Dying to Retire (21 page)

I heard a faint voice calling my name. “Mrs. F?”

“Mort? I’m up here.” There wasn’t time to say more. I had to get out of the way. The dump cart picked up speed, thundering down the ramp, spears of splintered wood aimed at my head. I turned to run and the strap of my bag snagged on an exposed nail, jerking me backward. The flashlight flew from my hand and crashed to the floor. I stumbled, losing my balance, falling, falling. Then everything went black.

“Dang it, Truman, I’ve got her.”

“Hell, it’s my hospital, Seth, let me do it.”

“This thing’s like a shopping cart with a bad wheel.”

“You just don’t know how to steer it.”

I sat in a wheelchair in the hall of the Lower Keys Medical Center on Stock Island, where I had spent the night under observation. I knew I was fine, but the doctors had been adamant. They’d wanted to be certain I hadn’t sustained a concussion. I had a bump on the head and some bruises, but overall I’d escaped serious injury. I could have insisted upon being discharged, but didn’t. When I saw how pale Seth and Truman were when they tumbled through the door of the emergency room and rushed to my side, I decided I would probably get more rest—and so would they—if I stayed in the hospital rather than returning to Truman’s home, where the two of them would have fussed over me like a pair of hens fighting over one egg.

The wheelchair lurched forward, and I gripped the arms as I was propelled down the corridor.

“Got it now, Jess,” Seth said.

“I can walk, you know.”

“Sorry, Jessica,” Truman said from behind me. “Hospital rules. You have to be wheeled to the door.”

I sat back and sighed.

Mort had brought me to the hospital, but I didn’t remember getting there, and I was eager to ask him the details of my accident. I only knew—or thought I did—that I’d been hit by the trash container. It wasn’t a head-on collision. If it had been, like a cowcatcher on a train, the heavy metal cart would have scooped me into its maw, and I’d have been skewered by the sharp debris. That hadn’t happened. While I was bruised, I wasn’t cut.

“Did you sleep all right, Jessica?”

“I did, Seth, considering how many times the nurses woke me to see if I was sleeping.”

“And you got to sample our delicious hospital food,” Truman said, a smile in his voice.

“It was fine,” I said. “I wasn’t terribly hungry, but I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea when we get back to your house.”

“We’ll give you a lot more than that,” Truman said. “We left the lunch preparations up to Maureen and Benny. They promised a feast by the time we get back.”

“Truman, don’t you have office hours today?” I asked.

“Don’t even think twice about it. Sunshine canceled my appointments, but she’ll be there in case someone shows up unannounced. You had a message, by the way.”

“I did?”

“Yes. Someone called last night. Sorry, I can’t remember the name, but I wrote it down.”

“I wonder who it could be,” I said. “So few people know where we are.”

Truman took a clipboard from a nurse at the door to the hospital, signed a form, and I was officially free.

Seth had parked nearby, and I declined to have him pull the car up to the door, preferring to walk. I wanted both men to see that I was well. Which I was. Physically, anyway. Mentally, I was a little shaky. I’d spent a good portion of the night in my hospital bed going over in my mind the circumstances leading up to my injury. It
was
Mark Rosner at the reception. I was sure of that. He had spoken to someone in Wainscott’s office, presumably the builder himself. I’d followed him, convinced he intended to deliver a message. Perhaps he had. Had he lured me into the construction site for the purpose of scaring me—or worse? Was my accident not an accident at all? Was this a warning? Or an attempt on my life?
Now, don’t get paranoid, Jessica. You observed him enter the empty building, but you didn’t see him inside.
I turned the incident over in my mind, examining it from every angle. I could be certain of only one thing: Rosner had been in that building. Why couldn’t I find him? I would ask him that question when we returned to Foreverglades.

Mort was waiting in Truman’s driveway when Seth pulled in. From the sheen of perspiration on his forehead, I suspected he’d been pacing up and down the gravel for some time. “How’re you doing this morning, Mrs. F?” he asked, opening the passenger door.

“Just fine, Mort,” I said, taking the hand he extended to help me out of the car. “And I have you to thank for it.”

