Yakima was about a fifteen-minute drive from Harmony. Getting off the highway one exit too soon by mistake, Annie drove through a poor residential section where all of the grocery store signs were in Spanish, and the fast-food restaurants advertised menudo.
Annie found the copy center near St. Elizabeth’s hospital, about a mile west of downtown, and picked up the documents that Val had faxed. The hospital was in a sprawling red brick building, larger and more modern than Annie had anticipated for a city the size of Yakima. The woman at the information desk directed her to Three-South, Neurology. Carrying the bag with Taylor’s things, she followed the maze of corridors, with only a few wrong turns, to the correct ward.
At the nurse’s station, a heavyset R.N. with wiry gray hair was busy typing at a computer terminal.
“I’ve brought some personal items for Taylor North. And I’d like to see her, please, if that’s possible.”
Not knowing how long Taylor would be at the hospital, Annie hadn’t known what to include. She’d brought a nightgown and some changes of underwear, a toothbrush and comb. She’d also brought Taylor’s address book, in case she was feeling well enough to make calls. The nurse took the paper bag from Annie and quickly glanced through it. She handed back the address book saying, “Things have a tendency to get lost around here. If it were me, I wouldn’t chance my Daytimer getting lost for anything. I’ll see that she gets the other items.” The nurse marked the number 313 on the bag, set it under her desk, and went back to her computer screen.
“I was wondering if I could see her?” Annie said again.
The nurse spoke without looking up. “And you are…?”
“My name is Annie MacPherson.”
“Immediate family?”
“No, I’m a friend.”
“Sor-ry.” Her voice had the sing-song quality of someone at the end of a long and tiring shift. “I have strict orders that Ms. North is to receive no visitors or telephone calls except family for the next forty-eight hours.”
“It will only take five minutes to get her signature on some documents. It’s quite important.”
The nurse just shrugged, and went on typing.
“Then may I speak to her doctor?”
“Not if you’re not immediate family or don’t have a signed medical release.”
Annie could tell this was not going to be easy. “I’m her attorney. One of the documents I need to have her sign is a release for medical records. If you’d let me see her, then she could sign it, and I’d be able to speak to her doctor.”
The nurse went on typing.
“Well, do you know if any of her family members are here?” Annie presumed that Gerald had classes to teach, but she thought that Celia might have taken time away from the winery to come to the hospital. The nurse looked up from her work and glared at Annie over the top of her reading glasses. “Do I look like the social director around here?”
“I’m sorry, I know you’re busy, but could you at least tell me what Taylor’s condition is? I was told that she had convulsions in the car on the way here, and I just want to know if she’s okay.” The tired nurse wasn’t without sympathy. “Just a second.” She pulled up some data on her computer, and frowned. “Her condition is listed as serious. But that’s an improvement; this morning it was critical.”
Before Annie could try to squeeze more information out of her, the nurse said, “Look, why don’t you have a seat over there. Her doctor’s on the floor. When he comes by the station, I’ll ask him if he’ll agree to speak to you.”
“Thank you.”
Annie took a seat on one of the orange vinyl-covered chairs, which, along with simulated wood grain tables, seemed common to hospitals everywhere. Annie also suspected that the same magazines could be found in every waiting room in America—a three-week-old copy of Time, fourteen copies of People, a dog-eared Readers’ Digest, and a stack of Highlights for Children. Annie could remember looking at those when she went to her pediatrician as a child. They looked old enough to be the same issues.
Annie wasn’t pleased to see Detective Shibilsky waddling down the hall holding a cup of vending machine coffee. When he approached, she said, “I assume you’re not here to try to interview Taylor, are you? You know she’s in no condition to speak to anyone, least of all the authorities.”
After he took a gulp, beads of coffee hung on his mustache. “It never hurts to try, Counselor. See, when I know that a ‘person of interest’ in a homicide case has taken a whole slew of pills, one of the first things I think is that such a person might be feeling just a wee bit guilty, know what I mean? So, I kinda like to make myself available for spontaneous confessions. It happens, ya know.” He plopped down into the next chair, close enough for her to smell his bad breath and the odor of cigarette smoke on his clothes.
“Well, from now on, Detective, I’m leaving standing instructions on Ms. North’s behalf that no one from your office is to make any attempt to speak to her unless I’m present. Do you understand?”
He shrugged his shoulders, half in acknowledgment, half in smugness. “Whatever you say, Counselor.” Annie turned back to her magazine, hoping Shibilsky would leave. He didn’t.
“I’ve been told we’ll get the fingerprint analysis of the wine bottle back this afternoon, in case you’re interested.”
Annie didn’t look up. “I assume since Taylor was found holding the bottle that her prints will be on it. Is that what you’re expecting to find, Detective?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but the fact was, any hard evidence would hurt Taylor’s defense.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m expecting. With that evidence, I could make an arrest, ya know.”
“Oh, really?” She held up one hand. “Do you want my prints? I took the bottle away from her and set it on the bench that night. Are you going to arrest me, too?”
“Now that you bring it up, I think the whole thing looks fishy. We don’t get many murders where the killer makes sure their attorney is on the premises when it happens. Maybe you were part of the plot.”
