The Edge

Chapter Thirteen

Laura was in room 511 at Salem General Hospital. I stood quietly by her bed looking down at her. She was breathing smoothly and slowly. They still had the oxygen tubes in her nose and the saline IV in her arm. She was alive and would recover, just as I had. I was surprised that I'd never felt so thankful in my life as I was at that moment, except when Jilly woke up. Someone had smoothed down her hair and pushed it back from her face. All that beautiful hair was strewn over the hard hospital pillow. Unlike me, they'd put her in a hospital gown and pulled the light covers up to her shoulders.

I leaned down, lightly touched my palm to her cheek, and said, "Laura, I'll tell you what they said over and over to me when I was lying helpless flat on my back. It's time for you to wake up now. You've been sleeping long enough. Come on, come back to me."

Her lips moved slightly, forming my name.

I leaned closer, without conscious plan, and lightly kissed her pale mouth. "That's it. Yes, it's Mac. I like the way you say my name. Say it again. Come on, Laura. Come back to me."

"We were just coming in to wake her up again, but it sounds like you're doing a fine job." I turned to see a tall woman in a white coat. She smiled. "Just keep encouraging her to open her eyes. Are you her husband?"

"No," I said, for the first time in my life thinking maybe that didn't sound so bad. I'd known Laura two days. Funny how that didn't seem to matter. "She's a friend," I said, smiling now. "I'm a friend."

"I'm her doctor, Elsa Kiren. Do you want me or one of the nurses to spell you?"

I shook my head. "No, I'll stay. I came out from under the same drug just a while ago. I know what's going on in her head."

"If you need any help, just call out," Dr. Kiren said. "I'll be close by."

I turned back to Laura. I wondered if I'd been as pale as she was now before I'd come out of it. "Laura, listen to me now. I've been thinking about things and here's the bottom line. Somebody drugged you. I was an innocent bystander. Now it's time to wake up so we can figure this mess out. Come on." I lightly slapped her cheek. "Someone tried to kill you, Laura, wake up."

"Stop hitting me, you jerk."

I grinned from ear to ear. "That's right, it's me, the jerk." I slapped her lightly on her other cheek.

She growled deep in her throat, probably just like her cat. "After I leave you, I'll go back to your condo and take care of Nolan and Grubster. You've got to tell me what to do for them. Wake up, Laura, think of your bird and your cat."

Her eyes slowly opened. She looked at me without recognition, then I saw the light slowly rekindle in her eyes, saw memory return. I would swear that I could feel the exact moment that vivid intelligence of hers was under full sail again.

"Hi," I said. "Keep dialing your mind back in, that's it. It just takes time, but you'll get there."

"I don't believe that you would drug me, Mac, but if you did, why?"-

"Keep not believing it because I didn't. Until a couple of hours ago, I was lying on my back, just like you are. Someone got both of us."

That opened her eyes really wide. Any vagueness was now long gone. "My head hurts."

"Yeah, I know. It lessens. Don't worry about it, my headache's nearly gone now. Who got us, Laura?"

"I don't know. It had to be in the coffee. Both of us drank it, you more than me, if I remember correctly."

I saw a shadowy movement off to my right and jerked around to see Detective Minton Castanga standing just inside the hospital room doorway.

I felt Laura tense, readying for battle, beneath my hand.

"He was here before but I was out of it. I don't like him. Send him away, Mac."

"I can't. But don't worry, Laura. This guy isn't bad. He's a cop, Detective Castanga, from the Salem PD.

He's here to find out who dropped us both in our tracks. Detective, this is Laura Scott."

I straightened and turned to face him. "She just woke up again," I said. "Come on over and she can talk to both of us at once."

Detective Castanga stood on the other side of Laura's bed. He studied her silently for a moment, then said in that soft, endless drawl, "It's true I was here earlier. I stood right where I'm standing now, looking at you. I tried to imagine what you'd look like awake. I was off on all counts." He smiled then. "I'm glad you made it, Ms. Scott. You really do need to talk to me this time."

There was no expression whatsoever now on Laura's face. She was still pale, but her eyes were bright, focused. I couldn't begin to tell what she was thinking. She merely nodded her head very slightly and said finally, "All right, Detective."

