Pushing Murder by Eleanor Boylan Page B

home free.”
    â€œIt’s Janet I’m concerned about,” I said.
    Tina set her wine glass down. “Pardon me if I sound uncaring about this Janet—not having met her, I can’t work up steam about her safety—but what I wish is that we could get you out of here, Clara, and back to Nice Ugly.”
    â€œOr on a plane to Florida,” said Sadd. He rolled the wheelchair to a floor lamp and opened a book.
    â€œWhat does the doctor say?” asked Henry.
    â€œI don’t know. I haven’t asked her.” My light-headedness was returning. “How long have I been here?”
    â€œSince Sunday. This is Tuesday.”
    I lay with my eyes closed thinking of Janet. I’d promised to call her. Through the door came Sister Agnes with my pill. Henry and Tina hovered at the bed as I got it down.
    â€œHow’s she doing, Sister?” asked Tina.
    â€œPretty well,” said Sister with all the caution of her calling.
    â€œI’ve taken enough of these things to tranquilize an elephant,” I said. Sister left, and I added, “Dr. Cullen simply can’t keep me here over Christmas.”
    â€œI’m going to call her.” Henry reached for the phone as it rang. He answered, listened for a few seconds, then said, “This is Henry, Janet. My mother’s had a rough day. Dwight Dunlop got hold of your letter, so we’re concerned about you.… Yes, here she is.”
    He put the receiver in my hand, motioned to Tina to pick up the other one, and said, “I’m going down the hall to a booth. What’s Dr. Cullen’s number?” I pointed to the pad, and he left. Janet’s agitated voice was reaching me from ten inches away, but I ignored it and said without preamble, “Janet, I hope you remember what Dan told you. Stay in your room till—”
    â€œI’ve checked out of the Plaza, Clara.”
    â€œYou’ve gone home?”
    â€œI’m downstairs.”
    Good God. “Janet! That man is everywhere!”
    â€œI know. It’s awful—he almost seems to have bilocation.”
    â€œWhat’s bilocation?”
    Sadd looked up from his book. “It’s the property certain saints are said to have had of being in two places at the same time.”
    Janet was saying more or less the same thing. I said incredulously, “Saints?”
    â€œAnd devils,” said Janet.
    That figured. “Devils, too,” I said to Sadd.
    He shrugged. “Could be. Fiends are sometimes said to be granted supernatural powers. In The Screwtape Letters —”
    But it was Janet I was listening to.
    â€œClara, I’ve got to see you. Look—I’m going into the flower shop here in the lobby—”
    â€œI don’t want any flowers, Janet!”
    â€œâ€”and get some flowers for the chapel.” Oops. “Then please let me come up.”
    â€œOf course! But stay in the flower shop till Dan comes for you. He’s in the cafeteria, and he’ll be back any minute. Don’t budge out of there till he comes.”
    â€œOkay. But now we have to go to the police.”
    â€œWith what?” Hadn’t I spoken those words recently?
    She seemed to hesitate. “Well—with … something I’ve got.”
    Ah. A flicker of light. I said, “Was this ‘something’ by any chance mentioned in your letter?”
    â€œYes. It could put him in prison.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you—”
    â€œI know. I should have leveled with you this morning. Well, I will now. See you shortly.”
    She hung up, and Tina and I did the same. She said, “Do you want me to go down?”
    â€œMaybe.” I groaned. “I won’t rest till she’s in this room. If only Dan and Kit would—”
    And at that moment they did, bearing pungent trays. Sadd fell upon his, and Tina said, “Where’s my son?”
    â€œHe spied his dad in a phone booth down