Devil's Waltz by Jonathan Kellerman Page B

laughter was deep and loud, almost drunken.
     

8
     
    The next morning, I arrived at the hospital at 9:45. The doctors’ lot was nearly full and I had to drive up to the top level to find a space. A uniformed guard was leaning against a concrete abutment, half-concealed by shadows, smoking a cigarette. He kept his eyes on me as I got out of the Seville and didn’t stop looking until I’d snapped my new badge to my lapel.
    The private ward was as quiet as it had been yesterday. A single nurse sat at the desk and the unit clerk read
McCall’s
.
    I read Cassie’s chart. Stephanie had been by for morning rounds, reported Cassie symptom-free but decided to keep her in for at least another day. I went to 505W, knocked, and entered.
    Cindy Jones and Vicki Bottomley were sitting on the sleeper couch. A deck of cards rested in Vicki’s lap. The two of them looked up.
    Cindy smiled. “Good morning.”
    “Good morning.”
    Vicki said, “Okay,” and stood.
    Cassie’s bed had been cranked to an upright position. She sat playing with a Fisher-Price house. Other amusements, including a quorum of LuvBunnies, were scattered on the bedcover. A breakfast tray held a bowl of partially eaten oatmeal and a plastic cup of something red. Cartoon action flashed on the TV but the sound was off. Cassie was preoccupied with the house, arranging furniture and plastic figures. An I.V. pole was pushed into a corner.
    I placed a new drawing on the bed. She glanced at it for a moment, then returned to her play.
    Vicki was in rapid motion, handing the cards to Cindy, then clasping Cindy’s hand briefly between both of hers. Avoiding eye contact with me, she walked over to the bed, tousled Cassie’s head, and said, “See you, punkin.”
    Cassie looked up for an instant. Vicki tousled her hair again and left.
    Cindy stood. A pink blouse replaced yesterday’s plaid. Same jeans and sandals.
    “Let’s see, what did Dr. Delaware draw for you today?” She picked up the drawing. Cassie reached out and took it from her.
    Cindy put an arm around her shoulder. “An elephant! Dr. Delaware drew you a cute blue elephant!”
    Cassie brought the paper closer. “Eh-fa.”
    “Good, Cass, that’s great! Did you hear that, Dr. Delaware? Elephant?”
    I nodded. “Terrific.”
    “I don’t know what you did, Dr. Delaware, but since yesterday she’s been talking more. Cass, can you say elephant again?”
    Cassie closed her mouth and crumpled the paper.
    Cindy said, “Oh, my,” cuddled her and stroked her cheek. Both of us watched Cassie labor to unfold the picture.
    When she finally succeeded she said, “Eh-fa!” compressed the paper again, tighter, into a fist-sized ball, then looked at it, perplexed.
    Cindy said, “Sorry, Dr. Delaware. Looks like your elephant isn’t doing too well.”
    “Looks like Cassie is.”
    She forced a smile and nodded.
    Cassie made another attempt to straighten the paper. This time, thimble-sized fingers weren’t up to the task and Cindy helped her. “There you go, honey…. Yes, she’s feeling great.”
    “Any problems with procedures?”
    “There haven’t been any procedures. Not since yesterday morning. We’ve just been sitting here — it’s…”
    “Something the matter?” I said.
    She brought her braid forward and smoothed the fringe.
    “People must think I’m crazy,” she said.
    “Why do you say that?”
    “I don’t know. It was a stupid thing to say — I’m sorry.”
    “What’s the matter, Cindy?”
    She turned away and played with her braid some more. Then she sat back down. Picking up the deck of cards, she passed it from hand to hand.
    “It’s just that…” she said, speaking so softly I had to move closer, “I… each time I bring her here she gets better. And then I take her home, thinking everything’s going to be okay, and it is for a while, and then…”
    “And then she gets sick again.”
    Keeping her head down, she nodded.
    Cassie mumbled something to a plastic figure. Cindy