Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (16 page)

The ICU waiting room was filled with anxious-looking people. Megan and Justin leaped to their feet as soon as Gordon and Sam entered. They rushed toward him, then stopped, as though they were afraid to hear what he might say.

“
Nein, Kinder.
She is the same
.
She rests now. Gordon and I are going to the cafeteria. Come, and we can talk until they allow visitors again.”

Gordon noticed the protective arm Justin wrapped around Megan’s waist as they strolled to the elevator. When they got to the ground floor and headed toward the cafeteria, the corridor was lined with framed photographs of doctors affiliated with the hospital, going back several decades. It was as if they were saying, “We’re here for you.” Were their confident faces supposed to reassure those who had loved ones in for treatment?

Gordon moved ahead and pushed open the cafeteria door, holding it for the rest of the group. The room smelled of stale coffee—much like the break room at the station—and Gordon inhaled the familiar aroma. The four of them settled around a table near the wall. He and Justin had coffee; Megan and Sam had opted for tea. Nobody had anything to eat.

“How is she?” Megan asked. “No sugar-coating. We’re adults now.”

“That you may be, but you’ll always be my children,” Sam said. “But as you wish. No sugar. She is very ill. The first antibiotic, she had a bad reaction, so they are finding a new medication. Her breathing is still difficult. But they are taking good care of her, and watching her very carefully. They will call me when she can have someone at her side again, and one of you can take a turn.”

Lines of concern deepened in Megan’s face. She and Justin exchanged a glance, and then she looked at Gordon. She moved closer to him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Is she really all right? I’ve never seen Sam cry, but he broke down a while ago. And his English degenerates when he’s upset.”

“The nurse’s concern was that Rose was agitated, not that she was taking a turn for the worse,” Gordon said.

Justin spoke up. “When Oma can have visitors, Megan can go first.”

Gordon wasn’t sure whether the look on her face was relief, gratitude, or dread. If the last, he certainly knew how she felt. Caring for the person lying in the bed didn’t make things easier—he figured for Megan, to whom Rose was virtually a mother, it would be even harder.

He cupped his hands around the thick ceramic mug. “Rose has been trying to tell us something, or remember something. Then again, it could simply be a fever dream. But she keeps talking about the woods, the bones, and Benny and Zannah. Does that mean anything to any of you?”

“Benny and Zannah who?” Justin asked.

“Lowenthal,” Sam said. “Although I doubt you’d remember them. They weren’t close friends. We knew them from
shul
. And they retired to Florida while you were still young children.”

Justin furrowed his brow. “Sorry. Can’t help.”

“Neither can I,” Megan added.

“What about you, Sam?” Gordon asked. “What did Benny do for a living?”

Sam sipped his tea, apparently shifting gears from worrying about Rose to remembering people from decades ago.

“An architect, as I recall. And a successful one. Not a modest man, by any means. But not obnoxious. He didn’t flaunt his wealth, but he did go on how much money he’d made doing this, doing that. Always hounding me to invest.” Sam’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped. His hands trembled. “
Mein Gott
.”

“Opa, what’s wrong?” Justin grabbed Sam’s tea before it spilled all over the table.

Gordon almost knocked his chair over rushing to Sam’s side. He searched the room for a doctor. This was a hospital wasn’t it? Where was the medical staff?

Sam gripped Gordon’s hand. “
Nein
, I am all right. I just remembered. That is all.”

Chapter 17

Gordon jerked forward and covered Sam’s hands with his. They were as cold as Rose’s had been hot. Sweat droplets beaded on Sam’s forehead. Was he having a heart attack? “Sam? Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”

Sam shook his head and pulled his hands out from under Gordon’s. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his brow. “
Nein, nein.
I am fine. I now realized what Rose must have been trying to remember. And how stupid I was not to think of it when you first told me about the bones in the woods. Our property, it wasn’t always ours.”

Gordon scrutinized Sam’s features. He seemed lucid, and his color had returned. But his statement made no sense. Of course the Kretzers’ property wasn’t always theirs. They’d bought it over fifty years ago.

