S is for Silence

Friday night was apparently the equivalent of date night in the ER world, a popular occasion for accidents and mishaps, pain, suffering, and near-death experiences. A kid was brought in with a bean stuck up his nose. There was a woman hacking and feverish from a case of the flu, and a man with a sprained ankle swollen to elephantine proportions. A teen arrived holding his badly broken thumb, smashed by a car door and looking so mangled I nearly passed out.

Unfazed, Daisy pulled the clip out of her hair and gathered it in a tidy sheaf before she secured it again. Foley’s accusation about Jake’s affair with Violet seemed to hang in the air between us. “All I can say is thank god Ta

“She’s bound to hear about it,” I said.

“You bet. My phone would be ringing off the hook if anybody knew she was there.”

I set the magazine aside. “You have to wonder what went on. Was there really an affair, or did your dad imagine the whole thing?”

“He’s not famous for his imagination. Ta

“Well, it’s like the fella said. You’re not responsible for what she did.”

“But I’m responsible for stirring this up. I should have left well enough alone.”

The big digital wall clock read 10:16. I got up, too restless to sit another minute in the midst of all the medical chaos. “I’m going to see if I can find a cup of coffee. You want one?”

“Not me. My nerves are jangled enough.”

The fluorescent lights in the public hallways shone brightly on the gleaming vinyl-tile floors. Most departments I passed were dark; hospital administration, the cardiovascular, EKG, and EEG departments. I turned a corner and followed the corridor until I reached the main lobby. A sign indicated that the cafeteria was one floor down, but when I got off the elevator in the basement, the place was dark and the door was locked. According to the sign, the coffee shop was open from 7:00 A.M. until 7:15 P.M. on weekdays. I’d missed by hours. A maintenance man appeared with a mop and an industrial-size bucket. Together we waited for the elevator, which had stopped on the first floor.

“Is there a vending machine around here?”

He shook his head. “Wish there were. I could use a candy bar about now.”

The elevator doors opened and we got on. When we emerged on the first floor, I glanced to my left and spotted Liza Clements sitting in the lobby. Her complexion looked washed out and her jeans and T-shirt were wrinkled. I called out to her and moved in her direction. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“My granddaughter was born a few minutes ago. I’m keeping out of everybody’s hair until she’s cleaned up. Kevin’s upstairs with Marcy, and both of her parents are here. Six pounds, six ounces. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

“That’s great. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It’s been pretty intense. What about you? I didn’t expect to see a familiar face.”

I gave her a quick rendition of Foley’s nose-busting adventure, neatly omitting the remarks that had gotten him tossed out of the Moon.

“Is there any way to get a cup of coffee at this hour?” she asked.

“Nope. I tried. I guess we could find a water fountain but that’s about it.”

We ended up sitting together in the main lobby for lack of any place better. It was a small cheerless area clearly not intended as a waiting room. At least the ER had offered a television set and a few live green plants. I said, “You heard about the car?”

“That’s all anybody’s talking about. I guess there’s no doubt it’s hers.”

“Not in my mind. I mean, what are the chances another car would be buried out where hers was last seen?”

She shifted in her chair. “I’m going to ‘fess up to something, but I don’t want to hear you scream. You promise?”

“Scout’s honor.”

“As it so happens, I saw Foley at the Ta

“Doing what?”

“Tinkering with a bulldozer that was parked near the road. I heard him start it up.”

“You’re positive it was Foley?”

“I couldn’t swear it was him, but who else could it be?”

“Just about anyone,” I said. “In the as-it-so-happens department, what were you doing there?”

“Ty and I had gone out to the house. We weren’t supposed to be dating, and it was the only place we could think of where we wouldn’t be seen. We were in that second-floor bedroom in front when we heard him drive up.”

“And you were… what-smoking dope? Making out?”

She rolled her eyes, tucking a strand of blond hair behind one ear. “Oh, please. None of us smoked dope in those days. We’re talking about the ‘50s. We were square as they come.”

“So you were doing what?”

“Okay, we were necking if you must know the truth. When the car pulled up, we thought it was a security guard coming to check on the house, so we hightailed it out the back and waited until we heard the ‘dozer start up. Ty figured that would cover the sound of the truck.”

“So you didn’t actually see Foley face on?”

“I just told you that. The point is, if it was him, he had plenty of time to dig a hole.”

“What kind of car? I’m assuming you’d have recognized the Bel Air.”

“Of course. Most of the time I can’t tell one kind of car from another, but I know it wasn’t Violet’s. Her car was pale and it would have stood out. There was enough of a moon that it would have been obvious.”

“What do you remember about the car? Two-door? Four-door? Light? Dark?”

She made a face, shaking her head in the negative. “I saw it, but I didn’t really look. I was scared we’d get caught and that’s all I cared about. And before you even ask, no, I didn’t tell the guys from the sheriff’s department.”

“Because you didn’t want to admit you were trespassing?”

“Because at the time, it didn’t mean anything. Violet wasn’t even missing. When we saw the guy-Foley, or whoever-it wouldn’t have occurred to me he’d be doing anything like that. Digging a grave. God, it gives me goose bumps. I’m only telling you now because we know the car is buried there.”

“You remember anything else?”

“No. Well, yes. The guy was smoking. I remember that because we could smell it through the open window all the way upstairs.”

“Height? Weight? Anything like that?”

“Nope. It was dark and I only caught a glimpse. You think I should talk to the detective?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Even if it gets Foley in more trouble?”

“You can’t even claim it was him. All you can say is there was a guy out there working on a bulldozer. “The detective’s name is Nichols. He needs to know.”

By the time I got back to the emergency room, Foley had been released. He emerged from the examining area, clutching a head trauma precaution sheet and the pain pills he’d been given to take home with him. His eyes were already looking bruised, and I imagined that by the next day, the purple would be intense. He had a splint taped over the bridge of his nose, and it made his eyes seem as close together as a collie’s. Both nostrils had been packed with half-inch-wide strips of white cloth, and I could see sutures across his chin. I had to guess there were others on the inside of his mouth. Luckily for him, the pain medication was wiping out the ill effects of his drinking binge. He looked subdued. His eyes were fixed on Daisy’s with the mute, pleading look a puppy lays on you when there are table scraps at stake.

Daisy drove him into Cromwell, me trailing along behind in his truck as I had before. When she pulled into the driveway of the parish house, the porch light came on. The pastor pushed a curtain aside and peered out, then opened the front door in his slippers, pajamas, and a soft fla