I arrived at the emergency room after the Copeland clan with dread tearing at my heart. The delay being Delilah's inability to pass through hospital security unnoticed. I'd had to drop her off at my apartment which meant approximately forty minutes without knowing Dee's status. Scott texted me details, so at least I knew Dee had bypassed the emergency room and now took up a room in intensive care at St. Joseph's. A nurse stopped me at the fourth floor at the nurses' station and asked my relation to the patient.
"She's family." Scott answered in a terse voice from behind me. His usually grim face held a good degree of worry, but for someone who knew him, it was the relief that shone through the brightest.
I followed him to the small waiting area. "They're only allowing one family member in at a time, and we can't get Mom to come out. So we're stuck here waiting."
"Has a doctor been out?"
"We've been updated with the basics," Tom cut in. "She was hit on the head pretty hard and they've put her in a medically induced coma to help bring down the very small amount of brain swelling."
Brain swelling. I lifted my hand to my throat. "How did this happen?"
"She interrupted a crime in progress at a private residence. That's all we know until the detective assigned to the case arrives." Scott thumped his solid form down in a vinyl chair. "I never should've let her think she could do this on her own. She's a trouble magnet."
The heat rose with a slow build until it erupted from my voice box. "Some wacko hits Dee and you're saying it's her fault? Are you cracked out? Maybe if you weren't such a micro-managing, insensitive, dream-killing, overprotective brother she wouldn't have been out there by herself in the first place."
Scott leveled a heated gaze in my direction, but didn't defend himself. My words were mean and childish but I'd become incapable of rational thought. The last words Dee and I had shared skipped like a dirty CD through my mind. She'd needed me, and I'd been worried about how she affected my bottom line.
Rebekah looped an arm through mine and walked me to the other side of the room. "We're all worried. It won't do any good to assign blame."
A tear I'd been trying to hold back rushed down my face. A few more followed before I got them under control.
Our attention turned to clipped footsteps coming in our direction. A man in a suit walked to Scott and Tom and shook their hands.
"Scott. Tom."
"Jim-bo."
"I saw your sister's name come across the blotter, so I asked to be assigned as junior. The lead is Detective Harmon and he's downstairs with the other victim's significant other. The victim didn't survive her head trauma and they're transporting her to the coroner's office. And, that's about all I can give you guys for now. I have some questions if we can sit for a few minutes."
Tom motioned toward Rebekah and introduced us before he took his seat next to Scott. "This is my wife, Rebekah, and you may remember Odie. Ladies, this is Detective Reinhardt. We played high school football together."
The detective nodded in our direction. I could tell he didn't remember me, but his was a face I couldn't forget. Dee had practically stalked him his senior year. He'd been a whole year behind Scott and Tom, so they'd gone off to college and had never known about her obsession. To say he was still a looker would be putting it mildly.
Detective Reinhardt or "Jimmy Stole My Heart" as our fourteen year old selves dubbed him pulled a digital recorder from the breast pocket of his suit. "If you don't mind, I do better recording informal Q&As. Do any of you know of Dee's relation to the victim, Lucille Malone?"
"What?" My voice echoed off the tan walls. "Dee was attacked at Lucille's?"
"I take it you have a relationship with the victim?"
All eyes pinned questioning gazes on me. The realization sunk in. Dee had gone to spy on Lucille on behalf of Maxine Labrada. "She and her partner distribute their graphic novels to my comic book store. That's how Maxine met Dee, I guess. Most people know Lucille as L.H. Maloney."
"Do you know what Dee was doing there?"
"Surveillance, I'd guess. She took her camera with her." I didn't glance at Scott since the camera belonged to Copeland Investigations.
Reinhardt turned to Scott. "Is this for one of your firm's investigations?"
"No. Dee is on her own now. Whatever she was doing there wasn't connected to Copeland Investigations."
Reinhardt turned his focus back to me. "Do you know why she'd be surveilling the victim?"
"Because she was paid to."
His brows furrowed. "Can you elaborate?"
"No. She wouldn't tell me when I asked. She said client confidentiality."
"Where is Dee's office?"
I lifted my hand. "My store."
He put the recorder between us. "Do I have your permission to go through her office in your store?"
"Can't you ask her permission when she wakes up?"
Rebekah moved between the detective and me. "I think what Odie is trying to say is that it becomes tricky legally on who has the permission to allow the police department to go through a licensed investigator's client files."
Reinhardt clicked off the recorder and nodded at all of us. "It didn't hurt to ask."
Rebekah gave him a "nice try" smile.
"As soon as the doctor allows, I'll be interviewing Dee. It'd be great if one of you could give me a call as soon as she's up to it. I understand it could be a few days, but her attack is linked to a homicide investigation, and you know how time becomes the enemy."
Both Scott and Tom shook hands with Reinhardt and thanked him.
As soon as we could no longer see his dark suit retreating down the hallway, Tom pulled Rebekah close and pecked her on top of the head. "At least one of us is thinking clearly."
"Don't we want to cooperate with the police?" I asked.
Scott grasped my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, the earlier discord between us gone. "We have to be careful we don't open Dee up to any lawsuits. The homicide and her attack may have nothing to do with why she was hired or for what reasons."
"That makes sense." Nothing made sense.
Two double doors with rectangle windows opened and Mrs. Copeland came through with a tall man in a lab coat. With shoulders slumped, she appeared smaller than her five feet six inches. "The swelling has started to recede. The prognosis looks good."
"Her noggin needs a little time to heal is all." The doctor's identification attached to his lab coat read A. Vasquez.