“Sam, I don’t understand,” Gordon said. “What do you mean?”

Justin held the mug of tea aloft. “Take a sip, Opa. Relax.”

Sam did as Justin asked, then exhaled a shaky sigh. “I apologize. My brain knows what I’m thinking, but the words don’t come out the right way.”

“We understand,” Megan said. “We’re all stressed, and our brains aren’t making all the right connections. What were you trying to say? Start at the beginning and take all the time you need.”

Gordon waited as Sam collected himself, relieved there wasn’t going to be a second patient to worry about.

Sam set his mug on the table and folded his hands in front of him. He took another breath. “When we first came to Mapleton, we had little money. Married less than two years, and trying to start a business. We found a house we loved, and were fortunate that we could rent with an option to buy while we saved our money. But then, the house was on a much smaller piece of land.”

Sam unfolded his hands and curved them around the edge of the table. “Talking about Benny reminded me. Always, he was saying, ‘Real estate will make you rich. Invest in land.’ When the opportunity to buy the vacant lot next to ours came along, we tightened our belts and bought it. Until now, I had not thought about it. The payments were combined with our mortgage, and it’s been so long. Rose kept the books. I’d forgotten that part of our land is newer than our original purchase.” He glanced to the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

“When did you add the land?” Gordon asked.

Sam seemed to think for a moment. “Before Meggie came to us. Maybe 1980? I would have to find the papers.” Sam gazed around the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. If I had, perhaps Rose—”

“Stop that, Sam,” Megan said. “It’s not your fault you didn’t think of something that happened years ago, especially when you’re worried about Rose. And even if you had, that wouldn’t have made a difference. Rose got sick, and you had nothing to do with it. You can
not
blame yourself.”

Sam’s despondent expression said he disagreed.

“Megan’s right,” Gordon said. “If Rose remembered, she would have mentioned it when I was there with the coroner, asking questions.”

Sam hung his head. “But I should have understood what she meant when she was rambling. At least tried harder to figure it out, since it was obviously upsetting her that she couldn’t make herself clear.”

“Tell you what,” Megan said, with more cheer in her tone than Gordon had heard in a while. “You go up first. You tell her you remembered, and that you told Gordon. That should make her feel better.”

Gordon slid his chair back. “One more question, and then I’m going to get back to work. Who did you buy the property from?”

“Again, I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I was young, wasn’t paying attention. I think Benny himself might have told me the land was for sale. That wouldn’t be surprising, since he was always pointing people to investments. We went through a real estate company. Never dealt with owners, not like when you buy a house and see who you’re buying it from.” He peered at Gordon. “You want I should go get the papers now?”

“Don’t worry,” Gordon said. “I can find all that out. It’ll be on record. You may have given me a strong lead, so thanks.”

“It should have been sooner,” Sam grumbled.

“Don’t kick yourself,” Gordon said. “Go upstairs. Smile, give Rose a kiss for me, and call if there’s anything else you remember.”

Gordon set his empty mug in the bin and almost jogged out of the hospital. He halted as he passed the gift shop. Damn, he’d forgotten to order flowers. He went inside and, thoughts of the mayor churning through his brain, went straight for the biggest arrangement in the shop.

Rose’s words replayed in his head.
It’s the thought that counts.
He set the elaborate bouquet back on the shelf and took a minute or two to peruse all the offerings. One, a modest mix of multi-colored flowers that looked as if they could have come straight from Rose’s garden, caught his eye. Perfect. He paid for his selection and gave them Rose’s name. “She’s in ICU. Bed seven.”

The clerk paused, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry, but they don’t allow flowers in ICU. If you’d like, we can hold your order until she’s in a regular room. We have a special book we check every morning, and as soon as a patient is moved into a room, we’ll see to it that the gifts are delivered.”

Gordon was afraid he’d forget to reorder if he waited, so he accepted the clerk’s suggestion. Once he passed through the hospital doors, he jogged across the parking lot to his SUV. With what Sam had told him, he now had a lead to the owner of the bones. Or maybe to the person who put them in the ground.

