Rolls-Royce slid silently to the curb, majestic as the Queen Elizabeth .
Max said, “Annie, I’ll bring some food.”
And the door to the emergency cubicles swung open.
Chapter 3
C ary Martin was a good doctor. Annie was glad he was on duty tonight. He and Henny had become well acquainted during Henny’s stints as head of the Hospital Auxiliary. His long, narrow face was grave as he greeted them. “Hi, Annie.” He nodded more formally. “Mrs. Clyde.” Was there anyone on the island who didn’t know the famous mystery writer? “The hypothermia danger is past, but we don’t know the extent of the head injury.” They stood in a small cramped office at the end of the hall past the cubicles for patients.
Annie fought a rush of disappointment. She’d hoped for reassurance that Henny definitely was going to be all right. She should have known the situation was uncertain when Cary ushered them in there, instead of taking them to see Henny.
He gestured vaguely at a small sofa, waited for them to be seated, then folded his six feet seven inches onto a straight chair. “She responded well to the hypothermia treatment, hot packs and heated oxygen. One episode of ventricular fibrillation required cardiac massage. She’s stabilized. On an IV, of course, with antiarrhythmic drugs. The question now is the coma and whether she’ll come out of it. The good news is that the CT scan doesn’t show any massive lesions. Moreover, her eyes opened briefly. But edema from the head wound—”
Emma’s bright blue eyes bored into his face. “Was she struck, Dr. Martin?” Emma got to the heart of it.
Cary leaned back, tilting the chair. He stared up at a lazily whirring ceiling fan. “From the report of the medics, it doesn’t appear so. They said she was found with her head jammed against a fallen tree limb. One of them scraped off a trace of the tree. The bark appears to match particles in the wound. I’ll leave that to the police laboratory. I just spoke with Chief Garrett before I came out to get you.” He nodded toward Annie.
Annie realized unhappily that Cary’s report could be used in support of Garrett’s hypothesis, although the medical evidence only proved that Henny ran up a path in the dark and fell. It certainly didn’t prove she was a murderer fleeing from her crime.
“Hypothermia and a head wound.” Emma tapped her broad, blunt fingers on the sofa arm. “Have you examined her for any other trauma?”
Annie looked at Emma in surprise.
Cary answered promptly, “Her right forearm is bruised. A minor injury.”
Annie remembered the way Henny was bunched on the ground. “But she fell on her left shoulder.”
Emma’s blue eyes glowed. “What kind of bruise?”
Cary looked from one to the other. “A roundish, two-inch discoloration located just above the elbow. Of course, I didn’t see her before she was moved. All I can say is that she either bumped her right forearm good and hard or she was struck a sharp blow.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Annie asked in a small voice.
Cary Martin rubbed a bristly chin. “She’s stabilized. There’s no alteration in fluid and electrolyte balance indicating brain damage. But we won’t know until—and unless—she regains consciousness. We’ll keep her in ICU until then.” Slowly he heaved to his feet. He moved toward the door. “We’ll take good care—”
“Dr. Martin.” Emma was on her feet. She was looking up at a tall man, but nonetheless she dominated the room. “I’ve arranged for members of the Hospital Auxiliary to take around-the-clock shifts outside the intensive care unit. You know that Henny is a longtime member of the hospital board and has twice served as president of the auxiliary.”
The doctor frowned.
Emma continued briskly. “We won’t be in anyone’s way. Thank you so much for speaking with us.”
She sailed toward the door.
Annie scrambled to her feet and followed, feeling as outclassed as a cutter in the wake
Max said, “Annie, I’ll bring some food.”
And the door to the emergency cubicles swung open.
Chapter 3
C ary Martin was a good doctor. Annie was glad he was on duty tonight. He and Henny had become well acquainted during Henny’s stints as head of the Hospital Auxiliary. His long, narrow face was grave as he greeted them. “Hi, Annie.” He nodded more formally. “Mrs. Clyde.” Was there anyone on the island who didn’t know the famous mystery writer? “The hypothermia danger is past, but we don’t know the extent of the head injury.” They stood in a small cramped office at the end of the hall past the cubicles for patients.
Annie fought a rush of disappointment. She’d hoped for reassurance that Henny definitely was going to be all right. She should have known the situation was uncertain when Cary ushered them in there, instead of taking them to see Henny.
He gestured vaguely at a small sofa, waited for them to be seated, then folded his six feet seven inches onto a straight chair. “She responded well to the hypothermia treatment, hot packs and heated oxygen. One episode of ventricular fibrillation required cardiac massage. She’s stabilized. On an IV, of course, with antiarrhythmic drugs. The question now is the coma and whether she’ll come out of it. The good news is that the CT scan doesn’t show any massive lesions. Moreover, her eyes opened briefly. But edema from the head wound—”
Emma’s bright blue eyes bored into his face. “Was she struck, Dr. Martin?” Emma got to the heart of it.
Cary leaned back, tilting the chair. He stared up at a lazily whirring ceiling fan. “From the report of the medics, it doesn’t appear so. They said she was found with her head jammed against a fallen tree limb. One of them scraped off a trace of the tree. The bark appears to match particles in the wound. I’ll leave that to the police laboratory. I just spoke with Chief Garrett before I came out to get you.” He nodded toward Annie.
Annie realized unhappily that Cary’s report could be used in support of Garrett’s hypothesis, although the medical evidence only proved that Henny ran up a path in the dark and fell. It certainly didn’t prove she was a murderer fleeing from her crime.
“Hypothermia and a head wound.” Emma tapped her broad, blunt fingers on the sofa arm. “Have you examined her for any other trauma?”
Annie looked at Emma in surprise.
Cary answered promptly, “Her right forearm is bruised. A minor injury.”
Annie remembered the way Henny was bunched on the ground. “But she fell on her left shoulder.”
Emma’s blue eyes glowed. “What kind of bruise?”
Cary looked from one to the other. “A roundish, two-inch discoloration located just above the elbow. Of course, I didn’t see her before she was moved. All I can say is that she either bumped her right forearm good and hard or she was struck a sharp blow.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Annie asked in a small voice.
Cary Martin rubbed a bristly chin. “She’s stabilized. There’s no alteration in fluid and electrolyte balance indicating brain damage. But we won’t know until—and unless—she regains consciousness. We’ll keep her in ICU until then.” Slowly he heaved to his feet. He moved toward the door. “We’ll take good care—”
“Dr. Martin.” Emma was on her feet. She was looking up at a tall man, but nonetheless she dominated the room. “I’ve arranged for members of the Hospital Auxiliary to take around-the-clock shifts outside the intensive care unit. You know that Henny is a longtime member of the hospital board and has twice served as president of the auxiliary.”
The doctor frowned.
Emma continued briskly. “We won’t be in anyone’s way. Thank you so much for speaking with us.”
She sailed toward the door.
Annie scrambled to her feet and followed, feeling as outclassed as a cutter in the wake
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