Gruska jumped up from his chair and several blue books went flying off the desk. The girl was evidently forgotten. “Oh, God! Is she all right? I saw it on TV but I didn’t know which hospital they’d taken her to and I called and called but no one would tell me anything. I thought she was at St. Vincent’s but they kept giving me the run-around. Then the news said it wasn’t an accident. Is she all right?”
Barry and Taylor looked at each other.
The girl said, curiosity overcoming her fear, “Are you here about the model, Eden?”
“That’s right,” Barry said. “Dr. Gruska here evidently wanted to help her too. He thought she was too repressed, just like you. He wanted to be the one to, er, free her up, just like you. He’s just full of helpfulness. Why don’t you leave, miss, and think about him. He really isn’t what you think he is.”
The girl looked toward Dr. Gruska, her eyes large with fright and doubt, but he wasn’t paying any more attention to her. She fled without another word.
Maybe they’d saved one, Taylor thought.
Taylor said, “Lindsay is going to be all right. Someone tried to murder her, that’s true. We’d like to ask where you were at the time of the explosion, on Monday, at noon.”
“Me?” Gruska simply stared at them, shaking his head back and forth. “You think I could have been involved? I wouldn’t hurt Lindsay. I love her, I’ve loved her for years. My father loves her too. I want to take care of her. She needs me, you know, needs me very much. Only I can help her, but she won’t let me. Please, take me to her.”
“Not much furniture in his living room,” Barry said under his breath.
“Perhaps you can tell us where you were, Dr. Gruska?” Taylor asked again. “Monday, at noon.”
Gruska waved his hand around. “I was here all day, I was here with these bloody idiot students. You saw one of them—idiots, all! Take me to her now.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her?” Barry asked, patient as a bishop.
“No one. She’s shy, always has been because she was so very hurt by her brother-in-law. When I found out what had happened to her—she was a student in my senior seminar—I tried to help her but she was too afraid. She wouldn’t let me. No one could want to hurt her, no one except maybe a man who tried to have sex with her and she turned him down. Revenge maybe, by some man she wouldn’t sleep with.”
“Do you know of any such man, Dr. Gruska?”
“No, no. So shy—she was always so shy, so withdrawn, always trying to protect herself.”
Barry said, “Do you know a man named Oswald? Bert Oswald?”
Dr. Gruska looked at him blankly. “You mean like the guy who shot Kennedy?”
“Same last name, sure enough.” Barry sighed and turned to Taylor, who said, “Thank you, Dr. Gruska, for your time. As to where Lindsay is, we aren’t allowed to disclose that information, not until we apprehend the person responsible. However, it’s best you forget her now because she’s found someone to help her. She’s married and she’s very happy. No more problems, I promise you.”
“Married? Oh, no, that’s impossible.” The man looked panicked, his hands shaking. “No, no, you’ve got to be wrong. I know her. She wouldn’t let a man get near her, no way.”
Taylor said very calmly, “She’s married to me, Dr. Gruska, and I assure you that she has changed quite remarkably. She loves me and she trusts me. She is no longer the Lindsay Foxe you knew. Now I suggest you forget her.”
They left Dr. Gruska standing by his desk, staring at nothing in particular. He looked like a man who had lost his bearings.
“I’ve met lots of nuts,” Barry said. “He’s right up there with the best of them. Ain’t it comforting to know he’s passing on his store of knowledge to the younger generation?”
“Yeah, comforting. And we’re not a bit closer to finding out who’s behind this. Not old Gruska, that’s for sure. And you know something, Barry, deep down, I just can’t buy it that one of the family or all of them are responsible. They’re pretty disgusting, but not murderers. At least, I don’t think they could have come up with the idea to murder her so quickly after the will had been read. It took thought and planning. It took knowing someone to hire to do the job.”
“Judge Foxe is bound to know all sorts of talented scum, Taylor. West coast and east coast.”
“Yeah, I agree, but the time frame is just too short for them to act so quickly. You see, someone would have had to say it aloud, ‘Let’s kill Lindsay. Then we’ll have her money and we’ll be all right.’ Then all of them would have had to agree. Then the judge would have to get hold of someone to do it. Not enough time to get it done.”
Barry sighed. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. Who, then, Taylor, who?”
“Bloody hell, I don’t know.”
“Where are you off to?”
Taylor smiled then. “To see my bride.”
22
“Hold very still, Mrs. Taylor. That’s it, just a few more snips.”
Mrs. Taylor. How odd it sounded. Lindsay tried to focus on her husband, on herself as a wife, but she couldn’t. She was tense as a stick. She was afraid. She knew Taylor knew it too because he was holding her hand, squeezing her fingers.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, watching Dr. Perry slowly remove the bandages.
He’d asked him earlier in the hallway, “Will you know when you take off the bandages this time what the result will be?”
“Close enough. There will still be swelling and bruising, and that will look strange, but that’s temporary. Yes, we’ll know this time. I’ll know this time. Don’t worry, Mr. Taylor. I’m really very good.”
Her hair was matted down to her head. She’d lost ten pounds and it showed on her face. Her flesh was pale where there was no bruising. She looked like she’d been very ill, which she had. The stitches looked obscene, black thread woven in and out of her flesh. The hair over her right ear had been shaved off and it showed. A small bald spot that made her look so vulnerable he wanted to cry. He looked more closely, along with a silent Dr. Perry. Her eyes were closed and Taylor knew she wouldn’t open them until she had to.
There was still the swelling Dr. Perry had spoken about, only it wasn’t symmetrical, rather it was lumpy, and the bruising gave her the look of the Italian flag. She looked pretty bad, truth be told, at least to a layman. It was impossible for Taylor to tell how it would turn out. He said now, without hesitation, “You’re gorgeous.”
“He’s right,” Dr. Perry said matter-of-factly. “I’m just about the greatest. I hope you’ve got good insurance because I cost a bundle.”
“Really?” Lindsay opened her eyes and looked straight at Taylor. She searched his face. She saw no distaste there, no revulsion. She heard no lie in his voice. She gave him a tentative smile. “Can I have the mirror Dr. Perry gave me?”
“Not yet,” Dr. Perry said. “First I want the stitches out, then a bit of alcohol to get rid of all the dried blood. Now, hold very still. This will sting just a little bit.”
“Sting” wasn’t the right word for it, Lindsay thought, but she kept herself as still as a stone. She closed her eyes again when he was dabbing alcohol against each of the three suture lines on her face. “There won’t be any scarring,” Dr. Perry said. “Not that I expected any, of course. Good thing you don’t smoke, because if you did, that would be out. Also, no vitamin C for three months. That can make scarring. I’ll give you a list of all foods to avoid as well. Otherwise, you just need to rest and lie around for the next two weeks. No strenuous activity, no running, nothing but having your husband wait on you. Gain back some weight. Now, Dr. Shantel tells me that your ribs are coming along fine, but all my orders apply to your ribs too. At least two more weeks, okay, Lindsay?”