In his office, he dug through paper until he found the records for Rose and Sam’s house, but he couldn’t find anything about their secondary land purchase. Sam had said he’d paid for the properties along with his mortgage, so Gordon assumed the same bank or mortgage company covered both the house and the land. According to what he had, their mortgage had been held by Mapleton Title. But Mapleton Title was no longer around. He figured Mapleton Title had been bought out at least four or five times since the Kretzers had bought their property.

He called Laurie and explained his problem.

“No problem, Chief. That information will be with the county tax records. I wasn’t looking for property, only homes. I’ll get it for you.”

“Just like that?”

“I’d make it sound a lot harder if I thought it would do any good. Like get me a raise.”

“If I could, I would.”

“I know that, Chief. Maybe after the next election?”

“Fingers crossed.”

Chapter 18

Megan tiptoed into Rose’s cubicle in ICU. The entire room hissed and bleeped as machines monitored patients. Rose slept peacefully, and Megan berated herself for feeling glad that she wouldn’t have to talk to the woman who’d sacrificed so much to raise her. But Sam and Justin had taken turns all day, and Megan had volunteered to stay until visiting hours were over.

Selfish, ungrateful child.

It was so hard to keep her spirits up. Sam said Rose had calmed once he told her that he’d understood what she’d been trying to tell him. And unless things took a turn for the worse, the doctors said she’d be in a regular room tomorrow. The new antibiotics had finally kicked in.

Focusing on the positive, Megan settled herself in the chair beside Rose’s bed and opened the book they’d been reading to her. Much easier to read someone else’s words than think of the right ones on your own. She found the bookmarked page, cleared her throat, and began reading.

Several pages later—she wasn’t sure how long she’d been reading—Rose’s voice, rough with sleep, jerked Megan away from her narration.

“Something is wrong, Meggie?”

How does she do that?
As a child, Megan assumed all parents knew what their kids were up to, and knew she could never fool Rose for long. But now? Reading aloud from a book to someone who should have been barely aware she was in the room, much less speaking?

Megan closed the book over her finger. Maybe Rose had been dreaming. Megan smiled. “Hi, Rose. Sam said you’re doing better. Would you like some water?”

Rose nodded, and Megan adjusted the flexible straw in the covered plastic cup, holding it so Rose could drink. Rose sipped, then pushed the cup away. “You didn’t answer my question,
Liebchen.
Something is troubling you.”

Megan placed the cup in the center of the bedside table. “Of course something’s troubling me. You’re in the hospital. In Intensive Care. I’m worried about you.”

“Worried about
me
, you’d be trying to be cheerful. Your voice has no inflection, and you’re stumbling over words.” Rose adjusted the blankets over herself. “You couldn’t lie when you were five, and you’re no better at it now. Close your eyes, pretend I’m not here, and speak your troubles.”

Megan was five again, still raw from the recent death of her parents. Rose’s technique had helped her open up then, but Megan was thirty-two now. Far too old for such games.

Yet, because it was Rose, Megan closed her eyes.

Might as well jump right in. “I’m planning a career change.” And, the way Rose had when Megan was a child, she said nothing. Rose wasn’t there.

“I wasn’t happy at Peerless anymore. All the travel, all the huge events. The personal touch was gone. I started thinking about moving in the opposite direction—you know, going smaller. Nowadays, people use computer event services for kids’ birthday parties. They don’t have the time to send personal invitations much less organize the event, so they turn to an impersonal email. I want to fill that niche. Go back to the old ways. Take what I know about event planning, but do everything on a small, personal scale. The only person to interface with a computer would be me.”

The machine above Rose’s bed bleeped a steady rhythm. Either she was asleep, or nothing Megan had said so far had upset her. Gee, it would have been nice to have had something like that when she was little. She went on.

“I’m waiting to hear from the bank for a small business loan.” Where was her brain? She knew better than to discuss money with Rose. That’s why she hadn’t talked about her job situation—okay, part of the reason, anyway. There was that whole failure thing, and the being blacklisted thing, but when it came to Rose and Sam, it would always come down to the money thing. And she was
not
going to let them bail her out.