CHAPTER 20

I sat in the parking lot of the Hastings County Hospital, waiting for Terri Porter to come out.

Looking at the building, I was amazed. It seemed like the quaint hospital I remembered had taken steroids. The original building remained, but growing out of it on both sides were wings that stretched for the lengths of two football fields, and then those wings had wings of their own. It was like a Lego blocked building.

Still, they had done a good job mimicking the look of the original building and the grounds were immaculate. Full, green-leafed American hornbeam trees stood guard on each side of a handicapped accessible walkway. Hasting County Hospital was stenciled in large gold letters in the glass over the doors.

I’d been there for about half an hour and was wondering what was taking Tina’s sister so long. The waiting was giving me too much time to think about all the hours I spent in a hospital, sitting in Jan’s room. Most of the time, especially toward the end, she was either sleeping or heavily anesthetized to fight the pain. Still, those moments when she was lucid just reinforced everything that made me fall in love with her in the first place. She was so strong and all she seemed to worry about was whether I was getting enough sleep and taking care of myself. I never heard her complain.

I also thought about Tina, lying on a cold, sterile table in the morgue. Was it my fault? Could I have saved her if I had gotten back sooner or not left her at all? She was so alive when I left her, with that spark in her eyes.

At last, Terri appeared through the dark sliding doors. She stopped just outside the doors and put on a pair of sunglasses, not so much to shade her eyes from the late afternoon sun, because there wasn’t much on this side of the building, but, I imagined, to hide their redness from her crying.

I jumped out of my car and crossed the lot to reach her. I didn’t have to hurry. She had crumpled onto one of the benches. As I reached her, she was sitting quietly, staring across the portico at the neatly landscaped flower beds that lined its edges. I don’t think she noticed the neatly pruned English rose bushes with their late blooming flowers though. No, I’d seen that solemn posture, that outward gaze of hers on countless others who sat on uncomfortable chairs in waiting room areas or in pews in the chapel when I left Jan’s room and roamed the hospital during her illness. Perhaps instead she was seeing shadows, memories flickering by, thinking “This is only a dream, I’ve had bad dreams before and when I wake up, this will not all be real.” Or maybe she was creating an internal list of the tasks before her--making Tina’s funeral arrangements, canceling Tina’s credit cards, getting the utilities at Tina’s apartment turned off--that could keep her focusing ahead, away from this here, this now.

I stopped by her bench. “Um, Ms. Porter...Terri...I want to say how sorry I am about your sister. She was a very nice, sweet person.”

She looked up at me. It was striking how similar she looked to Tina--same shape of the face: the nose, the chin, the ears, and, as I noticed in the police station, the same green eyes, now hidden behind the sunglasses. There was a difference, though it was more based on how I remembered each from high school. Tina wanted to be noticed; Terri expected to be. Tina was alluring cleavage in a tight V-necked sweater accented by a long necklace with a single, sparkling pendant. Terri an elegant neck emphasized by a boatneck-collared blouse and pearl choker necklace. Tina was be-bop, Terri cool jazz.

“Yes, she was, wasn’t she? Very nice, very sweet.” Her gaze drifted off toward the side of the building for a moment, then she turned back to look at me. “You were in the police station, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.”

She seemed to look at me a little more closely, though I couldn’t be sure because of the dark glasses.

“You look familiar. Do I know you?” she asked.

“Yes, well, you might remember me. Wes Byrne, I was in Tina’s grade through school. We were sort of friends.”

“Yeah,” Terri answered with a short, sad, knowing laugh. “Apparently Tina had lots of sort-of friends.” She took a longer look at me. “You know, I think I do remember you--kind of shy, quiet. You’re the one who wrote those articles that sent the ones dumping waste into the Kithane River to jail, aren’t you? Me and Tina used to go tubing down the Kithane--our parents took us canoeing in it too--seems like a long time ago,” she said, her voice dropping off, her eyes drifting back to the flower bed.

“Well, I discovered what was going on but I didn’t actually send--” I began to reply.

“Wouldn’t figure you for one of Tina’s sort-of friends,” she said, turning her gaze back on me. “But I guess you never can tell. Seems my sister really got arou--” Terri caught herself and stopped. “Oh God, listen to me. Even when she’s dead, I can’t stop criticizing her. Some big sister I am.”

Terri opened her purse, pulled out a handkerchief, and began to sob quietly into it. This is when a person who always does or says the right thing would sit down by her, put an arm around her in order to provide a bit a comfort and reassurance. I stood awkwardly where I was, silent.

After a few moments, she took a deep breath and composed herself. She folded up her handkerchief and put it back in her purse. “Well, it was nice to meet you--again. I appreciate your kindness. Now I best be getting on with things,” she said, standing up.

She wasn’t really noticing me. I needed to get her to pay attention to me.

“Um...didn’t the police tell you it was me who found Tina’s body?”

Her body stiffened. “You found her?”

“Yes, I did, but just so you know, there wasn’t anything going on between me and Tina...well, not really. She was only in my hotel room because she’d returned my stolen car.”

“Your hotel room?” Tina asked, turning toward me.

“Yes, didn’t they tell you about me, or ask you any questions about Tina and my car?”

She was staring at me, a mix of confusion and anger welling in her eyes. “She died in your room? Where were you? Why weren’t you there? You could have helped her--saved her?”

“Yes, I know I should have been there. I was down the ha--”

Terri suddenly laid a sharp, solid slap across the left side of my face with her right hand. “You bastard! You have the gall to stand there and act all nice when you’re the one responsible. Get the hell out of my way and stay away from me.”

