fall at her home. Apparently, they're in the process of renovating and Mrs. Takahashi took a tumble, crashing through the banister in the upstairs hallway and landing in a terribly bad position."
I winced. "Have you asked her if that's what really happened?"
"We can't. She hasn't regained consciousness. Her husband, Austen, says he fears she might have been targeted and attacked."
"Why haven't the police been notified?"
Alice shrugged. "After Mr. Takahashi — Austen — told me that earlier, I tracked down the EMTs who brought her in. They said they didn't see any signs of an attack, although they admitted they weren't looking for any clues. Their only concern was providing emergency treatment and getting her to the hospital as soon as possible but you can ask them yourself. I saw them earlier so I know they’re around. They did notice a broken section of the banister, which supports the accident theory. Austen said he took more time to think about it since that day, trying to clear up any discrepancies. They were right in the middle of the renovation, but no one was actually working on the balustrade, not just yet. Austen claims it wasn't loose or faulty and he can't think of any possible way she could have fallen through it."
"Who found her?" I asked.
"One of the guys on their work crew. He called 911. I don't know anymore than that."
"What's her prognosis?" I asked.
"I can't divulge too much because you're not a family member but I can tell you, right now, her odds of survival are fifty-fifty."
I looked inside the room where I could just see the end of the hospital bed and the outline of legs under the sheet. "You mean there's a chance she might not ever wake up?"
Alice nodded. "I'm afraid so. Now that he's had a few days to calm down and think about it more clearly, I fear that knowledge is what got Austen so riled up. He's right. If someone deliberately did this to her and she dies, it's an act of first degree murder."
"And what if she never wakes up but she also doesn't die?" I wondered.
"I'm not sure about the legal implications but somehow, it seems even worse to me. A living death."
"Can I talk to the husband?"
"Sure. He's in there, expecting you."
"What did you tell him?"
"Not much. Only that you're a private investigator and a good person to talk to about proving his suspicions. I think he just wants to hear he isn't really crazy."
"Why didn't you suggest he call the police?"
"He did. He called them a couple of days ago and they sent a unit to his house. After a cursory look around, they said they were sorry she fell but that's all it looked like. I think they also suggested installing a few safety improvements around the house during the renovation and that was it."
"I'll talk to him," I said. "I have to admit, if the police already concluded it was an accident and the EMTs concurred, it might just be that. A tragic, horrible accident."
"I hope so, but I'm sure he'll appreciate an independent opinion from someone familiar with murder investigations. Come and see me before you go?"
I promised I would before Alice opened the room's door and ushered me inside, announcing me softly as I stepped past her. A much younger woman than I envisaged lay on the bed, unmoving except for the soft rise and fall of her chest. Various wires connected her to complicated machines that ticked and beeped. Her blond hair was plaited neatly over one shoulder and I wondered who did it. Perhaps the same person who applied the fresh bandages around her head.
The man seated at her bedside looked tired and worn. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he hadn't slept properly in days and his black hair was lank and unruly. He was dressed in a good quality navy blue sweater and jeans but I wondered if he realized he put on mismatched shoes. He caught me looking at them and gave me a wan smile. "I only noticed my error an hour ago," he said, glancing up again as he stood, extending his hand. "I've been here since six. Austen Takahashi."
"Under the circumstances, I think you get a pass," I said, reaching to shake his hand. His shoe error made me feel better about meeting a prospective client in my yoga-wear. "Lexi Graves. I'm sorry to meet you in this awful situation. How's your wife?"