"Agent MacDougal told me he believed that both of you were alone at your condo, except for the bird and the cat. Is this correct?"

"That's right. As far as I know, no one was lurking in a closet. If they were, they were certainly very quiet."

"You're right about the phenobarbital being in the coffee. It very probably came from an old prescription bottle in your medicine cabinet."

"No, I don't keep stuff like that. Oh, that's right, you're thinking about my uncle George."

"That's right. Why did you still have the pills?"

She shrugged. The covers slipped down just a bit. Without thinking, I pulled them back up and patted her cheek. She leaned her cheek against my hand.

"I don't know," she said. "They were just there. I've heard that phenobarbital is good if you really have a hard time going to sleep. I suppose I kept them just in case of insomnia. Not very bright of me, I suppose."

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Detective Castanga's Mr. Cool and Nice Guy was gone, and in his place was a hard-nosed son of a bitch whose voice and very stance were cold and sarcastic. "So, Ms.

Scott, let me see if I get this right. Someone came into your house, rifled through your medicine cabinet, came up with the phenobarbital, stirred the stuff into your coffee, all without you ever seeing him or her?"

"I guess there's no other conclusion, Detective."

"Oh, yes there is. Seems just as likely to me that you're the one doing the drugging and that you tried to cover yourself by drinking a bit yourself."

I gave him a sharp look, but he was focused on Laura.

"From your tone I take it you want me to confess to feeding Mac the drug, then drugging myself. Or maybe you want us both to tell you it was a suicide pact between two lovers? Tell me, Detective, why would I want to kill Mac?"

"Because he knew something about you and he was going to take you down." His voice was like nails now. He leaned down, right in her face. I would give him three more seconds of this bullshit.

"Sorry, Detective. I just don't have any fatal secrets like that," Laura said, and I could tell she was getting pissed. The three seconds were up. I was on the verge of interrupting this interrogation when she added in a voice as cold and sneering as Detective Castanga's, "Get out of my face, Detective. My head hurts.

I'm cold and I still feel groggy. My stomach feels like it's caved in on itself, and you're treating me like I'm a failed murderer who ended up really fouling things up. Go away. I have nothing more to say to you. Go do your job and stop squandering precious time."

Detective Castanga slowly straightened. He was surprised, I could see it in the sudden twitch in his cheek, the slight hitch in his breathing.

"I think you tried to kill Mac, Ms. Scott. I'm going to prove it."

"Yeah, right. Run along, Detective, and search out every dead end you can find. Waste the taxpayers' money. You look like the type who would get off on that. That makes a lot more sense than finding out who drugged Mac and me. Cops like you make me want to spit."

Detective Castanga, very suddenly, with no warning at all, turned from a bad-ass to a man trying not to laugh, and failing at it. He did laugh. He rubbed his hands together. "You're very good, Ms. Scott. You're a reference librarian? At the public library? Hard to believe. You just took me apart very cleanly and smoothly." He was right. She'd sounded more hard-ass than he had.

Then Detective Castanga's laughter dried up. "Okay, so you were the target, Ms. Scott. I'll buy that now.

Let's get down to business. Mac, pull up a chair, you're still looking pretty shaky. Hey, you were ready to belt me. Come on, she didn't need you to ride in and save her from the nasty cop. Now, Ms. Scott, do you want a couple of aspirin?"

Laura got her aspirin, Dr. Kiren finished checking her again quickly, nodded, and left us. Detective Castanga sat down with an open notebook on his leg. As for myself, I was just trying to sit straight in the chair. "Talk," he said to both of us. "You two seem joined at the hip. Tell me why someone wants Ms.

Scott dead."

Laura and I both remained silent as a tomb. Finally, I shrugged. "I already told you why I came here to Edger-ton in the first place, Detective. It was all about my sister, Jilly. I just met Ms. Scott a couple of days ago."

Detective Castanga didn't believe me. He turned to Laura, a dark eyebrow cocked up a good inch.

"No, there's no reason I can think of. I'm a reference librarian, for heaven's sake."

In that instant, I knew she was lying. It was clean and fast, but it was a lie.

As for Detective Castanga, I don't know what he thought. He looked at her thoughtfully for a long time.

"It seems to me the shit hit the fan with your arrival, Mac. Give me names of people you've met in Edgerton."

Laura was relieved at that, I could tell. I hauled out the names of everyone I'd met in Edgerton. After I finished, he looked up and said, "All right, you've given me about twelve names. I'm going to read this list out loud. Add or subtract anyone you want to. Let's start with your heavyweight, Alyssum Tarcher. This guy is big bucks. His financial assets are far-reaching. He's got lots of power with a lot of folk here in our state government, and even in Washington, I'm told. You've got him on the list along with all his family members."

"Well, there's no way around it," I said. "Wait, obviously something else has happened since I came to Edgerton. There was Charlie Duck's murder just a couple of days ago. Maggie can't find a reason either for the attack, or for why his house was ransacked." I shrugged, and because I was good, I looked him straight in the eye as I added, "She thinks it was just a random killing, and she may be right, but who knows?"

Detective Castanga said, sitting back in his seat, "Yeah, it was a real shame. He had quite a reputation back in the bad old days. The old guy was a retired cop."

"Yeah, Maggie told me."

"He left the Chicago PD a long time ago. I'll speak to Maggie about what she's found out about it. She told me she'd sent the body to Portland to the medical examiner even though it was obvious old Charlie had been struck on the head. She was right. You never know what will turn up. She told me she was pushing to have his body back by Tuesday. That was the day his funeral had been set."

He turned his attention back to Laura. "Now, Ms. Scott, you claim you have no enemies. Still, I'll need a list of the people you know in Salem, and I'll need to go over that list with you."

Laura nodded, then closed her eyes. She looked pale and exhausted. I bet I looked about the same.

I wondered if I should tell Castanga all the rest of it, including Charlie's dying words. No, I'd leave that decision to Maggie.

I thought of Jilly and Paul. Could either of them hate Laura so much they'd want to murder her? Had Jilly left the hospital on her own, driven up to Salem, managed to get into Laura's apartment, and poured phenobarbital into the coffee can?

"Did Jilly have a key to your condo, Laura?" I asked finally, hating the words as they left my mouth.

"No," she said. "I don't think so. She visited me there, of course, from time to time. I need a better painkiller. My head is killing me."

Detective Castanga stood and slowly slipped his notebook back into the inside pocket of his coat. "We have time for this later, Ms. Scott, when you feel better. In the meantime, I'll post an officer by your door."

"Thank you, Detective," she said and closed her eyes again, turning her head away from him on the stingy hospital pillow.

"Mac, are you coming?"

I said, "I don't want to leave her here alone. Someone tried to kill her. It'll take a while for you to get someone over here."

"Not long," Detective Castanga said. "I got a guy who's a little burned out right now, but he'll guard her well." He said to Laura, "His name is Harold Hobbes, a nice guy, tough as nails, and he won't let his own mother into your room."

"Thank you, Detective," she said.

I went with Detective Castanga to the door and partway down the hospital corridor. Our footsteps sounded on a background of muted groans, one loud shout, the low hum of music, beeping machines, and an occasional curse. When I returned to Laura's room, I saw a tall woman bending over Laura.

"Hey," I said and ran forward.

The woman straightened and cocked her head at me in question. It was Dr. Kiren. "She's tired but wanted to ask me a question. I had to lean over to hear her."

"Sorry," I said.

Dr. Kiren smiled. "She'll be just fine by this evening, maybe even ready to go home."

Home, I thought. No, that wouldn't work. I had to think about this.

Dr. Kiren's pager went off. On her way out, she told Laura to rest.

I thought about Charlie Duck's funeral. Hopefully Charlie would arrive back in time for his scheduled send-off.

I leaned over Laura and stroked my thumb over her eyebrows. I said very quietly, "I'll see you later this afternoon. Then we'll talk. Just rest. Harold Hobbes will be outside your room. If anyone comes near you, it means they've gotten past Harold, so scream your head off."

“All right," she said, not opening her eyes. I'd nearly made it to the door when she called out, "Thanks, Mac."

"Sure," I said.

"I'm sorry I nearly got you killed."

"Yeah, I know."

I stopped at Laura's condo. Castanga's people had finished with it, but I still had to show my FBI badge so the manager would unlock her door. Grubster was standing directly in front of the door, waiting for Laura. He saw me, meowed once, then turned around and walked away, his tail high in the air. "I'm here to feed you," I called after him.

