Lady Sativa by Frank Lauria Page B

the paper in his pocket.
    “Hold it.”
    Orient heard the soft warning and froze. The detective moved the light to the gun in his hand. “Take it out of your pocket very slowly, doctor,” he said.
    He took the paper between two fingers and held it up to the light. The detective took it.
    Another beam crossed Orient’s eyes. “She’s dead,” a voice growled in Swedish.
    “Tell me what you were doing here, doctor,” the tenor voice asked patiently.
    Orient shivered inside his wet clothes and gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain that was beginning to pulse through his wounded arm. “I received the note you have. I came out here and saw Hannah. Just as she spoke to me, I was attacked.”
    “What did she say?”
    “I think it was ‘go back’.”
    “And then she attacked you?”
    “I suppose so. I don’t know. It was very... confusing.”
    Orient heard them speak softly and then one of the flashlights moved away, its beam sweeping the ground near the mausoleum.
    “You were fortunate we were warned, doctor. Neilson wasn’t as lucky.”
    “Warned?” Orient felt his face flush and the word was slurred.
    The detective lowered his light. “You’d better come with me,” he said. “Someone should look at that arm.”
    “Someone warned you this was... going to happen?” Orient managed, swaying slightly. He felt giddy.
    “Anthony Bestman warned us that his sister-in-law was a homicidal maniac. We watched her leave the house and followed her to see what she would do. We also followed you when you left the house. We saw Hannah Bestman attack you and fired. Fortunately, we managed to hit the right person.”
    “It’s... very dark,” Orient mumbled, remembering something, “hard... to see.”
    “Yes?”
    “Perhaps... someone else was here besides Hannah.”
    “I’ve considered that possibility, doctor.” The detective waved his light impatiently. “My men are searching the courtyard now. Come.”
    Orient followed him. When the flashlight beam passed Hannah’s body, Orient noticed a reddish smudge on her shawl. He bent over and saw that it was a smear of dark powder.
    “Please come along, doctor,” the detective said “Yon m need medical attention.”
    Orient straightened up and a wave of dizziness came over him. He stumbled after the detective toward the warm, distant lights of the house.
    There were hundreds of questions to answer and countless forms to fill out over the next two days. At first Orient was confined to his room under guard, but after all the details had been examined and everyone’s statement taken, he was allowed to have visitors.
    Lily came to his room that afternoon.
    She was dressed in a velvet jumpsuit that matched the golden color of her skin and she was carrying yellow flowers. “Couldn’t find roses,” she explained, putting them in a vase by the window. “How are you feeling?” She came over and sat at the edge of the bed. The sunlight streaming through the window behind her sprayed a halo of metallic glints around her bronze hair.
    Orient grinned. “Like a man who’s just been brought flowers by a beautiful woman.”
    She smiled and narrowed her amber eyes. “You’d better get well before I get to New York,” she said softly. “I want you in one piece.”
    “Healing fast.” He lifted his arm and flexed his fingers. “A lot of blood, but I guess it was superficial Didn’t even need stitches.”
    “Thank heavens the police were following you,” she said with a slight shudder.
    Orient didn’t answer. The sequence of that night’s events were still scattered through his mind, like confetti in a windstorm. There seemed to be so many small pieces missing.
    “Maxwell said she may have killed some others before Neilson and Carl knew about it,
    “I don’t know,” he murmured. “She seemed terrified.”
    Lily leaned over and gently kissed him. “Probably didn’t know what was happening, poor thing: frightened out of her wits with paranoia.”
    Orient