Red House Blues (24 page)

Chapter 23

“May I help you?” asked the front desk duty
nurse at Madison Health and Rehabilitation.

“I hope so,” said Suzan. “I’m looking for a
man named Nick who was admitted yesterday from Harborview. I wonder
if I could visit with him for a few minutes?”

“What is his last name?” she asked, looking
at her computer screen.

“That’s a problem. We were in the same
accident but I didn’t catch his last name before the ambulance took
him away.” Suzan motioned to her ravaged face, hoping to inspire
sympathy.

“If this is about insurance you’ll have to
discuss it with your agent. I can’t let you talk to the patient
about anything like that.”

“No, no, it has nothing to do with the
accident. I just want to ask him about something.”

She wasn’t buying it and Suzan’s imagination
had gone dormant. She thought, what the hell, I’ll try a variation
of the lost love tale I had used at Harborview.

“You see, I think we were in love. Or are, I
mean. But my memory is all scrambled from the concussion and I
can’t remember very much at all. Not even his last name.” She
summoned a quivering, swollen lip. “I think if I see him something
might start to come back. Please.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said
with a sigh. “Oh, well, okay. I know I’m going to regret it but
I’ll see if he’ll see you. What’s your name, if you remember
it?”

“Suzan Pike.”

She disappeared down the hall to the right
on squeaky white shoes.

The nurse returned faster than she
expected.

“He knows you,” she said, as if she’d just
learned planet Earth was flat after all. “But make it a short
visit. He really ought to be resting.”

She led Suzan to a large bright room
containing two hospital beds, one of which was occupied. After the
nurse reluctantly left, Suzan sat down heavily in the bedside
chair. Her knees were getting shaky. The man wasn’t the only one
who needed to rest.

“Hi. Remember me?”

“Widow Pike, the Fir Street stalker,” he
said, keeping his eyes shut. “How could I forget? As you can see
I’m not in the best shape to play host this time.”

“That makes two of us. I just got out of
Harborview after my own misadventure on the streets of
Seattle.”

Only then did he open his eyes.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?”

“Someone maybe didn’t like the way I looked.
Or maybe they didn’t like the questions I was asking.”

“Someone beat you up? Who?”

“Wish I knew. That’s why I wanted to talk to
you. Someone nearly killed the both of us and it would be nice to
have a few answers. You didn’t just decide to run a red light into
a truck, am I right?”

“The brakes gave out,” he said, but he
didn’t sound too convinced.

“So, you are saying there is no possibility
that someone tampered with your scooter? With it sitting out beside
the house under a tarp?”

“Sure, someone could have, but why would
they?”

“That’s what I am asking you. Someone
smeared me all over a retaining wall a few nights back after I left
your house. Where I had been trying to find out what Sean might
have left in your room,” she said. “I think his notebooks are
around somewhere and their contents pose a threat to someone. Or
that someone thinks they do. That’s only a theory of course. Best I
can do."

“You do a lot of thinking,” he said. “And
way too much talking.”

Nick closed his eyes again. If anything he
was paler than when she had come into the room.

He had a cast on his right
forearm. Obviously the tip of the iceberg. It was a selfish, stupid
thing to barge in and dump her suspicions on the poor guy. This had
been a terrible mistake. She had no right to worry him when there
wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about the situation from a
hospital bed. No scribbled notes of Sean’s could ever be worth the
pain Nick had suffered already. Too many people had already been
hurt.
Should be ashamed of
myself
.

She would sneak out while he dozed. The
nurse would be back soon to usher her out anyhow. She got up and
started for the door.

“Okay, Pike,” whispered the man she thought
was asleep. “I didn’t want to believe someone tried to kill me. I
mean, why would they? As far as I know I don’t have any enemies.
But it’s possible there is some lunatic with an axe to grind. As
much as I have a bad feeling I shouldn’t trust you, you can help me
get the hell out of here. If you tracked me down so can someone
else and when they do I don’t want to be trapped in this bed.”

“How am I supposed to accomplish that?” she
asked. “Pick you up and carry you out the front door? Why don’t we
just call the police and have them put a guard on you?”

