The Secret of the Villa Mimosa (5 page)

Phyl patted her hand encouragingly. “Okay, now you listen to me. You are just a few hours out of a coma, only three weeks away from a major trauma and surgery. There’s no need for you to remember one damn thing right now, so stop worrying about it. Soon enough you’ll remember. Until then concentrate on smaller things. Think about books you might have read, music you enjoy, favorite paintings, the kinds of clothes you like to wear.”

“I like what you are wearing.”

Phyl laughed. It was Saturday, and she was in her off-duty uniform: black jeans, black suede loafers, white shirt, and black leather jacket.

“Especially the belt. Is it from Tucson?”

Phyl stared at her. The belt was Native American, black leather with a silver and turquoise buckle. “Santa Fe,” she said, pleased. “You recognized it.”

“I suppose I did.” The girl looked surprised, and she laughed.

“See, your memory is coming back already,” Phyl said comfortingly.

“It just seems to be there,” the girl said. “Things pop out. Like the mimosa and the belt.”

“That’s the way it goes. And speaking of going, I must be on my way. I don’t want to tire you out and undo all the good work.”

“Phyl?”

Phyl glanced inquiringly at her.

“Why did you come to see me? If you don’t know me?”

Phyl hesitated. She didn’t want to tell her about seeing her on television. But there was also another reason, one she didn’t choose to talk about to anyone. She said, “I was at the hospital when they brought you in. I was concerned about you. I’m a psychiatrist, and I work here, at the General, three days a week.”

The girl smiled wryly. “A psychiatrist. Then I guess I’m in the right hands. You’ve got yourself another nutcase to straighten out, Doctor.” Her eyes widened in astonishment. “Dr. Phyl Forster,” she said. “It’s you. You’re famous.”

“Well, look at that. You remembered.”

“I did, too,” she replied, pleased with herself. “And there’s something else I’m sure I’ll never forget: the sight of your lovely face, smiling at me when I came out of that tunnel of despair.”

Gratitude shone from her copper brown eyes and Phyl gulped back her emotion. “Glad I was there,” she said quietly. “See you later, young lady.”

“Phyl?” The girl called her back as she was halfway out of the door. “Just one thing. Do you have a mirror? I want to see what I look like. I still can’t get out of bed, and nobody seems to own a hand mirror in this hospital.”

Phyl hesitated; she knew it was dangerous. First, because the girl was only a few hours out of the coma. Second, because she was bruised and battered, and with her swollen face and shaved head she looked like hell. And third, because she might suddenly recognize herself and remember what had happened. And it was too soon. It would be too much of a shock.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she promised, waving good-bye. “I’ll bring a mirror.”

5

“Y
ou’re young,” Dr. Niedman told the girl later the next morning. “Strong as a horse. It would take more than a broken skull to kill you.”

“But they
shoot
horses to kill them, don’t they?” she wailed irrationally. “And I got pushed over the cliff.”

Niedman sighed. Detective Mahoney had called him and insisted on interviewing the girl earlier that morning. That was why she was so upset.

“Don’t believe everything you hear from the cops,” he said with a cheerful grin. “Maybe you were just out walking and fell. After all, who would want to harm a nice girl like you?”

“I don’t know,” she said simply. “But then I don’t know who I am either. If I did, maybe I would know why someone wanted to kill me.”

There was a knock at the door, and Phyl Forster came in. Her blazing blue eyes met Niedman’s. “I heard Mahoney was here,” she said angrily. “Did he ask your permission to interview the patient?”

“Unfortunately he did. He said that you had given him forty-eight hours and that every hour that passed made his job more difficult. Now that the patient was
awake and sitting up and taking notice, he suggested we might be thought to be obstructing the course of justice. I had to agree, though I didn’t approve.”

Phyl snorted angrily. She thrust a Saks bag at the girl and deposited a kiss on her cheek. “For you,” she said. “To perk you up for the unveiling.” She turned back to Niedman. “Today’s the day she gets to see your handiwork.”

Niedman laughed as he stood up to go. “Sorry about the haircut,” he said to his patient, “but I’m the best stapler in the business. A few months and you won’t even remember you had to be patched up.”

“Oh, I hope I will,” she said, looking alarmed, and they laughed.

“First, though, we have to get you out of that hospital nightshirt and into something a bit more flattering,” Phyl said. “The nurse will help you change, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

The girl stared wonderingly after her. Then she opened the bag and unwrapped the layers of white tissue paper. She smiled with pleasure as she saw the pale pink silk and lace. “How pretty,” she said, running her hand across its cool smoothness. “How lovely.”

