Easter Bunny Murder (22 page)

As soon as her back was turned she realized she'd made a mistake. She quickly whirled around, preparing to defend herself, but the blow came immediately, stunning her and knocking her to the ground. She was barely conscious but she felt something around her neck, something that was making it hard to breathe. She was struggling, instinctively fighting for survival, trying to pull Izzy's hands away from her throat, when the pressure on her neck suddenly ceased. She turned, gasping for breath, and saw Eddie Culpepper grappling with Izzy. He'd grabbed her by the waist and was trying to bring her down but she jabbed him in the eye, slipped out of his arms, and delivered a mean kick to his crotch. Eddie crumpled to his knees, watching helplessly as Izzy escaped, running across the parking area and climbing into the Pine Point truck he had left running behind Lucy's car. She reversed madly down the drive, scraping trees and undergrowth as she went.

Still dizzy, Lucy staggered the short distance to Eddie, who had curled up in a fetal position. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice little more than a croak.

“Yeah,” he replied in a weak voice. “I just need a minute.”

“I'm calling for help,” she said, stumbling on the way back to her car.

After she'd made the call, she sank to the ground beside Eddie. “They should be here soon.”

“We have to find Mrs. Van Vorst,” said Eddie, raising himself to a sitting position. “She must be here, in the woods somewhere.”

“Do you think she's alive?” asked Lucy, who had absolutely no desire to do anything more than concentrate on her next breath.

“We've gotta find out,” said Eddie, rising clumsily to his feet.

“Okay,” said Lucy, holding out her hand, which Eddie grabbed, helping her to her feet.

She swayed a bit when she stood up, but her vision was clear, except for a jangly fuzziness around the edges. She discovered she could manage, just barely, to put one foot in front of the other. Eddie, she noticed, was limping, but he managed an encouraging smile as he led the way down the path.

It was much cooler in the woods, where the tall pine trees shaded the path, but Lucy didn't like the tricks her vision was playing, going in and out of focus. It was an easy, well-traveled trail that led downhill, but Lucy staggered as she went, leaning here and there on a tree trunk for support. Eddie was running ahead of her and had disappeared around a curve when she heard him yelling that he'd found VV.

She was at land's end, at the very edge of a rocky promontory facing the sea. Izzy had propped her against a pine tree and tied her fast, leaving her to the elements where she would surely have died of exposure. Hurrying as best she could, Lucy thought VV looked like little more than a bundle of rags. The frail old woman had slumped forward, and would have fallen on her face except for the cruel ropes that restrained her; she was semiconscious. Her bluish eyelids flickered when Lucy spoke to her and her cracked lips moved as she emitted a faint groan.

“Help is coming. You're going to be all right,” Lucy told her, as Eddie produced a knife and cut the ropes, freeing her.

Together they managed an awkward fireman's carry, cradling VV between them in their arms and carrying her up the trail. It was uphill and Lucy fought nausea with every step. Her arms and legs were burning and she didn't think she could go on without a rest when they heard a voice calling them.

They answered and minutes later the rescue squad met them in the path and took over. VV was strapped to a stretcher and carried the rest of the way. Lucy followed, assisted by a strong EMT. Eddie refused assistance, making his own way up the trail.

When they reached the parking lot, Lucy was bundled into the ambulance along with VV. She didn't protest. Her vision was still blurry and she feared she might have a concussion, but she was also concerned about VV and wanted to make sure the old woman would be all right. The EMTs had clapped an oxygen mask over VV's face and she was lying very still as the ambulance sailed over the roads to the hospital, siren wailing. When it suddenly stopped, arriving at the ER, Lucy realized she'd dozed off. Weird, she thought, as they wheeled her inside.

When she next regained consciousness, she found an I.V. had been fixed to her hand and Bill was leaning over her, looking worried.

“Am I okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, stroking her cheek. “The CAT scan was clear.”

“I had a CAT scan?”

He smiled, and she felt his beard against her cheek. “Take it easy. Everything's under control.”

