Suture Self : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

28

Mary Daheim

beige that hadn’t been freshened in years. A crucifix

hung over each of the beds and the only other furnishings were a pair of visitors’ chairs, a commode, and the

nightstands. A TV was mounted high on the far wall,

flanked by a small statue of Jesus revealing the Sacred

Heart and, on the other side, Mary holding the infant

Jesus. Two old-fashioned sash windows on Renie’s

side of the room looked out over one of the city’s residential areas. The roofs were gray, the houses were

gray, the skies were gray. Even the trees looked gray

on this late-January afternoon.

With a reluctant sigh, Joe leaned down to kiss Judith’s forehead. “Okay, I’ll check in at the B&B to

make sure that Carl and Arlene are getting along all

right. I’ll see you this evening.”

Despite her brave words, Judith kept her dark eyes

on Joe until he was out of the room. Indeed, he was

practically run over by a disheveled young man carrying a balloon bouquet in one hand and an almost lifesized cutout of a football player in the other.

“For Bob Randall,” Judith remarked, daring to gaze

at Renie.

“The ex-quarterback?” Renie snorted. “I swear, the

only time I ever watched him play, he always threw an

interception or got sacked.” She paused, then made a

futile attempt to snap the fingers of her left hand.

“That’s it! Ramblin’ Randall is getting all the attention

while we suffer and starve. I timed myself. I screamed

for eleven minutes nonstop. Nobody came. I think I’ll

set fire to the bed.”

“Coz—” Judith began to plead, but was interrupted

by a tall, handsome nun in an exceptionally well-tailored

modified habit.

“Mrs. Jones? Mrs. Flynn?” the nun said, standing on

SUTURE SELF

29

the threshold. “Which of you has been requesting

help?”

If not embarrassed, Renie at least had the grace to

look slightly abashed. “Yes . . . that would be me.” She

offered the nun a toothy smile. “I’m having quite a bit

of pain.”

You’re being quite a pain, Judith thought, but kept

silent.

The nun glanced at the IV. “I’ll see what I can do,”

she said in her crisp, no-nonsense voice. “By the way,

I’m Sister Jacqueline, the hospital administrator. I

should point out that our staff is extremely busy this

week. The surgery floor is full, and as usual, we’re a

bit shorthanded. The economics of medicine aren’t

what they used to be.” She gave the cousins a tight little smile.