. I'm just a touch faint."

He began to pump the bulb. "Nurse Renge, kindly get a cold cloth for Mrs. DeMaio's forehead." He studied the pressure gauge. "You're low. Frankly, if you hadn't scheduled this operation, I'm sure you'd have had it on an emergency basis."

The nurse came out of the bathroom with a neatly folded cloth. She was biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering. Katie felt a rush of sympathy for her. She neither wanted nor needed a cold compress, but she let the nurse put it on her forehead. The cloth was soaking, and freezing water ran down her hairline. A flash of humor raised her spirits. She could just see telling Richard about this poor, scared kid who'd practically drowned her.

Richard. She should have told him she was coming here. She wanted him with her now. Dr. Highley drew blood from a vein in her right arm and put the blood-filled tubes on the tray the nurse held out to him.

"I want these run through immediately," he said brusquely.

"Yes, Doctor." The nurse scurried out.

Dr. Highley sighed. "I'm afraid that timid young woman is on desk duty tonight. But you won't require anything special, I'm sure. Did you take all the pills I gave you?"

Katie realized that she had not taken the three-o'clock pill and it was now nearly seven. "I'm overdue for the last one. They're in my handbag." She glanced at the dresser.

"Don't get up. I'll hand it to you."

When she took the bag from him, she unzipped it, fished inside and brought out the small bottle, which she held out to him. There were just two pills in it. Dr. Highley poured a glass of water from the carafe on the night table. "Take these," he said. He handed her the glass and dropped the empty bottle into his pocket.

Obediently she swallowed the pills, feeling his eyes on her. His steel-rimmed glasses glinted under the overhead light. The glint. The spokes of the car glinting. There was a blur of red on the glass as she laid it down. He noticed it, reached for her hand and examined her finger. The tissue had become damp again.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just a paper cut. But it keeps bleeding."

"I see." He stood up. "I've ordered a sleeping pill for later."

"I really prefer not to take sleeping pills, Doctor."

"I'm afraid I insist. I want you well rested in the morning. Oh, here's your dinner now."

A thin, sixtyish woman carrying a tray came into the room and glanced nervously at the doctor. They're all petrified of him, Katie thought. Unlike the usual plastic or metal hospital tray, this one was made of white wicker and had a side basket that held the evening newspaper. A single red rose stood in a slender vase. Double loin lamb chops were carefully arranged on the dinner plate. The china was delicate. The attendant turned to go.

"Wait," Dr. Highley commanded. He said to Katie, "As you will see, all my patients are served fare that compares favorably with the food in a first-class restaurant." He frowned, then added, "However, I would prefer if you did not eat dinner tonight. I've come to believe that the longer a patient fasts before surgery, the less likelihood she will experience discomfort after it."

"I'm not at all hungry," Katie said.

"Fine." He nodded to the attendant. She picked up the tray and hurried out. "I'll leave you now," Dr. Highley told Katie. At the door he paused. "Oh, I regret, your phone apparently isn't working. The repairman will take care of it in the morning. Is there anyone you expect to call you here tonight? Any visitors?" "No. My sister is the only one who knows I'm here, and she's at the opera tonight."

He smiled. "I see. Well, good night, Mrs. DeMaio, and please relax. You can trust me to take care of you." "I'm sure I can." He was gone. She leaned back on the pillow, closing her eyes.

She was floating somewhere; her body was drifting like… "Mrs. DeMaio." The young voice was apologetic. Katie opened her eyes. It was Nurse Renge carrying a tray with a pill in a small paper cup. "You're to take this now. It's the sleeping pill. Dr. Highley said I was to stay and be sure you took it."

"Oh." Katie put the pill in her mouth, swallowed water from her carafe. Then she pulled herself up and went into the bathroom while the nurse turned down the covers. In the bathroom, she removed the sleeping pill from under her tongue. No way, she thought. I'd rather be awake than have nightmares. She splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth and returned to the bedroom. She felt so weak, so vague.

The nurse helped her into bed. "You really are tired, aren't you? Just push the buzzer if you need me for anything."

"Thank you." Her head was so heavy.

Nurse Renge went to pull down the shade. "Open the drapes and raise the window about an inch, won't you?" Katie murmured. "I like fresh air in my bedroom."

"Certainly. Shall I turn off the light now, Mrs. DeMaio?"

"Please." She didn't want to do anything except sleep.

The nurse left. Katie closed her eyes. Minutes passed. Her breathing became even. She was not aware of the faint sound when the door from the living room began to open.