Hortense changed channels idly, always restless on Sundays when there were no soap operas.
Immy startled when Mother banged down the footrest of the recliner.
“Look. It’s Xenia.” She pointed to the screen, and Immy threw down her cards so she could move to see the broadcast. “On the noon news.”
“Mommy, we’re not done.”
“You won, Drew. Let’s watch this show. C’mere.” Immy sat on the couch and pulled Drew into her lap. Drew squirmed out of her embrace and ran to her room. “I get another game,” she called back.
A picture of an unconscious Xenia filled the screen, then the camera cut to the announcer. “New information has come to light,” the Wymee Falls news anchor said, “in the murder of Saltlick business owner, Hugh Duckworthy. Duckworthy’s driver’s license and a credit card, both assumed stolen, were recovered from the purse of Xenia Blossom, who remains in a coma in Wymee Falls General Hospital after an anonymous tip, given sometime yesterday, according to Saltlick Police Chief Emmett Emersen. In our exclusive interview with Chief Emersen, he declined to say if she would be arrested and said he had no further information at this time. More details as we get them. Stay tuned to this station for breaking news.”
An old photo of the chief loomed behind the news anchor’s head. It was exchanged for the fresh one of Xenia in the hospital halfway through the report. It looked like her driver’s license picture.
That was the info Ralph had let slip to her, that Xenia had Hugh’s stolen license and card. Maybe Xenia did kill Hugh and also made the print. Immy hoped so. That would mean Baxter didn’t do it. But Xenia was in a coma. There was no way she could be questioned. Immy wondered if someone had planted the items in her purse. No one had been guarding her room when Immy was there. Anyone who claimed to be a relative could see her. Immy had claimed to be a relative, and so had Frankie. Maybe that’s why Xenia hadn’t been arrested.
Would it do any good to visit Xenia again? If only she could find out who else had visited her. Immy no longer had the wig, but she had hats and sunglasses. She could be another cousin this time, Maggie instead of Millie. That might work.
“I have to go out, Mother. Incognito,” said Immy.
“Now? It’s Sunday. Haven’t you stirred up enough hornet’s nests?” Hortense said, not removing her gaze from the rest of the news program. “You’d better see the rest of this. There might be more developments.”
“There won’t be until Xenia wakes up, if she ever does.” Immy had an awful thought. What if Xenia died? No one would ever know the truth. At least no one would know whether Xenia killed Hugh or not. Everyone would remain under suspicion forever. “I’m going to suss out a suspect.”
“What suspect?”
“I don’t know yet. Whoever planted the goods on Xenia. I can’t see her killing Hugh, much as that would be convenient. According to Frankie, she thought she would be seeing Hugh when she went to see Clem, or when she said she saw Clem. I don’t think either of them knew Hugh was dead.”
“Unless Francis prevaricated to you.”
“Yes, unless that.”
* * *
HOSPITALS WERE ALWAYS SO COLD. Immy wondered if germ growth was retarded by frigid temperatures. If she were a patient here at Wymee Falls General, she would be hollering for extra blankets for sure.
Xenia was covered by only a sheet and a thin white blanket. She looked even paler than the last time Immy had seen her. The tubes still snaked into her arm, and the screens still beeped and pulsed. The one with the spiky up and down things was probably the heart monitor, Immy figured. None of the lines ran flat, so she must not be brain dead.
Immy looked through the drawer in Xenia’s bedside stand, but it held only her purse, mostly empty, a plastic thing to throw up in, some latex gloves, and some sort of tape, maybe for bandages. A
Bible
had been shoved to the back.
What else in the room could hold evidence? A narrow locker-type closet yielded a plastic bag that seemed to hold the clothes Xenia had probably been wearing when she came to the hospital.
Immy gave a sigh and plopped into the chair by Xenia’s bed. Frankie must have visited recently, because the chair was smack against the rail. Immy would bet he’d been holding her hand. She felt sorry for him. It must be hard to watch the one you love suffer and be tortured like this. Except Xenia looked peaceful, not tortured.
As that thought crossed Immy’s mind, Xenia’s face contorted. The heart monitor scrawled some extra jagged lines across the screen, and Xenia’s eyes fluttered, then opened.
“Omigod!” they cried in unison.
