I spent three days in the hospital, which was two more than I thought necessary. But Aunt Lydia overruled all my suggestions that I was fine and should be released immediately.
She had backup from the doctors, Sunny, and even Richard, who listened to my complaints without saying a word. Of course, he didn’t have to argue with me. Aunt Lydia had that covered.
On the second afternoon, Aunt Lydia said she had to run some errands, and Richard volunteered to drive her, leaving me alone. As I flipped aimlessly through various television channels, I heard an unexpected voice say, “Hello.”
Kurt Kendrick walked into my room, cradling a tasteful but obviously expensive bouquet of orchids.
“Amy, so happy to see you were not too bruised and battered by your ordeal,” he said, setting the flower arrangement on the side table.
I stared at him with suspicion. “Thanks for the flowers, but I thought you were in Europe.”
“Well, you see”—he pulled up a chair and sat down, his long legs bumping up against the metal bed frame—“my plans went completely haywire. My business is a bit erratic that way. Sellers change their minds, and sometimes buyers can’t make up theirs.”
His grin was disarming, but I remained on guard. “Surprised you felt a need to visit me. Especially when you’ve just arrived home from overseas. You must be tired, and it’s not like you know me that well.”
“Don’t I?” Kendrick leaned in and clasped my uninjured hand. “I suppose I may feel a connection that’s not reciprocal. But having spent time around your family in the past . . .” He lowered my hand onto the hospital blanket and sat back. “You do resemble Rose, you know, and never more so than now, with those dark eyes shooting daggers at me.”
I choked back a swearword before replying. “I may look a bit similar, but I’m nothing like her.”
“No, that’s very true. You are much nicer and not in the least bit insane.” His brilliant blue eyes studied me intently. “You thought I was involved, didn’t you? In the death of Doris Virts, at least.”
I sank back against my pillows. “Yes, at first.”
“Because of the car.”
“Partially. Also, people told me things . . .”
“Ah, people.” Kurt Kendrick ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Like your aunt, I suppose. And perhaps Zelda Shoemaker?”
I stared down at my clenched left hand, refusing to meet his eyes. “Just people. Anyway, you do have a reputation, Mr. Kendrick.”
“Oh, I have several.”
I glanced up to meet his amused gaze. “So why was your car there that day? That’s one puzzle piece I still can’t place.”
“Just a coincidence, actually. Those do happen in life, if not in your books.”
“I know, but it’s a strange one, you must admit.”
“Not really.” Kendrick rested his chin on his tented fingers and examined me.
As if you were one of his art objects, Amy. I used my good hand to push myself up and stiffened my spine, not allowing my back to touch the pillows. “So explain it to me.”
“And now you have the look of Lydia about you. Only the expression, of course, but I can see it clearly. Very well,” he said, ignoring my sniff of disapproval. “I was parked there behind your library for a specific reason. A perhaps not-entirely-innocent reason. However, it had nothing to do with Doris Virts. I’m not sure why you would ever connect me to her murder anyway, since I didn’t even know the woman.”
“I thought since Don owed you money . . .”
Kurt Kendrick waved his hand through the air as if shooing off an annoying insect. “Oh, that. Yes, Virts owed me some money. But I assure you I wouldn’t kill his mother over it. Or anyone, for that matter. That isn’t the way I do business, despite what your aunt may think.”
“She believes you made your first fortune running drugs.”
“Does she? Well, suppose I take the fifth on that one—would you think me beyond redemption?”
I stared at his craggy face, noticing no change in his cheerful expression. “Not necessarily. But you still haven’t told me why you were parked near the library the day Doris was murdered.”
“It was a private art deal,” he replied. “The seller didn’t want to meet me in public or at my house. So we arranged a pickup at a neutral location, and I parked on the side road near the library so we could discuss the terms of the sale.”
“You often conduct business in your car?”
“Not often, no. But this seller had good reason to be careful.”
“Because the piece was stolen, or what?”
“My dear, surely you don’t expect me to answer that.”
I narrowed my eyes as I continued to study him for any signs of anxiety. There were none. Obviously, whatever Kurt Kendrick was up to, he had no fears of being caught. “Guess not. But how did you explain this little art deal to the sheriff’s office? I know they cleared you, so you must’ve told them something.”
“I did, and they did, and let’s just leave it at that, shall we? Now”—Kendrick pushed back his chair and rose to his feet—“I should probably go. I don’t want to tire you.”
“I’m fine,” I said but decided against asking him to stay.
“Just wanted to check on you and wish you speedy recovery. And Amy”—he leaned forward until he was looming over me—“perhaps it would be best if you confined your investigations to library-related research in the future. You can see where digging into things you don’t understand might prove dangerous, I hope?”
He straightened but continued to stare down at me, no longer resembling an aging but still charming courtier from a Baroque painting. Now he appeared as stern and cold as some Old Testament prophet carved in marble.
I shrank back into my pillows and swallowed hard before I replied. “I don’t expect there’ll be any reason to do so. Not unless we have another sudden rash of murders in Taylorsford, and I can’t imagine that we will.”
“I should hope not,” said Kurt Kendrick, and he smiled once again. “Take care, Amy. And when you can, try to convince that aunt of yours to forgive and forget, will you? I would like to invite both of you to dinner some time.” He waved a quick good-bye before leaving my room.
After he’d gone, I studied the orchids he had brought. They were beautiful, but I couldn’t help but note how the blossoms resembled the mouths of tiny beasts.