Dangerous Depths Read Online Free PDF Page A

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careless,” Jimmy said.
    “Come on. Happens all the time. Most people
smell the stuff before it explodes. Elyse probably passed out
drinking that bottle of wine,” he said, indicating the bottle we’d
retrieved.
    “Elyse does not drink, and I don’t need your
opinion, Ed. We will be treating this like a crime scene,” I said,
pissed that Carr was so eager to blame the explosion on Elyse. But
Carr was not in charge here. Christ, he wasn’t even a cop. He was a
damned banker along to help with the dive.
    I could hear the anger and defensiveness in
my voice. I was thinking about the sticky note that I’d discovered
under the salon table. Maybe if I’d seen it when I’d gotten in last
night, Elyse wouldn’t be fighting for her life right now.
    “Sorry,” I said a moment later. I didn’t need
to take my frustration and fear for Elyse out on Carr.
    “It’s okay,” Stark said. “We know how close
you and Elyse are. Let’s get this stuff to the lab, have them check
for accelerants, prints on that stove knob, the other stuff you’ve
collected.
    We loaded the gear and evidence containers
into the Wahoo and I handed Stark the three rolls of film
I’d shot as well as the pill bottle I’d pulled out of the water
last night.
    “You coming?” he asked.
    “Naw, I’ll take the Rambler. I want to stop
in at the hospital.”
    When I got there, Mary was sitting in Elyse’s
room, reading poetry to her—Pablo Neruda.
    “Can’t hurt,” she said. “People say that
hearing and awareness can be acute, even though a person is
unconscious. I’m reading the uplifting material and maybe I’m
keeping her brain waves active.”
    “Makes sense to me,” I said, bending to give
her a quick hug. “How long have you been here?” By the tired eyes
and rumpled clothes I’d guess hours.
    I’d met Mary the day Elyse had dragged me up
to Mary’s home in the hills to look at the black ‘65 Rambler that
Mary was selling. It was typical Elyse, convinced she knew what was
best for everyone around her. Mary had a car to sell; I needed one.
To Elyse, it was obvious. And she’d been right. It was the perfect
car, a boxy old convertible in mint condition. It was only later
that I realized the car had been only part of Elyse’s motivation.
The other part was introducing me to Mary.
    Mary was the psychiatrist who had helped
Elyse through a hard time some eight years back. She’d diagnosed
Elyse with bipolar disorder, helped Elyse come to terms with the
illness, and managed her medication. They’d been close friends ever
since. In fact, Mary was more a mother to Elyse than a friend.
    “How’s she doing?” I asked.
    “No change. The neurologist is supposed to be
getting in any time.”
    Just then Dr. Hall and another man walked
in.
    “Mary, Hannah, this is Dr. Marks.”
    “Good day, ladies. Please excuse my
appearance. Just stepped off the ferry from Red Hook. Kind of a
salty wet day out there.”
    Dr. Marks was probably fifty, with
salt-and-pepper hair and a hard New York accent. Hall had said he
was one of the best, a high-powered doctor who had decided to
retreat from the city to a more reasonable lifestyle in the Virgin
Islands. He had given up a lucrative practice to do it. I had to
admire the guy.
    “I’ll be examining Elyse, going over the
charts, running a few more tests. It will probably be tomorrow
before I have a complete picture unless something unexpected
occurs.”
    “Like what?” I asked.
    “You just never know with head injuries.
Sometimes the patient just comes around,” he said.
    Or dies . He didn’t say it, but the
unspoken hung in the air.
    When Mary and I entered the brightly lit
waiting room, Chief Dunn was there, sitting in the corner, head
buried in the Island News . As usual, he wore a suit, white
shirt, and dark tie. Dunn’s idea of casual was to remove the
jacket. He was big—a good two-sixty, six-three. He was always
struggling to keep the weight down—difficult with a wife who