Citizen Insane (A Barbara Marr Murder Mystery #2) Page 6

  “I don’t think you have any broken bones. Can you walk to the ambulance? I want to check your blood sugar level and take your blood pressure.”

  I nodded. “You’re very nice, Juan. Thank you. If it turns out I’m a killer, will you still be nice to me?”

  “I’m sure you’re not a killer, Mrs. Marr.” He smiled.

  He offered his assistance in walking to the ambulance and was kind enough to guide me around the scene where emergency responders hovered over Michelle’s body.

  Colt’s red GTO slid quickly beside the ambulance just as Juan was helping me in.

  “Curly,” he said, barely letting the car come to a complete stop before leaping out.

  “Hi,” I tried to smile. “Wanna join me? It’s warmer in here.” I had settled down considerably, and seeing Colt, his face tight with concern, raised my spirits.

  He jumped into the back of the ambulance nearly toppling poor Juan while he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. The other EMT, a young woman, did not seem pleased with Colt’s presence.

  “Uh, sir . . .” she said, putting her hand up as if to ward him off.

  I stopped her short. No one was going to turn Colt away at a time like this.

  “No. Please let him stay. He’s my friend.”

  Colt, ignoring the woman altogether, had already knelt in front of me and wrapped my hands tightly in his own. They were warm and strong and sent a force of energy so powerful through every fiber of my body that I nearly forgot my dire circumstances entirely.

  The lady EMT gave up her argument without a fight.

  He brushed a couple of curls from my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Define okay. I don’t have any broken bones. Is that okay? Did they tell you what happened?”

  “I got the gist.”

  “I killed a woman. She was still breathing when Roz went to call 911, then—” I shivered and felt sick to my stomach again.

  Colt tipped my chin so I would be forced to look him in the eyes. “We don’t know what happened yet. I’ll get some answers.” He looked at Juan the EMT. “What’s your plan here?”

  “Her blood pressure is a little low,” he said. “And we’re concerned about a concussion. We’ll be transporting her to Rustic Woods Hospital for observation.”

  “Don’t leave without me,” Colt demanded with a stern finger point. “I’ll see what I can find out and be right back.” Colt kissed me on the forehead and jumped down, walking with determined confidence toward the nearest policeman.

  “Colt!” I yelled. He turned back. “Ask them if they found Howard.”

  Things happened quickly after that. Roz came to tell me Mrs. Perkins would stay with the girls until my mother arrived. I asked Roz why she had to call my mother and Roz said who else would she call? A burly policeman with a generous pair of eye brows told me he had some questions to ask. He fired away while Juan pricked my finger to collect blood. What time did you leave your house? Where were you going? Who was with you in the car? Did you see the victim before you hit her? Did you hear anyone scream or yell when you hit the victim? Did you ingest legal or illegal drugs? Were you drinking alcoholic beverages this evening?

  I could feel the blood drain further from my extremities with each question, so it was no surprise when Juan had to apologize and grab yet another finger to attack. I felt like a pincushion being interrogated on a bad episode of NYPD Blue.

  Being sequestered inside the ambulance prevented me from observing exterior events, but I did hear a sharp, single siren followed by some bustling and an obscenity or two. The cop straightened and pulled his gut in as far as it would go. Somebody important had arrived.

  “Sir,” he said with a nod to the as yet unseen arrival.

  “Officer,” replied the voice.

  My heart jumped. I knew that voice.

  Howard’s head appeared around the corner of the ambulance bay. His grim face lightened when he saw me, allowing a somber but gentle smile to appear. Jumping inside, he grabbed me in a hug and held on tight. He was warm and I was in heaven.

  After a long and loving embrace, he pulled back. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine. It may be a while before I can use these again,” I said, holding up my three band-aided fingertips. “But they say I should be back to normal in no time—ready to get behind the wheel and mow down any innocent mother who gets in my way.” My voice cracked. The witty attempt to forget my problems backfired. The tears that had retreated earlier made a valiant comeback.