“Right, we’ll tell them we think some
unknown person tampered with my broken down old Vespa on the off
chance I’d be killed but we’re not sure and we don’t know why.
Sorry, Pike, but that won’t fly. The cops wouldn’t send so much as
a meter maid over here on anything that flimsy.”

“Stop calling me Pike. I’m beginning to hate
that name. I’m convinced that if it wasn’t for Sean Pike neither
one of us would be here.”

“Okay . . . Suzan. You know what I say is
true, though. I’ve got to get out but you won’t have to carry me.
I’m not completely helpless. A few broken bones and cracked ribs.
Can you find a wheel chair? There may be one down the hall by the
entry. Then you can wheel me out a side door where we can get a
taxi.”

“You don’t look well enough to get out of
bed to me. Wouldn’t you have been sent home if all you had were a
few broken bones?”

“Where would they send me, back to Fir
Street? I’m stitched up and taped together well enough but I’ll
need better nursing than I’d be likely to get from my housemates,”
he said. “Especially if one or more of them wants me dead for some
reason. Hell, when I’m stronger I’ll go back to California. My
family has a farm in Napa Valley. I can heal in the sun once I get
there. But for now, I’ve got to get out of this place with you or
without you.”

“We won’t need a taxi,” said Suzan. “My
friend Claire is circling the block trying to find a parking place.
When she gets in here I’ll ask her to tell the nurse I need a
wheelchair to get out to the car because I’m suddenly feeling faint
or something. We’ll load you in it, then Claire will distract the
nurse somehow while I push you out the side door.”

But that’s not what they did. Claire arrived
with the voice of reason, pointing out that if they actually
managed to spirit Nick out of the convalescent center the cops
would very shortly be looking for two female kidnappers. So Claire
became Nick’s sister up from Napa Valley to take him home to
recuperate.

“Where to now?” she said, after they had
bedded Nick down on the back seat of the Ford.

“I don’t know. We can’t take him too far.
Where are you staying?”

“The Courtyard Inn, down by the
airport.”

“Well, that’s as good as any. Let’s go
there. We’ll get him a room under a fake name and let him rest for
a few days.”

“You’re both going to rest,” said Claire.
“You are as big a mess as he is and if you aren’t careful you and
mister no-name will be right back in the hospital.”

“His name is Nick, as well you know,” she
said. “I’ve been thinking it might be a good idea to get him out of
Seattle but he’s not up to air travel yet. What do you think about
taking him back to Bellingham with us? We could be home in two
hours and he’d be safe there. He’s right that he can’t go back to
the Fir Street house. It’s too dangerous since we don’t know who
tampered with his brakes or who beat me up but both incidents
seemed to have something to do with people at that house. ”

“I’m glad you’re finally being sensible.
What we don’t know could get someone hurt more than they already
are. There are too many unanswered questions. If there is a loose
cannon, you guys need to be out of range.”

“Is anybody going to ask me if I want to go
to Bellingham? I don’t, in case you’re interested," said Nick from
the back seat.

“We thought you were asleep,” said
Suzan.

“Yeah, right, with you two deciding my
future in the front seat. No chance. And for your information my
name is Nikos Theophilos, of a long line of kick ass Greek
sons-of-bitches who don’t take to being pushed around by you or
anybody else. You can run back to Bellingham but I’m going after
the asshole who messed up my scooter and wrapped me around a
truck.”

“That would sound more impressive, hero, if
you could walk unassisted to the bathroom,” said Claire.

“We have to be realistic,” said Suzan. “The
police have no leads, we have no leads. We have no chance of
tracking down whoever is behind this . . . I don’t know, crime
spree or whatever it is. Personally all I want at this point is to
stay alive a little longer.”

“You would be right except for one thing,”
said Nick. “The police don’t have your husband’s infamous
notebooks. I do.”

