Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard Read Online Free

back of her arm and climbed back in. Frankie cleaned her arm off with a cloth he’d pulled from behind the seat. There was probably a little oil on the rag, but better for Jane to have that on her arm than throw up.
    “I think it might be best to let me off at the medical center and you take Jane home” I said.
    “Oh, I’ll be okay. I should be there to support Rizzie,” Jane protested.
    “No, you need to go home and rest. Rizzie has enough to worry about without you there throwing up all over.”
    For a wonder, I won because when Frankie drove into the ER entrance, he put his arm around Jane and slid her closer to him. I jumped out and slammed the door. He pulled off.
    I found Rizzie and Tyrone in the waiting room outside the coronary tests unit after calling her cell phone. They have all these privacy rules at hospitals, and I figured it would take forever to track down Maum through the information desk, so I just called Rizzie. When I walked in, Rizzie and Tyrone hugged me.
    Rizzie’s tears didn’t surprise me even though I’d never seen her weep before. Tyrone wasn’t crying, but his eyes were red, and he looked like a terrified little kid.
    “Callie, oh, Callie. The doctors don’t know yet if they can fix her hip. What happens if her heart isn’t strong enough for the surgery? She was in horrible pain until they gave her a shot of morphine.” The words tumbled from Rizzie without a pause for breath. I swear, if Rizzie kept talking so fast, she was gonna turn into a Yankee.
    “Now she’s drunk off the medicine,” Tyrone said. “I don’t like seeing Maum like that.”
    “It’s better than seeing her suffer,” I said.
    “Yes,” Rizzie agreed.
    The three of us sat on a fake leather couch and drank coffee for what seemed forever before a doctor came to us and extended his hand for hearty shakes. “Hello, I’m Dr. Dean Redmond. I’ve started Mrs. Profit on some medicine to regulate her heart rhythm, and we’re moving her to the coronary care unit.”
    “What about her hip?” Rizzie asked.
    “Right now we’re going to get the heart condition under control, but Dr. Midlands will operate as soon as possible. He’ll be by her room to talk to you in the morning. I suggest you stop by to see Mrs. Profit in cardiac, then go home and rest so you can be back about dawn tomorrow. Dr. Midlands makes early rounds.”
    “Is Maum in danger of dying?” Tyrone asked in a serious, worried tone.
    “Anyone in her nineties is in danger of dying, especially with this heart arrhythmia and the trauma of the break, but we need to remain optimistic, and she’s responding to stabilization. I’ll see you again soon.”
    He shook our hands again and left the room.
    A kind, friendly nurse wearing a name tag identifying her as Kathleen told us that Maum would be in Room 407 and gave us directions. When we got there, we had to wait outside the room while the staff moved Maum from a gurney onto her bed. When they allowed us in to see her, Maum looked smaller than ever. I’d been struck by her tiny stature since I met her on Surcie Island several years ago, and I thought of her as dynamite in a small package. Her green print hospital gown swallowed her, and the red fingernail polish I used every week or so when I gave her a manicure seemed brighter against the skin of her fingers sticking out of the splint brace on her left wrist. I can’t say Maum looked pale because her skin was naturally dark. Perhaps “dull” as compared to its usual richness is the best word to describe her complexion as she lay there so horribly injured.
    I stroked Maum’s hand while Rizzie and Tyrone each kissed her goodnight—Rizzie on the cheek, Tyrone on her forehead. We all tried to say encouraging and loving words to her, but the meds that had made Tyrone describe her as “drunk” now made her sleep. Kathleen, the nurse from downstairs, stopped by at the end of her shift to check on Maum. All medical personnel should be as