CHAPTER
20
 

When he reached the hospital lobby, he looked around for a public phone, and finally spotted a booth in the corner to the right of the entrance, half-hidden behind a large potted plant. The clock on the wall above the reception desk showed it was almost ten-fifteen and he decided he had better call his office before getting any further involved. Gladys answered on the first ring and they exchanged “good mornings.”

“I’m glad you called, Mr. Tuesday,” she told him. “I just tried to reach you at home, but there was no answer.”

So Marie had not got home yet. But, that was not as important at the moment as some other things on his mind. “What’s the problem, Gladys?” he asked her.

“Oh, no problem,” she answered reassuringly. “But, there is a message that seemed rather.. .urgent.”

“Who from?”

“Well.. .it’s from Mrs. Closter, the wife of the man you.. .that wanted you to call on him last night.”

“You heard about his death?”

“Yes, I heard it on the news this morning. Did.. .did you see him before.. .before he.”

“No. He.. .died before I got there, so I don’t know what he wanted to tell me. Maybe Mrs. Closter has found something to indicate what it was. What did she say?”

“That must be it, Mr. Tuesday!” she responded excitedly, “she said to tell you that she found something that you should see!”

Her reply took him by surprise. He had only been guessing at the reason for Mrs. Closter’s call. “Didn’t she say what it was?”

“No. In fact, she sounded as if she wasn’t sure herself what it is-or else, she knows what it is, but not what it means.”

He could not discount her opinion. She was an intelligent woman and had a knack for recognizing the mood of their clients from the sound of their voices, when they called for information or assistance regarding their insurance. But he was mystified by Mrs. Closter’s find.

“All right, Gladys. I’m in Plainville now, so I’ll go see her as soon as we’re finished. Is there anything else?”

“Mr. Tobin has been trying to reach you. He’s called twice already this morning.”

He probably should have called Dan last night or this morning to bring him up to date on what was happening. As head of the claim department of Mid-Continent Insurance, he certainly had a right to know what he had discovered so far about the death of the truck driver. But, the developments in the case had been snowballing so rapidly that he had not even thought about Dan since Elise had mentioned his name yesterday morning. Now, Mrs. Closter had found something that he should see, and he wanted to see Wanda before she went to work at the truck stop, so Dan would have to wait until he knew what each of them could contribute to the problem-or it’s solution.

“If he calls again, tell him I’ll call him this afternoon,” he told her. “I’m not sure where I’ll be the rest of the day, but I’ll call you later if I find I can’t get to the office.”

They exchanged “goodbyes” and he fished in his pocket for more change while he checked Wanda’s number in his notebook. He had hoped to be able to meet her before she went to work, but now, with the message from Mrs. Closter, it would probably have to wait until the evening. “Goddam it”, he muttered to himself, dialing her number, as he realized it would probably mean cutting into his time with Elise. Still, he was sure that she possessed some important, possibly vital, information about the events preceding Haggerty’s death, but that it would be useless to try to talk to her again at the restaurant. He would have to see her after she got off work, unless she had another date.

He waited impatiently until, on the fifth ring, a quiet, hesitant, female voice answered. “Hel.hello. Who’s.who is it?”

It did not sound like her, but he asked anyhow, “Is this Wanda?”

There was a fractional pause. “N...No. She ain’t here,” the voice replied.

“Who is this please?” he asked.

“Who wants to know?” the voice demanded.

He detected a note of fear, so he forced himself to be patient. “Look, this is getting us nowhere. My name is Tuesday, Mark Tuesday. I saw Wanda yesterday at the truck stop and told her I would call her this morning. Has she left for work already?”

The voice turned angry. “Are you the same Mr. Tuesday that got my sister in all that trouble a coupla’ years ago?”

At least he knew who she was. “Look, Miss Skrnczak. Wanda was already in trouble before she met me, and I was only trying to help two old people who were in worse trouble. Now, I think Wanda is in worse trouble and I’d like to help her if I can. But, I can’t, unless you tell me where she is.”