“No trouble, Mrs. F. I was just on the scene at the right time.”

“Thank goodness for that, or who knows where I’d be right now.”

“You were lucky. It could have been worse. You weren’t wearing a hard hat. Everyone knows you’re supposed to wear a hard hat on a construction site. Why did you go into that building anyway?”

“Mort, give the woman a chance to get inside before you give her the third degree,” Seth said.

“Oh. Sorry, Mrs. F.”

“No need to be,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve had a cup of tea. There are some questions you can answer for me, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like, would you happen to have seen my handbag? It wasn’t with me at the hospital. I’m hoping you took it with you.”

“Maureen did. She brought it back to the hotel for safekeeping.”

“Thank heavens. I have an extra pair of glasses in there, and I didn’t relish having to cancel my credit cards if my wallet had gone missing.”

Maureen, with Benny’s able assistance, had put together an elaborate luncheon for us—two different seafood salads, a spinach quiche, fresh-baked bread, orange and grapefruit juices, string beans vinaigrette, a platter of tomatoes, cucumbers and radishes with a creamy avocado dip. I had the feeling she’d been influenced by the spread DeWitt Wainscott’s caterer had supplied, and I was grateful. Contrary to what I’d told Truman, the hospital cuisine left something to be desired.

We gathered around the oval table in Truman’s dining room, under the crystal chandelier, and above a hand-hooked rug with all the colors of the sea, and celebrated my return. Maureen and Benny had set the table with flowers, and used Truman’s silver and fine china. Benny had removed the studs from his chin, nose, and eyebrows for the occasion and, except for the row of rings up the side of each ear, looked almost wholesome, his scarlet hair washed, his face scrubbed, a smile on his lips.

Sunshine joined us from the dispensary, along with her affenpinscher, Harriet. She was a quiet and serious girl, but her pet expressed all the joie de vivre the owner lacked. The little black dog scampered from guest to guest, showing off how well she could sit, shake, and roll over, in hopes of being rewarded with a morsel or two from the table. She ate very well.

No one wanted to disturb the festive atmosphere with talk of what might have happened if Mort hadn’t found me, and I was happy for the diversion.

“How come I haven’t gotten any questions about my very first golf game yesterday?” Truman said. “It’s not every day I pick up a six-iron. Is that right, Seth?”

“You went golfing?” Benny was flabbergasted.

I heard Sunshine giggle.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. How did you fare on the golf course?”

“I was terrible!” Truman said, laughing. “If anyone I know saw me, I’ll never live it down.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Seth said. “You were starting to get the hang of it at the end.”

“I could live to be a hundred and ten and never get the hang of it.”

“The course only had nine holes. If we’d gone another round, you would have seen improvement.”

“You’re far too generous, my old friend. I think I’ll stick to tiddlywinks, and save my ego from a beating.”

Happy to see that Seth and Truman had set aside their differences, I got up to help Sunshine clear the table while Truman regaled the others with stories of his ineptitude at golf.

“You don’t have to do that, Jessica,” Maureen said, rising from her seat.

“Please sit down, Maureen. You took care of all the preparations,” I said. “Now it’s my turn. I’m perfectly fine, and I want to help.”

“I’ll give you a hand, Mrs. F,” Mort said, picking up his plate, and winking at Maureen. “We need to talk anyway.”

I carried two dishes into the kitchen and set them on the counter next to the sink, while Mort collected more in the dining room. Sunshine rinsed the plates before she put them in the dishwasher.

“You have a charming little dog,” I said.

Sunshine smiled. “She was a present from Truman.”

“She was? How lovely. Was it for your birthday?”

“No,” she said, blushing. She mumbled something, her chin on her chest.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I said he gave her to me on my first anniversary of being off drugs.” She busied herself with the dishes in the sink, obviously worried about my reaction.

Mort had come into the kitchen and left a stack of plates on the island. I picked them up and brought them to the sink. “That was quite an accomplishment,” I said, “and worthy of such a precious gift.”

She smiled, relieved. “She was really mine anyway. I rescued her from the pound. But Truman wouldn’t let me keep her.”

