“That’s enough!” Delia shouted from the doorway, her deep brown eyes almost glowed with anger. “The man is sick and I won’t stand by and let you rile him up with your questions, Emily.”
Emily turned in shock. “Delia, what are you—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Delia cut her off. “This interrogation is over.”
“But we were just having a little chat, weren’t we, Jerry?” Emily smiled sweetly at the man in the bed, patting him softly on the arm. She noticed the wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced than she remembered, and his skin was more sallow.
“We were talking about my late husband.” Emily turned her attention back to Delia. “Someone killed the man I loved and has been tormenting me for the past few months. I hoped Jerry could help me figure out who that might be.”
“I can’t let that happen, Emily. He’s too ill to be badgered into helping you.”
“Delia, I thought we were friends. I helped you get through your own husband’s murder investigation, and I found the killer, not all that long ago. If I hadn’t, you’d be rotting in prison right now. Can’t you and your dad do the same for me?”
“You know he’s my father?” Delia’s eyes widened for a moment, then they narrowed as if she realized that Emily knowing that fact now put her in jeopardy somehow.
“Delia, let me tell her,” Jerry pleaded.
“No,” she said firmly. “Emily, you need to leave.” Delia walked to the door and held it open, avoiding making eye contact with her.
Emily started to walk through the doorway, but paused as she reached Delia. Standing toe to toe with her, she searched the woman’s face for any sign that they had ever truly been friends. “This isn’t over, you know.”
“I know,” Delia replied, pressing her perfectly painted lips tightly into a straight line, still refusing to look at her.
CHAPTER 22
In the crisp, cool autumn air, Emily leaned against a pillar near the main entrance of the hospital, tugging her cropped black-leather jacket closed. She raked her fingers through her curls in aggravation at Delia stopping her from pulling a confession out of the man she suspected of murdering her husband.
She dug her phone out of her jacket pocket and dialed Isabel’s number.
“Hey, Emily, what’s up?”
“You told me last night you were going to stop by the hospital and see Jerry Banderas this morning. I was wondering when you were planning to do that.”
“Let’s see.” Isabel paused and Emily imagined she was looking at her watch. “It’s almost eleven. I can be there in about thirty minutes. Are you there?”
“I am.”
“But I told you I want to talk to him alone.”
“I’m not asking to go in with you. I already warmed him up for you.”
“Tell me you didn’t.”
“Actually, I was doing a pretty good job of it, too, if it hadn’t been for Delia walking in and ordering me out of his room.”
“Oh, boy. I’d like to have seen that.” Isabel chuckled at the thought. “You really think you warmed him up for me?”
“Yes. He wanted to talk, but Delia put the kibosh on that. So we’ll need to put our heads together and come up with a plan to keep her out of his room while you sneak in and talk to him.”
“She’s a pretty sharp cookie. It’ll have to be plausible.”
“I have an idea. Let me call Colin and get him over here. Can you arrange for one of those fancy hidden cameras to record his confession?”
“I believe so. Give me a few minutes to make a quick call to line that up.”
~*~
Colin came as soon as Emily called, meeting her and Isabel in the agreed-upon spot—the hospital gift shop.
Emily pointed to the elevators through the wall of glass that faced the hospital foyer. “We’ve been watching the elevators from here and—”
“Delia came down about ten minutes ago,” Isabel finished.
“I called her, like you asked. When she gets to my office and I’m not there, she’s going to be pissed.” Colin looked to Emily and then to Isabel.
“That’s the plan.” Emily said.
“A guy from the FBI should be here any minute to bring me a brooch with a hidden camera and mic in it. He’ll monitor the recording from his vehicle.” Isabel looked through the wall of glass, searching for the man. “Here he comes.”
A young man, no more than twenty-five, with closely cropped red hair, dressed in a polo shirt and khakis, strolled into the gift shop