A Chill Rain in January by LR Wright Page B

I phoned for an ambulance, and it got to her house before I did. I followed them to the hospital and waited for a couple of hours. When they finally let me in to see her she was asleep.”
    â€œWas it a heart attack?”
    â€œAlex Gillingham says no.” She glanced up at Alberg. “It’s happened before, Karl. But he says there’s nothing actually wrong with her.”
    â€œBut every time it happens, you think this time it’ll be different, it’ll be serious.”
    â€œRight,” said Cassandra. “Exactly. I go through the same crap, every time. I’m out of my mind with worry and at the same time I’m angry with her. I phone my brother in Edmonton and he says ‘Should I come out?’ and I really want to say ‘Yes, yes, for God’s sake,’ but I don’t, I say, ‘Let’s wait and see,’ and the next day or the day after that she’s fine again and I call him and say ‘Stay home.’” There were tears in her eyes; she flicked them from her face. “I do love her, but she drives me crazy. I’m always gritting my teeth when I’m with her, and then something like this happens…”
    Alberg pulled her close to him. “It’s all right,” he said, and rocked her in his arms.
    She felt comforted, and eventually she became drowsy. She thought she might fall asleep right there, cuddled against his chest.
    But then a change occurred. There was an imperceptible alteration in the situation. And Cassandra was wide awake again, all five senses on the alert. She thought about her unmade bed. Maybe it still smelled of the honeysuckle bath powder she’d used before going to bed last night.
    His hand moved inside her robe; his face was extremely near; his lips opened before he kissed her; and then the telephone rang.
    â€œShit,” said Alberg, and then, “Sorry,” because after all it could have been the hospital.
    But it was Isabella.
    â€œI just got back here from lunch,” she said. “There’s still no news about Ramona. And then I find out you’re late.”
    â€œLate? What the hell am I late for?”
    â€œFor Bernie Peters. Do you want to find yourself a cleaning lady or don’t you? She’s here right now. Waiting. Been waiting for twenty minutes, she tells me. And she’s got somebody to do for at eleven-thirty. Did anybody check with the liquor store?”
    Alberg closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. “About what, Isabella?”
    â€œAbout Ramona. She’d want to get herself some gin. I told you about Ramona and her gin.”
    Alberg’s eyes opened. “That’s a very good idea, Isabella. I’ll check it out.”
    â€œBut first you’ll be getting yourself back here toot sweet, won’t you.”
    â€œI confess that I forgot about Bernie Peters, Isabella,” he said bleakly. “Do I really have to see her now?”
    â€œShe’s a woman much in demand,” said Isabella.
    â€œFuck it,” said Alberg.
    â€œI beg your pardon, Staff Sergeant?” said Isabella. “I can’t believe that I heard you say that.”
    â€œI’m coming,” he said grimly, and hung up.
    Cassandra handed him his jacket. She touched the slight cleft in his chin. “Thank you, Karl,” she said.
    When he got back to the detachment, Bernie Peters had left.
    â€œAnd I won’t guarantee,” said Isabella, with massive disapproval, “that I’ll ever be able to get her back here, either.”

Chapter 14
    Z OE Strachan had never been interested in music. Then one day she was walking along Robson Street in Vancouver and she heard something that reached out and seized her.
    It was being played by a man with a strange, many-stringed instrument. Zoe stopped, and listened. When it was over she asked the musician what he had played, and when she returned to Sechelt later that day she had bought a tape