One last bit of advice. Try not to party in the hospital. The nurses don’t like it, and some of those guys are bruisers.
The Labour Day weekend was long gone before I opened my eyes again. Pale institutional green surrounded me. That meant I could see. I sure hoped I was in a hospital and not in hell.
Wherever I was, I must have been expected, because there was the obligatory crowd scene.
From the foot of the bed, a voice said, “Welcome back, Ms. MacPhee. You have been missed.”
“Lord thundering Jesus, Camilla,” a second voice said, “I guess you’ll do anything to stay out of a balloon.”
I sat up and grabbed Alvin’s wrist, “Listen to me. That girl, Jasmine, she killed all those people. She shot Joe. And Kate. I think she shot Bunny. You have to find Bunny.”
My sister Donalda said, “If you mean that young man who picked up your book and helped drag you from the burning house, he’s all right. Although the police wanted to talk to him, and he seems to have wandered off.”
“You have to tell the police about Jasmine.”
“The police know,” Mombourquette said.
“Do they believe me now, Leonard?”
“That’s good. Does that mean you’re in the deep weeds for getting involved in the investigation?”
My sister Alexa spoke up. “I think the brass will be overlooking anything Leonard might have done to save your life, since you wouldn’t have been in danger if they hadn’t been hounding you based on false accusations. That was shocking.”
Alvin said, “Your lawyer can’t wait to pursue the matter.”
“I bet,” I said.
Edwina said, “Of course, you could have saved yourself a lot of grief by giving yourself up earlier. You wouldn’t have lingered here for five days while we thought you were going to die, Missy.”
Time for Mrs. Parnell to speak up again. “Ms. MacPhee did the only correct thing. She waded into battle without regard for her own safety. We will respect that.”
I liked the sound of that. So did my father, who had been quiet until now. He leaned over and gave my hand a squeeze.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I said. “You were right about the devil.”
“Good job, um, Camilla,” he said.
Sentimental moment. Always to be avoided with the MacPhees. “What about Kate?” I said.
Mombourquette said. “She’s still in critical condition. Between the gunshot and the smoke inhalation and the shock of what happened to her husband, it’s touch and go.”
Donalda said, “Lucky to be alive. What were the chances that a passing cab driver would turn out to be a doctor?”
“Faroud came back to help?” I said.
“He arrived before the emergency personnel,” Mombourquette said. “Damn lucky. If she lives, it’s because of him. The papers loved the story, though. Hero doctor can’t get a job in Canada.”
I smiled. Faroud deserved whatever good breaks he got.
Alvin and Mrs. Parnell exchanged glances. “We are sorry, Ms. MacPhee, that we didn’t arrive in time to stop these terrible things. We heard a lot on the cellphone, which of course you intended, but because of the winds, we just couldn’t get close enough to land. As soon as we realized your life was in danger, Young Ferguson borrowed another phone from the balloon pilot and called for reinforcements.”
“Pretty snippy at 911,” Alvin sniffed.
Mombourquette said, “I can just imagine what that story sounded like. But never mind. Police, fire and ambulance all showed up.”
“Right after you did,” I said. “Thank you, Leonard.”
“Hey,” he said, “what are friends for.”
“What about Jasmine? Did she get away?”
P. J. piped up. “That was the best part of the story, Tiger. Aside from the lawyer on the run and the shoot-out and the burning house.”
“What was?”
“Your high-flying friends, Alvin and Mrs. P. here, tracked her in their balloon and kept in touch with the police by phone until they picked her up. What a story that was. You couldn’t make it up.”
“Well, we didn’t act alone, of course,” Mrs. Parnell said. “Every balloonist on that part of the Rideau kept an eye out for her.”
Alvin said, “You gotta love cellphones.”
“But she’s such a psychopath. She’ll concoct a story.”
P. J. said, “Her credibility took a dive when she fired at them.”
“Ah, yes,” I said. “That happens.”
P. J. continued, “I think they’ve managed to figure out who she is. The stuff about University of Ottawa law school was all bullshit, of course. She’s been a troubled kid all her life. They’re not even sure how she got from the States into Canada. She was putting up a pretty good imitation of a psychotic episode, so that might help her avoid first degree murder charges. Anyway, I’ve got a feature assignment to track back to the original tragedy and follow her and her family over the years.”
“What about Laura Brown and the other girls who were part of the Settlers?”
“I’m trying to track their families too.”
“Any luck?”
“Nothing so far. But I bet I’ll get a book out of this,” P.J. said.
With any luck, there’d be more to add to it when Laura’s safety deposit box was opened.
From the back of the crowd, Elaine said, “I’m not quite so happy. I guess we have to talk.”
I said, guiltily. “I’ll replace your clothes.”
She said, “That’s not what I mean.”
Mombourquette said, “I am afraid I did some damage to your friendship. Jasmine somehow planted those rumours about Elaine. I haven’t figured out how yet.”
I said, “It was your mysterious appointments that worried me, Elaine.”
Elaine said. “I guess Jasmine set everyone up. The mysterious appointments, as you call them, were with a counsellor. When Frances and Laura and Sylvie died, it was a wake-up call for me. I decided to try to reconcile with my family, and I wanted some advice. I found someone I trusted who was willing to give me a couple of sessions on the weekend. I wasn’t ready to tell everybody.”
Good time to change the subject. “Hey, who are all the flowers from?”
My sister Donalda inspected a weird plant.
“That’s from me,” said P.J. “Venus fly trap.”
“I sent the orange blossoms,” Elaine said.
“The snake plant is from your lawyer,” Alvin said. “It came with a substantial bill for phone consultation and negotiations.”
“The two-dozen roses are from my cousin Ray in Sydney,” Mombourquette said. “He’s been calling every hour. Crazy with worry.”
I snorted. “Crazy with worry, my fat fanny. Now he sends flowers. Where the hell has he been?”
“In hospital himself. Emergency appendectomy when he was on that course. His appendix burst when he was at the training site. It took a couple of hours to get him to a city hospital. They said another half-hour, and he wouldn’t have made it. He’ll take a couple of months to recover.”
I sat up a bit straighter. “Oh. I thought he’d just dropped out of the relationship. Why didn’t anyone tell me? You sure he’s all right?”
Mombourquette shrugged. “His kids kept trying to call you, but they didn’t want to leave an upsetting message informing you that he was in intensive care.”
“And they kept hanging up?”
“They’re kids. They’d start to cry. By the way, the dog misses you.”
“How is Gussie?”
“Aside from an ugly incident with a club sandwich and a Canadian Tire catalogue, pretty good.”
“I guess that’s one happy ending.” I looked around. “Now that this is over, I’m looking forward to going home and spending time with Alvin’s dog and Mrs. Parnell’s cat.”
Silence.
“What? Why are you all looking at each other like that?”
“You can stay with us,” my sisters said.
“Thanks. I think I’ll just go home.”
Mrs. Parnell said. “You can fight it in court. They can’t just evict you over that one false alarm.”
“Or even the repeated complaints by the neighbour,” Alvin said.
I sank back on the pillow and closed my eyes. I felt relieved when the duty nurse said. “Show’s over, folks. Patient needs rest. Time to hit the road.”
Long after the noisy crowd bickered its way down the hall, I lay there thinking. Maybe Laura’s house would come in handy after all.
And roses are always good.