He realized the little speech probably confused more than satisfied her. But, he hoped it was enough to make her more cooperative. Her reticence about her sister’s whereabouts was beginning to make him apprehensive. Still, he was not prepared for her answer.

“She’s inna’ hospital.”

He stared at the phone dumbfounded, his mind in a turmoil, struggling to assimilate this newest astonishment. “The hospital! What’s happened to her?”

“She hadda accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“I.I don’ know f’sure,” she replied hesitantly, “she...she fell or somethin’.”

“When did it happen?”

“Last night. I don’ know what time.”

“How bad is she?”

“Not too bad, I guess,” she replied, with a shrug in her voice. “The doctor says she’ll haveta’ stay inna’ hospital for a few days ‘cause she gotta concussion.” “How did you find out about it? Do you live with her?”

“No. The doctor called us at home this mornin’. I guess Wanda gave him the number. Anyhow, my old.. .my father drove me over here to get some stuff she wanted. He’s waitin’ downstairs now.”

“Have you seen Wanda yet?”

“No. The doc says she can’t see nobody till t’night.” Her answers were coming quicker now that she seemed to believe they shared a mutual interest in her sister.

“What hospital is she in?”

“The county hospital, in Plainville.”

He had half-expected it. He looked out the window of the booth into the busy lobby and was sure that he would not be the least surprised if Wanda were to come dancing, naked, toward him, pirouetting across the polished, parquet floor.

“What’s the name of the doctor who called you?”

“Gee, I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. I could run downstairs and ask Pa if you want me to.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can find out myself. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Rhoda”

“Well, thanks for your help Rhoda. I’m sorry to hear about Wanda, but I’m sure she’ll be all right.” He saw no reason to tell her that he was already at the hospital and intended to find out how ‘right’ she was as soon as he hung up.

“Yeah, sure, I guess so.” To his surprise, she added, “I’m sorry I said that before.about you getting’ Wanda in trouble. I.I know it really wasn’t your fault.”

He was glad to have her rescind her unfair accusation, but he wondered if he could so easily be absolved of all responsibility for what had happened to her sister then-and since-and now.

“That’s all right, Rhoda. Maybe I can be more help to her this time.”

“What kinda’ trouble is Wanda in, Mr. Tuesday?” she asked in a softer, conspiratorial tone of voice.

“It’s a long story Rhoda. Much too long and complicated to explain over the phone. And I really won’t know until I talk to Wanda how deeply she’s involved. For that reason, I don’t think you should say anything to your parents about it. Don’t even tell them I called. Maybe it’s not as bad as it could be, and there is no point in worrying them unnecessarily. Okay, Rhoda?”

“Okay, Mr. Tuesday,” she responded, readily accepting the role as his confidante. “I won’t say nothin’.”

He said goodbye and hung up before she could think of any more questions. Leaving the booth, he walked back across the lobby to the reception desk. A stocky, grim looking nurse with a slightly crossed left-eye peered up at him from behind the counter. The eye was disconcerting and for a moment he was not sure if she was looking at him or beyond him.

“Yes. What is it, please?” she asked crossly, recognizing, and irritated by the cause of his hesitancy.

“Do you have a Wanda Skrnczak registered as a patient?” He spelled the name for her.

She flipped quickly through a vertical card file. “Yes. Miss Skrnczak is in ward 420-B. But, she can’t have any visitors just now. Are you a relative?”

“No. But I know her family. What is her condition?”

“She’s resting comfortably,” she replied in the meaningless jargon of hospitals the world over.

“When was she admitted?”

She glanced at the file card again. “At two thirty-five this morning. She was brought to the emergency entrance by two deputies from the sheriff’s office.”

He felt his hands tighten involuntarily on the edge of the counter, certain that he knew the answer even before he asked the question.

“Do you know the names of the deputies?”

The nurse looked at him hesitantly before again lowering her eyes to the card in her hand. “Flynn and Bucheck,” she replied. Her good eye regarded him with concern. “Is there anything wrong?”

An honest reply would entail too much explanation, so he told her, “No. I’m just surprised. Is the doctor who treated her still on duty?”

She turned to lift a clipboard from a hook on the wall behind her and consulted the top sheet. “I believe he’s just going off, but you might still be able to catch him in the cafeteria.”

“What’s his name.”

“Dr. Blumenstein. He’s an intern. He’s short and dark with long hair and a heavy mustache.” She sounded as if she did not approve of either. “If he’s still there, the cashier can point him out to you.”

He asked for directions to the cafeteria which was at the opposite end of the hospital from where he had met with the coroner. He stopped at the cashier’s desk just inside the entrance, and inquired of the gray-haired gray-lady who was guarding the cash register, if she could point out Dr. Blumenstein. She craned her neck briefly around the room and indicated a solitary figure bent over a thick book at a table on the far side of the room. He crossed the room and stopped alongside the table.

“Dr. Blumenstein?” he asked.

The young man at the table raised his shaggy-haired head and heavily-mustached face to look at him through tired, bloodshot eyes from behind thick horn-rimmed glasses. He marked his place and closed the book.

“Yes. I’m Dr. Blumenstein. What can I do for you?”

He sat down across from him and introduced himself. “The nurse on duty on the reception desk told me you admitted a young woman named Wanda Skrnczak early this morning.”

“Yes, I did. What about her?”

“I understand she was brought in by two sheriff’s deputies named Flynn and Bucheck?”

“Yes, she was, But, I don’t see.”

“What is her condition?”

“Serious, but she’s in no danger.” He paused, before adding, “Do you mind telling me your interest in Miss Skrnczak?”

“Let’s just say, as a friend of the family.”

He shrugged. “All right. What do you want to know?”

“What is the extent of her injuries?”

“A slight concussion, broken collar bone, superficial cuts and bruises on her face and body, a couple of cracked ribs, possible internal injuries.”

“Did she say what had happened to her?”

He reached inside his white jacket and took out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he noticed his quizzical expression and smiled wryly. “Doctors rarely take their own advice, Mr. Tuesday.” He took a deep drag as if to prove it. “Miss Skrnczak was.incoherent and somewhat hysterical when she was brought in. She was.unable to offer an explanation of how she had received her injuries. However, this morning she corroborated what the deputies told me.”

“What was that, doctor?”

He took another drag on the cigarette. “According to the deputies, they found her wandering in a dazed condition along the side of the road. Before she became hysterical, they said she told them she had had a fight with her boyfriend and he had thrown her out of his car. She had started to walk but, in the dark, she had fallen off the side of the road into a ravine. She had just managed to climb back up when they came along.”

He recognized something of the same ‘between-the-lines’ quality in the recitation of the deputies’ story as he had noticed in his conversations with the coroner. He wondered if it was a medical profession syndrome.

“Are her injuries consistent with what she.. .they said she told them?” He purposely changed the syntax to emphasize his meaning.

The young doctor considered him thoughtfully for a moment. “With the possible exception of some bruises on her breasts and in her pelvic area, they are.”

“What do you think caused those bruises, doctor?”

“The question should probably be ‘who’ not ‘what’, Mr. Tuesday.” He expelled twin jets of smoke from his nostrils. “And I would have to say someone-her boyfriend, I suppose-who is familiar with the most effective, and painful way of hurting a woman.”

“Had she been sexually assaulted?”

“There was a residue of semen in her vagina,” he answered carefully. “Considering her other injuries, it was probably a forcible entry-although it’s obvious she hasn’t been a virgin for some time.”

“Does there appear to be any permanent injury?”

He pursed his full lips and stroked his mustache. “With the breasts, there is always the possibility of cancer, of course, although it’s a relatively slim one. Her pelvis is very.. .tender at the moment, but there’s no evidence of hemorrhaging, so I don’t believe there’s any permanent damage.”

“When will she be able to have visitors.”

“This evening. She’s under sedation now and it would be best if she rested this afternoon.”

He took out one of his business cards and handed it to him across the table. “Doctor, I would like to have Miss Skrnczak moved to a private room and to have a nurse on duty, in the room with her, at all times. I will personally guarantee all costs. Can you arrange it?”

The hirsute young man looked at the card and at him with surprise and conjecture mingling in the magnified pupils of his eyes. “Well...yes. Of course, it can be arranged, but it hardly seems necessary, Mr. Tuesday. Her condition is not that serious to require.”

He interrupted, leaning confidentially toward him. “There are certain aspects about her condition that are not visible, but very serious, doctor. It would be no exaggeration, in fact, to say that her life may be in danger.”

The tired looking eyes opened wide and the red cobweb-like lines criss-crossing the whites of his pupils seemed to stand out in bas-relief. He felt almost guilty about keeping him from the sleep he so obviously needed, but thought Wanda’s needs were more urgent at the moment. He considered telling him about the other events from which her beating-as he was certain it was-had resulted. But, the doctor made it unnecessary.

“Well, naturally, if it’s as serious as you say, I’ll do as you ask, Mr. Tuesday,” he finally responded.

“If there’s any question about my identification, you can call my office or.”

The young intern held up his hand, smiling faintly. “That won’t be necessary. My father is an old and faithful client of yours-’Blumenstein Booteries’. That’s why I talked to you so freely. I rather thought your interest was more than just as a friend of the family.”

He recognized the name of a small chain of shoe stores, scattered throughout the city and suburbs, which his father had acquired as a client in the early days of his partnership in Spencer and Tuesday.

“Of course. I should have known. I only saw your father a few weeks ago and he was telling me how well you did in medical school.”

“Thanks to the policy your father sold him when I was still a kid.”

“The policy only provided the money. It was up to you to provide the intelligence and desire.” He blushed slightly and it was apparent that the hair and mustache concealed an otherwise boyish face. “Anyhow, I presume I can count on you to make the arrangements for Miss Skrnczak.”

“Certainly. I’ll tend to it right away.”

They stood up and left the cafeteria together. In the hall outside, he told him. “One other thing, doctor. I don’t want anyone-not even Miss Skrnczak-to know who is responsible for the change. Only you, and the necessary hospital authorities-nobody else. If anybody else asks about it-her parents or the sheriff’s office-tell them it was arranged by an anonymous benefactor, whose name you can’t reveal.”

“Do you want her to have any visitors?”

“Only her family-and me. I’d like to come back to see her tonight after the regular visiting hours are over.”

“I’ll leave word at the desk to admit you.” He hesitated, studying him speculatively.

“What is it?” he asked him.

“I, err.hesitate to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Err.. .how well do you know her?”

“Not well at all. Yesterday was the first time I had even seen her in over two years. Why?”

He licked his lips nervously. “I hope you won’t take offense. It’s just that.”

“Offense at what? What are you getting at?”

“She’s syphilitic.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” His anger at the implication of the young doctor’s questions was mitigated by the shock and revulsion of his revelation. “And you thought that I.! Why she’s hardly more than a child!”

“A very pretty child under all that makeup,” Blumenstein responded, “and with the body of a fully developed woman. I’m sorry, but the only way I could know for sure was to ask. And in view of her condition I thought it was best to ask.”

He remembered noticing the voluptuous lines of her figure which even the drab and unflattering waitress’ uniform could not conceal. The young man’s suspicion that his interest may have been more personal than he had indicated was not totally unreasonable-and he recalled the name the father had referred to his son by.

“Okay, Dave, You were right to ask.” He seemed pleased by the use of his first name. “But, I can assure you, it wasn’t necessary. How bad is it?”

“Early stages. It can be cured.”

“Then do it!” he told him peremptorily.

“I intended to,” he replied succinctly.

They grinned at each other and he held out his hand to the younger man. “Of course. I should’ve realized you would. Will you be on duty tonight?”

“Probably. But, if I’m not, I’ll be available if you want to see me.”

“Good. I probably will. Thanks, Dave. You’ve been a big help.”

“Not at all.. .Mark. Glad to do it,” he responded.

They separated at the intersection of the next corridor and he headed back toward the front entrance. Checking his watch, he saw it was a few minutes past eleven. There was still time before lunch to find out what surprises Mrs. Closter had in store for him-and the whole afternoon to wait until he could be with Elise again.