Twice Dead (52 page)

“Everything could be perfectly innocent,” Clark Hoyt said. “She could have simply lost control of the car.”

“Yeah, but you know something? I saw my brother-in-law differently this time. I saw him through Lily's eyes, maybe. It's not a pretty sight. I want to strangle him. Actually, I wanted to throw his daddy through the hospital window.”

Clark Hoyt laughed. “Let me know if there's anything I can do.”

“I will, thank you, Hoyt. Count on it. Thanks for the names of the shrinks.”

 

On the following Sunday afternoon, four days after her surgery, Lily was pronounced well enough to leave the hospital. She suffered only mild discomfort, because Dr. Larch had stopped by her room, looking determined, and given her some pills to keep the worst of the pain at bay. She still walked bent over like an old person, but her eyes were clear, her mood upbeat.

Sherlock had wanted to ask Dr. Larch about lowering Lily's meds temporarily on Dr. Frasier's orders, but Savich said, “Nope, let's hold off on that for a while.”

“Nothing else good on the tape,” Sherlock said in some disgust as she removed the small bug from beneath Lily's hospital bed while Lily was in the small bathroom bathing. “Not even doctors or nurses gossiping.”

Ten minutes later Savich said to his sister as he pushed her wheelchair toward the elevator, “I told Tennyson that Sherlock and I are taking you to see your new shrink. He wasn't happy about that, said he didn't know anything about this woman. She could be a rank charlatan and he'd lose all sorts of money, maybe even get you more depressed. I let him talk on, then gave him my patented smile.”

“That smile,” Sherlock said, “translates into ‘You mess with me, buddy, and even your toenails are gonna hurt.' ”

“In any case, at the end of all his ranting, there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to get me to convince you to see Dr. Rossetti. I do wonder why he thinks the guy is so great.”

“He's not,” Lily said. “He's horrible.” She actually shuddered. “He came back again this morning. The nurse had just washed my hair for me, so I looked human and felt well enough to take him on.”

“What happened?” Sherlock asked. She was carrying Lily's small overnight bag. Savich pushed her wheelchair onto the elevator, punched the button. No one else was on board.

Lily shuddered yet again. “I think he'd talked to Tennyson some more. He tried to change his tactics. He actually attempted to be ingratiating, at least at first. When he slithered into my room—yes, that's it exactly, he slithered—Nurse Carla Brunswick had just finished blow-drying my hair.”

Nurse Brunswick turned toward him and said, “Doctor.”

“Leave us alone for a bit, Nurse. Thank you.”

Lily said, “I don't want Nurse Brunswick to leave, Dr. Rossetti. I want you to leave.”

“Please, Mrs. Frasier, a moment of your time. I fear we got off on the wrong foot when I was here before. You were just out of surgery; it was simply too soon for you to want to hear about anything. Please, just a few minutes of your time.”

Nurse Brunswick smiled at Lily, patted her hand, then left the hospital room.

“I see I have little choice here, Russell. What do you want?”

If he was angered at her use of his first name, he didn't let on. He kept smiling, walked to her bed, and stood there, towering over her. She looked at his hands; his plump hands sported a ring this time—a huge diamond on his pinkie. She wished she could throw him out of her room.

“I wanted to speak to you, Mrs. Frasier—Lily. See if perhaps we could deal better with each other, perhaps you could come to trust me, to let me help you.”

“No.”

“Are you in pain, Lily?”

“Yes, Russell, I am.”

“Would you like me to give you a mild antidepressant?”

“My pain is from my ribs and my missing spleen.”

“Yes, well, that pain will likely suppress the other, deeper pain for a while longer.”

“I hope so.”

“Mrs. Frasier—Lily—won't you come to my office, perhaps next Monday? That will give you another week to recuperate.”

“No, Russell. Ah, here's Dr. Larch. Hello. Do come in. Dr. Rossetti was just leaving.”

Savich looked ready to spit by the time Lily finished, but she laughed. “No need to go pound him, Dillon. He left, didn't say another word, just walked out. Dr. Larch didn't move until he was gone.”

