Unbreathed Memories

chapter 3

Nothing that happened after I brought Georgina home from Dr. Sturges’s prepared me for an early-morning visit from Baltimore’s Finest, least of all the wine. It would help me to relax, I reasoned; but after too many glasses to count, I decided I’d just sleep forever, even on the lumpy mattress that spat cookie crumbs all over me when I wrestled the ancient hide-a-bed open in Georgina’s TV room. Whatever was in Scott’s Box-o’-Chablis knocked me out cold from eleven-thirty until five, at which time my eyes flew open and my throbbing head told me it wished I’d had the brains to take some Alka-Seltzer before putting it to bed. As I lay flat on my back with the pale light of a gray dawn creeping around the corners of the window shade, I relived the previous evening.

Georgina had been a total wreck. The minute we hit the house she collapsed into a chair like a puppet with cut strings, leaving me to explain to Scott what had happened. He listened, nodding, with red-rimmed eyes as cold and pale as arctic ice, then folded his catatonic wife into his arms and led her away in the direction of the bedroom. I think Scott really wanted me to go home. To tell the truth, I felt like a fifth wheel, but after everything that had happened, I just couldn’t face the long drive home after dark.

Sean watched his mother’s retreating back, his face impassive. “Daddy’s giving Mommy her pills now.” Dylan, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a picture book on penguins spread out before him, nodded sagely.

“Mommy’s got a headache,” offered Julie. “Just like Abigail.” She held out her stuffed toy for inspection, a plush pink rabbit whose fur had been loved off in many places.

I stroked Abigail’s threadbare ears. “Does Abigail need an aspirin?”

Julie shook her head. “Uh-uh. Abby took her Prozac.”

Under other circumstances, I might have laughed. But, sadly, last night appeared to have been business as usual in the Cardinale household, and that was no laughing matter.

So I ended up staring at the ceiling for hours, comforted by the familiar noises a house makes at night-the compressor cycling on and off in the refrigerator, the ice maker dumping its cubes, the furnace in the basement rumbling to life. I waited, dozing, for the sound of running water or a flushing toilet to let me know that someone else was stirring, an indication it might be OK to get up. But the first sound I heard was not the flushing of a toilet, but the thump of heavy footsteps on the porch, followed by two short rings of the doorbell.

I checked the display on the VCR: 6:45. Who could be calling at this hour?

I threw off the quilt and swung my legs over the side of the bed, then stopped. You can’t answer the door like this, you idiot. In lieu of a nightgown I was wearing one of Scott’s extra-large T-shirts with an insurance company logo emblazoned in yellow and black across my chest. My only accessory was a pair of fuzzy orange socks. The doorbell rang again, more impatiently, it seemed. I stumbled into the living room, calling for Scott. Somewhere a door banged. In the entrance hall I grabbed a raincoat off a hook, then peered through the long, rectangular window to the right of the door. Two people stood on the porch, a man and a woman, similarly dressed in winter overcoats. They both wore gloves. The woman was slapping her upper arms for warmth while the man held our Baltimore Sun, wrapped in a yellow plastic bag, in his hand. I doubted he was the paperboy.

“Just a minute!” I called through the door. “I’m not dressed.” I slipped into the raincoat and pulled it securely around me before opening the door.

“Yes?”

The woman stepped forward. “Mrs. Cardinale? I’m Sergeant Williams, and this is my partner, Detective Duvall, Baltimore City police.” She flipped open a leather wallet containing her badge and held it about ten inches from my nose. “We’d like to talk to you about Dr. Sturges.”

My heart fluttered, then began pounding wildly. “Dr. Sturges?” I stammered.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Officer Duvall. “May we come in?”

I took a deep breath, recovered my manners from wherever they’d fled to, then swung the door wide. “Sure, but I think it’s my sister, Georgina, you’ll be wanting to talk to, not me. She’s still asleep.” I led them toward the living room, which was seldom used. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance.” I shrugged within my overcoat, my hands buried in its pockets. “I decided to spend the night with my sister quite suddenly, and I left home without a change of clothes.”

Sergeant Williams turned her sharp black eyes on me. “Suddenly?”

Oops! I’d have to watch my choice of words. I was trying to think of a nonincriminating reply when Scott’s voice boomed from behind me. I nearly jumped out of my socks.

“Hannah was baby-sitting for my wife and me. We were out quite late.”

I swallowed a gasp and stared, amazed, at my brother-in-law, who had shambled into the room, shirtless, still zipping up his jeans.

Scott ignored me. “How can we help you, Officers?”

