Pushing Murder by Eleanor Boylan Read Free Book Online

protector, was asleep in his chair. The same tinny sound of a carol drifted up from the street. This time it was “Joy to the World.”
    The hall was unusually quiet, or was my imagination creating a sinister lull during which a visitor might pad to my door? Kit was due on duty in an hour. Oh, Dan, where are you? Please, God, don’t let me have to tell his wife—
    The phone rang. Sadd woke up with a start as I grabbed my receiver.
    â€œHi, Clara, this is Dwight.”
    No. No. No!
    â€œSal said Henry called me. Is he there?”
    â€œNo.” This one aloud.
    â€œShe said you couldn’t take calls this morning. Not a setback, I hope.”
    â€œNo.” Did I know another word? Sadd, thank God, had picked up the other receiver.
    â€œDwight, this is Sadd. Clara’s been told the facts, and she’s pretty shocked, naturally.”
    â€œOf course she is, poor dear. Are you still on, Clara?”
    â€œYes.” Ah—a new word.
    â€œYou mustn’t worry, my dear. We’ll get to the bottom of this awful business. Make them give you a good strong sleeping pill and go off remembering we’re all rooting for you.”
    I managed to add “Thank you” to my vocabulary and hung up. Sadd did the same, looking rather shaken. He said, “My God, the man has nerves of steel. Does he think he’s in the clear? Does this mean he has the letter? What happened while I was asleep at my post?”
    â€œNothing. Oh, where’s Dan?”
    Sadd looked around dazedly. “Not back yet? What time is it?”
    â€œAfter four.”
    He ran his hands through his hair. “Let me relieve myself before I have to contemplate another crisis.”
    He went into the bathroom, and I lay back in a stew. That voice on the phone with its fake concern had reduced me to jelly. I was desperate for outside contact, for information and reassurance—even consolation. I would not call Henry and Tina; they’d been subjected to enough. I only hoped Paula would not call me; the slightest indication of my distraught state, and she’d be on a plane back to New York.
    Oh, Dan, come.
    It was Kit who came. Usually she put her head in the door and said, “Reporting for duty.” This time she walked into the room and up to the bed and said, “Now, don’t be upset.”
    Had the girl never studied psychology? That command, of all commands, sends one into a distractedly upset state. I grabbed her arm.
    â€œWhat? What?”
    â€œDan was mugged in the hospital garage. He’s okay.”
    â€œWhat’s ‘okay’? What’s ‘okay’?” I had a case of the repeats.
    â€œHe has abrasions and a broken wrist. It’s being set down in Emergency.”
    I flung back my covers. “Get me a wheelchair!”
    â€œMrs. Gamadge—no!”
    â€œClara, are you mad?” Sadd emerged from the bathroom to see my cast flailing.
    I said, “Dan’s been hurt, and I’m going—”
    â€œNot badly,” protested Kit, “and he’s coming up here just as soon as—”
    â€œEither I get a wheelchair, or I crawl down to Emergency.”
    â€œHold on a second.” Kit took both my hands. “You told me last night that the orthopedist said maybe you could have a wheelchair today.”
    â€œHe did! He did!” The repeats were back like hiccups.
    â€œLet me check and see if he left word. If he did, you get one.”
    She started for the door, and Sadd said, “I don’t think I’ve met this young lady. Dan’s wife, right?”
    â€œKit, this is my cousin, Mr. Saddlier.” Quick and ungracious. “Get the chair.” Kit smiled at Sadd and left.
    â€œAttractive,” said Sadd, and I muttered something to the effect that he’d notice attractiveness in a woman who was pushing him off a cliff. I added, “Hand me my bathrobe, please. It’s in the