Suture Self by Mary Daheim Page A

about?”
    â€œThe Seafarers are calling for an investigation into Somosa’s death,” Addison replied. “Apparently, they think something’s wrong, too. I intend to meet with Tubby Turnbull, the team’s general manager, this afternoon.”
    Judith was shaking her head. “So I wasn’t wrong,” she said faintly.
    At the door, Addison frowned at Judith. “Wrong about what?”
    â€œAbout these deaths being linked,” Judith said. “Frankly, the deaths of your wife and Somosa struck me as more than a coincidence right from the start. Now, with Randall’s passing, the situation seems downright ominous.”
    Addison’s expression was frankly curious. “Why does it interest you so much, Mrs. Flynn?”
    Judith felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Oh…You might say that my hobby is snooping.” She uttered a lame little laugh.
    Addison now looked puzzled. “Snooping?” he said.
    â€œIt’d be more accurate,” Renie said, “to say that her hobby is murder.”
    Â 
    â€œAnd to think,” Renie mused after Addison Kirby had departed, “I wondered how we’d pass the time during our hospital stay.”
    â€œI don’t think the deaths of those poor people were intended to keep us occupied,” Judith said, feeling glum and staring up at the mottled plaster ceiling.
    The uncommunicative orderly of the previous day came in to remove the cousins’ luncheon trays. If henoticed that neither of them had eaten much, he made no comment, but stoically left the room without a word.
    â€œCan he talk?” Renie asked, getting up and heading for the bathroom. “Or does he consider us unworthy?”
    â€œThe latter, I suspect,” Judith responded. “Maybe if you didn’t trash your bed so much, we’d get more respect. Where did that Falstaff’s grocery bag come from?”
    â€œFalstaff’s,” Renie replied, turning around at the bathroom door. “It’s my back-up food supply. Fruit, cheese, crackers, Pepsi, popcorn. We’ll share when I come back to bed. Now I’m hungry.”
    â€œHow did you fit that thing into your purse?” Judith asked.
    â€œEasy,” Renie replied. “I have a huge purse.” She went inside the bathroom and shut the door.
    The outer door opened almost simultaneously as Heather Chinn entered. “Time to get you on your feet,” she said in a cheerful voice. “How do you feel, Mrs. Flynn?”
    â€œNot like I want to get on my feet,” Judith said. “I thought we’d do this later in the afternoon.”
    â€œIt’s almost two,” Heather said. “The more you lie there, the weaker you’ll become. Here, let me help you swing around to the edge of the bed.”
    It took Judith a few moments to sit up straight. Then, slowly and unsteadily, she let Heather help her move her legs. Pain spread out from her hip to envelop her entire body. “I feel dizzy already,” Judith asserted.
    â€œYou’re doing fine,” Heather soothed. “Now lean on me and try to stand up.”
    Judith could both feel and hear the artificial hip move. She was frightened. “Is that…?” she gulped, still dizzy.
    â€œThat’s fine, keep coming. You’ve got all your weight on your good leg,” Heather coached. “Now put just a little on the other leg, okay?”
    The worn linoleum was rising up toward Judith in tired, wrinkled waves. She felt as if she were falling overboard, into a murky yellow sea. Suddenly her world went dark, except for shooting stars and trailing comets.
    â€œCoz!” Renie had just come out of the bathroom. Moving as quickly as she could, she went to Judith, who had, fortunately, fallen backwards onto the bed. Heather was looking more annoyed than frightened as she took Judith by the hands.
    â€œIt’s nothing,” the nurse said to Renie. “Maybe