He turned his attention back to Laura. “Now, Ms. Scott, you claim you have no enemies. Still, I’ll need a list of the people you know in Salem, and I’ll need to go over that list with you.”
Laura nodded, then closed her eyes. She looked pale and exhausted. I bet I looked about the same.
I wondered if I should tell Castanga all the rest of it, including Charlie’s dying words. No, I’d leave that decision to Maggie.
I thought of Jilly and Paul. Could either of them hate Laura so much they’d want to murder her? Had Jilly left the hospital on her own, driven up to Salem, managed to get into Laura’s apartment, and poured phenobarbital into the coffee can?
“Did Jilly have a key to your condo, Laura?” I asked finally, hating the words as they left my mouth.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. She visited me there, of course, from time to time. I need a better painkiller. My head is killing me.”
Detective Castanga stood and slowly slipped his notebook back into the inside pocket of his coat. “We have time for this later, Ms. Scott, when you feel better. In the meantime, I’ll post an officer by your door.”
“Thank you, Detective,” she said and closed her eyes again, turning her head away from him on the stingy hospital pillow.
“Mac, are you coming?”
I said, “I don’t want to leave her here alone. Someone tried to kill her. It’ll take a while for you to get someone over here.”
“Not long,” Detective Castanga said. “I got a guy who’s a little burned out right now, but he’ll guard her well.” He said to Laura, “His name is Harold Hobbes, a nice guy, tough as nails, and he won’t let his own mother into your room.”
“Thank you, Detective,” she said.
I went with Detective Castanga to the door and partway down the hospital corridor. Our footsteps sounded on a background of muted groans, one loud shout, the low hum of music, beeping machines, and an occasional curse. When I returned to Laura’s room, I saw a tall woman bending over Laura.
“Hey,” I said and ran forward.
The woman straightened and cocked her head at me in question. It was Dr. Kiren. “She’s tired but wanted to ask me a question. I had to lean over to hear her.”
“Sorry,” I said.
Dr. Kiren smiled. “She’ll be just fine by this evening, maybe even ready to go home.”
Home, I thought. No, that wouldn’t work. I had to think about this.
Dr. Kiren’s pager went off. On her way out, she told Laura to rest.
I thought about Charlie Duck’s funeral. Hopefully Charlie would arrive back in time for his scheduled send-off.
I leaned over Laura and stroked my thumb over her eyebrows. I said very quietly, “I’ll see you later this afternoon. Then we’ll talk. Just rest. Harold Hobbes will be outside your room. If anyone comes near you, it means they’ve gotten past Harold, so scream your head off.”
“All right,” she said, not opening her eyes. I’d nearly made it to the door when she called out, “Thanks, Mac.”
“Sure,” I said.
“I’m sorry I nearly got you killed.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I stopped at Laura’s condo. Castanga’s people had finished with it, but I still had to show my FBI badge so the manager would unlock her door. Grubster was standing directly in front of the door, waiting for Laura. He saw me, meowed once, then turned around and walked away, his tail high in the air. “I’m here to feed you,” I called after him.
To my surprise, Grubster stopped, raised his left paw, licked it, and took two steps back toward me. Then he just sat there. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s find your cat food.”
I watched Grubster chow down an entire can of salmon and rice and a big handful of dried stuff that looked so bad I poured some non-fat milk over it. Grubster purred the whole time he ate. I gave him a ton of fresh water and eyed his cat box, which needed changing. Grubster watched my technique. He must have approved because on his way out of the kitchen he stopped a moment and swiped his whiskers against my leg.