Chapter 26
What? What did that mean? Who called herself the fiancée? I didn’t have to fight back the temptation to demand clarity. I wasn’t the type to engage in a catfight. And I certainly didn’t want to have this discussion in front of Eric’s father.
“Do you know there’s blood on your clothes? Don’t they make you change if that happens?” she asked.
I looked down. She was right. But I could barely speak. Was she Eric’s fiancée? “Everything happened so fast that I didn’t realize it.”
Eric’s father had drifted to a window. He stared out at the night, his hands in his pockets.
“You’re not a nurse?” she asked.
“No.” I desperately wanted to get away from this woman. The conversation was surely going to take a nasty turn soon. But I couldn’t return to Eric’s room. Nor could I wake him and ask what the deal was with the fiancée. “Excuse me,” I muttered as politely as possible.
I did my level best not to run down the hallway. I found a ladies’ room but there weren’t any paper towels, only an electric hand dryer. Great. Just great. I dabbed some water on my shirt but only succeeded in making a mess. I might as well have smeared it with mud. I immediately regretted looking in the mirror.
There wasn’t much I could do. On so many levels this had been the worst possible way to meet his parents. But then, if the willowy mean girl was Eric’s fiancée, it really didn’t matter anyway.
I inhaled a deep breath of air and returned to the waiting room. Eric’s dad had disappeared, but his mom had returned.
“Florrie, thank you for calling us. I feel much better now that I’ve seen him. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay with him the rest of the night. Eric’s dad will drive Rebecca home and come back for me in the morning.”
It was only right for her to be the one staying with Eric. If it were me in that hospital bed, my mom would want to be with me. I smiled at her. “I’m sure Eric will appreciate that. It will be reassuring for him to see you when he wakes. It was nice meeting you, even under these terrible circumstances. Good night.”
“Good night, Florrie. And thank you.”
I walked out with my head held high. What else could I do? But in the parlance of Ricky Ricardo, when Eric was better, he was going to have “some ’splainin’ to do.”
* * *
My phone woke me at eleven minutes past eight in the morning.
When I answered, Eric whispered, “Please rescue me. I have to talk fast because Mom will be back any second. Please, please, please let me sleep on your sofa for a couple of days. She’s trying to spoon-feed me Cream of Wheat. Gruel, Florrie! Gruel!”
“Sure.” The word slipped out of my mouth before I remembered Rebecca. Why did tall, leggy women always have romantic names like Veronica and Rebecca? And why wasn’t he going to Rebecca’s place if she was his fiancée? That discussion was one better had in person, I decided. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Come as soon as you can. The doctor has to swing by to check on me before they can discharge me, but I need to get out of here. Thanks, Florrie. I owe you.”
I heard his mom’s voice and the phone went dead.
Peaches jumped up on me and purred right in my face. Cat talk for “I’ll have my breakfast now, thank you.”
I crawled out of bed, flung on a bathrobe, and stumbled down the stairs.
I was feeding Peaches when someone knocked on my door.
“Miss Florrie? Miss Florrie?”
I recognized Mr. DuBois’s voice and opened the door.
“A police officer was injured last night at the concert. That wouldn’t have anything to do with your middle of the night arrival at the carriage house, would it?”
“Tea?” I asked.
“I knew it! You see what happens when people wander about in the nighttime?”
I made tea for both of us, loaded it on a tray with coconut cupcakes that I hadn’t packed the night before, opened the French doors to the garden, and invited Mr. DuBois to the table. “It was an accident.”
“Nonsense. It’s all over the news that they’re seeking a boy who was seen by several people.”
“It was still an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”
“Miss Florrie, you will please take note that it did not happen to me because I had the good sense to stay home. How is Sergeant Jonquille?”
“He has a fiancée.”
“Oh my! Actually, I meant his injury, but that is rather disturbing.”
“Yet he wants to stay with me while he recuperates.”
“Oh, Miss Florrie! You didn’t agree?”
“I did.”
“Well, I’m not serving him. Are these coconut cupcakes?”
“Yes.”
“Is this what you think is an appropriate breakfast food?”
I tried not to smile, but I did bait him. “Yes. Are you intimating that one does not eat cupcakes for breakfast?”
