Part 6 (1/2)
”Yes.”
”Why?”
”I don't know.”
”Well, she should have. What, you think I'd care? If she's hurt, for sure I want her to call somebody.”
I studied his body language. He appeared sincere, but there was something glib and rehea.r.s.ed about his answers, as if he'd already antic.i.p.ated the questions. ”Will you excuse me for a minute?” I said. ”I need to call Trevor and tell him what's going on.”
”Sure thing.”
I walked a short way down the corridor, then dialed my cell. Trevor didn't answer, so I left a message explaining everything and telling him to drop by the hospital on his way home, or if that wasn't possible, I'd see him later. I stopped to use the restroom, and when I returned to the front desk, Wolfgang was gone.
The nurse motioned me over. ”Mrs. Lehman is in a room now if you'd like to make a short visit.”
”Yes, I would.”
She gave me the room number and directions.
Linda and Wolfgang were talking softly as I entered the private room. Wolfgang was seated close to the head of the bed, his hand gently stroking Linda's hair. Though still sickly looking, Linda seemed happier.
”Hi, pumpkin,” I said. ”I stopped to use the restroom or I would have been here sooner. Of course, they only announce anything when you're not available. How are you feeling?” I pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed from Wolfgang.
”Better now. Tired though.”
Wolfgang looked over to me. ”We have to keep it short. The doc just stuck his head in and doesn't want her getting too tired. I told him you were on your way.”
”What did he say? Is she okay? Did they find anything internal?”
”No, she's fine. Concussion and bruises, some sc.r.a.pes. They'll probably let her out tomorrow. She's tough.” He patted her arm.
Linda smiled weakly at Wolfgang, then turned to me. ”It was so stupid. I was moving some boxes and I tripped. I dropped the box, but missed the handrail. It happened so fast.”
”You have to be more careful,” I said.
”Oh, I know. I don't want to come here again. Gwyn, could you call the club, let them know I won't make my tennis lesson?”
”Of course.”
She sighed. ”I'll have to ask the doctor when I can play again, and Thanksgiving's coming up.”
”Don't worry about all that,” I said. ”Just get well.”
A few minutes later a nurse appeared in the doorway and shooed us out.
Wolfgang hurried alongside me down the hall. ”She's out of it,” he said. ”But she'll be okay.”
”Yeah.”
It was already dark outside the double doors of the hospital. A raw icy wind had kicked up its heels, and I stopped to b.u.t.ton my jacket before heading out. Wolfgang waited for me, then walked with me across the parking lot to our cars. I called Trevor again, but no answer, so I left another message, told him I was leaving the hospital and not to come by.
Trevor's Cadillac was parked in the driveway when I pulled in. I walked inside, noticing a fire in the fireplace as I hung up my coat. A clinking of plates and silverware came from the kitchen. ”Trevor?”
”In here, my tired girl.”
He smiled as I stepped into the kitchen.
”You're cooking?” I asked.
He finished placing silverware on the table, then came over and hugged me. ”I felt bad about not making it over to the hospital. So I thought you might like dinner-a-la-Trevor as an apology.”
”That's so sweet.”
”How's your sister doing? Okay?”
”She's hurting, but she'll be okay. I didn't really expect you to make it to the hospital. I knew you'd come if you could.” I squeezed him closer still. ”What a day. How was yours?”
”All right, except for your news. I was in a meeting when I got your message. I wanted to call back, but I had to play happy, I-have-no-other-life, Realtor. You know how it is.”
”Mm-hmm.” I sniffed the air. ”So what did Chef Trevor prepare for dinner tonight?”
”Well, I had big plans in the beginning, thought maybe I'd try something gourmet. I actually looked through a couple of your cookbooks for ideas. But that scared me off, so instead we're having broiled chicken with a really awesome barbecue sauce, plus a baked potato and a salad. I still have to make the salad. You got here sooner than I thought you would.”
”I'll help you.”
”No. No you won't. I'm looking for hefty paybacks in the form of sizzling female flesh. Whoa, hang on a minute. Need to add a log to that fire, I think. Don't want it to die down too quick.”
I laughed as he hustled from the room.
When dinner was ready, he pulled out my chair and brought our plates to the table. He actually wasn't a bad cook. The chicken was done, not raw or overcooked, as was the potato. Of course, at that moment, it didn't matter to me one bit how it tasted. I wouldn't think of criticizing his efforts.
He lit a candle for the table and turned down the lights, and by the time we'd moved to the living room and the hypnotic warmth of the fire, I was ready to love Trevor again, the way I'd loved him in the past, before I'd discovered Kelly's letter.
Chapter 5.
The drive to Denver was bleak. Rain turned quickly to sleet, a heavy slushy mess that my winds.h.i.+eld wipers struggled hopelessly to remove. I strained to see the road, slowing to just under fifty, made more nervous as other less intimidated drivers flew by on Route 70 hurling splatters of the heavy stuff against the van.
I'd rented a large cargo van to carry all of my artwork and the panels I would display it on. The Jeep was just too small. Unfortunately, I didn't expect to be driving with an unfamiliar vehicle in such nasty weather. Still, it would take a lot more than bad driving conditions for me to cancel. I'd arranged this particular mall exhibition at Vista Meadows a year in advance, before the mall was even completed. An art agent I'd met at one of Linda's parties had mentioned that the new mall would be a good opportunity for newer artists, if they moved quickly.
I'd brought twenty pieces to display, a feat, considering all the setbacks in the past two weeks. Eight of the paintings were new. I also had a large stack of four-color brochures I'd designed which had turned out really spectacular, and a nice looking mauve plastic name tag with my name in gold.
It would be late afternoon by the time I arrived at my hotel, enough time to have dinner, then call and make sure all the arrangements I'd made earlier, and confirmed by phone, had not somehow been lost in the shuffle of changing mall personnel.
As much as I wanted to do this show, I didn't like the idea of leaving when things were so unsettled. They'd discharged Linda from the hospital on Thursday, yesterday, and I'd visited her at home and brought her favorite pastries and other treats, along with lots of sympathy. Each time I asked her about the accident, as subtly as I could considering her tendency to close up on me, I got the same response. She'd tripped on the stairs. She said again she hadn't been able to reach Wolfgang and she didn't want the neighbors asking a lot of nosy questions, so she'd called me. Simple as that.
I'd made a decision to show Linda the letter as soon as she recovered. I suspected Wolfgang was the one responsible for Kelly's murder, but I had no answer as to why. At the time Kelly died, Linda and Wolfgang had been married for a year and a half, certainly sufficient time for him to get to know Kelly fairly well. Maybe something had been going on. Was he afraid that Kelly would expose the affair and jeopardize his marriage to Linda? No, that didn't seem reasonable. Wolfgang had to know that Linda wouldn't leave him. Not for any reason. Not as crazy as she was about him.