Perhaps it was all those years in parochial school,
but even Renie could comply with the wishes of a nun.
“I know that bearded man,” she said, back-pedaling in
a clumsy manner. “That’s Addison Kirby, the newspaper reporter. He was married to Joan Fremont.”
Sister Jacqueline merely gave a slight nod. “Please
get back in bed, Mrs. Jones.”
“Who are those two young people?” Renie persisted. “Are they the Kirby kids?”
The nun started to turn away, then paused. “No.
They’re Mr. Randall’s son and daughter. They came to
the hospital to be with their mother.”
“How is Margie Randall doing?” Judith asked with
genuine sympathy.
Sister Jacqueline had reached the doorway. “Not
well, I’m afraid. She’s a very emotional woman. Excuse me, I must go.”
Judith gazed at Renie. “It cannot be a coincidence
for three well-known people to die unexpectedly after
routine surgery in Good Cheer Hospital.”
Renie looked pained. “I never like encouraging you
to track down murderers, but I have to admit, this is
pretty weird.”
“More than weird,” Judith responded, remembering
to take another sip of water. “But what’s the connection? One actress. Two sports stars. One active, one retired. From different sports, too. Who could possibly
want all three of them out of the way?”
Staring out through the windows with their faded
muslin curtains, Judith grew thoughtful. It was another
gray day, with heavy, dark clouds hovering over the
city. Maybe it would snow. But the weather was the
least of Judith’s worries.
“There’s got to be a police investigation that hasn’t
62
Mary Daheim
been made public,” Judith said after a long pause.
“Maybe Joe can find out from Woody.”
Lunch arrived, brought by a small Filipino woman
with silver streaks in her short, dark hair. Making each
of the cousins a little bow, she introduced herself as
Maya. Sitting up in bed, Renie bowed back.
“Such a morning!” Maya exclaimed in little more
than a whisper. “Did you hear about Mr. Randall?
What next, I wonder?”
Judith had an impulsive urge to hug the little
woman. At last, there was somebody on the floor who
wasn’t tongue-tied. “It’s terrible,” Judith said, putting
on her most sympathetic face. “It must be so hard for
the people like you who work here, Maya.”
Maya set Judith’s tray in place, then put a hand on
her breast. “It’s terrible,” she said, rolling her dark eyes
and then crossing herself. “All these deaths. Fine people, too, each one very nice.”
“You were on duty when all three of them died?” Judith queried, trying to contain her own excitement.