“What I don't understand,” Sherlock said thoughtfully, “is why both Tennyson and Dr. Rossetti want you as his patient so very much. Isn't that strange? You give Rossetti grief and he still wants you?”

“Yes,” Savich said slowly, “it is strange. We'll have to see what MAX has to say about Russell Rossetti. He was ready to give you some antidepressants, right there, on the spot?”

“It seems so.”

After Lily was in the car, a pillow over her stomach and ribs, the seat belt as loose as possible over the pillow, Savich said, “I have a psychiatrist for you, Lily. No, not someone to shrink you and give you more medication, but a woman who is very good at hypnosis. What do you think?”

“Hypnosis? Oh, goodness, she'll help me remember what happened?”

“I hope so. It's a start anyway. Maybe it will jump-start your memory. Since it's Sunday, she's coming into her office especially for you.”

“Dillon, I think I just gained a whole ton of energy.”

Sherlock heard her say under her breath, “I'll know, finally, if I'm really crazy.”

“Yes, you'll know, and that's the best thing to happen,” Sherlock said and patted her shoulder.

“Then we're off right now to Eureka.”

 

DR. Marlena Chu was a petite Chinese-American woman who looked barely old enough to buy liquor. Lily was tall, nearly five feet eight in her ballet flats, which were what she was wearing today, and she wondered how she could trust someone so small she could easily tuck her beneath her armpit.

Dr. Chu met them in her outer office, since there was no one else there on Sunday. “Your brother has told me what has happened,” she said. “This must be very difficult for you, Mrs. Frasier.” She took Lily's hands in her own small ones and added, “You need to sit down. I can see that you're still very weak. Would you like a glass of water?”

Her hands felt warm, Lily thought; she didn't want to let them go. And her voice was incredibly soothing. She suddenly felt much calmer, and surely that was odd, but true nonetheless. Also, the nagging pain in her ribs seemed to fade. She smiled at Dr. Chu, hanging on to her hands like a lifeline.

“No, I'm fine. Well, maybe a bit tired.”

“All right, then. Come into my office and sit down. I have a very comfortable chair and a nice, high footstool so you won't feel like you're pulling anything. Yes, here we are.”

Her inner office was perfectly square with soft blue furnishings and lots of clean, oak parquet floor. Again, Lily felt a wave of peace and calm wash through her.

“Do let me help you sit down, Mrs. Frasier.”

“Please, call me Lily.”

“Thank you. I'd like that.” As soon as Lily was seated, Dr. Chu brought her chair alongside and took Lily's left hand in hers again. Dr. Chu watched Lily's eyelids flutter as warmth and calm flowed through her, and was pleased. She watched Mr. Savich ease the footstool beneath his sister's narrow feet and saw it immediately lessened the pull on her stitches. She studied her patient. Even though she was pale, her eyes were bright. Lovely eyes, a soft light blue that went very nicely with her blond hair. She was a lovely young woman, but that didn't really matter. What was important was that she was in trouble. What was more important was that she was soaking up the strength Dr. Chu was giving her. “Lily is such a romantic name. It sounds like soft music; it's the sort of name to make one dream of fanciful things.”

Lily smiled. “It's my grandmother's name. Coincidence, maybe, but she grew the most beautiful lilies.”

“It's interesting how some things work out, isn't it?”

“Yes, interesting, but sometimes it's also terrifying.”

“True, but there is nothing here to harm you, Lily.” She patted Lily's hand again. Dr. Chu knew that Lily Frasier was an artist, and that meant she was creative, probably very bright. Such folk usually went under very easily. She said in her soft voice, “You understand that I'm going to try to help you remember what happened last Wednesday evening. Do you want this?”

“Yes, I want to know very badly what really happened. Tell me what to do. I've never been hypnotized before.”

“It's nothing, really. I just want you to relax.” She lightly squeezed Lily's hand.

Lily felt more warmth flow through her, all the way to her bones, felt herself becoming utterly calm. Those small hands of Dr. Chu's, how could they make her feel like this?