  Another commotion erupted outside the ambulance. The burly cop had tried to stop a passerby from getting into the fray. Only it was no ordinary passerby. It was my mother.

  “What do you mean I have to leave? I will do no such thing. Just who do you think you’re talking to? Where’s my daughter?”

  True, the cop was round and sturdy, but he was no match for my mother who had a good three to four inches on him. Not to mention the venomous disposition of a cobra.

  She pushed him out of her way and marched toward me. She frowned when she spied Howard.

  “Howard,” she said, acknowledging his presence.

  “Diane.”

  “I was told you were nowhere to be found.”

  “Evidently you were told wrong.”

  “How are they treating my daughter?” she asked. Apparently, she wasn’t expecting an answer because she continued right on without a break for air. “How are they treating you dear? Did they take your blood pressure?” She looked at Juan. “What’s her blood pressure? Are her pupils dilated?” Back to me: “They should take you to the hospital for observation.” To Juan again: “Are you taking her to the hospital for observation?”

  “Mom, calm down. I’m fine. They know what they’re doing.”

  “How do you know? I’m registered in emergency care—these are the kinds of questions I always ask in situations like this.”

  “You’re not an EMT.”

  “I said I was registered in emergency care.”

  “That was a CPR course.”

  “I’m registered.”

  “To do CPR.”

  Juan chimed in. “How long ago did you do that course?”

  “Three, four years ago.”

  “Then your registration has expired. Step away from my vehicle.”

  Howard jumped out of the ambulance and landed next to my stupefied mother.

  “Diane, can you take the girls to your condo for the night? I need to stay here and wrap things up.”

  “You can’t come with me to the hospital?” I whined.

  “I’ll try. I want to stick around in case I’m needed for media control being that you’re an FBI agent’s wife. They eat that stuff up. I’ll get there when I can.”

  “I can take the girls,” she said.

  “Did you come in your car?” I asked her.

  “Of course.”

  “You can’t fit all three girls in that ridiculous toy of a car. Howard, that won’t work.”

  “I’ll drive them to her place,” offered Colt, who had magically appeared next to Howard. “Hey Howie,” he said elbowing Howard playfully.

  Howard stared Colt down.

  “Sorry,” Colt corrected himself like a scolded teenager. “Agent Marr.”

  “Thank you,” said Howard. “You help Diane get the girls and their things. Bring them out the back door so they see as little as possible. I’ll find Roz and see if she can ride to the hospital with Barb.”

  “Yes, sir!” said Colt with a salute.

  “Coltrane Amadeus Baron,” chided my mother, “Won’t you ever grow up?”

  “Growing up is for sissies. It’s much more challenging to nurture the child within.”

  With a harumpf, my mother marched off to the house. Colt gave me a shrug and a wink as he hollered after her. “Meetcha there in a minute with the car Diane!”

  When they were gone, I pleaded with Howard. “I feel fine—I don’t need to go to the hospital. Tell them to let me stay here.” />
  “They know what they’re doing and they want to observe you for a few hours. I’ll get there when I can.”

  “Howard?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why couldn’t you come for dinner tonight?

  “Didn’t Diane give you the message? I had to work.”

  “Peggy saw you working with that sleazy tramp at Cappuccino Corner.”

  He didn’t blink. He didn’t speak either.

  “The same one I saw you with at Fiorenza’s last night.”

  He blinked once but he still didn’t speak.

  Roz broke the silence.

  “Colt said you were looking for me.”

  Howard jumped at the chance to change the subject. “Can you go with Barb to the hospital? I have to stay here on the scene.”

  “Sure. Let me run to the house, tell Peter and grab a couple of things.”

  She scampered away, leaving Howard and I staring silently at each other. A police officer broke the tension when he tapped Howard on the shoulder and pulled him aside for a whispered discussion. Meanwhile the other ambulance screamed off with sirens blaring.

