Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

with all the snow, but they were holding two potbellied pigs for you in their warehouse.”

“Pot-bellied pigs?” Judith was incredulous.

“That’s what Arlene said,” Renie responded, looking

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bewildered. “They’re in cages. Or kennels. Or something.”

“Maybe FedEx has the wrong address,” Judith said

hopefully.

“They can’t deliver the pigs—if they are pigs—until

the streets are clear,” Renie pointed out. “Don’t fuss

about it.”

“I can’t,” Judith responded in a weary voice. “I’m

already fussing too much about Joe. Who do you suppose wanted to see him? If it had been Woody, he or

Sondra would have told me.”

But Renie couldn’t even guess. Instead, she called

home, hoping that one of her children would answer.

Luckily, Tony Jones picked up the phone.

“You mean it?” Renie said, brightening at her son’s

words on the other end of the line. “Oh.” Her face fell.

“Then hide that Uzbekistani cookbook from your father. You can’t live on millet until I get back in the

kitchen. Tell me,” she inquired of her son, “what’s he

doing with those damned Chihuahuas?”

Judith ignored Renie’s anxious probing on the

phone and dialed zero and asked to be connected to the

ICU. Whatever Bill Jones was doing with a couple of

dogs wasn’t nearly as urgent as Joe fighting for his life.

It took some time for Judith to be connected to the intensive care unit. Meanwhile, she imagined that the problem reaching a nurse was because Joe had taken a sudden

turn for the worse. She’d seen it happen with Bob Randall, with people shouting, running, and rushing equipment down the hall. She could visualize the same frantic

movements being performed on Joe’s behalf.

Finally, a tired-voiced female answered. Judith felt

momentarily strangled by anxiety, but she managed to

give her name and ask how Mr. Flynn was doing.

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“Flynn . . . Flynn . . . Joseph Flynn,” the nurse said

in a voice that dragged. “He’s listed in critical condition.”

Judith flinched. “No change from earlier this

evening?”

“That’s correct.”

“Officially, you mean,” Judith said. “But can’t you

tell whether he’s a little bit better or . . . not?”

“There’s been no change,” the nurse replied and

yawned in Judith’s ear.

Judith and Renie hung up at the same time, then

stared at each other.

“Well?” Renie inquired.

Judith’s features sagged with disappointment. “No

change.”