Savich pulled a chair next to Lily's and took her other hand. A strong hand, she thought, strong fingers. His hand didn't make hers feel warm, but it did make her feel safe. He said nothing at all, was just there beside her, there for her. Sherlock sat on a sofa behind Lily, quiet as could be.

Dr. Chu said, “You will perhaps believe this a bit odd, Lily, but I don't swing a watch in front of your eyes or let you lie on the sofa and chant this and that over and over. No, we'll just sit here and chat. I understand you draw a cartoon strip.
No Wrinkles Remus
? Such an interesting title. What does it mean?”

Lily actually smiled. She felt the familiar pain of Beth's death ease away. “Remus is a United States senator from the state of West Dementia, located in the Midwest. He's very bright, utterly ruthless, completely amoral, has overweening ambition, and loves to pull fast ones on his opponents. He's also known as ‘Ept Remus,' as opposed to inept, because he's so fast to come up with a new angle to get what he wants. He's a spin master. He never gives up, ignores what people say because he knows that soon enough they'll forget, ignores what the truth is, and continues until he gets what he wants. What he wants now is the presidency, and he's shafted a friend of his to get it.”

Dr. Chu raised a thin, perfectly arched black brow and smiled. “An interesting character study, and not all that unfamiliar.”

Lily actually chuckled. “I finished another strip last week. His friend Governor Braveheart isn't taking being shafted well. He's fighting back. Although he's tough, he's got one big problem—he's honest. It's good. At least I hope it is.”

“Did you take it to your editor at the paper?”

Lily paused a moment and closed her eyes. “No, I didn't.”

“Why not?”

“Because I started feeling bad again.”

“What do you mean by ‘feeling bad'?”

“Like nothing really mattered. Beth was dead and I was alive, and nothing was worth anything, including me and anything I did.”

“You went from feeling great and creative, from smiles and laughter to utter depression?”

“Yes.”

“In a day?”

“Yes. Maybe less. I don't remember.”

“On the day your husband left for Chicago, how did you feel, Lily?”

“I don't remember feeling much of anything. I was ... simply there.”

“I see. Your husband called you the next day—Wednesday—and he wanted you to take some medical slides to a doctor in Ferndale?”

“That's right.”

“And the only road is 211.”

“Yes. I hate that road, always have. It's dangerous. And it was dusk. Driving at that time of day always makes me antsy. I'm always very careful.”

“It makes me nervous as well. Now, you took two more antidepressant pills, right?”

“That's right. Then I slept. I had terrible nightmares.”

“Tell me what you remember about the nightmares.”

Dr. Chu wasn't holding her hand now, but still Lily felt a touch of warmth go through her, felt like it was deep inside her now, so deep it was warming her very soul. “I saw Beth struck by that car, over and over, struck and hurled screaming and screaming, at least twenty feet, crying out my name, over and over. When I awoke, I could still see Beth. I remember lying there and crying and then I felt lethargic, my brain dull.”

“You felt leached of hope?”

“Yes, that's it exactly. I felt like nothing was worth anything, particularly me. I wasn't worth anything. Everything was black. Nothing mattered anymore.”

“All right, Lily, now you're driving away from your house. You're in your red Explorer. What do you think of your car?”

“Tennyson yells every time I call it a car. I haven't done that for months now. It's an Explorer and nothing else is like it and it isn't a car, so you call it by its name and that's it.”

“You don't like the Explorer much, do you?”

“My in-laws gave it to me for my birthday. That was in August. I turned twenty-seven.”

Dr. Chu didn't appear to be probing or delving; she was merely speaking with a friend, nothing more, nothing less. She was also lightly stroking Lily's left hand. Then she turned to Savich and nodded.

“Lily.”

“Yes, Dillon.”

“How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“So warm, Dillon, so very warm. And there's no nagging pain anywhere. It's wonderful. I want to marry Dr. Chu. She's got magic in her hands.”

He smiled at that. “I'm glad you feel good. Are you driving on 211 yet?”

“Yes, I just made a right onto the road. I don't mind the beginning of it, but you get into the redwoods and it's so dark and the trees press in on you. I've always thought that some maniac carved that road.”