“That depends,” Renie said. “Sometimes corporations like to leave the locals in charge. It’s good public
relations, and it’s good business if the people in place
are already doing a satisfactory job for a particular
company. Then there’s the tactic where the headquarters’ chieftains move slowly, not wanting to upset the
SUTURE SELF
233
apple cart. Changes are made, but the powers that be
take their time doing it.”
Judith grew thoughtful. “I don’t see how dead patients can be to anyone’s advantage. Unless,” she
added slowly, “it’s someone trying to scare off
Restoration Heartware from making the merger.”
“That,” Renie said, “would be the current owners,
who happen to be a religious order. Can you picture Sister Jacqueline cold-bloodedly killing helpless people?”
“No,” Judith admitted, “but as you said earlier,
nuns are human, too. Hasn’t this order been around
the Pacific Northwest for well over a hundred and
fifty years? Weren’t they the first women in the territory? Pride is a sin, but they have a right to be proud
of their heritage. They were pioneers, especially in
medicine. All those years that the sisters dedicated
themselves to their hospital work is down the drain in
this city if they lose control of Good Cheer.”
Renie shivered. “I hate to even consider such an idea.”
“Me, too,” Judith agreed as Mr. Mummy appeared in
the doorway.
“Just dropped by to wish you a restful night,” he said
in his cheerful voice. “By the way, I assume that the
man who was stabbed is no relation to you, Mrs.
Flynn.”
“He’s my husband,” Judith said tersely.
“Oh!” Mr. Mummy slapped at his bald head. “I’m so
sorry! I thought the name was just a coincidence.
Whatever happened?”
“Someone attacked him,” Judith said. “The assailant
hasn’t been caught, as far as I know.”
“My, my!” Mr. Mummy was agog. “Do you know
what provoked the attack?”
“No,” Judith said, unwilling to elaborate.
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Mary Daheim
Mr. Mummy appealed to Renie. “Mrs. Jones, surely
you have some ideas on the matter? A clever guess,
perhaps.”
Renie shrugged. “Not a clue. There are plenty of
loonies out there. Most of them don’t need any provocation to harm an innocent person.”
“That’s so,” Mr. Mummy remarked, looking puzzled. “Still . . . Have you spoken with the police?”
The question caught Judith off guard. “What? No,
I . . . ah . . . I guess I was too focused on my husband’s condition to think of it.”
“You can hardly be blamed for the oversight,” Mr.
Mummy allowed. “You mustn’t fret too much and