  “What was that about?” I asked after the officer left.

  “The victim.”

  “Her name is Michelle Alexander.”

  He seemed surprised. “You know her?”

  “Of course,” I said. “She lives around the corner. Her kids go to Tulip Tree Elementary.”

  “Really? Well, she’s alive.”

  “Thank God.” I felt ready to cry again, but from relief this time.

  “She’s barely hanging on though. They’re transporting her to Fairfax Hospital—they have a better trauma center than Rustic Woods. It wasn’t your impact that injured her, Barb. They figure you only tapped her at most.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone shot her. One bullet barely missed her heart as far as they can tell.”

  “One bullet—how many times was she shot?”

  “Three times. At close range.” He shook his head. “It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

  Chapter Seven

  CHILLS RIPPLED DOWN MY SPINE while little hairs jumped to attention on the nape of my clammy neck. Suddenly, this had become a totally different game of ball. I didn’t waste Michelle like a pro-bowler taking down ten pins in a strike. Someone had been playing a deadly round of lead marbles with her long before Roz and I came along. Poor Michelle. Who would do such a thing? If we hadn’t been heading out to Bunny’s . . . uh oh. Bunny Bergen. Of course! And Roz said I was being silly about her threatening to kill Michelle.

  “Barb? You okay?” Howard’s voice shocked me back to the present.

  “Howard—it was Bunny.”

  “What?”

  “They had a fight—Bunny and Michelle—tonight after the PTA meeting. She even said she’d kill her. And that’s why Roz and I were going out so late. Bunny called me to come over. She probably shot her in some heated moment of passion and then regretted it. Or maybe she didn’t regret it. Maybe we were next. I knew she was insane. You need to send people over there right now!”

  Howard shook his head. “It’s a police matter. The FBI isn’t involved.”

  “But you can tell them about Bunny, right?”

  “I . . .” he hesitated. “I can’t talk about this.”

  “Why were you at her house this morning anyway? What’s going on with Bunny Bergen? You know something.”

  “I told you I can’t talk about this.”

  Roz popped up, holding up a pair of keys in her hand. “I’m ready. I thought it would be better if I followed in my own car. Then we have a way home if they release you. That okay with you?”

  I didn’t want to let the topic go. “Howard?”

  He wasn’t budging. “You need to go.”

  Bewildered, Roz glanced between us. “Did anyone hear what I said?”

  Fine. If Howard didn’t care that Bunny Bergen was running around assassinating the mothers of Rustic Woods, then neither did I. “Sure, Roz. That’s a good idea. Juan will keep me company, right Juan?”

  Juan smiled while wrapping things up for our departure.

  “I’ll call you to check in,” Howard said, putting his hand on mine.

  “Sure. You go do your job.”

  “Barb—I love you. We’ll talk about. . . that other thing later.”

  “Bunny?”

  “No. The OTHER, other thing.”

  Juan, as wonderful as he was, interrupted Howard at the absolutely wrong moment. “Time to go.”

  Howard stepped away, the doors swung closed, the siren whooped, and we were off.

  True to her word, Roz followed right on our tail and walked alongside my gurney as the EMTs wheeled me through the emergency entrance at Rustic Woods Hospital. After I answered a gazillion questions, they rolled me into a curtained area where the checked my blood pressure and tested my pupils for dilation. People kept coming and going. Roz and I didn’t have enough privacy to talk to Roz about Michelle, the gunshot wounds, or Bunny. Could Bunny be crazy enough to attempt murder? I wondered whether Roz had said anything to the police about her.

  “Mrs. Marr, a doctor will be here soon. Lie back and relax.” The gray-haired, spectacled nurse pulled the curtain behind her, finally leaving Roz and me alone.

  Roz scooted her little stool to the side of my bed, her eyes wide in curiosity. “Did Howard tell you anything?”

  “Michelle is alive, did you know that?”

