Chapter 30

“There are one or two elementary rules to be observed in the way of handling patients...”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Stark Munro Letters

The man at the visitor desk had thinning brown hair, a broad smile, and a pleasant South Carolina accent. Apparently I wasn’t on their restricted list anymore and got a visitor’s pass without trouble. Now came the second hurdle - the guard outside Tom’s door.

He was uniformed, but he was a rent-a-cop from a private security firm, not a Chicago cop. Hopefully there’d be no confrontation. He asked for identification, recorded my visit on a log, and looked in my purse. He was in his early thirties and good looking in a Brad Pitt sort of way. I wouldn’t have minded a pat-down from him, but no luck. Instead he let me go right in. Statistically speaking, I wasn’t even having a good fantasy sex life.

The room was dark and quiet. Debra had already left. Tom was lying on his back, still hooked up to several machines. Both arms were connected to bags that dripped medication. The room had two beds, but he was the only occupant. I adjusted the window blind to let in a little light. Tom looked pasty and drawn. One leg was wrapped heavily at the ankle area, and one arm was in a sling. A brace like a figure eight was wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Deep purple bruises were visible around the sling and the brace and all over his head. I had a horrible vision of him tumbling down that awful winding staircase.

They say you should talk to patients in a coma, so I sat down and chatted about last night’s adventure. I told him about Auntie and George arriving for Tartan Day and that he needed to be mobile in time to attend the ceremonies. Then I explained about the terrible twins and their CrimeStoppers activities. Suddenly his eyes opened.

“Tom? Tom, it’s DD.”

“DD. Get me out of here. I don’t have any insurance.” His voice croaked. It sounded like an echo from a distant room.

“I hear you. I’ll call the nurse.”

“Wait. Not yet. Is Wolfie okay?”

“Absolutely. Debra’s taking care of him. They wouldn’t let me in before today, but Debra’s got your power of attorney, so she’s been here with you the whole time.”

“Glad Wolfie’s okay.”

“Do you remember anything of what happened, Tom?”

“No.”

“They say you’ve got a concussion. We were talking on the phone when somebody pushed you down a flight of stairs at the Grange mansion,” I explained. “You told me they tried to kill you.”

“It’s all a bit hazy, DD.”

“They should know you can’t kill a good bookseller!” I joked.

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts all over.”

“I’ll go for the nurse.”

“No. I want to know more. Fill me in. What’s going on? Where am I?”

“You’re in Billings hospital. You just came out of a coma.”

“What day is it?” he croaked.

“It’s Thursday.”

Tom tried to sit up. He groaned and sunk back down. “Am I gonna be okay, DD? How bad is it?”

“You’re going to be fine now that you’re awake. You’ve got a concussion, which they’re monitoring. Also you’ve got a fractured collarbone, a sprained ankle and wrist, and a lot of black and blues. They think you had an accident. They didn’t believe me when I told them that somebody pushed you down the stairs.”

“Oh shit. Is somebody after me?”

“Don’t worry. There’s a guard posted outside your door. And Debra’s been here with you. I have to ask you something important, Tom. Do you remember who pushed you?”

“It’s still foggy.”

I knew patients newly out of a coma should have time to re-orient, but there were questions only Tom could answer. “Tom, do know where the diary is?”

“What do you mean?” he said thickly. “What diary?”

“Don’t you remember finding Grange’s diary? You located it in a secret compartment in the library desk.’

“A diary?” He paused a long time. “Wait. Some things are starting to come back. I remember now. I found it in that antique library desk.”

“Did you have it with you when you were shoved down those stairs?”

“I’m trying to think. The Grange diary.”

“It wasn’t in with your clothes and things when you got to the hospital.”

“ It wasn’t?”

“No. After I checked your clothes, I looked all over the mansion.”

“I think I must have had the diary with me, DD.”

“Can you recall what happened? Did you fall or did somebody push you?”

“More is coming back to me,” he said. “Yes. Definitely somebody shoved me from behind.”

“Any idea who?” I pressed, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

His eyes closed tightly. After awhile, he said, “No, but I did feel a big push as I started down the stairs.”

“So probably whoever pushed you took the diary.” I hoped I wasn’t putting words into his mouth, but that was the only logical conclusion.

“Damn. We’ve got to find that diary,” Tom looked at the pinched bags hanging on steel contraptions dripping medication into his arms. “Correction. You’ve got to find it, DD.”

“There was a hidden wall safe in the library Tom. Did you know about it? I couldn’t find the combination though.”

Tom closed his eyes again. I waited, hoping his memory would return completely. When he opened his eyes, he nodded.

“Yes, DD. I remember I was talking to Mrs. Toller, the housekeeper. I went up to her quarters on the fourth floor. She told me the Dowager had been looking for a combination for a safe in the library.”

“She said that to me, too. Tom, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Mrs. Toller was murdered last night.”

“What?” Tom’s face crumpled. He grew even paler. “No...”

The door opened. The guard rushed in from the corridor.

“I thought I heard two voices.” He pointed at me as he picked up the phone on the bed table. “You should have let me know he’s awake. You have to leave now.”

“He’s conscious again,” the guard said into the phone, probably to the nurses’ station.

I promised Tom I’d be back later and left as a team of nurses, doctors and equipment converged on the room.

Sitting in my car, I phoned Debra and told her the news.

“It’s a miracle,” she said softly. I could hear the catch in her voice. I wondered if she had heard the one in mine.

“I know,” I agreed. “And he’s beginning to remember things. Somebody did push him, and he said he did have the diary with him. So we’ve got to keep him safe. Somebody out there may still be after him.”

“I’ll go right over,” she said. “They have to allow me in.”

“Tom and I didn’t discuss the Conan Doyle notes. We got interrupted. Anyway, it’ll take some more time for him to remember everything.”

I promised to call later and headed downtown to meet Morgan at Kiki’s Bistro.