Kendall Jackson arrived on the scene first. He grabbed me by the shoulder, dragged me off Winkler, and hauled me to my feet. “You’re hurt,” he said.
That was when I realized there was blood dripping down the side of my face and running into my eye. As I was unable to see, my first instinct was to use my sleeve to wipe it away.
“Don’t,” Jackson admonished. “There’s glass everywhere. You’ll get it in your eye.”
Out of my other eye I saw Detective Ramsdahl pull Raelene to her feet and snap a pair of handcuffs on her. As soon as she could, Mel hurried over to me. “Damn,” she said. “Come on. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“Does anyone want this?” Sister Mary Katherine asked. I looked around in time to see that she was using her thumb and forefinger and gingerly holding Bill Winkler’s weapon by the barrel.
“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to do it?” she asked. “So you don’t wreck the fingerprints on the handle?”
Having just cuffed the unconscious Bill Winkler, Kendall Jackson reached for his pocket. “That’s exactly right, lady,” he said. “You hang on to that thing while I find an evidence bag.”
CHAPTER 24
Mel wasn’t willing to wait around for more cops or an ambulance. She took me to the emergency room herself-in a hell of a hurry. Instead of going to Harborview, she opted for the U. Dub hospital only a mile or so away.
People who arrive at ERs puking, bleeding, screaming, or all of the above tend to get treated faster than those who have invisible ailments or who are willing to suffer in silence. I was only bleeding, and what Mel did wasn’t exactly screaming, but once she got the young resident’s attention and he took a good look at her, he was suddenly far more interested in my plight. It turned out that Mel Soames was handy to have around for more than one reason.
She spent the next two and a half hours sitting beside my gurney in the ER while the doctor picked glass out of my face and hands. They had to shave half my head to sew up a jagged cut that went from my hairline to just over my ear. Mel teased me that eventually it would look just like Harry Potter’s scar, only in the wrong place. Then she took me home.
As we rode up in the Belltown Terrace elevator I noticed the blood-my blood this time-that was spattered on both her blouse and blazer. The knees of her slacks were grimy with grass stains. “I can’t take you anywhere nice,” I said.
She gave me a rueful grin. “I told you I was messy.”
The doc had given me something for the pain before we left the hospital. By the time we got to my condo, I was done for. When she began stripping off my clothes, I was too out of it to object. Once I was in bed, she closed the blinds, shut off the lights, and left me drifting off to sleep.
When I awakened, it was daylight. The clock beside the bed said 10:09, which meant I had been asleep for the better part of twelve hours. My head hurt, I was still feeling groggy, and I had to pee like a racehorse. A look in the mirror was nothing short of scary. Half my head had been shaved, the stitches were ugly as hell. My face and hands were pitted with dozens of cuts that hadn’t been big enough to sew up.
Showering was a painful process. I remembered the doc telling me not to get my head wet, so I did the best I could. When it came time to towel off I found out there were plenty of tiny shards of glass that he hadn’t managed to locate with his tweezers.
It was when I was coming out of my bathroom that I smelled coffee and heard the sound of voices. I stood at the door long enough to pick out Beverly Piedmont’s voice as well as Mel’s, chatting away quite happily. Realizing I had company, I went back to the closet and found something to wear.
“There he is,” Beverly said cheerfully when I finally wandered down the hall and into the dining room. “Alive,” she added, “but looking a little the worse for wear.” Of course, since she was still in a wheelchair, I didn’t figure Beverly had much room to talk.
I was astonished to discover that my living room was full of people, including Harry I. Ball and Ross Connors in addition to both my grandparents. Sister Mary Katherine was there along with Sister Elizabeth and a third nun I’d never met before. What the hell were all these people doing here? They all had coffee cups and plates loaded with food. Couldn’t they all do Sunday brunch somewhere else?
Mel Soames came in from the kitchen just then carrying the coffeepot and wearing the pair of sweats that I keep on hand in the guest bedroom, which meant that she’d evidently spent the night.
“They came over to check on you and see how you’re feeling,” she said.
I’ve always considered myself something of a loner, but with all these well-wishers crammed into my apartment, maybe it was time to change my attitude.
“How are you feeling?” Mel asked.
“I’ve felt better,” I acknowledged.
“Coffee?”
When I nodded, she gave me a smile that went all the way to the bone. For some unaccountable reason Mel Soames was actually glad to see me. Maybe I was feeling slightly better.
“You could just as well have the rest of your head shaved,” Beverly observed. “You look pretty silly going around half-and-half that way.”
Mel filled a mug of coffee and put it on the table in front of me. “Paul Kramer’s going to be fine,” she said, answering my next question before I had a chance to ask.
The doorbell rang. Lars hobbled over to the door. When he opened it, Ralph and Mary Ames walked in carrying an armload of flowers and a grocery bag full of bagels and cream cheese. Mel and Mary went off to the kitchen to arrange the flowers and food. Count on Ralph to remember that my cupboard would be bare when it came to entertaining a houseful of company. That’s the thing about Ralph. He knew there wouldn’t be enough food to go around, so he went right ahead and did something about it.
“I hear you’ve been throwing yourself through greenhouse walls,” Ralph said. “Don’t you know any better than that? By the way, Ron and Amy were just parking as we were coming up.” He moved one of the dining-room chairs out of the way so Ron would be able to roll directly up to the table.
“I’ll start another pot of coffee,” Mel said from the kitchen. “We’re running low again.”
By then, despite my best efforts, I was starting to feel a bit grumpy. It was like I was hosting a party and had forgotten to invite myself. This time when Mel returned from the kitchen she brought a glass of water and a single white pill. “Take it,” she said. “It’ll help.”
Ron and Amy showed up, and Ron looked every bit as bad as I felt, but he was too concerned about how I was feeling to pay much attention to his own difficulties. “How’s Heather?” I asked.
“She’s having a tough time of it,” Ron said. “She’s spending a lot of time with Dillon’s dad. As far as I know, his mother still hasn’t shown up.”
I looked at Amy. “And your folks?” I asked.
She shook her head and didn’t answer. I didn’t blame her. She had been betrayed by her sister and then lost her sister. Only time would tell if the difficulties and strife Molly Wright had brought into Amy and Ron’s home would ever be put right. Or be forgiven.
Ross Connors got up from a perch on the window seat. “Mr. and Mrs. Peters?” he asked. “Ross Connors. Please accept my sincere condolences on everything you’ve been through in the last week or so. I had people working the problem all last night. They managed to find some credit-card activity on Ms. Wright’s account at a Tacoma area convenience mart shortly before Rosemary Peters was murdered. We picked up the market’s security camera film early this morning. After reviewing it my people tell me that both Mr. Middleton and Ms. Wright show up on the video. They’re driving your vehicle, but they’re clearly the only ones there. No one else is with them.”