“May we sit down?” Sergeant Williams gestured toward the chintz-covered sofa.

“Sure, sure. Be my guest.” Scott waved his hand vaguely. “Hannah, why don’t you go see about the children?”

I had no intention of leaving the room. Scott had already told one lie, and if he was going to tell any more whoppers, I wanted to know about it. I looked hopefully at Sergeant Williams. “Don’t you need me here?”

“No, not right now. Go ahead and see to the children, but we’ll want to talk to you before we leave.” Not the right answer.

When I left the room rather reluctantly, Scott slid the pocket door shut between us. I thought about doing as I had been told, but as my mother will tell you, I’ve never been very good at that. So I stood outside the door instead, my ear practically glued to the paneling.

“We understand your wife’s a patient of Dr. Sturges’s.” Officer Duvall spoke with a rich Jamaican accent.

“She is. So what’s the problem?”

“Diane Sturges was killed sometime yesterday afternoon.”

“Killed? Oh my God! How?” I could just imagine Scott, the consummate salesman, shaping his face into a mask of surprise and dismay.

“In a fall off her balcony.” Officer Duvall cleared his throat. “That’s why we’d like to talk to your wife. We understand she had an appointment with the doctor yesterday afternoon.”

“Surely the fall was an accident.”

Officer Duvall started to say something, but Sergeant Williams cut him off. “The case is still under investigation.”

“My wife would hardly have had anything to do with Diane’s death. Diane was the thread that kept Georgina tethered to reality.” Scott’s voice was edged with concern.

“There’s no need to get upset, Mr. Cardinale. We’re talking to all her patients.” Sergeant Williams’s voice oozed Southern comfort.

“You don’t understand, Officer. This news is going to come as a great shock to my wife. She’s not at all well. I’m afraid this may send her right over the edge.”

“May we speak to your wife, sir?” Sergeant Williams addressed my brother-in-law as if he were a second-grader.

“Like Hannah said, she’s still asleep.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wake her up.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Most people would rather not deal with the police, Mr. Cardinale, but my partner and I are here. Your wife’s here. So the way I see it, she can cooperate with us now, or talk to the grand jury later. Her choice.”

“How did you find out my wife was a patient of Dr. Sturges’s, anyway? I thought a doctor’s files were supposed to be confidential.”

“Dr. Sturges kept her appointments on a computer,” Officer Duvall explained. “We have all her patients’ names and telephone numbers.”

“Duvall!” Sergeant Williams’s voice had a sharp, elbow-in-the-ribs edge to it. Duvall will get his knuckles rapped good for letting that bit of information slip out, I thought.

Scott grunted and the chair springs creaked a warning as he stood up. I scurried toward the kitchen, where he found me seconds later noisily tapping used coffee grounds into the trash from a gold-mesh filter. “The kids are fine,” I told him, having absolutely no idea whether they were or not. They could have been building campfires in the middle of their bedrooms and I wouldn’t have known.

Scott smiled wearily when he saw what I was doing. “Make that a big pot, Hannah. I think we’re going to need it.”

I filled the coffeemaker with enough water for twelve cups, my hands shaking. Why had Scott lied to the police about yesterday? More importantly, what was I going to do about it? I opened several cupboards before I remembered that Georgina kept the mugs in the cabinet over the microwave. I picked out five at random and set them on a hand-painted tray. As I opened the refrigerator looking for the milk, I realized that if the police had the doctor’s computerized files, there was no need for me to volunteer the calendar pages that Georgina had stolen. I could save her that embarrassment, at least. I found the milk easily-two gallon jugs stood on the bottom shelf-and only spilled half a cup on the counter when I tried to transfer a small amount of the liquid into a pitcher. From a glass canister on the counter, I filled the sugar bowl and set it on the tray with several spoons and a handful of paper napkins. Should I tell the police what I know? Should I tell them now? I decided to wait and see what Georgina had to say.

I was serving coffee to the two officers when Scott arrived a few minutes later with Georgina in tow. Literally. He held her hand and dragged her into the living room behind him. She wore a long, plush bathrobe, loosely belted, and her slippers were on the wrong feet. Her glorious hair was caught behind her head in a careless ponytail with a fat red rubber band. She looked sleepy and confused, as if she had awakened in a strange hotel room in a foreign city where everyone was speaking Hungarian. Scott led her to the chair he had recently vacated and held on to her hand until she was comfortably seated. Then he perched beside her on the arm of the chair. “Georgina, these people are from the police. They want to talk to you about Dr. Sturges.”