* * *

Claire moved Suzan’s gear out of Linda’s
while the two walking-woundeds waited in the car. Half an hour
later she checked Suzan and Nick into a room a few doors down from
her own at the Courtyard Inn. Suzan had lost the coin flip so she
was bunking in with Nick. Not in the same bed of course but the man
couldn’t be alone. Neither of them could. Just when Suzan would
gladly have strangled the man for holding out on her, she was
sharing accommodations with him. But if indeed he had the notebooks
she was willing to tough it out, at least for the time being.

Aggravating. Here he had had them stashed
away somewhere the whole time she wandered around town like Timmy
searching for Lassie. Why hadn’t he told her he had them when she
was at the house that day? Why hadn’t he turned them over once he
knew who she was?

Suzan managed to contain her irritation
until Claire got back from a take-out run to the Denny’s Restaurant
up the street. Nick had claimed the bed closest to the bathroom and
collapsed on the floral bedspread after kicking off his shoes. He
hadn’t even attempted to untie the laces and hadn’t asked for her
help. Just as well since she was in no mood to cater to him at that
particular moment.

Claire divvied up the burgers, fries and
Cokes. Nick chomped into his burger like he was afraid it was going
to get away. Not an easy task one-handed. How could he have an
appetite? Suzan bit into a French fry that tasted like a salted
chopstick.

“You had no right,” she said through
clenched teeth, crushing the bag of fries.

“I had no right to do what, sweetie?” asked
Claire.

“Not you, him. Nick had no right to keep
those notebooks from me. As Sean’s widow they belong to me. He knew
that and didn’t say a thing about having them until we got him into
the car.”

“What’s your problem?” Nick wiped a smear of
catsup off his chin. “For that matter how do I know you are who say
you are? You and your pal practically abducted me. I wouldn’t be
here now except I wasn’t up to getting out of the convalescent
center on my own.”

“Abducted!” Suzan screeched. “I didn’t hear
you putting up much of an argument. In fact you practically begged
us to get you out.”

“I’ll admit after seeing how beat up you
were I started rethinking the accident and I got spooked. If some
maniac was actually trying to kill me I would have been a sitting
duck.”

“Of course there’s someone trying to kill
you, you idiot! You aren’t saying you’re having doubts about that,
are you? After what happened to Sean, to you and me. And what about
Kiki Zell and the guy who owned the deli?”

“What are you talking about? Who’s Kiki? And
what’s this about a deli owner?”

“You emailed me about Zell,” said Claire.
“But are you saying there’s some link between her death and what’s
happening now? And who is this deli guy?”

Damn!
Of course they didn’t know. Suzan hadn’t had time to fill
either of them in on what Marla had told her.

After apologizing for the oversight, Suzan
made short work of bringing them up to speed.

“You believed Marla’s story?” asked
Nick.

“I’m not that brain damaged. I hit the
internet at Linda’s. It wasn’t hard to find news reports on the
murder of the deli owner. There was quite a controversy in the
Central District, community leaders shouting racism in the
investigation. Marla was right about that. She was also right that
he was killed practically on the front porch of your house. I’m
surprised you didn’t hear about it from one of your
housemates.”

“None of them is the chatty type which suits
me fine. I get along okay with Alexis but she doesn’t volunteer
much either. All she told me about the prior occupant of my room
was that he had died. Nothing at all about another killing.”

“Probably thought it might hurt her chances
of renting the room,” said Claire.

“She’d be right. I would have thought twice
about moving in if I’d have known people were getting killed right
and left there.”

Nick’s bed, being used as a picnic blanket,
was scattered with burger wrappers and empty catsup tubes as the
three finished eating.

“Why did you move in?” asked Suzan.

“Why?”

“Yes, why that place? Plenty of other rooms
for rent all over town, I would think.”

“I found it on Craig’s List, the price was
right, not far from Seattle U,” he said. “It was going to be
temporary while I looked around for something better.”

She had a lot more questions. All she knew
was that he grew up in Napa Valley. What was he doing in Seattle?
But she would let it go for now; he was obviously wearing down.

“One thing for sure,” he said, lying back
against the pillows. “I have no doubt who messed up my Vespa. Has
to be Ferlin.”