“You,” said Xenia. “What the hell are you doing here, Immy?” She raised her head and looked around the room. “Where did Frankie go?”
“I’m your Cousin Maggie. I didn’t see him. Did you see him today?”
“Yeah, he was here when I woke up. I didn’t know where the hell I was, and I don’t have any cousins named Maggie.”
“Do you remember your wreck?” asked Immy. “You rear-ended a combine on the way out of Saltlick.”
“I remember a little bit. I know I was spittin’ mad at Clem. He wouldn’t give me my last paycheck. Hugh had told me to come back in a couple days, so I did.”
Xenia’s frown brought a smidge of color to her face. “Clem wouldn’t tell me where Hugh was or nothin’. He made me so mad.”
“So that’s why you got in the wreck?”
One of the monitors fussed when Xenia shrugged and tried to shift in her bed. “I wasn’t paying enough attention, I guess. I was powerful mad. That combine must have been going about five. I was so mad.”
Immy gathered she had been mad.
“That Clem, he was acting all mysterious. He’s as creepy as that turd Hugh if you ask me. I’m glad I don’t work there no more. One of them has to pay me, though.”
“So what exactly did Clem say to you?” said Immy.
“That he couldn’t pay me. Something about assets probably being frozen.”
Clem had told Immy he hadn’t spoken to Xenia before her wreck. One of them was lying.
“What did he mean about assets being frozen?” asked Immy.
“I don’t know what the hell he was talking about.”
Immy wondered if Xenia could make up stuff about assets being frozen. Maybe not. Immy herself wasn’t sure what it meant.
“What do you know about Frankie’s family buying Uncle Huey’s restaurant?” said Immy. “He told me his family wanted to buy it but Hugh wouldn’t sell.”
“Yeah, Frankie told me about that.”
“How badly did they want the restaurant? Badly enough to kill?”
“What do you mean? I think they still want it. Hugh would never budge, though. He wanted way too much money.”
“Frankie thought you had talked to Hugh. At least that’s what he told me.”
Xenia struggled to sit up. “Don’t you believe anything that rattlesnake says! You know what he said to the cops? Do you?”
The heart monitor beeped frantically.
“Should I get a nurse?” asked Immy.
“That damn Frankie. We’re through. T-H-R-U, through. He told the cops I might have killed Hugh. He said that for all he knew, I did it. Hell, I didn’t even know the old bastard was dead until Frankie told me today. Wouldn’t I know he was dead if I killed him?”
A nurse rushed into the room. “Are we awake again?” Her voice was hearty.
“I’m not friggin’ deaf,” said Xenia with a scowl.
“I’ll bet we’re hungry.” The nurse seemed to have such a naturally loud voice that she couldn’t possibly contain it or her cheerfulness either. Over the top, in Immy’s opinion.
“Don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” said Xenia.
“I ordered you some lunch. You get Jell-O. Isn’t that nice?”
Xenia made a horrible face.
The nurse bustled about, checking machines and tubes. “We’ve notified the Saltlick police. They’ll want to talk to you after you’ve eaten something.”
“I think I’ll take off now. See you later, Xenia.” Immy got up and scooted out of the room. She didn’t want to be found at Xenia’s bedside when the police arrived, although Immy would love to hear what happened. She looked up and down the hallway, trying to figure out a way to hang around and spy.
She didn’t need a disguise for normal travel anymore, since she had come in out of the cold, but she would need one in order to spy some more at the hospital. As she passed the large trash barrel she had overturned when Frank and his Uncle Guido were in the parking garage, she whipped off the hat that had made her into Cousin Maggie and tossed it in.
She had to admit, the glasses and hats weren’t working. She needed another wig or maybe a fat suit.
Immy was in luck. The costume shop was open on Sunday, and it marketed a huge array of fat devices. She pawed through packages that promised to turn her into an obese cheerleader, opera singer, or member of a harem. Too bad there were no nurses or doctors. Any of those others would be too obvious and far too expensive for her purposes.
She kept looking. On a lower shelf she found a section of cheaper packages that concentrated on separate body parts. She settled right away on the Big Boobs N Belly package, liking the cheerful illustration of the chubby person on the label, then debated between Fun Buns and Buns of Foam. The Buns of Foam were a dollar cheaper, so she chose them. They didn’t seem to come in sizes, saying “one size fits most.” Wouldn’t they make fat accessories to fit only skinny people? Why would people who were already fat need them? She hoped one size fit her.
