Well Read, Then Dead(70)

            Miguel stared out the window for a couple of minutes, ignoring us completely. He turned back to us, flapping his hand dismissively.

            “I’m tired. I need to rest.” And he closed his eyes, expecting, I suppose, that we would disappear before he opened them again. Finally, we did.

            In the elevator, I asked Bridgy what we’d done or said to upset him.

            “I don’t know. He’s probably starting to realize the long road ahead before his life is back to normal. Visiting hours won’t end for a while. I’d love to see Skully, if only we knew his real name.” She took out her phone. “I’ll call Ryan.”

            “We know his name. He told Rowena, remember? Thomas Smallwood. Ryan said Skully was unconscious. If he still is, we could leave a gift at his bedside. Probably won’t get many visitors.” We got off the elevator and I led the way to the glass-walled gift shop.

            Instinctively I steered away from balloons and plush animals, knowing they wouldn’t have much appeal. On a shelf toward the back I found a wooden canoe filled with hard candies and wrapped in blue cellophane. Just the right touch.

            The receptionist directed us to a room on the second floor. A nurse was feeding an elderly man on one side of the white curtain partially drawn between two beds. Skully was lying in the other bed with his eyes closed. Coma? Sleep? We had no idea.

            I tiptoed across the room to his night table and began shifting things around so I could put the canoe where he could reach it. I was moving his tissue box when Skully opened his eyes.

            “Who?” His eyes swung from me to Bridgy and back again. “Oh, you two. From the café.” An almost-smile crossed his lips. I couldn’t be sure whether he was glad to see us, or pleased he was able to recognize us.

            I held out the canoe and he took it with the hand that wasn’t attached to tubes and wires. “Thank ye kindly. Nice of you to visit. Could you set it on the table?”

            Bridgy’s curiosity got the best of her, so she skipped all the niceties and went straight to what bothered her most. “You’re such an experienced sailor, how could you wind up unconscious on the beach inches from the water’s edge?”

            “Damned if I know.”

            He caught the puzzled look on our faces. “I don’t remember a dang thing after I went for supplies and loaded up the canoe in Tony’s boatyard.”

            Bridgy went all owly eyed. I opened my mouth and closed it again. I’m sure we both had the same thought. If Skully’s boat started out at Tony’s dock, how did it wind up beached at the Point? It was quicker and easier to walk from Tony’s to the Point than to row.

            I decided to try again. “You don’t remember anything?”

            “Nope. Wish I did. Reminds me, I got to ask them sheriff fellas where my boat is, and my supplies, come to think of it.” He rubbed his forehead and winced. “Head still hurts.”

            “Mr. Smallwood . . .”

            “Call me Tom, or Skully. I don’t mind either one.”

            “Thank you, Tom.” I decided to steer the conversation away from what happened before I asked about Miss Delia. “Bridgy saw Rowena’s display of your jewelry at the Emporium. She says it’s magnificent. We didn’t realize that Rowena consigned fishing line pieces. We thought the wire jewelry was what caught her interest.”

            “Couple of fishing lines, is all. She said it might catch the eye of folks who liked to fish.”

            We chatted for a few minutes, asking questions about the shells found up and down the Gulf. Skully was an expert and Bridgy had an interest, so I stayed silent waiting for my opening. Finally the shell talk petered out.