“What about VV?” she asked.

“Responding to treatment and expected to make a full recovery. She's mostly dehydrated.”

“That's good,” she said, wishing her head didn't hurt quite so much. At least the blurry vision was gone.

“Why'd you do such a crazy thing?” he demanded, scolding her. “You have a lot to answer for,” he said.

If he only knew, thought Lucy, guiltily remembering the wills. “Can I go home?”

Bill shook his head. “They want to keep you overnight. Just a precaution, they said.”

“Okay.” That was fine with Lucy. She didn't really feel like going anywhere.

“I think I better get home, though. Let the kids know you're okay.”

Lucy started to nod but a stab of pain caused her to reconsider. “Bye,” she said.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he said, kissing her forehead. Then he was gone and she was alone in the curtained cubicle. She felt a definite lump forming in her throat and her eyes were starting to tear, when there was a sudden commotion as another patient was rushed into the adjacent cubicle. The curtain between the cubicles had been caught and pulled slightly open, and she could see the nurses leaning over the patient. There was a series of noises, electronic beeps, and routine comments from the team. Then Lucy heard a faint voice: “I just wanted what was mine.”

“Shhh,” said a different voice. “You're going to be okay.”

“She abandoned her baby . . . my mother.” The voice was weaker, but Lucy recognized it. Izzy.

Then Lucy heard Doc Ryder's familiar voice. “We're calling MedFlight,” he was saying. “You're going to take a ride to Portland.” Then he lowered his voice and she couldn't hear what he was saying; he was probably issuing orders to a nurse.

A couple of minutes later the curtain opened and Doc Ryder was standing by her bedside, flipping through her chart. “You took a pretty good knock on the head. How are you feeling?”

“Not so great,” said Lucy.

“The neurologist wants to keep you for observation, but it's crazy here tonight,” he said. “Your room's not ready and we need this space. We might have to put you in the hallway for a while.”

“Just don't forget about me,” she said. “What about the woman next door? The one who's waiting for a MedFlight.”

Doc Ryder peered at her over his half-glasses. “I can't discuss . . .”

“It's Izzy Scannell, right? I know her.”

The doctor shook his head. “It's tragic. She was in a terrible accident and there's not much we can do for her here.” He was closing her chart when a nurse arrived and whispered something in his ear, then left. He stood for a moment, studying her. “The MedFlight's been delayed,” he said in a low voice. “We're really short staffed, and I can't spare anybody to stay with her. Would you do it?”

“Me? What can I do?”

His voice was even lower. “She's got massive internal injuries and time is running out. She's not gonna make it unless that MedFlight helicopter gets here soon.” He paused. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important. I don't like to leave a critical patient alone, and you said you're friends.”

“Not exactly friends,” said Lucy. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Just hours ago Izzy had viciously attacked her and now she was being asked to comfort her. It was like one of those situations she remembered from Sunday school: What would you do if the mean girl who didn't invite you to her birthday party was roller-skating near your house and fell, scraping her knee? Lucy knew you were supposed to turn the other cheek and give her a Band-Aid. “Okay,” she said, and he helped her out of the bed and into a wheelchair.

“Just hold her hand,” he said, pulling the curtain aside and wheeling her next to Izzy's bed. “Use the CALL button if anything changes.”

Izzy seemed very small, lying flat on her back, not at all like the hearty, strong woman Lucy remembered helping get rid of those bittersweet vines. There were numerous tubes and wires and machines, her face was puffy and bruised, and her eyes were closed. Lucy took her hand, and Izzy curled her fingers around it. Doc Ryder patted her on the shoulder and was gone.

“You're going to be okay,” she said. “The helicopter's coming.”

Much to Lucy's surprise, Izzy started to speak and Lucy leaned close to hear. “I did it for my mom,” she whispered, her eyes still closed. “She was VV's baby. VV abandoned her. I wanted her to know . . . what that's like . . . how it feels.”