“There is no need to be a smarty. They’re rather tasty. Eggs, butter, flour. All reasonable breakfast ingredients commonly consumed in pancakes. You have simply rearranged them into a delicious little package. One always learns new things. Back to Sergeant Jonquille. He carries a gun and if I am not mistaken, he will be expected to have it here with him, so I have no objection to his presence on the premises. Particularly since there was another garage break-in and Maxwell has been keeping irregular hours.”
“I just don’t understand what someone would want in a garage unless he was after the car. Did he steal the car?”
“He did not. But what he stole is irrelevant. It was only two houses away!”
“Mr. DuBois, you have that fancy security system we had installed earlier in the summer. Whoever is breaking into garages would be a fool to come here.”
Mr. DuBois appeared pleased and sipped his tea. “Especially now that we will have our own armed guard on the premises. What time did you say you were picking him up?”
When Mr. DuBois went home, I stood under a hot shower for longer than I should have. I was hoping it would wash away the tiredness I felt, but it didn’t work out that way.
In case Eric’s parents were there when I went to collect him, I made a point of wearing my favorite lavender dress that I thought brought out the green in my eyes. Not that they would care, but it made me feel like I was putting my best foot forward, and it didn’t have any blood stains on it. Besides, the reading of the Dumont book was that evening and who knew if I would have a chance to change clothes before then?
I drove over to the hospital, hoping the doctor had okayed Eric’s release. I dreaded the whole thing. All I wanted to do was curl up at home with a book and Peaches. That wasn’t possible because I had to work. Still, in a perfect world, that’s what I would have done. Clearly, my world wasn’t perfect. Why had I put myself in this position? This was the time to walk away from Eric. To leave him to his fiancée. We hadn’t been dating long. It didn’t matter how much I liked him or how lovely he had been to me. For all I knew, maybe he was like that to everyone.
But I parked my car in the hospital garage, braced my shoulders, and took the elevator up to Eric’s floor. A small crowd had gathered outside his room and a nurse was trying her best to shoo them all into the waiting room.
As I drew closer, I recognized his weary mom and dad, the dreaded Rebecca, and the two cops from the parking lot the night before. “Good morning. It looks like Eric is having a party.”
The nurse turned to me. “Rules are rules. I’m sorry but we cannot have all of you here.”
Eric’s mother and one of the cops said, “Hi, Florrie.”
The nurse’s eyes brightened. “You’re Florrie? You may go in. Everyone else to the waiting room.”
Eric was sitting up in bed. “Thank goodness you’re here. I love my mother, but she’s been smothering me with love since I woke up. Can you get me out of this joint?”
“Has the doctor signed your release?”
“He’s supposed to be doing that right now.” Eric ripped the tape off his arm and slid the IV needle out.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”
“Hand me my clothes?”
I really couldn’t blame him. As upset as I was about Rebecca—and why exactly was she here again this morning?—I could relate to his desire to escape the hospital. I hoped we could at least remain friends. Handing him fresh clothes that someone, probably his mom, had neatly hung up, I asked, “Are you sure you want to come with me?”
Eric had swung his legs over the side of the bed. One was wrapped in bandages. He stopped and looked at me. “I would be a pest at your place. You think my mom should take care of me?”
I was horrified that my initial reaction to his question was to think that if he went home with his mom, Rebecca would be with him constantly. Was I turning into one of those terrible women who played games? I chose my words carefully. “Not at all. I only want you to be comfortable.”
He blew a huge breath of air out of his mouth. “Thanks, Florrie. I’d much rather be here with you.”
I was basking in the glow of his words when the nurse returned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going home.”
“You didn’t know that you’re not supposed to disconnect yourself from your IV?”
“You should be glad. Now you don’t have to do it.”
Under her breath, the nurse said to me, “It’s probably a sign that he’s feeling well. But I pity you, honey. Try to keep him off that leg.” She handed me a stack of papers with instructions on them and, in a regular tone so he could hear, she rattled off what he was supposed to do. “Mainly, I want you to bring him to a doctor if it looks worse. And make sure he takes those antibiotics. He tried to weasel out of them this morning.”
The nurse tried to coax him into a wheelchair. I wasn’t getting in the middle of that argument. “I’ll go get the car.”
I scurried by the waiting room and fetched the car from the garage. When I pulled up at the front door to collect Eric, he was standing on one crutch surrounded by his parents, his cop friends, and Rebecca.
His dad helped him into the passenger seat while his mom whispered to me.
