turned to Jeffrey. “I’m scary?”
“To a lot of men, yeah. You’re beautiful, you’re without a doubt smarter than most of us Neanderthals, and you’re aggressive due to your profession,” Jeffrey said.
“I intimidate guys, is that what you’re implying?”
“Only the wrong guys,” Jeffrey replied waving his finger at her. “You need to find a man who will push back when you push forward – psychologically, not physically, of course.”
“And where are these men, wise one?”
“From what I hear, you could begin with the chamber where Councilman Tilley works. You might not agree, but you and the Hot Beckster have a few things in common.”
“Such as?”
“You’re both easy on the eyes, tenacious and know what you want. Becky set her sights on Tilley and wore him down. He told a mutual friend that every time he tried to end her advances, she countered with something new, and after a while he began to enjoy the game they were playing.”
“And the next thing you know, he fell right into her vagina while vacationing with his family in Florida,” Jennifer said with a wide grin.
“Getting back to my point about Neanderthals, some are further down the evolutionary line than others.”
The light in the apartment bedroom went out.
“I’ll keep that in mind when I cover a city vote,” Jennifer said. “So ... Mitch was wondering if there’s any word on the street where Becky is biding her time?”
“Speaking of cave men,” Jeffrey chuckled, “tell him I appreciate the compliment, but my informants have come up empty-handed. My guess is she’s sitting on a private beach at a resort her daddy owns. Now that’s the kind of man to set your sights on, Jennifer. He recently cracked Forbes Top 100 list of wealthiest men in North America.”
“I’ll send him a Facebook friend request in the morning.”
Jeffrey reached for a thermos and poured himself a cup of tepid coffee the colour of tar. “Want some?” Jennifer shook her head side to side. “Are you working on any other stories?”
Jennifer reclined her seat to view the bedroom window, while wondering what had really happened at the hospital earlier. “Maybe.”
“I’m all ears,” Jeffrey said, attempting to recline his seat without much success.
“I went to Met Hospital to find out about that guy they dragged out of the river. Until further notice, John Doe will remain John Doe,” Jennifer began. “Then I found myself in conversation with a young couple – he’s a hospital transporter, she’s a security guard – who believe an old lady was murdered while having hip surgery.” Jeffrey gave her a questioning look. “Yes, it sounds farfetched, but the transporter swears that prior to the surgery the patient begged him not to let them kill her. He sloughed it off as jitters and pain meds until she died first on the operating table – they rescued her from the light – and then for the last time in I.C.U.”
“How old?”
“Late 80s.”
“Forgetting the kid’s account, is there anything else that points to foul play?” Jeffrey asked. “Old people die in hospitals. It’s not exactly breaking news.”
“There were flowers in her room although she’d only been in for a short time,” Jennifer answered. “Luke – he’s the transporter – didn’t believe the patient had any family with her. I’d need to find out who sent them.”
“So you are working on it?”
“I’m undecided,” Jennifer said noncommittally. “I’m hoping the security guard girlfriend can get the camera footage from the 8th floor or gift shop where the flowers were purchased.”
“Check the Telegraph’s obituary section in a couple days too. There may be a full list of family members you can contact after the funeral.”
“We’ll see.”
Jennifer’s cell phone rang, startling both of them.
“Malone,” she answered.
“Hi, Jennifer?” the male voice asked tentatively. “It’s Luke from Met Hospital.”
“Your ears must be burning,” she said.
“What’s burning?”
Too young to get the reference, Jennifer thought. You’re the old lady in this conversation. “Hey, Luke, never mind. Nothing’s burning. What’s going on? Are you still at work?”
“I am and I found some information about Helga that may explain why she believed someone was out to kill her.”
Jennifer brought her seat to an upright position and found a notepad in her purse. “Go on,” she said.
There was a brief pause and Jennifer heard Maryanne in the background encouraging Luke on, as she had on the hospital bench. “Helga was the star witness at a murder trial. Her granddaughter was killed by her husband, who was convicted and sent to prison.”
“That’s good he was found guilty,” Jennifer replied. “Why would Helga be in any danger now?”
“Because there might be an appeal, and in the article I read the lawyer claimed without Helga’s testimony his client would be found not guilty.”
Jennifer wrote down this information and mulled over its importance. “But why kill her in a public place like a hospital? Why not make an attempt when she’s home alone?”
“That’s the thing, Jennifer, I think they did,” Luke said cautiously. “The surgery was scheduled after Helga arrived in the E.R. I spoke with her nurse and she remembered that Helga was tight-lipped about her fall at home. But she thought that Helga had mumbled, ‘I almost got away from him,’ only to dismiss it, like I did, because Helga was high on painkillers.”
Jennifer was alarmed by this news. “Did you tell the nurse what Helga had said to you?”
“No, I’m too scared to tell anyone anything, aside from you.”
Jennifer was relieved that Luke had kept his mouth shut. “From now on, please stop discussing Helga with any hospital personnel, besides Maryanne. I need to do some research on this murder trial. Can you text me the story link?”
“I’ll do it now.”
A few seconds later, Jennifer’s phone made a pinging sound. “Got it, thanks, Luke. Get to the end of your shift and go home. I’ll contact you in the morning,” Jennifer said. “Are you working the same shift tomorrow?”
“No, I generally only work weekends, unless someone is sick and I’m called in to cover their shift,” Luke answered. “Maryanne will be at the hospital from noon until midnight though.”
“Sounds good,” Jennifer said. “And one more thing:
