I spent what was left of the night in the recliner, holding one or another of the twins, waiting for Dad to call and tell us if Grandfather was going to make it.
Chapter 17
“How is he?” I demanded.
It was shortly after dawn on Sunday morning. I had just deposited the boys in the spare crib we kept in the kitchen and was making some decaf when Dad and the chief strolled in, followed by Michael, who had answered the doorbell.
“He’s unconscious,” Dad said. “But stable.”
“Define stable.” I sat down, and Michael took over with the coffee.
“His vital signs are good,” Dad said. “In fact, they’re excellent for his age. He’s only got a mild concussion. I just wish he’d regain consciousness.”
Dad slumped into a kitchen chair.
“Don’t worry,” I said, patting Dad’s shoulder. “He’s much too hardheaded to be killed that way. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Dad sighed, nodded, and squeezed my hand.
“And while we’re waiting for Dr. Blake to regain consciousness,” the chief said, “I’d like to interview you and Michael about what happened last night.”
“I didn’t see much,” I said.
“Whatever you can remember.”
I nodded. Through the kitchen window, I could see Horace and Sammy searching the yard. Presumably they’d finished with the living room, which would now be coated liberally with at least three different colors of fingerprint powder.
“And Horace isn’t going to have much luck with the forensics, is he?” I asked. “How many hundreds of people have been in our living room the last two days, or tromped through our yard last night?”
“Which is why I’m going to be relying a lot more on witness statements,” the chief said.
“Subtly hinted,” I said. “Let’s go find a quiet place so I can give mine. You probably already thought of this, but the guy who was driving the church bus was here till the bitter end, ferrying people to their cars. You might ask him what he saw.”
“I didn’t know he was doing that,” the chief said. “That could be helpful.”
I doubted if anything else in my statement was, though. Especially since nothing I had to say helped the chief come up with an idea why the intruder had been on our property, or whether or not he’d been in the house.
“Grandfather might have scared off a prowler and been injured in the process,” I said to Michael afterward. “Or maybe he interrupted a burglar in the act and gave chase.”
I was sitting at the kitchen table, holding Jamie, and ticking the options off on my fingers, which Jamie found curiously fascinating.
“A burglar who hadn’t yet taken any of our stuff,” Michael said. He was balancing Josh on one shoulder while fixing some breakfast.
“Or a burglar who didn’t think any of our stuff was worth taking and was about to leave in a snit,” I suggested. “Or a burglar who did take something that we still haven’t noticed yet.”
“The house isn’t that cluttered,” he said.
“Could be someone who had it in for Grandfather and came to harm or even kill him,” I suggested.
“Or someone who came to talk to your grandfather and lost his temper during the conversation.”
I’d filled the one hand and had to count this last possibility on my other hand. Jamie squealed with delight and tried to grab my finger.
“Jamie votes for that scenario,” I said. “And I’d put it high on the probability list myself.”
“Though most people don’t try to settle their arguments with a blunt instrument,” Michael said. He put Josh into the baby carriage and set the little disco ball toy spinning to amuse him.
“Good thing,” I said. “Or Grandfather would have already had quite a few concussions in his life.”
“He’ll be fine.” Michael came over and held his hands out for Jamie. “Getting the best possible care with your dad on the case. And it’s a good hospital, too.”
“And thank goodness the hospital isn’t county-owned any longer,” I said. “Or they’d be clearing that out tomorrow, too. Not so great for someone in the ICU.”
“But they’re not, so he can stay put, and you can go down and see him. Talk to him.”
He set Jamie in the carriage and began bouncing it vigorously, which had the double effect of making the disco ball spin and soothing the boys.
“Talk to him?” I echoed. “On the theory that even though he’s unconscious, he’ll hear me and rally from his coma?”
“They’ve done some studies that show it works,” he said. “And even if it doesn’t, you’ll feel better for trying. You’ll go crazy, hanging around here all day.”