“Please call me a couple of times a day to let me know how he’s doing. I know he’ll try to make it sound like he’s back to normal no matter what is really happening.” She reached out and hugged me. “I’m so glad he has you to help him.”
Rebecca wasn’t as warm. She glided toward me like an iceberg and whispered, “You may have won this round, but the war has just begun.”
Lovely. I slid into the driver’s seat and closed my door to get away from her.
The cops were joking with Eric, but made a point of saying they would retrieve clothes and necessities from his apartment and bring them to the carriage house. That would delight Mr. DuBois. Three police officers hanging out behind the mansion would be like a dream come true to him.
I was relieved to see Veronica’s car parked at the carriage house. She hadn’t forgotten that she had to open the store for me. Happily, Eric had no trouble limping inside with one crutch.
“I don’t need this thing.” He stashed it in a corner before settling on the sofa.
Peaches wasted no time making him welcome. I brought him a mug of coffee and some snacks. After making sure he had his phone and a throw in case he grew chilly and wanted it for a nap, I was off to Color Me Read.
So much had happened that it was hard to focus. I tried to force myself to think about the event that evening instead of Eric. The doctor had said he would be fine. As for Rebecca, that conversation would simply have to wait.
Veronica and Helen asked about Eric immediately. I assured them he would be okay.
“Thanks for being nice to Percy last night,” said Veronica, giving me a hug.
“Sure.” I glanced at my watch. “Is it really twenty past one? We need to get going.”
The rest of the afternoon was consumed by preparations for the reading that night. We brought chairs up from the basement and arranged them in rows in the parlor where Don Moosbacher would read from his book. Veronica placed stacks of the book on the checkout counter and new-release table so people could find them easily to purchase them. I was planning to send Helen out for pastries, but I thought it would do me good to get out, so I went instead.
While I was looking at the selection of pastries in the bakery, I heard rapping on the window.
Edgar waved at me. He barged inside. “How is Eric?”
“He ripped out his IV this morning and escaped from the hospital. I think the nurses may have been glad to see him go.”
Edgar smiled. “He must be okay if you’re joking about him.”
“How’s your sister?”
“Spending a lot of time in dialysis. No matches have come up for her yet.”
Edgar volunteered to help me carry pastries. The two of us were like children at the bakery, selecting all the yummy items we wanted to try. In the end, I bought petit fours, mini-cream puffs, orange chocolate tarts, spinach and Gruyère filled buns, lemon tarts, Snickerdoodles, and an assortment of cupcakes. I suspected we had bought far too many until we returned to the store. It was so crowded that I worried the fire marshal might show up and tell us we had exceeded our capacity.
Don Moosbacher shook hands and walked through the crowd like a celebrity. I overheard one elderly gentleman saying how glad he was that someone was finally brave enough to reveal the truth about the Dumonts.
Veronica and I arranged the goodies on tables that she had set up in the children’s book room. Veronica kept the coffeepot filled, and I stationed myself at the front desk to direct people.
As they drifted into the parlor and took a seat, Professor Maxwell trotted down the stairs. He looked as tired as I felt.
“I assume you know that Mr. DuBois is upset about your irregular hours?”
“DuBois is always upset about something. You gave him the best gift imaginable.”
“Coconut cupcakes? I hardly think so.”
“Your charming Sergeant Jonquille. As we speak, DuBois is preparing Beef Wellington for him and two of his buddies.”
“He said he wouldn’t serve Eric. He’s never done that for me.”
“You, my dear Florrie, are not a policewoman.”
“And to think I was going to buy a takeout pizza on the way home tonight.” I smiled at him. “You look worn out.”
“I am. I had hoped Orso would put my little van Gogh painting on the black market. It hasn’t been easy finding the current underground dealers.”
“That’s what you were doing with van den Teuvel. I saw you coming out of a bar with him and some scuzzy-looking guy.”
“As much as I loathe van den Teuvel, his roots run deep in the underground art market. It’s big business, and he’s a player. I’ve been touching base with people who might know if Orso had a van Gogh for sale. But I haven’t had any luck. It may have gone straight to someone like van den Teuvel, who had a buyer waiting.”
“I presume he wouldn’t tell you if that were the case?”
“I doubt it. Not unless there was a hefty commission in it for him.”
“Do you have a photo of it?”
“Of course. I should have realized my little artiste would appreciate it.”
He trudged upstairs but returned quickly. Professor Maxwell handed me a picture that nearly made me choke.