now that I think about it, the person wasn’t wearing a
nurse’s cap or scrubs.”
“It could have been a male nurse,” Renie said. “They
don’t wear caps. It might even have been a doctor.”
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Judith shook her head. “No. The doctors here wear
either white coats or scrubs. Ditto for the male nurses.
I don’t think this person was dressed like that. But it’s
only an impression.”
“Hunh.” Renie stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe it
was an orderly or the cleaning crew.”
“Maybe,” Judith said, but wasn’t convinced. She remained silent for a few moments, then announced,
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“Yes.” Renie was trying to get comfortable. “So
what?”
“I want to go to the fourth floor.”
“N-o-o-o,” Renie groaned, pulling the sheet over her
head. “Not tonight. Please, I’m worn out.”
“I’ll go without you,” Judith said with an obstinate
set to her jaw.
“Don’t,” Renie shot back as she emerged from under
the sheet. “You’re as tired as I am. You’ll do yourself
some serious harm. The killer may be loose, and out to
get you. Knock it off. Please.”
“I can’t go to sleep until I find out more about Joe’s
condition,” Judith declared, then pointed a finger at
Renie. “I don’t think Torchy’s going to be any help.
Would you go ask Mr. Mummy to check on Joe?”
“Mr. Mummy?” Renie looked startled. “I thought
you didn’t trust him.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Judith said, “but I can’t see any
danger in asking him to peek in on Joe.”
“Other than that Mr. Mummy’s probably asleep,”
Renie responded. “It’s not fair.”
“I’ll bet he wouldn’t mind,” Judith asserted. “He’s
always nosing around, and this would make him feel
useful. Can you ask him?”
“No,” Renie replied, “I’m utterly beat. Dial his room
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number. If he doesn’t answer, one of the nurses will
pick up the line and wake him. But,” she added in a
disapproving tone, “I think it’s a bad idea.”
Judith ignored her cousin and punched in Mr.
Mummy’s number. It rang six times before a woman
answered.
“Excuse me,” Judith said, trying not to notice
Renie’s critical expression, “is Mr. Mummy in Room
322 sleeping?”
“I don’t think so,” the nurse replied. “When I looked
in on him five minutes ago, he wasn’t there.”
“What is this?” Judith railed after hanging up the
phone. “Musical beds? First Joe, now Mr. Mummy.”
“The nurse didn’t say that Mr. Mummy was moved,
did she?” Renie said in a reasonable tone. “Maybe he’s
just wandering around, trying to settle down for the
night.”
“On a broken leg?” Judith shot back. “No, coz. Mr.
Mummy may be doing some snooping of his own.”
“To what purpose?” Renie responded.
Judith was brooding. “I don’t know. I wish I’d asked
Woody to check out Mr. Mummy.”
“You think he’s a crook?” Renie asked, stifling a
yawn.
“I don’t know what to think,” Judith replied, “except
that he’s a phony.”
Renie’s eyes were half closed. “At this point, I don’t
care if Mr. Mummy is really Fidel Castro. Take that
damned Valium and knock yourself out. I’m going to
sleep.” She turned off the bedside lamp.
For several minutes, Judith lay with arms folded
across her chest, face set in a stubborn line, and worrisome thoughts racing through her brain like mice in a
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maze. But though her mind was active, her body betrayed her. Weariness tugged at every muscle, every
sinew, and, finally, at her eyelids. She reached for the
little cup with its little pill, but her hand failed. Judith
fell asleep with the light still burning by her bed.
The sounds and smells of the morning routine
were becoming all too familiar to Judith. The food
arriving in the big steel carts, the cleaning crew’s
disinfectant, the clatter of breakfast trays, the soft
padding of the nurses in the hallway, the incessant
announcements over the PA system—all had piqued
Judith’s curiosity at first. But on this Thursday, the
fourth day at Good Cheer, they were nothing more
than a tiresome reminder of her confinement and
concerns. Her first thought was of Joe. She fumbled
for the phone as Renie got out of bed and went over
to the window.
“The sun’s out,” Renie announced. “Maybe it’s
warming up enough that the snow will start melting.”
Judith ignored the remark as she dialed the fourthfloor nurses’ station. To her dismay, the line was busy.
“It’s a cruel plot,” Judith declared, “just to make me
crazy. Furthermore,” she went on, taking her frustration out on Renie, “I don’t see how you seem so awake
this early when you’re in the hospital. The rest of the
time, you don’t get up until almost ten, and even then
you’re not exactly bright-eyed.”
“At home, I don’t have thirty people running around
outside my bedroom door,” Renie replied. “Nor am I
usually in pain. Not to mention that until recently, I
could sleep in more than just one position. Hospitals
are not conducive to sleeping in.”
Judith barely heard the rest of her cousin’s explana-260
Mary Daheim
tion. She dialed the fourth floor again; the line was still
engaged.
Corinne Appleby appeared, going through the usual
check on the cousins’ conditions. Renie asked the
nurse if the weather was getting warmer. Corinne
didn’t know, and seemed unusually glum.
“What’s wrong?” Judith inquired, hoping to ingratiate herself so that the nurse might prove useful in the
quest for Joe. “Has being stuck over in the residence
hall gotten you down?”
“In a way,” Corinne replied without looking up from
Judith’s chart. “My mother’s not feeling at all well, and
I can’t be home with her.”
“Is she alone?” Judith asked.
Corinne made some notations before responding.
“We’re lucky to have a neighbor who can look in on
her. Stay with her, too, when I’m on duty. But this is
the longest time in years that I’ve been away. It’s very
hard on Mother.”
“And on you, I imagine,” Judith said with sympathy.
“You must worry so. I know I do when I’m away from
my mother, though we have wonderful neighbors who
help out.”
“You’re fortunate,” Corinne replied, fine lines appearing on her forehead. “Is your mother able to get
around on her own?”
“She uses a walker,” Judith replied, then glanced at
Renie. “My cousin’s mother is pretty much confined to
a wheelchair, but she has very kind neighbors, too. Of
course our mothers are both very elderly.”
Corinne gave a brief nod. “Yes. My mother isn’t
much older than you are. You’re really blessed that
you’ll be able to come out of this surgery and be independent. So many people don’t appreciate the good
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health they’ve been given. I can’t help but take offense
at that. But of course I see so many patients who complain about the least little infirmity. They don’t understand real suffering and helplessness.”