Mystery

She smiled as if at an inevitability. “It was at the hospital. Shady Mount—they needed nurses, their first year, and I had a brand-new nursing degree. Your grandfather was on the board, and he was much more involved in the daily running of the hospital than most of the board members. You’d see him in the hallways and the doctors’ offices—back then, he knew nearly everybody who worked at Shady Mount. It was a real project for him, his first big job after Elysian Courts, and it was on his own territory. He wanted it to be the best hospital in the Caribbean.”

“In the car the other day, you said that he stuck up for you once when you were in trouble.”

“Yes, he did. It was very brave of him. I suppose you want to know all about this, now.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Tom said.

She looked down at her plate, and cut the string around one of the paupiettes. “It was a long time ago,” she said. “A young man had been injured in a gun battle with the police. He was placed in isolation after his operation, and I was his nurse. I don’t suppose there’s any need to go into medical details.” She looked up at him. “He died. Suddenly, and on my shift. I didn’t even know it until I came into his room to check up on him—he had been showing signs of recovery, and I thought he might be able to speak in a day or two. Anyhow, he died, and I was blamed. They discovered that he had been given the wrong medication during the afternoon, and since I gave him his medications, I must have done it. For a while, they were going to take away my nursing license, and I was afraid I was going to be charged with a crime. My name was in the paper. My picture was in the paper.”

She remembered her dinner, and cut off a small section of veal.

“And he helped you?”

“He took care of the charges somehow—he took over the hospital inquiry, and when the panel decided that there was no clear-cut case against me, the police could not charge me with anything. Plenty of other people could have come in and out of that room, and plenty of them did. Of course, I was ruined as a nurse. Glen suggested that I come up here for a time, and he found out about this little house, and I had enough money to buy it, so I came up here for six months. When I went back to Mill Walk, he got me into a midwifery course, and before long I was delivering babies. So I’ve always thought that your grandfather saved my life. He earned my loyalty, and I’ve given it to him.”

“What did you mean when you said, in the car the other day, that you cleaned up his messes?”

“I suppose I meant that Glen was the kind of man who always turns to women when he needs help.” She went back to her dinner, another minuscule section of veal, a sip of wine. Tom waited for her to say more. “But I was really thinking of that time he asked me to keep Gloria—he wanted me to go to his lodge and straighten it up for him. He said he’d left some of her things behind, toys and books and clothes, and she would want them. But he also wanted me to clean up—literally. The place was a mess. Glen always needed someone to pick up after him. So I cleaned out the ashtrays and straightened things up before I came back.”

“Were you in love with him?” Tom asked.

“A lot of people assumed that your grandfather and I were lovers.” She shook her head. “It was never like that. I wasn’t his type, for one thing. And I wasn’t going to pretend to be his type—I was grateful to him, and after a while I began to understand him. And then I understood what my duties were.” She met his glance, and said, “Not to forget what I owed him.”

“And you never did,” he said.

“I never could,” she said. “I have no complaints. None at all. I worked as a midwife up here for a long time—I registered with a service, and people got in touch with me by calling the service. I retired about five years ago, and I get a little money from your grandfather for looking after his place. I have more than enough to live on. My life is very peaceful, and I do what I want to do. Such as invite you for dinner.”

“Are you lonely?”

“I wouldn’t even know the answer to that anymore,” she said. “Being lonely isn’t so bad.” She smiled at him. “But I imagine that you have all sorts of friends out at the lake.”

“It hasn’t turned out that way,” he said, and gave her a general description of his difficulties with Sarah Spence and the Redwings. He told her about Buzz Laing and Roddy Deepdale and Kate Redwing, and then about the shot that had come through the window. “So after two police cars showed up at the lodge, my reputation is even worse than before, and I’ve been spending all my time by myself.” He hesitated, then said, “The police chief, Tim Truehart, told me that I should ask you to stay in the lodge, kind of as protection. In case the shooting was somebody trying to get back at my grandfather for something.”

“And you kept quiet about it for two weeks?”

“Well, nothing else has happened. And I got sort of busy.”

“Would you like me to spend the nights there?”