Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [169]
Ten minutes later Savich said to his sister as he pushed her wheelchair toward the elevator, “I told Tennyson that Sherlock and I are taking you to see your new shrink. He wasn’t happy about that, said he didn’t know anything about this woman. She could be a rank charlatan and he’d lose all sorts of money, maybe even get you more depressed. I let him talk on, then gave him my patented smile.”
“That smile,” Sherlock said, “translates into ‘You mess with me, buddy, and even your toenails are gonna hurt.’ ”
“In any case, at the end of all his ranting, there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to get me to convince you to see Dr. Rossetti. I do wonder why he thinks the guy is so great.”
“He’s not,” Lily said. “He’s horrible.” She actually shuddered. “He came back again this morning. The nurse had just washed my hair for me, so I looked human and felt well enough to take him on.”
“What happened?” Sherlock asked. She was carrying Lily’s small overnight bag. Savich pushed her wheelchair onto the elevator, punched the button. No one else was on board.
Lily shuddered yet again. “I think he’d talked to Tennyson some more. He tried to change his tactics. He actually attempted to be ingratiating, at least at first. When he slithered into my room—yes, that’s it exactly, he slithered—Nurse Carla Brunswick had just finished blow-drying my hair.”
Nurse Brunswick turned toward him and said, “Doctor.”
“Leave us alone for a bit, Nurse. Thank you.”
Lily said, “I don’t want Nurse Brunswick to leave, Dr. Rossetti. I want you to leave.”
“Please, Mrs. Frasier, a moment of your time. I fear we got off on the wrong foot when I was here before. You were just out of surgery; it was simply too soon for you to want to hear about anything. Please, just a few minutes of your time.”
Nurse Brunswick smiled at Lily, patted her hand, then left the hospital room.
“I see I have little choice here, Russell. What do you want?”
If he was angered at her use of his first name, he didn’t let on. He kept smiling, walked to her bed, and stood there, towering over her. She looked at his hands; his plump hands sported a ring this time—a huge diamond on his pinkie. She wished she could throw him out of her room.
“I wanted to speak to you, Mrs. Frasier—Lily. See if perhaps we could deal better with each other, perhaps you could come to trust me, to let me help you.”
“No.”
“Are you in pain, Lily?”
“Yes, Russell, I am.”
“Would you like me to give you a mild antidepressant?”
“My pain is from my ribs and my missing spleen.”
“Yes, well, that pain will likely suppress the other, deeper pain for a while longer.”
“I hope so.”
“Mrs. Frasier—Lily—won’t you come to my office, perhaps next Monday? That will give you another week to recuperate.”
“No, Russell. Ah, here’s Dr. Larch. Hello. Do come in. Dr. Rossetti was just leaving.”
Savich looked ready to spit by the time Lily finished, but she laughed. “No need to go pound him, Dillon. He left, didn’t say another word, just walked out. Dr. Larch didn’t move until he was gone.”
“What I don’t understand,” Sherlock said thoughtfully, “is why both Tennyson and Dr. Rossetti want you as his patient so very much. Isn’t that strange? You give Rossetti grief and he still wants you?”
“Yes,” Savich said slowly, “it is strange. We’ll have to see what MAX has to say about Russell Rossetti. He was ready to give you some antidepressants, right there, on the spot?”
“It seems so.”
After Lily was in the car, a pillow over her stomach and ribs, the seat belt as loose as possible over the pillow, Savich said, “I have a psychiatrist for you, Lily. No, not someone to shrink you and give you more medication, but a woman who is very good at hypnosis. What do you think?”
“Hypnosis? Oh, goodness, she’ll help me remember what happened?”
“I hope so. It’s a start anyway. Maybe it will jump-start your memory. Since it’s Sunday, she’s coming into her office especially for you.”
“Dillon, I think I just gained a whole ton of energy.”
Sherlock heard her say under