TELEPHONE LINE by Julie Mulhern

Author:Julie Mulhern
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Henery Press;cozy mystery;historical mystery
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2019-05-23T15:46:04+00:00

Eleven

I drove to the hospital on autopilot. If anyone had asked me how I traveled from the Flournoys’ to just north of the Plaza, I wouldn’t have been able to tell them. Luckily, the car knew the way.

I’d thought Hunter understood. I was with Anarchy. That he still held out hope was troublesome. The last thing I wanted to do was cause him pain.

I walked the hospital’s corridors in a fog, paused outside Winnie’s door, and gathered my thoughts. Winnie had lost her husband. She needed a friend focused on her and not the specter of an almost relationship. I drew breath deep into my lungs and stepped into her room.

A young woman clad in a wrinkled dress sat at Winnie’s bedside, her head was bent as if in prayer. She looked up and I recognized her—she had her mother’s bone structure. Lois Flournoy rose from the Naugahyde recliner slowly—as if the effort required was almost too much for her—and nodded toward the hallway.

Winnie didn’t move. Her eyes remained closed and her lips slightly parted.

Lois and I stepped out of Winnie’s room, and she sized me up with red-rimmed eyes.

“I am sorry for your loss.” I held out my hand. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Ellison Russell.”

Lois’ ice-cold fingers surrounded my hand. “Of course I remember you, Mrs. Russell. You’re the painter.”

“Please, call me Ellison.” I glanced back at Winnie’s room. “How’s your mother?”

Her shoulders slumped. “They had to give her a sedative.”

Poor Winnie. “When did you get in?”

“Early this morning. I drove to Washington and caught the first flight out.” Lois was enrolled in law school at the University of Virginia. “I haven’t even been to the house yet.” She raked her fingers through hair that had definitely seen better days. “My brother can’t get here until tomorrow. He’s flying in from London.”

“Did you get any sleep?” I knew the answer. Dark half-moons hung beneath Lois’s eyes and her skin looked wan.

“No.”

“I’m happy to sit with your mother if you’d like to go home and rest.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t leave her.”

“At least go and get yourself something to eat.”

“You mean in the coffee shop where Mom was poisoned?”

“Or the cafeteria.” I kept my tone mild.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.” She rubbed her palms over her cheeks. “Maybe I should get something to eat. I might be nicer. You’re sure you don’t mind sitting with Mom?”

“Not at all. Take your time.”

“Thank you.” Lois shuffled down the hall.

I stepped into Winnie’s room. An array of spring flowers filled the window ledge—two bunches of daffodils, a potted hyacinth that smelled like heaven, and a mixed bouquet that probably came from the hospital gift shop downstairs. Three books waited for someone to crack their spines. The morning paper was folded to the crossword. Winnie snored softly.

I picked up the book on the top of the stack—Helter Skelter—I had quite enough death in my life without reading that. Winnie did, too. Who on earth had brought her a story about the Manson killings? I stuck the book on the bottom of the stack and picked up The Moneychangers.

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