Cast a Pale Shadow(43)

She winced. "Don't! Don't even joke about that, Nicholas."

When she thought he wasn't looking, she slipped the knife from the tray into her sweater pocket. "Do you want to sit up? I can crank up your bed."

"Yes, please. It might make dinner easier."

He held his breath and masked the pain that came when he bent at the waist. "That's good enough," he finally had to gasp.

"Oh! Should I let it down some?"

"No, I'll be all right in just a minute." He pressed his hand to his side while the pain gradually faded. The look of distress on her face was worse than the twinge in his gut. "Do you plan to watch me eat?" he asked sourly.

"I-I was going to help you."

"I have managed to feed myself for some twenty-five years. I don't need your help."

"Oh." She looked as if he'd slapped her. "I'll take a walk then."

"Why don't you go home? I assume the dark circles under your eyes are not normal for you. Haggardness would not be his style." Cole did not have the courage to look at her again, so he would not see her flinch as his insults hit their mark. He lifted a forkful of the white, lumpy stuff to his mouth. It was tuna, not chicken. He curled his lips in disgust and set it down.

She picked up her purse and a book from the windowsill and walked toward the door. "You won't push me away whatever you do or say," she said quietly. "I love Nicholas. I love you, Nicholas. I won't give you up."

After she was gone, he took a few stabs at the mashed potatoes then shoved the tray aside. His last clear, waking memory was of a November blizzard and sliding into death in a snow bank by the side of a road. But he had not been lucky. It had not been death at all that found him on that desolate highway. It was Nicholas, the thief of time. Now he, too, had deserted, leaving the encumbrances of a wife and a history Cole did not know.

Everything, she said. Fitapaldi told her everything. He would have to ask Fitapaldi to tell the same to him. Why should he always be the last to know?

"Mr. Brewer?" Cole looked up to see a round, florid face thrust into his room. "You up? Detective Chancellor, St. Louis Police Department. We need to ask you a few questions?"

"Come in." He had the sinking feeling that a part of his missing history was about to be revealed to him.

"We've been here before. This here is my partner, Detective Haskell." Chancellor was the older of the two. His partner had a skim of a mustache on his long upper lip. Both detectives wore ill-fitting suits. Chancellor's was baggy and brown, Haskell's gray had frayed cuffs that sagged at the heels. "But last time, you were dead to the world, so to speak."

"As good a way to describe it as any I have thought of."

"The docs say you'll recover. That's good news."

"Yes, I understand they hate to lose patients. Too much paperwork."

"Ha! That's true enough. Same holds true for us. We're investigating a death right now, as a matter of fact, and already there's been a flood of coroner's reports, witness accounts, evidence sheets, you name it, to keep track of. That's why we're here, you see. We have a bit of evidence to pin down. Maybe it's a clue. Maybe it isn't. But we can fill in one more blank on the report if you'll help us out. He pulled a brown envelope out of his brief case. "Is this your wallet, Mr. Brewer?" A black leather wallet slid out of the envelope to the blanket at Cole's knees.

Cole picked it up and opened it. "It has my name in it."

"Yes. Would you want to guess where it was found?"

"I did not even know it was missing. I have not been myself lately." It was amazing how you could tell the truth even when you had no idea what it was.

"Where was the last place you think you had it?"

"I don't know. In my pocket, I guess."

Haskell, the young one, who had been silently probing his teeth with a toothpick to this point, glared at him. "Nobody likes a smart ass, Brewer. Where did you have it last?"

"Thursday," he tossed off the day that he had gathered from overheard conversations had been the day of his beating.

"I asked where, not when."

"I don't remember."

"Like to try the backyard of 3303 Christian Avenue?"

"Is that where it was found?"

"Not exactly."

"Do I get another hint?"

"Calvary Cemetery. In the woods. Now, how do you suppose it got there?"

He had all he could do to tread water in this world he'd just awakened to, and these cops wanted to play guessing games. "Could it be that I was beaten and robbed and the wallet tossed there by the thug? I could offer my bruised body as evidence for that story."

"Yeah, except that it's full of money," Haskell said.

Cole would have laughed but he suspected it would hurt too much. "Then it can't be my wallet. I've never had one that was full of money."

Chancellor frowned at his attempt at humor. "And except that we have a body that points to another version."

"A body?"

"Yeah, buried in that very same cemetery. I don't suppose you care to admit you know whose body it is?"

"Uh, well, a cemetery doesn't seem like an unusual place to find a body buried."

"In an unauthorized grave," Haskell said. "It was the body of your father-in-law, Robert Kirk."

"What? What did you say?" asked a small, frightened voice at the doorway.

"Catch her!" Cole warned, but it was too late. Trissa was in a heap on the floor.

"Must be a family trait," grumbled Chancellor. "The news affected her mother in the very same way." Haskell towed her roughly to her feet and tapped her twice on the cheek.

"Don't touch her," Cole bellowed "Bring her to me." He didn't know why he wanted her. Bringing her close was no way to drive her out of his life. But she was supposed to be his wife, after all. He had to give a show of affection. Especially in front of two cops who were apparently questioning him about a murder.

Haskell hauled her over and plunked her, not too gently, on the bed. Cole gritted his teeth with the pain that came with the jostling of the bed. When it subsided, he found that holding her tightly against himself kept it in check. "Ring for the nurse." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and blew gently into it. "Trissa? Wake up, sweetheart. Trissa?"

"Bad way to break the news, Haskell. How many times I got to tell you you're too abrupt?" Chancellor said.

"How was I supposed to know the little gal was at the door?" muttered Haskell.

Chancellor scowled at him and hitched a finger toward the hall to indicate it was time to leave. "We best be on our way. We got other stops to make. We were going to question your wife too, but she seems a bit overwrought."

The nurse arrived and hurried off again for smelling salts. Chancellor touched a finger to his forehead as if he were tipping a hat, and sauntered out the door.

Cole looked down at the warm, still bundle in his arms and frowned. It was a strange sensation to be holding this enchanting wisp of a woman-child so close. Ever careful to keep life at arm's length, he told himself it was just this once and for just this moment. As soon as the nurse came and as soon as she revived, he would see that Nicholas' little wife was on her feet and gone.

Though the exterior charm of Nicholas Brewer was still intact in Cole's face -- and he was not above using it when the need arose to cajole a surly shop girl into better service, or to finagle an extra helping from a waitress or two -- he had none of Nicholas' prowess with women. In truth, he had no prowess at all and had long since ceased testing its presence.

Nicholas, on the other hand, had no such restraints. He collected women like baseball cards. Cole had only to read their loving messages on their photographs to know that he treated them well while he had them. But then what happened to them? As always when that question surfaced in his mind, Cole shuddered and pushed it back down.

The nurse returned, and Trissa resisted her efforts to hold the bottle of smelling salts to her nose, fluttering her hands against it. Her squirming next to him sent an odd sensation through Cole, not like pain at all. He held himself rigid and moved away from her just as she came to full consciousness and realized where she lay. With an embarrassed squeak, she scrambled out of the bed and smoothed her rumpled clothes.

"All right now, dear?" asked the nurse.

"Yes, I've had some upsetting news. And I guess I'm more hungry and tired than I thought."

"It's no wonder. You've been here night and day. I think your husband will behave himself for us for long enough to let you go home and get some rest. Am I right, Mr. Brewer?"

"The very thing I've been trying to persuade her to do."