She pushed me aside with a strength I wouldn’t have suspected she had and began walking purposely away from me, toward the parking lot. Stunned momentarily, it only took me a few long strides to catch up to her. I’ve never been a very physical person, and surprised myself when I grabbed her by the elbow from behind with my left hand and turned her around to face me. “Please, stop, wait just a minute,” I asked, realizing I was being a little too forceful considering the circumstances, but not wanting it to end this way.

“Let go of me,” she screamed.

Her right hand came for my face again, but this time I was ready and stopped her blow with my left hand. I expected someone from the hospital to come charging out through the doors any minute. I had to make this fast.

“Listen. Yes, she was in my room. Yes, I should have seen how scared she was and never left her. Yes, I should have been there and maybe I could have saved her. But I didn’t. I screwed up. I’ll never forgive myself. I’m sorry.”

I felt the tension in her body easing as her right hand fell to her side. She was still breathing heavy. I think we both were. She had needed to lash out at something, someone. I’d served the purpose. Now that she had, a weariness replaced her anger, and she sagged a bit under her grief, her chin falling to her chest. I let go of her hand.

“Why would someone do this to Tina? Why couldn’t that son of a bitch have just taken her money, her jewelry, whatever he wanted and just left her alone, left her alive?” she asked, not to me particularly, but just out loud.

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out myself?” I answered.

She looked up at me, her head tilting slightly to the side. “I don’t understand. The police said they have her killer.”

“Well, I don’t believe them or at least I have a few questions, some things that don’t add up,” I answered.

She straightened. I wished she wasn’t wearing those damned glasses so that I could see her eyes, but I could sense them sizing me up irregardless.

“Why? What can you do? What does it matter? She’s dead,” she asked. ‘Are you still working for the newspaper? Is this all about getting a story? That’s all Tina is to you, a story.”

“No, I’m not a repor--” I began.

“Why do you want to make trouble? The police caught the man who murdered Tina and that’s all there is to it. Please just let it be at that? Isn’t it enough that she’s dead?”

“But don’t you want to know the truth about what happened?” I answered.

“The truth? Oh, I know the truth--why she was in that hotel. The police know the truth. Everybody in this damn town probably knows the truth, but that doesn’t mean I want it spread around in newspapers where my father will read all about how his daughter turned out or my kids will find out all about their Aunt Tina and her sort of friends.”

“Terri, what exactly did the police tell you?”

She hesitated and her jaw jutted out ever so slightly. Her breathing grew rapid. “She was in your room, and you’re asking me?”

“Terri, please. I told you Tina was only there because she returned my stolen car. She wanted me to take her out of town in the morning. She was afraid of something. What did Danny tell you?” I had to be careful. I might have been pushing too hard.

“Danny? Who’s Danny?”

“The police officer you spoke to. What did he say about Tina?”

Terri took another moment or two. I knew she was trying to make up her mind about whether she believed me or not. Finally, when she answered there was an edge to her voice. “He was very nice about it. The officer, Danny, said Tina was a--a--prostitute. Anyway, he said she was at the hotel that night with one of her--clients--” I could feel her eyes accusing me, though I couldn’t see them. “--but that didn’t play any part in her murder. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Said he’d do his best to keep that quiet, out of respect for Tina--our family--in spite of--” She stood facing me defiantly. “So I told you. Now you happy?”

“And you believed him, about Tina?”

“It explains a lot of things--her apartment, nice car, nice clothes. She was always vague about where she got the money.”

“There could be other explanations,” I said.

“Oh, yeah? Like what? Tina always had trouble holding down a real job, said they were boring. Well, you knew Tina.”

“Actually, no, I didn’t. I’ve been away for several years. I only got into town yesterday,” I answered. “Um, did Danny--the police officer--mention anyone named Puddy Salvatore? Does the name mean anything to you?”

“No, he didn’t and it doesn’t. Did you say you only got into town yesterday? I thought you worked for the newspaper.”

“Well, no, I’m not anymore. This isn’t about a story. It’s just that...I’m really not sure, to tell you the truth.”

So far, no one had come running out of the hospital after our little scene, but I felt a bit exposed, talking to her out in the open like this.

“Listen, I know this might be a lot to ask--” I began.

“But you’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” she demanded sharply.

I had to smile. Terri had been through a lot today. Finding out her sister was murdered, having the cops tell her she was a prostitute, dealing with a jerk like me. But she was tough. I liked her.

“I’d rather not talk here. What I would like to do, though, is get a look around Tina’s apartment. Maybe there’s something there that can help me get to the truth. You wouldn’t happen to have a key to her place would you?” I asked.

“Yes, I do. I was going there to collect a few things our mother had left Tina--just to make sure nothing happens to them.”

“Would you mind if I met you there?”

She again took a moment or two.

“You’re not going to give up, are you? What exactly are you after? What do you think Tina was up to?”

“I really don’t know. But I don’t think what happened to her had anything to do with her being a...um...what Danny may have told you, although I have no proof. There’s something else going on. And it might have to do with another old friend of mine. That’s why I need your help.”

“And what if what the police say is true, are you just going to make stuff up to get a story?”

“I told you, it’s not about a story.” I sensed a bit of softening, slight, but it was there. “Okay, listen, here’s what I’ll do,” I said. “I still know someone at the Chronicle. I’ll get him to let me do a nice story about Tina--the woman who was your sister, who grew up here, something nice for your father to read, if you let me look through her place. I’ll see that they write that Tina was only at the hotel because she was visiting an old friend from out of town, which is really the truth.”

“Nothing about the prostitution? You’ll be kind to Tina?” she asked.

It was my turn to take a moment. “No, nothing about that. Just a woman who died way too early,” I answered.

“Okay, then. You can come over,” Terri said.

Hoppy wasn’t going to be happy about me making a deal like this, and Hoppy going along with it probably meant I would definitely have to break into Stevie’s place, but I didn’t care. It was the least I could do for Tina.