Phyl was on the pay phone in the hall, calling the precinct, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for Franco Mahoney to pick up the call. “You jumped the gun, Mahoney,” she said when he finally responded. “By seven hours, not to mention the period of ‘reassessment’ we talked about.”

“I talked it over with the surgeon in charge,” he replied coolly. “He gave me the go-ahead. Naturally, if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Phyl gritted her teeth. He was an arrogant, interfering bastard, and he might have done untold harm to her patient. “Goddammit, man, what did you ask her? Why didn’t you let me be there at least?”

“Hey, hey, I’m no ogre. I was gentle. I didn’t insist, for God’s sake. I asked her what she knew and she said,
‘Nothing.’ I asked her her name, and she said she didn’t know. I couldn’t decide whether she was telling the truth or just stalling. You’re the expert, you tell me?”

“Of course she’s not stalling, you idiot! The girl’s been traumatized. She can’t remember because subconsciously she doesn’t want to remember. She has pushed it all back to some recess in her mind with a Do Not Disturb sign on it. And it’s my belief she’s not going to remember voluntarily. Not until something happens that stirs her memory.”

“And what then?”

“What then?” Phyl thought about it. “Why, someone had better be there to pick up the pieces, that’s all.” And as she said it, she knew that she would be the one.

She hung up the phone and walked slowly back to the patient’s room.

She was sitting up, smiling, wearing the new pink nightdress. She searched Phyl’s face for a reaction.

“Now you look better,” Phyl said approvingly. “I thought this might be the only time in your life you could wear pink.” She grinned. “When your hair grows in, you’ll be back in blue.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. But you didn’t have to … I mean, I’m nothing to you.”

“Sure you are. You’re something to all of us here. You came to us broken, and we put you back together again. And speaking of that, are you ready for the unveiling?”

The girl’s apprehensive eyes met hers. “Is it really bad?” she whispered, suddenly afraid.

“It’s not wonderful,” Phyl admitted. “The truth is, your face is swollen and badly bruised, but it’s not seriously damaged. You still have the same nose you were born with; your eyes are in the same place; you didn’t lose any teeth. In other words, there’s nothing that time, and a new crop of hair, won’t fix. Just prepare
yourself for the sight of the scars on your scalp. And the—the
nakedness
of it.”

Phyl held the mirror. The girl took a long look at herself. Tears spurted from her eyes.

“Take it easy,” Phyl said gently.

“But I don’t know her,” she whispered, anguished. “I don’t know that girl.”

Phyl took a Kleenex and mopped the tears. “You will, one day soon. I’ll help you to find yourself again. I promise. And anyhow, you don’t look exactly like you right now.” It was like talking to a child, she thought. And then she suddenly wanted to cry, too.

“Why are you so good to me?” the girl said, pressing her head against Phyl’s cool hand. “I’m no one. Nothing. A meaningless nonperson. You don’t have to be nice to me; you’re busy, successful, famous. Why are you bothering with me?”

“It’s my heart of gold,” Phyl said lightly.

“No, it’s not. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

Phyl nodded.

“Won’t you tell me?”

The girl was holding
her
hand now, reversing their roles. Phyl’s chest felt tight, and the muscles at the back of her neck were rigid with tension.

Her voice shook as she said, “Perhaps one day. When you are better.” She pulled herself together and said briskly, “I’m forgetting the rules. You are the patient. And I’m the analyst, here to help you. Not the other way around.”

They looked at each other. Phyl sniffed back her tears and reached for the Kleenex. “If you are still prepared to let me be your doctor, I think maybe you are crazy after all.”

“Your mascara is running,” the girl said gently.

“So much for tearproof!”

They grinned at each other, and then Phyl reached
out and hugged her. “I just felt you needed someone around,” she said. “Why not me?”

“I can’t think of anyone better.”

Their eyes met again. “Except maybe my mom,” the girl added wistfully.

6

I
t was strange being anonymous, the girl thought, staring at her face in the mirror a week later. Strange but somehow peaceful. After all, if no one knew who she was, then no one would try to kill her. And why would anyone want to kill her anyway? What had she done to create such anger, such violence in a person?

She stared down at the row of red scars on her arm where the doctors said a dog had bitten her. Surely she should remember that. It was a big dog, Detective Mahoney had told her. A Rottweiler or a Doberman. Did she know anybody with such a dog? he had asked. All she could do was shake her head, and then she had gasped with pain and put up her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Mahoney had said, and she could read the sympathy in his warm blue eyes. “I really don’t want to hurt you. But between us, the doc and I have to sort you out. I have to figure out your past, and she’s working on your future. All we need is a little input from you.”