In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [13]
Her knees buckled and she almost fell. He helped her onto the chair, where she slumped, head bowed.
Thinking she was about to faint, he hurried to get her some water from the fountain. She must be a relative, he thought, offering her the paper cup. Or a devoted employee. She was certainly concerned. “And who exactly are you, Miss . . . ?”
She lifted her long golden lashes and looked at him with those big soft amber-brown eyes.
“I’m Zelda,” she said.
10
Camelia hid his stunned smile with a little cough. He introduced himself. “Homicide Detective Marco Camelia.”
She stared at him. “Homicide? Ed’s not dead, is he? Oh, please.” She jumped to her feet, ran past him, and pushed open the door to the ICU.
The nurse’s head swiveled as she passed her, then she too was on her feet. “Hey, wait one minute . . . ,” she began angrily. But Zelda was already at the bedside.
Ed’s face looked like a stranger’s, coldly pale and without his usual beard. His eyes were closed, and for a big man, he looked horribly fragile.
Mortal, Zelda thought, slipping to her knees and taking his hand carefully in both of hers. Her heart was a leaden lump in her chest. It had slowed so she could hardly breathe. Those could have been her blips on that screen—plummeting lower and lower. She was dying with him. . . .
“Young woman, you have to get out of here,” the nurse ordered in a furious whisper, grabbing her arm. She didn’t seem to hear, she just stared at the patient.
“ ‘I told you so’ would be appropriate, you great oaf,” Zelda said, sniffing back the tears. “Dammit, Ed Vincent, maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”
Marco Camelia indicated to the nurse to leave her alone.
“I’m in charge here, Detective,” the nurse whispered angrily. “You are disturbing my patient. He’s in extremely critical condition; he needs to be kept quiet.” She glanced anxiously at the monitors as the minimal peaks and valleys changed suddenly to irregular zigs and zags. “Just look what she’s doing to him.” She ran to summon the doctor.
Camelia was looking. The agitation was there for all to see. Ed Vincent was reacting to the presence of his killer. Would-be killer, he reminded himself. They did not have a body. Yet.
Zelda. Camelia’s hand was firm on her shoulder and she turned to look at him. Her face was pale, bruised-looking, and her eyes had the dilated pupils of a person in shock. He said, “We have to let him rest now.”
Her eyes followed Camelia’s to the jumping pattern on the monitor. She scrambled clumsily to her feet and stood for a moment, looking at the man lying motionless in the bed. Then she bent and gently kissed his cheek.
Soft as a feather, Camelia noted, just as the on-duty doctor swung through the door, summoned hastily by the nurse.
“What the hell is going on in here?” He spoke in a low voice, but his anger was clear. “Who are you? No, don’t tell me, just get out.”
Camelia hurried Zelda from the room, urging her out even as she turned for one last look at Ed Vincent.
It occurred to him that if Zelda were really “a woman scorned,” she certainly seemed to care about Vincent. Cared enough to kill him rather than lose him, he guessed. That was the way of the world. They should run an ad campaign like they did for drugs—Domestic Violence Kills. Much good it would do, he thought wearily.
Zelda dropped onto the chair outside the door as though her legs were no longer able to support her. “Why?” she demanded, staring blankly down the empty corridor. “Why would they want to kill him?”
Camelia made a mental note of the phrase “they want to kill him.” “That’s exactly what we would like to know. And that’s why I’m taking you in for questioning.”
She looked up at him, uncomprehending.
The elevator stopped on their floor and the uniformed officer strode toward them.
“Brotski, I’d like you to read Miss Zelda her rights.”
“Sir?” Brotski’s face was a picture. He’d only been gone fifteen minutes and “Camille