Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
Stillwatch (23 page)
Saint Anthony Missal
for a special favor. That was her prayer.”Detective Barrott was studying him carefully. “Arthur, did youvisit Mrs. Gillespie’s room last Monday?”“Oh, yes, I went in just before Nurse Krause made her rounds. ButMrs. Gillespie didn’t want anything.”“Mrs. Harnick said she saw you coming out of Mrs. Gillespie’sroom at about five of four. Is that true?”Arthur had figured out his answer. “No, I didn’t go in her room. I
looked
in her room, but she was asleep. She’d had a bad night and Iwas worried about her. Mrs. Harnick saw me look in.”Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair. He seemed relieved.
gone into
Mrs. Gillespie’s roomtwice. I hadn’t. But then, when I thought about it, I remembered I’dlooked in. So Mrs. Harnick and I were both right, you see.”Dr. Cole was smiling now. “Arthur is one of our most caringhelpers,” he said. “I told you that, Mr. Barrott.”But Detective Barrott wasn’t smiling. “Arthur, do many of theorderlies pray with the patients or is it just you?”“Oh, I think it’s just me. You see, I was in a seminary once. I wasplanning to become a priest but got sick and had to leave. In a way Ithink of myself as a clergyman.”Detective Barrott’s eyes, soft and limpid, encouraged confidences.“How old were you when you went into that seminary, Arthur?” heasked kindly.“I was twenty. And I stayed until I was twenty and a half.”“I see,” Detective Barrott said. “Tell me, Arthur, what seminarywere you in?”“I was at Collegeville, Minnesota, with the Benedictine community.”Detective Barrott pulled out a notebook and wrote that down. Toolate Arthur realized he had told too much. Suppose Detective Barrottgot in touch with the community and they told that after FatherDamian’s death, Arthur had been requested to leave.Arthur worried about that all day. Even though Dr. Cole told himto go back to work, he could feel the suspicious glances from NurseSheehan. All the patients were looking at him in a peculiar way.When he went to look in on old Mr. Thoman, his daughter wasthere and she said, “Arthur, you don’t have to worry about my dadanymore. I’ve asked Nurse Sheehan to appoint another orderly tohelp him.”It was a slap in the face. Only last week Mr. Thoman had said, “Ican’t put up with feeling so sick much longer.” Arthur had comfortedhim saying, “Maybe God won’t ask you to, Mr. Thoman.”Arthur tried to keep his smile bright as he crossed the recreationroom to help Mr. Whelan, who was struggling to his feet. As he walkedMr. Whelan down the hall to the lavatory and back, he realized that
He
hadvolunteered to work.His hands were restless and dry; his nerves were screaming withresentment. They had no right to treat him like this. Restlessly hiseyes roamed around the barren room. Most of the supplies were lockedup in the big storage room, but there was a kind of catchall closetnear the stairs. It was filled with opened bottles and cans of cleaningagents and unwashed dust rags. He thought of those people upstairs—Mrs. Harnick accusing him, Mr. Thoman’s daughter telling him tostay away from her father, Nurse Sheehan. How dared they whisperabout him, question him, reject him!In the closet he found a half-empty can of turpentine. He loosenedthe cap, then turned the can on its side. Drops of turpentine began todrip onto the floor. He left the closet door open. Right next to it, adozen bags of trash were piled together waiting to be carried out tothe dump site.
for a special favor. That was her prayer.”Detective Barrott was studying him carefully. “Arthur, did youvisit Mrs. Gillespie’s room last Monday?”“Oh, yes, I went in just before Nurse Krause made her rounds. ButMrs. Gillespie didn’t want anything.”“Mrs. Harnick said she saw you coming out of Mrs. Gillespie’sroom at about five of four. Is that true?”Arthur had figured out his answer. “No, I didn’t go in her room. I
looked
in her room, but she was asleep. She’d had a bad night and Iwas worried about her. Mrs. Harnick saw me look in.”Dr. Cole leaned back in his chair. He seemed relieved.
gone into
Mrs. Gillespie’s roomtwice. I hadn’t. But then, when I thought about it, I remembered I’dlooked in. So Mrs. Harnick and I were both right, you see.”Dr. Cole was smiling now. “Arthur is one of our most caringhelpers,” he said. “I told you that, Mr. Barrott.”But Detective Barrott wasn’t smiling. “Arthur, do many of theorderlies pray with the patients or is it just you?”“Oh, I think it’s just me. You see, I was in a seminary once. I wasplanning to become a priest but got sick and had to leave. In a way Ithink of myself as a clergyman.”Detective Barrott’s eyes, soft and limpid, encouraged confidences.“How old were you when you went into that seminary, Arthur?” heasked kindly.“I was twenty. And I stayed until I was twenty and a half.”“I see,” Detective Barrott said. “Tell me, Arthur, what seminarywere you in?”“I was at Collegeville, Minnesota, with the Benedictine community.”Detective Barrott pulled out a notebook and wrote that down. Toolate Arthur realized he had told too much. Suppose Detective Barrottgot in touch with the community and they told that after FatherDamian’s death, Arthur had been requested to leave.Arthur worried about that all day. Even though Dr. Cole told himto go back to work, he could feel the suspicious glances from NurseSheehan. All the patients were looking at him in a peculiar way.When he went to look in on old Mr. Thoman, his daughter wasthere and she said, “Arthur, you don’t have to worry about my dadanymore. I’ve asked Nurse Sheehan to appoint another orderly tohelp him.”It was a slap in the face. Only last week Mr. Thoman had said, “Ican’t put up with feeling so sick much longer.” Arthur had comfortedhim saying, “Maybe God won’t ask you to, Mr. Thoman.”Arthur tried to keep his smile bright as he crossed the recreationroom to help Mr. Whelan, who was struggling to his feet. As he walkedMr. Whelan down the hall to the lavatory and back, he realized that
He
hadvolunteered to work.His hands were restless and dry; his nerves were screaming withresentment. They had no right to treat him like this. Restlessly hiseyes roamed around the barren room. Most of the supplies were lockedup in the big storage room, but there was a kind of catchall closetnear the stairs. It was filled with opened bottles and cans of cleaningagents and unwashed dust rags. He thought of those people upstairs—Mrs. Harnick accusing him, Mr. Thoman’s daughter telling him tostay away from her father, Nurse Sheehan. How dared they whisperabout him, question him, reject him!In the closet he found a half-empty can of turpentine. He loosenedthe cap, then turned the can on its side. Drops of turpentine began todrip onto the floor. He left the closet door open. Right next to it, adozen bags of trash were piled together waiting to be carried out tothe dump site.
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