My first reaction was relief. I let out a deep breath, happy to hear that Hyacinth was going to be okay.
Then I read the text three times, like the words might rearrange themselves into something less loaded on the fourth pass.
Insistent it be you and not the police.
That wasn't a woman who wanted a friend to pop by. That wasn't even a woman who wanted to explain hiding a bracelet in a hedge, or for lying about an earring, or for whatever falling-out had frozen her out of Evelyn's good graces three years ago.
That was a woman who'd had a very long, very long night to think about exactly how much trouble she was in, and had decided the only person she trusted to hear it first was the amateur with the skunk and the B&B, instead of the detective with the badge.
But probably knowing that I would tell Hollis, since she thought he was my boyfriend.
I looked down at Teddy, who looked back up at me with the particular unblinking patience he saved for moments he sensed were important, even when he had no idea why.
"I think," I said slowly, "we're about to get a confession."
He didn't disagree.
A car pulled up and Reginald got out. I shivered involuntarily when he passed me.
“Goodnight, Harper,” he said, pleasantly enough.
He didn’t look like a killer.
“Goodnight, Reginald.”
But sometimes they do.
And sometimes they don’t.
I groaned and looked at Teddy. “I think I need some sleep.”
He practically ran to the front door.
Sixteen
I hated hospitals. The smell, the silence save the constant beeping of equipment. It also had occurred to me that it was just a few days short of the first anniversary of Aunt Odette’s passing and I was feeling a wild range of emotions surrounding that.
I strode down the hallway at Touro on Monday morning, determined to not lose it.
When I knocked on the open door of Room 412, Robert Maxwell met me at the door and gave me a smile. “I don’t think we met last night. I’m Robert. Hyacinth’s ex-husband.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his head. “Terrible circumstances. She’s really okay?”
He was wearing a suit and he tugged at his tie. “They say she is. She gave me a hell of a scare though. Thank you for being there for her.”
I didn’t think I deserved any accolades considering all the mean girl thoughts I’d had about Hyacinth over the years. “Of course,” I murmured.
“Come in.” He said it like a man used to controlling rooms.
He honestly had controlled the room the night before. I could see why Hyacinth had fallen for him.
When I went into the room she looked smaller than I remembered. That was the first thing. All the polish that usually sat on her like a second skin — the highlighted hair, the practiced tilt of her chin, the jewelry — had been stripped away by a hospital gown and a bandage wrapped high around the back of her skull. What was left looked like a tired, frightened woman who hadn't slept properly in longer than the concussion could explain.
"Thanks for coming, Harper," she said. Her voice was thin. “Robert said you and your friend jumped right in to help me last night.” She reached out for his hand.
Robert sat next to Hyacinth in a plastic chair and took her hand. “Do you want me to leave so you can catch up with Harper?”
She shook her head, then winced. “No. I want you here.”