Mrs. C addressed us all at once. "I know you all want to see her, but Dr. Vasquez and I agreed no other visitors until at least tomorrow morning. I'll be staying the night."
"Ow, oh, ow." Rebekah placed her hand on her lower abdomen and sat down. "Crap that hurts."
Dr. Vasquez kneeled beside her. "How may weeks?"
"Thirty-one." Rebekah began panting and the air whistled through her teeth.
"Let's get you downstairs and give your OB a call. I have a feeling it's nothing, but I prefer not to go off feelings when it comes to pregnancies."
Dr. Vasquez asked a nurse to get Rebekah a wheel chair. Tom helped Rebekah into it and they along with Dr. Vasquez headed to the nearest elevator bay. The worry on Mrs. C's face increased.
Scott pulled his mom into a side hug. "Go back with Dee. I'll go down and check on Tom and Rebekah and text updates."
Mrs. C kissed Scott on the cheek and the nurse hit the magic button to open up the double doors leading to Dee's room.
And then there was me. Not technically a part of the family, and unable to see Dee until the next day, I had no reason to stay at the hospital any longer.
Scott's dark eyebrows pulled together deep in thought, so I turned to leave.
"Do you have a minute?"
"I actually need to see a woman about a pig."
"Tell me about Lucille Malone."
I sat down and played with the strap of my purse. "She's brilliant. But she's different or she was before this."
"How so?"
"Her graphic novels follow a conspiracy theorist hero but Lucille is the true conspiracy enthusiast. She started with a blog and built a following of rabid fans. One of the fans suggested she write graphic novels, so she crowd-source funded her indie company.
She doesn't work with big box stores, and doesn't trust the government. Local or federal. A hide your cash in the mattress type person. She delivers her stock personally, and will only receive payment in cash."
"So it could've been a robbery gone wrong?"
"I really don't know why anyone would want to kill her, even over money. I'm pretty sure she lives in a gated house down near the water. Wealthier people live in that area."
"I need to see Dee's files."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to let anyone see them."
"I'm not anyone."
"Okay. She has her laptop, some surveillance equipment— all yours probably—and a large rolling suitcase with some files in it. The pink one with her initials embroidered on it. If I had to guess, that's where she keeps her notes. The police probably have the camera. And Lord help them if they have to go through her mess of car."
"I'll check on Rebekah and Tom first, and then I'll meet you at your comic store."
I glanced at the time on my phone. Ms. Selene would've packed up shop by now. She'd graciously agreed to check in on Delilah and feed her some oatmeal. She'd texted me the "all good" about an hour ago. I responded with a simple thank you and when I glanced back up Scott had already left for the elevators. I selfishly wanted to call Mrs. C and ask if I could see Dee for just a minute, but I knew the best way to help her was to take care of Delilah.
My stomach rumbled with obscene barks followed by squeaks, and I realized we'd never had brunch. A girl can't survive off of one energy drink and a sticky muffin from the vending machine. I stopped by the hospital cafeteria to grab a sandwich to eat on the way home. A turkey and cheese to sooth some of the stress.
As I stood in the checkout line, I recognized Maxine sitting in the far corner at a small circular table. Her dark glasses in place, it appeared she studied the parking lot. I had no plans to approach her, but she honed in on me as if she knew I was staring at her from across the room. She waved to me and I trudged over unsure how to offer my condolences without asking inappropriate questions about Dee's case.
"How is Ms. Copeland?"
"The outlook is good."
"Do you think she'll be able to identify her assailant?"
"I hope so." She gestured for me to sit and I claimed the chair opposite her. "I'm very sorry about Lucille."
She stuck a tissue under her glasses to mop up a tear I couldn't see.
"I don't know what I'm going to do without her. I've been sitting here for hours since they took her body to the coroner's office. I just can't make myself go down there to collect her things."
"She doesn't have any family that can do that?"
"I was her family. Lucille and I weren't just partners, we were partners."
"Oohhh. Okay. I never realized." Maxine must've been the significant other Reinhardt had mentioned earlier.
"Lucille enjoyed being secretive about everything in her life. She thrived on it."
"I see."
Maxine lifted her dark glasses of her face. "I need to ask you for a favor."
"From me?"
"As you know, Lucille wasn't just secretive she bordered on paranoia. Lately she'd been spending a lot of time locked inside her office, making phone calls and erasing the information from her cell, taking her laptop everywhere. I'm not proud of what I'm about to tell you."
"Okay."
"I hired Ms. Copeland to find out if Lucille was having an affair."
"Oh."
"And I think she found something."
"That quickly? You only hired her this morning."
"Actually, it was several days ago. This was the first morning we'd met at your store. I'd planned to be gone at appointments all morning, as well as Lucille, so I knew there'd be an opportunity for her to snoop around. I gave her a key to the house."
"That solves how she interrupted a crime in progress and why she was there, but what do you need from me?"
"I lied to the police about why I hired your friend. I told them someone had been possibly stalking Lucille. She had some very dedicated fans."
"Why would you lie to the police?"
"Lucille deserves to be remembered for her work, not for the secrets she kept. I can forgive her for any infidelity, but that is our business and not for public record. Lucille would have wanted it that way."
"I'm still not sure what I can do for you."
"I need you to get back our house key and destroy any notes Dee had from our conversation this morning."
"Um, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with any of this. When Dee wakes up she's going to be interviewed by the police and they'll know you lied."
"I've called my attorney. If she talks, I'll sue her. He's already advised her mother of this. I'm not asking for much, just the notes she made on a pink notebook and the key. Please."
"I – um..."
"I'll pay you." She pulled napkin from thecontainer and wrote on it. She then shoved it to my side of the table. "This."