Annie thought Shibilsky was joking, but couldn’t be entirely sure. She went back to her magazine, pretending not to be interested. She didn’t think sparring with Shibilsky would get her anywhere. “I’m sure once you complete your investigation, there will be no need for any arrests. This was clearly a case of self-defense. You took statements from a number of people at the party who heard Steven Vick threaten Taylor. And if you check his background, I’m sure you’ll find it wasn’t the first time.”
Shibilsky flipped back through his notes. “Those ‘threats’ as you call them were pretty vague, as I recall. And you also seem to be forgetting that she followed him out to the garden, not the other way around. Nah, I haven’t had a homicide this easy in years. Even if your client hadn’t been found holding a smoking gun, as they say, it all points to her.”
“Oh, really?” Annie said blandly. She was actually anxious to know what Shibilsky had on Taylor, but figured he’d say more if she feigned disinterest.
“My guys have been checking this Steven Vick guy out. Seems he didn’t have a whole lot else going on in his life. No major debts, except some credit cards. No history of gambling or womanizing or drugs. Drank a little, mostly at home. Six months ago, the old lady threw him out, and he got a furnished room in a boardinghouse here in town. Nothing but a bed, dresser, and TV. No personal papers. No drugs. Nothing to indicate he was in any trouble. Neighbors said he was pretty quiet. Till a few months ago, he worked selling chemicals. Guys he worked with said it was pretty boring stuff. Nobody there he ticked off. Last few months, he’s been unemployed, looking for a few jobs.”
Shibilsky stretched, and drained the rest of his coffee. “Now, would you look at that,” he said, snickering. He showed her his vending machine cup patterned with playing cards. “I got a full house. Guess that means I’m gonna have a run of good luck on this case.”
“There are lots of hands that beat a full house, Detective.”
“Yeah,” he grinned. “And you wish you had one of them.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet. “I want you to have this number handy in case your client wants to make a confession. You tell her I hope she’s feeling better. And, uh, call me later this afternoon, if you want to know what we find on that wine bottle. I should be there till six.”
Annie pocketed the card, as Shibilsky ambled down the hall, depositing his paper cup on the nurses’ station as he passed.
The gray-haired nurse wasn’t at the desk. Annie stood, then walked down the hall toward room 313. She glanced in. The bed nearest the door was empty, and the privacy curtain shielded her view of the bed near the window. Annie quietly stepped into the room.
There was Taylor, asleep, with her mouth slightly open. Her color was bad, and the hair on her pillow looked limp and matted, as if she had perspired all night. The side of her face where she’d fallen was discolored and slightly swollen. The sight brought tears to Annie’s eyes.
For seventeen years, Annie had tried not to think about Taylor North. Now she couldn’t help wondering if she should have tried harder back then to convince Taylor that Steve was trouble. She wondered if things would have turned out differently.
Annie felt a tap on her shoulder. A bearded young man in a white lab coat gestured her out into the hall. “Ms. MacPherson?
I’m Dr. Butterick, Taylor North’s physician. The nurse said you wanted to speak to me?”
“Yes. How is she doing?”
The doctor shook his head. “She’s not out of the woods yet, by any means. Most people have no idea how toxic an aspirin overdose can be, and in this case, combined with Tylenol and codeine… all I can say is we’re doing everything we can. I wish I could tell you more.”
The doctor’s tentative tone prompted Annie to ask, “Is there anything else wrong?”
“Well, we simply don’t know. She’s been quite delirious, and that could be due to the overdose, but there have also been significant cognitive problems for which we’ve been unable to identify the etiology. When her physical condition stabilizes, she’ll be scheduled for a complete neuropsychiatric battery. And she’ll be monitored for depression, of course.”
Annie was at a loss for words. In school, she had always felt shy and inexperienced compared to Taylor, hoping some of her friend’s audacity and self-confidence would rub off. That Taylor would be depressed and confused was as hard for her to grasp as the idea of Taylor as a battered spouse.
“What do you mean by cognitive problems?”
“Her memory is quite bad. She knows who she is, she knows she’s in a hospital. But she has no idea how she got here. I asked her what the last thing she remembered was, and she said it was dressing to go out. That wouldn’t be an atypical response if she had had a head injury.” The doctor looked into Taylor’s room. “I’d prefer that you not wake her. She needs rest.”
Annie explained that she had some legal documents for Taylor to sign, and wondered when she might come back.
“She really isn’t in any condition to sign anything, with the mental confusion and all. You’ll probably want to speak to her brother, Gerald. It was my understanding that he was going to obtain a court order giving him power of attorney while she was incapacitated. If so, then I believe that he could sign those legal documents for you.”
Annie nodded. She didn’t have Gerald’s home number, but should be able to reach him at the college. “Doctor, when will you know if Taylor’s going to be all right’”’
He looked at his hands. “I don’t like to sugarcoat things, and I’m not doing that now. As far as the toxins in her system, I’m fairly confident that we started treatment soon enough, and that she’s going to come through this without any significant kidney damage.” He took a deep breath. “What has me confused is the mental state. The memory problems and confusion bother me. On that score, I have to say I simply don’t know what to tell you.”