Georgina looked from Sergeant Williams to Officer Duvall with wide, frightened eyes. Her lips formed a tight line and she shook her head back and forth like a reluctant child.

“I’ve explained to my wife that her doctor is dead,” Scott said. “I’m afraid she’s in shock.”

Georgina stared at her hands, which were folded tightly together in her lap.

“Tell them what you told me, honey.” Scott’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. His big hand reached out to envelop hers.

Georgina glanced from my face to her husband’s and back again, as if she were watching a tennis match.

“Come on, baby.”

Georgina bowed her head and gazed up at her husband through lowered lashes. When she spoke, it was to Sergeant Williams. “I went for my regular appointment at three. It was at three, wasn’t it, honey?”

“Yes, at three. I drove you there myself.”

“I opened the door, went up the stairs, and sat down on the couch like always. But she never came.” Big tears coursed down my sister’s pale cheeks. “Diane never came.”

“Did you notice anything unusual while you were waiting for the doctor, Mrs. Cardinale?” Officer Duvall leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

Georgina shook her head.

“Anybody coming or going?”

“No.”

“What did you do when the doctor didn’t show up?”

“Walked.”

“Walked? Walked where?”

Georgina raised her head. “Home, like I always do.” She glared at me as if daring me to contradict her. I was beginning to suspect she wasn’t as out of it as she seemed.

I opened my mouth to reply, then thought better of it.

“Walking relaxes her,” Scott volunteered. “Sometimes if it’s been a difficult session, she’ll call me for a pickup, but this time, she walked.”

Now Scott was lying, too. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Why was Georgina afraid to mention that she had discovered the doctor’s body? True, we had run off without calling 911, but that wasn’t a crime. Not that I knew of, anyway. Besides, we had made that call. Eventually.

I was leaning back against the mantelpiece digesting all this when it suddenly came to me. My God! Scott must think Georgina did it!

Georgina began to sob, shoulders shaking. I reached out to smooth her hair while Scott sat silently, holding her hand in both of his. “I think my wife needs to go back to bed now, Officers. She’s on medication.”

Officer Duvall set his coffee mug down on the tray and stood up. “Fine. But we will want to talk to her again later.”

Scott led a dazed Georgina away, leaving me alone with the officers and in a fine pickle. I knew I had to say something, but was paralyzed with indecision. I had been at the scene, after all, and I hadn’t been wearing rubber gloves. It would be hard to explain away my fingerprints if I didn’t tell them what I knew about Georgina.

I began to gather up the dirty mugs.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Sergeant Williams slipped her notebook into the pocket of her blazer and picked up the tray.

“Uh, thanks.”

Sergeant Williams followed me to the kitchen. As we passed the TV room, I could hear the blare of early-morning cartoons. I peeked in. Sean and Dylan lay on my unmade bed, chins cupped in their hands, watching Spider-Man. Julie sat cross-legged on the floor, drinking juice from a sippy pack, Abigail Rabbit resting between her knees.

“The children should be getting ready for school,” I said.

“It’s Saturday,” Sergeant Williams reminded me.

I slapped my forehead with my palm. “So it is! All this has got me completely discombobulated.”

In the kitchen Sergeant Williams set the tray down next to the sink, then leaned against the counter. “I’ve been watching you,” she said, “and I have the feeling there’s something you’re wanting to tell me.”

I was dizzy with relief. “That obvious, huh?”

She nodded. “I could see the war going on all over your face.”

I paced back and forth between the stove and the refrigerator. “I don’t know quite how to put this…”

Sergeant Williams simply stared at me, breathing evenly. I watched the gold necklace she wore move slightly with each throb of the pulse at her throat. I’d read about this technique. Keep your mouth shut and the suspect will keep talking just to fill the void.

It worked. My brain churned through the silence, worrying about my sister, who appeared determined to paint herself into a corner with lies she’d never be able to explain away once the truth became known. I was little Miss Goody Two-shoes, about to spill the beans. Tough love, Hannah. You’ll have to do it.

“I’m afraid my sister didn’t tell you the full truth just now.” My stomach lurched. I paused to take a deep breath, stalling for time. I wanted to put what we had done in the best possible light. “Georgina called me from Dr. Sturges’s in hysterics,” I babbled. “When I got there, we saw Dr. Sturges lying on the rocks. I was going to dial nine-one-one, but Georgina panicked and ran away. I found her by my car. After I managed to calm her down, we called nine-one-one from a nearby pizza place.”

“What time was this?” As if she didn’t know.