“No?”

“He took her away and said he’d give her back when I was clean. Harriet will go with anyone. She’s very friendly.”

As if she knew she was the topic of conversation, Harriet pranced into the kitchen, her claws tapping the floor. Tail wagging, she gave a sharp bark.

“You ate enough, you little devil,” Sunshine said fondly. She filled a plastic cup with water and put it on the floor near the door. “Truman told me I had to take care of myself before I could take care of another living thing.”

“That was good advice, don’t you think?”

She nodded. “Having a dog is a little like having a baby. You know, you have to feed them and clean up after them. That was part of our agreement. Harriet’s not allowed to mess the yard.”

“Owning an animal is a great responsibility. They rely on you for everything, but it’s worth it, don’t you think? They also give you a lot of love.”

“Do you have a dog?”

“No,” I said. “I travel a lot. It wouldn’t be fair to have an animal if I couldn’t be home to care for it. But I do love dogs—and cats.”

“You can borrow Harriet, if you like. She loves everybody.”

“Yes, I can see that.” I bent to scratch Harriet’s neck and pet her head.

Mort brought in the serving dishes, and with Sunshine’s direction we packed up the leftovers and put them in Truman’s refrigerator.

I retrieved a handful of silverware from the island and handed it to her. “I think we might want to do these by hand,” I said.

“No,” she said. “Truman throws everything in the dishwasher. He says if he has to take special care of it, he won’t use it.”

A phone rang, and Sunshine picked up the one on the wall. “Healthy Stuff,” she said. “May I help you?” She clapped her free hand over her ear to hear better as Seth and Truman came into the kitchen, followed by Maureen and Benny with the last of the dishes.

“Anyone for coffee?” Seth asked.

“I’ll put up a pot,” Truman said, pulling the coffeemaker forward on the counter. “You guys did enough.” He looked from Sunshine to Mort to me. “I’ll take over from here.”

“Do you have any decent decaf?” Seth asked.

“Are you going to criticize my coffee, too, Boomer?”

“Benny, get the pie out of the fridge, please,” Maureen said. “I’ll put out the plates.”

The party had moved to the kitchen, as it always seems to manage to do in my home.

I cocked my head at Mort and we slipped out the back door into the garden. I didn’t want to talk about yesterday in front of Sunshine, although I suspected Truman might have told her what happened, at least what he thought might have happened.

It was hot, but the trees shielded the yard from the intensity of the rays. I walked to the little patio where I’d first seen Sunshine napping in the hammock and took one of the wrought-iron chairs. Mort sat in another.

“It’s so pleasant here,” I said, tilting my head back to look up into the canopy of leaves.

“Yeah, but I miss being home. I think we’re going to start back up in a day or two.”

“Why don’t you turn in your car and drive back up with us? We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah? I’ll check with Maureen. I like that idea.” He looked at me closely. “How are you really feeling? Are you up to a long car ride?”

“I’m a little sore,” I said, “but I don’t feel nearly as bad as I would have expected after being hit by that cart.”

“You weren’t hit by the cart. Or if you were, it just knocked you to the side. When I found you on the floor, it looked like you’d fallen between the studs and tumbled over a pile of two-by-fours.”

“You mean I tripped?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, but you weren’t in the hallway; you were one room over.”

“And the cart?”

“I had to duck out of the way when it rolled past the stairwell. Those things are so wobbly, they’re always dangerous, especially if the weight of the load is uneven. It hit some bump and spilled its trash all over the floor. Made a heck of a racket.”

“How did you know where to find me in the first place?”

“You left me a clue.”

“I did?”

“I saw your hat lying on the ground inside the fence, and figured you must’ve gone into the building.”

“And I had. Why don’t I remember what happened?” I said, shaking my head.

“You got knocked on your noggin, that’s why. You gave me quite a scare.”

“Did you see anyone else in the building?”

“No. Was someone else there?”

“I thought so.”

“I didn’t see or hear anyone until I yelled for assistance. Then some guy shouted up to me from the first floor and I told him to call for help.”