Lucy remembered how upset Izzy had been at Heritage House when she learned her mother had died, alone and unattended. Lucy was no psychiatrist, but she suspected that her mother's death had sent Izzy into some sort of crisis. Izzy had somehow mixed up her mother's lonely death with VV's decision to give her up for adoption as a baby. Both times poor Madge was abandoned and left to her fate.

“Don't talk. Save your strength,” said Lucy. “The helicopter will be here soon.”

“No,” whispered Izzy. “I need to get it . . . off my chest.”

“There'll be time for that later,” said Lucy.

Izzy's voice was stronger and her eyes were open now. “I don't think so.”

Lucy didn't know what to do. She desperately wanted to hear Izzy's confession, but she didn't want to do anything that would compromise her chances of recovery. Where was that darn helicopter?

Izzy tugged on her hand. “I'm sorry I hit you.”

Lucy's eyes met Izzy's. “It's okay. I understand. You were upset.”

“Yeah.” Izzy gave a lopsided smile.

Encouraged by these signs, Lucy went ahead and asked a question that had been bothering her. “Did your mom know that VV was her mother?”

“No. When Grammy O'Dwyer died, I had to clear out her things and I found Mom's birth certificate.”

“Did you show your mother?”

“I tried. She wouldn't look. She didn't want to know. She said she knew who raised her and loved her and that was all that mattered.”

“It mattered to you, though,” said Lucy.

“I told Van but he laughed at me, said I was lying.”

“Is that why you killed him?”

“He was going to fire me.”

“And you needed to stay at Pine Point because you had a plan? A plan to get close to VV so she would recognize your mother?”

Izzy nodded.

“But why did you kill Maxine?”

“After Van died, people started suspecting Vicky and . . . ,” Izzy's voice faltered, she took a long shallow breath, then continued, “the two men.”

“Her husband and Weatherby?”

“Yeah. When Maxine threatened them, I thought . . .”

“You thought they would be blamed for her death?”

“Mmmm.” Izzy's voice was getting weaker and Lucy hoped that helicopter was on its way.

“Why Juliette?”

“She sent that woman . . . from New York.”

“The private investigator?”

Izzy nodded.

Lucy was beginning to understand. “Juliette was determined to find out who killed her parents and that made her dangerous to you.”

“Not the money.” Izzy's eyelids were fluttering and her grip was weakening. Lucy squeezed her hand a bit tighter. She thought she could hear the helicopter overhead. “Didn't care,” sighed Izzy, and Lucy felt her hand go limp.

She was still holding Izzy's hand when the curtain was pulled aside and a nurse announced that the helicopter had arrived and it was time to go.

“I think she's already left,” said Lucy, aware the alarms were suddenly going off on the machines.

Then she was shoved outside the cubicle and there was a frantic flurry of activity as they tried to shock Izzy's heart into beating once again.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucy heard someone speak. “She's gone. Time of death, eight forty-two.”

Lucy stared at the ceiling, at the white acoustic tile dotted with holes and the translucent panel for the fluorescent lights and the gray metal track for the privacy curtain. What a waste, she thought. Van and Maxine gone, Juliette injured, and for what? Margaret had died without knowing her birth mother, and now Izzy was dead, too. And VV—what about her? She'd been abused by one granddaughter while another worked in her garden, unacknowledged and aching for recognition.

Then the curtain was pulled aside and a thirtyish guy in pale blue scrubs approached. “Ready for a little trip?” he asked. “We've got a room ready for you.”

Lucy was thoughtful as she was wheeled through the ER to the elevator. When the caregiver pushed the button, she asked, “What happened to the woman who just died?”

“An accident,” he said as the doors slid open and he pushed her wheelchair inside the elevator. “At Lover's Leap. She drove into the guard rail.”

“On purpose?” asked Lucy.

“It's a dangerous spot,” he said with a shrug. “It could have been an accident. We'll never know.”

It was true, thought Lucy, as the elevator doors opened and she was pushed into the hallway. They would never know whether Izzy had intended to kill herself or whether she'd simply spun out of control. Either way, she was her own last victim.