To my surprise, Grubster stopped, raised his left paw, licked it, and took two steps back toward me.

Then he just sat there. "Okay," I said. "Let's find your cat food."

I watched Grubster chow down an entire can of salmon and rice and a big handful of dried stuff that looked so bad I poured some non-fat milk over it. Grubster purred the whole time he ate. I gave him a ton of fresh water and eyed his cat box, which needed changing. Grubster watched my technique. He must have approved because on his way out of the kitchen he stopped a moment and swiped his whiskers against my leg.

"Now for you, Nolan." When I said his name, Nolan filled the air with loud, sharp squawks, probably a bird's equivalent to orders. I changed his water, crumpled up a thick slice of bread into small pieces, and sprinkled sunflower seeds on the floor of his cage. Nolan obligingly hopped in to dine.

I stopped at the front door, looked from Grubster to Nolan, sighed, and went back to scratch and pet Grubster while Nolan serenaded me with squawks between bread bites.

I'd always had dogs growing up. During the past four or five years, though, I hadn't had a pet of any kind around. As I left, it didn't seem strange to call back to the two of them, "I'll be back to get you guys later."

"Squawk."

Nothing from Grubster. He was asleep.

I got back to Edgerton in the early afternoon. I stopped at Grace's Deli and ordered up a tuna salad sandwich on rye bread, with lots of tomatoes and dill pickles. While I ate, I asked Grace how to go about renting a home or an apartment here in town or just out of town, maybe near where Rob Morrison's small clapboard cottage was.

Grace was strong-willed as a mule, tall and very thin, with a head of salt-and-pepper hair. She smiled at me and said, "Well, I reckon you could go over to the Buttercup Bed and Breakfast, but Arlene Hicks isn't really high on you being here. Never got it through her head that money is money. She already told you she was all filled up, didn't she?"

I nodded. "I should have told her that if she wasn't running drugs, she has nothing to fear."

"Well, she just might be, you never know. Arlene's full of deep shoals, lots of secrets. I've got it, Mr.

MacDougal. Mr. Tarcher owns a little house like Rob Morrison's. It's called Seagull Cottage, to the south of town, nearly right on the cliff. It's empty right now. The last tenants left about a month ago."

"Excellent." I finished off my sandwich and rose. "Are you coming to Charlie Duck's funeral?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Grace said. "I have a three-minute eulogy to give." She smiled, seeing my confusion.

"I'm the town Buddhist."

"You're a Buddhist?"

"I haven't made up my mind, but I'm close enough. The thing is, though, that the Buddhists make it very simple for you to reach your heavenly reward. To reach Nirvana, all you have to do is live right, think right, and deny yourself just about everything. That's something, isn't it?"

"Where does the line begin?" I asked, looking around.

Grace just cocked her head at me, and I smiled and left. I called the Tarcher house and was surprised when Alyssum himself answered the phone. I told him I wanted to rent Seagull Cottage and I told him why. If he was the one behind having Laura drugged, well, it hardly mattered. He'd find out soon enough anyway where she was. Besides I wanted everyone to know that Laura and I were together and planned to camp right in their own backyard.

"So that's why I can't allow Ms. Scott to return to her place. It was Grace who kindly told me about the house you're renting down on the cliffs."

Alyssum Tardier said, "Well, Agent MacDougal, this is a surprise. So you'll be guarding Ms. Scott then?"

I told him there'd be a lot of people near her, that Maggie was setting up a schedule, but I was going to be the main one baby-sitting.

"I'll tell you what, Agent MacDougal," Tardier said, pausing for a deep, stentorian breath, "to do my good citizen's part, I'll grant you a month's free rent on the house." I didn't have a problem with that at all.

I thanked him and made a date to pick up the house key. The only problem I foresaw was getting Laura away from her condo in Salem and down to Edgerton with me. And maybe getting the truth out of her.

I returned to Salem General Hospital, Nolan and Grub-ster on the backseat of the Taurus, the trunk loaded down with three suitcases holding just about everything I could imagine she'd want and need.

I decided on my way up in the elevator how to get Laura to Edgerton.