“About five o’clock.”

Sergeant Williams made a notation in her notebook. “If your sister’s appointment was at three, that means she was alone in the doctor’s office for two hours.”

“It took me almost an hour to get there.”

“An hour?”

“I live in Annapolis.”

Sergeant Williams raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Why didn’t she call her husband?”

I shrugged. “He was watching the children.”

Sergeant Williams slipped her ballpoint pen into her purse. “Thank you for telling me, ma’am. I know how difficult it must be for you.”

“I honestly can’t figure out why Georgina didn’t tell you about this in the first place. She didn’t commit any crime.”

Sergeant Williams’s face gave nothing away, so what she said next took me completely by surprise. “You’re not going to like this, but we’ll need to take your sister down to the station for questioning.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “Oh, God! Please don’t tell her you learned anything from me! She’ll never forgive me.” I felt like Judas Iscariot.

“I realize your sister’s not well. We’ll make it as easy on her as possible. We’ll need to take her fingerprints anyway, for purposes of elimination.”

“But Georgina’s fingerprints will be all over the place! She visits Dr. Sturges two times a week.”

“Then they won’t turn up where they shouldn’t,” she said reasonably. “Now, would you call your brother-in-law for me, please, Mrs…?”

I filled in the blank. “Ives. Hannah Ives.” When she asked, I gave her my address and telephone number. I felt like a worm. A low-down, sludge-crawling, big-mouthed, mud-eating worm.

I found Scott in the bedroom holding a glass of water for Georgina, who sat on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, knocking back pills. In another thirty minutes she’d be a zombie. Good luck getting anything out of her then, Sergeant Williams! I told Scott the police needed to speak to him again. I didn’t say about what. Then I skulked away to hide out in the TV room with the children.

“Hi, Aunt Hannah.” Sean looked up as I entered, but Dylan’s eyes remained glued to the TV set where an armada of cartoon tanks was flattening an invading army of robot mice. The sound track was deafening.

“What’cha watching, kids?” I shouted.

“Some stupid boy show.” Julie had laid Abby aside and was using blunt-nosed scissors to cut pictures out of an old National Geographic magazine. At least I hoped it was an old one.

“Can I help you, Julie?”

“Grown-ups don’t like to cut out.”

“This grown-up does.”

She grinned and handed me the scissors. I was in the middle of trimming neatly around the whiskers of a satin-eyed baby harp seal when my brother-in-law’s voice exploded behind me.

“You are not going to take my wife with you!”

The children, lost in their own worlds, appeared oblivious.

“I’ll be right back, kids.” I backed out of the den, pulling the folding doors shut behind me.

Georgina and Scott stood in the hallway just outside the kitchen. Still in her nightgown, Georgina shrank against the wall while Scott stood protectively between his nearly comatose wife and Sergeant Williams.

“I’m afraid we are, sir. You may come with her, if you want.”

“If I want? Of course I want! And I’m going to call my lawyer, too.”

“That is your prerogative.”

Scott faced Georgina, took her by the shoulders, and spoke to her softly. I didn’t hear what he said. My sister nodded mutely. With Scott’s arm around her, they shuffled into the bedroom, emerging five minutes later with Georgina dressed in a loose-fitting pair of tan slacks, a red cable-knit sweater, and clean, white tennis shoes. His hand rested lightly on her back as he guided her down the hall.

Suddenly Scott seemed to notice me. At first he looked puzzled and I panicked, thinking it might have occured to him who was responsible for Sergeant Williams changing her mind about questioning Georgina at the police station. But the puzzlement quickly evaporated, to be replaced with wide-eyed distress.

“The children!” Scott’s face was flushed; he wiped his forehead with his hand. Tears pooled in his eyes. “What about the children?”

I rushed to his side. “Scott! Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the kids.” I hugged him hard and he clung to me, breathing heavily and raggedly into my hair. He kissed my forehead. Then he kissed Georgina and watched, grief-stricken, as she was escorted down the front walk to the officers’ car. He followed in his burgundy SUV, reversing out of the drive in a spray of gravel and squealing tires.

I watched from the front porch, the door standing half open behind me, until both vehicles disappeared over the hill at Church Lane. When I turned, Dylan and Sean stood framed in the doorway. “They’re taking Mommy to jail!” Dylan wailed. His brother’s lower lip trembled and he, too, burst into tears.

“That’s nothing,” Julie proclaimed, elbowing her way between the boys. She laid her cheek against the sparse fur of her toy rabbit. “Abby’s been to jail hundreds of times.”