  “Yes. I’m so relieved.”

  “Do you know she was walking around with three gunshot wounds when I hit her?”

  “No!”

  I nodded. “Howard says I barely tapped her. They can’t believe she’s still alive—whoever shot her really wanted her DOA.”

  Roz’s jaw dropped. “That’s awful. I guess it’s lucky that Bunny called you. We wouldn’t have been out otherwise. Who knows what would have happened?”

  “Lucky? Or planned event? Roz. Aren’t you following the dots here?”

  She rolled her eyes. I was really tired of people rolling their eyes at me. I’m not as stupid as I look. “Roz. Think. Bunny shows up on my lawn looney as a tune. Then the entire Rustic Woods fire and rescue brigade descends on her house—just because she ran over a rabbit? Really? I’m not buying it. Then she threatens Michelle in broad daylight—”

  “It was night time.”

  “In broad nightlight—says she’ll kill her—then, as the song goes, ‘isn’t it ironic?’ Michelle shows up filled with more holes than a bag of lifesavers. AND whose phone call caused me to get me to get in my car and ultimately hit Michelle? Hmm?”

  Roz crossed her arms. “That song has nothing to do with irony.”

  “Would you stay on topic here?”

  “I don’t get what one thing has to do with the other.”

  “You mean, that she threatens to kill Michelle and then Michelle ends up almost killed?”

  “No—I mean I don’t know what this morning’s event has to do with the other thing.”

  “You mean, that she has a mondo bizarro meltdown, then threatens to kill Michelle, then Michelle ends up almost killed? That thing?”

  “Okay—you made your point.” She crossed her arms. “It’s suspicious.”

  “Thank you.” I blew some dangling hair out of my face. “And yet, Howard doesn’t think so.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told Howard about their fight after the PTA. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well, that is a little strange. Something else too, now that I think of it.”

  “About Bunny?”

  “No—back at the accident scene. When the police questioned me, they asked basic questions, like why we were out, where we were going, whether you’d been drinking. Things you’d expect them to ask. But, if they knew she’d been shot, why didn’t they ask me if I’d seen anything suspicious?”

  I silently wondered the same thing. “Me too,” I said finally. “Same
questions.”

  “They questioned your mom too.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I don’t think they questioned her so much as she gave them a load of information they may or may not have wanted. Evidently there was some man at your house with her after the PTA meeting.”

  “Russell Crow.”

  “Who?”

  “Not the actor—the fire fighter.”

  “Yum.”

  “Trust me. He’s as good as they get.”

  “Muscles?”

  “Sculpted like a DaVinci original.”

  “Five o’clock shadow?”

  “Sensationally sexy stubble.”

  “Wow. At your house?”

  “My mother is trying to set me up with him.”

  “You’re married.”

  “She thinks that’s negotiable. So does Howard I guess.”

  “Anyway,” Roz said, “I did mention that we were on our way to Bunny Bergen’s house, since they asked where we were going. So Howard won’t be looking into her as a suspect?”

  “He said it’s a police matter. The FBI isn’t involved.”

  She ran her hands through her hair. “Well, I’m tired. I just want to get home and forget that any of this happened.” The phone in her hand rang, startling us both. She looked at the display. “Peggy.”

  Just as Roz answered, a lady doctor pulled the curtain back. “Cell phones aren’t allowed in the hospital. You’ll need to take that outside.”

  “Peggy, I’ll call you back.”

  Roz left while the lady introduced herself as Dr. Vaziri then gave me the once over for the umpteenth time.

  “How’s your head, Mrs. Marr?”

  “It’s sore where the branch hit,” I said, touching my bandaged forehead. “Otherwise, it’s fine.”

  “I see no reason to admit you. You don’t show signs of concussion or swelling. They brought you in because you lost consciousness when you took that blow to your head, but that may have been due to the mental trauma of the other accident. I suggest you go home and rest. Make sure someone stays with you for at least twenty-four hours.”