“No, no. So shy—she was always so shy, so withdrawn, always trying to protect herself.”
Barry said, “Do you know a man named Oswald? Bert Oswald?”
Dr. Gruska looked at him blankly. “You mean like the guy who shot Kennedy?”
“Same last name, sure enough.” Barry sighed and turned to Taylor, who said, “Thank you, Dr. Gruska, for your time. As to where Lindsay is, we aren’t allowed to disclose that information, not until we apprehend the person responsible. However, it’s best you forget her now because she’s found someone to help her. She’s married and she’s very happy. No more problems, I promise you.”
“Married? Oh, no, that’s impossible.” The man looked panicked, his hands shaking. “No, no, you’ve got to be wrong. I know her. She wouldn’t let a man get near her, no way.”
Taylor said very calmly, “She’s married to me, Dr. Gruska, and I assure you that she has changed quite remarkably. She loves me and she trusts me. She is no longer the Lindsay Foxe you knew. Now I suggest you forget her.”
They left Dr. Gruska standing by his desk, staring at nothing in particular. He looked like a man who had lost his bearings.
“I’ve met lots of nuts,” Barry said. “He’s right up there with the best of them. Ain’t it comforting to know he’s passing on his store of knowledge to the younger generation?”
“Yeah, comforting. And we’re not a bit closer to finding out who’s behind this. Not old Gruska, that’s for sure. And you know something, Barry, deep down, I just can’t buy it that one of the family or all of them are responsible. They’re pretty disgusting, but not murderers. At least, I don’t think they could have come up with the idea to murder her so quickly after the will had been read. It took thought and planning. It took knowing someone to hire to do the job.”
“Judge Foxe is bound to know all sorts of talented scum, Taylor. West coast and east coast.”
“Yeah, I agree, but the time frame is just too short for them to act so quickly. You see, someone would have had to say it aloud, ‘Let’s kill Lindsay. Then we’ll have her money and we’ll be all right.’ Then all of them would have had to agree. Then the judge would have to get hold of someone to do it. Not enough time to get it done.”
Barry sighed. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. Who, then, Taylor, who?”
“Bloody hell, I don’t know.”
“Where are you off to?”
Taylor smiled then. “To see my bride.”
22
“Hold very still, Mrs. Taylor. That’s it, just a few more snips.”
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, watching Dr. Perry slowly remove the bandages.
He’d asked him earlier in the hallway, “Will you know when you take off the bandages this time what the result will be?”
“Close enough. There will still be swelling and bruising, and that will look strange, but that’s temporary. Yes, we’ll know this time.
Her hair was matted down to her head. She’d lost ten pounds and it showed on her face. Her flesh was pale where there was no bruising. She looked like she’d been very ill, which she had. The stitches looked obscene, black thread woven in and out of her flesh. The hair over her right ear had been shaved off and it showed. A small bald spot that made her look so vulnerable he wanted to cry. He looked more closely, along with a silent Dr. Perry. Her eyes were closed and Taylor knew she wouldn’t open them until she had to.
There was still the swelling Dr. Perry had spoken about, only it wasn’t symmetrical, rather it was lumpy, and the bruising gave her the look of the Italian flag. She looked pretty bad, truth be told, at least to a layman. It was impossible for Taylor to tell how it would turn out. He said now, without hesitation, “You’re gorgeous.”
“He’s right,” Dr. Perry said matter-of-factly. “I’m just about the greatest. I hope you’ve got good insurance because I cost a bundle.”
“Really?” Lindsay opened her eyes and looked straight at Taylor. She searched his face. She saw no distaste there, no revulsion. She heard no lie in his voice. She gave him a tentative smile. “Can I have the mirror Dr. Perry gave me?”
“Not yet,” Dr. Perry said. “First I want the stitches out, then a bit of alcohol to get rid of all the dried blood. Now, hold very still. This will sting just a little bit.”
“Sting” wasn’t the right word for it, Lindsay thought, but she kept herself as still as a stone. She closed her eyes again when he was dabbing alcohol against each of the three suture lines on her face. “There won’t be any scarring,” Dr. Perry said. “Not that I expected any, of course. Good thing you don’t smoke, because if you did, that would be out. Also, no vitamin C for three months. That can make scarring. I’ll give you a list of all foods to avoid as well. Otherwise, you just need to rest and lie around for the next two weeks. No strenuous activity, no running, nothing but having your husband wait on you. Gain back some weight. Now, Dr. Shantel tells me that your ribs are coming along fine, but all my orders apply to your ribs too. At least two more weeks, okay, Lindsay?”
She touched her fingertips to her face. She felt the cool flesh, strange to her touch, and jerked her fingers back.
“Now, before you look in the mirror, understand that you’ve still got swelling here and there and the bruising has faded quite a bit, but it looks pretty god-awful. However, your husband has pronounced you gorgeous and you will be in about another week or so. Here, take a look.”
She wasn’t so sure she wanted to look, given all his disclaimers. She held the antique mirror up and forced herself to look into the glass. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus only on her face. She studied the three suture lines, the curious swelling that made her look like a lumpy frog, particularly around her right eye. It was the strange pale green and sunflower-yellow bruises that finally made her smile. She looked ridiculous. She looked like a prisoner of war. How could Taylor not look at her and fall on the floor with laughter? She was silent for the longest time, merely looking at herself.
Taylor became restive.
Dr. Perry looked ready to gnaw his fingernails.
Lindsay said finally, a small laugh in her voice, “I’m so beautiful I think I’ll call Demos to set up a photo session for this afternoon.”
“Wash your hair first,” Taylor said, leaned down, and kissed her. “Here I was halfway hoping for a little Igor to help me with all my storm and electrical experiments, and you have to go and disappoint me.”
Dr. Perry, grinning, said, “I’ve already spoken to your private nurse on how to get you cleaned up. She knows what to do. Tonight you and Taylor need to have your first regular meal. Demos is having it delivered here from La Viande.” He shook Lindsay’s hand. “I just thought I should warn you.”
“Can I go home tomorrow?”
Taylor said quickly, “Yes. Missy is coming along. We’ll put her in the third bedroom. I don’t want you alone, sweetheart, not yet. Also Barry is sending Officer Fogel. He’ll probably give all his attention to Missy, but there’s at least safety in numbers. I don’t ever want you alone, not until we find out who’s behind all this.”
“It isn’t Dr. Gruska.”
“No.”
“It isn’t my family either.”
“Probably not. Not enough time for the planning of it.”
Lindsay sighed. Who, then? She turned and gave her hand to Dr. Perry. “Thank you. When will I see you again?”
They set up an appointment for the following Monday. Taylor would bring her to his office on Fifth Avenue at Fifty-first Street. “Third floor, suite 306.”
When they were alone, Lindsay said, “Please, Taylor, you don’t have to pretend that I look great.”
“Okay,” he said, and grinned at her. “But you know, I really enjoy the Mutant Ninja Turtles on TV. I can now relate.”