“These foam buns are extremely popular right now,” the sales clerk said between smacking her gum and bobbing her head so her large hoop earrings swung against her ample neck. Immy didn’t think the poor girl would ever need any amplified body parts.
“Do you have a changing room?” asked Immy.
“You want to wear these right now? You’re going to need bigger clothes.”
Good point, a detail Detective Duckworthy had overlooked. Drat. “Well, do you have large clothing?”
“Are you kidding?” The clerk pointed Immy toward a long rack crowded with outsized clothing. Immy chose a pair of tan gaucho pants and a Hawaiian shirt in shades of blue, pink, and orange.
In the small, curtained space that passed for a dressing room, she strapped the Boobs N Belly contraption onto her torso, glad the weather hadn’t turned steamy hot yet. This thing could probably get warm. The buns strapped on, too, and the clothes seemed to fit just right over everything. It was like they were made for each other. In Immy’s experience, “one size fits most” didn’t always work out, but she was glad it did now.
Before she left the shop, she thought to pick up another wig, this one of curly red plastic locks. She waddled awkwardly when she walked. If this was what being fat felt like, she pitied her poor mother.
It wasn’t easy to fit behind her steering wheel, but she found that if she tipped the steering wheel up, she could do it. Now she had to hope she wasn’t too late getting back.
Immy scored a parking space on the first floor of the hospital parking garage.
My luck must be changing,
she thought.
This is going to work out great.
She breezed past the guardian at the reception desk, posing as Auntie Raylene this time. The woman did comment that Ms. Blossom had a large family but only gave her a glance. Sure enough, when Immy got to Xenia’s room, her luck still held. Maybe she would pick up a Lotto ticket later.
The bed was empty, but she could hear Xenia talking to someone in the bathroom. Immy assumed the nurse was helping her to the toilet. Xenia was not having a good time, though, judging from her whiny tone.
Immy opened the locker, kicked the plastic bag to the back, and squeezed in just as the bathroom door was opening.
“There,” shouted the nurse. “Don’t we feel all better now?”
Xenia’s grumble was too quiet to hear. Immy had a moment of worry. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on the conversation between the police and Xenia. Maybe she would run out of oxygen in this tiny closet. Maybe she would die here. Then she noticed the slits and decided oxygen wasn’t going to be a problem. She could also turn her head so her ear was against the slits and hear Xenia just fine.
“I don’t like vanilla shakes. I need chocolate. And give me some more friggin’ blankets. This place is like a walk-in fridge.”
The room no sooner grew quiet, presumably with the exit of the noisy nurse, than Immy heard Chief Emersen’s voice.
“Oh, Christ,” said Xenia. “What the hell do you want?”
“Good afternoon to you, too, Ms. Blossom. I assume you know my assistant, Ralph Sandoval.”
“He’s picked on me for speeding when I was hardly even over the limit,” Xenia whined. She may have added the word jerk, but Immy couldn’t quite tell.
“I’m going to ask you about the last time you saw Hugh Duckworthy and then a few more questions about the events leading up to your accident. Do you feel able to answer?”
“My mouth works fine.” Immy nodded, silently agreeing with that.
Chief asked Xenia if he could record the conversation, and she ungraciously consented.
Immy could hear fine, but she didn’t learn anything new. Xenia said she last saw Hugh when she quit, and he said he would pay her in a few days. She related the same story she had told Immy about Clem giving her the runaround and making her so mad she stormed off and hit the combine.
“You can’t believe that lyin’ asshole, Frank Laramie. Did he tell you I killed Hugh?” Xenia said when it seemed the interview was winding down. “I think he thinks I did, although why he’d think that, I’m sure I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to mislead y’all. So did he tell you that?”
“I’m not at liberty to answer that,” said Chief. “Do you have any reason at all to believe Laramie might have killed Duckworthy?”
A moment of silence. “I never thought of that,” said Xenia.
Immy hadn’t thought of it either.
After repeating all the same questions over again and thoroughly aggravating Xenia, the police left. Then Immy wondered how she was going to make a graceful exit. She hadn’t thought ahead to that point. Everything had been going so smoothly.