The Edge
Page 14
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"I towed her to shore, made sure she was breathing. I climbed back up the cliff and radioed for an ambulance from my patrol car. They arrived about twelve minutes later arid took her to the Tallshon Community Hospital. At least it was close by.
"That's it, Maggie. I can't remember anything else." "Did you recognize Jilly when you realized it was a white Porsche?"
Rob nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'd know Jilly's Porsche anywhere, just like everyone else in this town would." "What did you think she was doing?" I asked. "I didn't have a clue. I yelled and yelled at her but it didn't do any good. It was like she didn't even see me or hear me. Maybe she didn't."
"Did you see anything or anyone else?" "No, no one."
Maggie said, "In your opinion, was Jilly Bartlett willfully driving the Porsche over the cliff?" "It looked that way to me," Rob said. "Is there any doubt in your mind," I said, "that Jilly was attempting to kill herself?"
Rob Morrison raised weary eyes to my face. He rubbed his fist over the thick dark whiskers on his chin. "No," he said finally, "I'm really sorry, but in my opinion, she was trying to kill herself."
"What about a mechanical problem that caused her to lose control?"
"Her car's still twenty feet under water, but I didn't see any signs of mechanical problems. No exploding tires, no smoke coming from the hood, no skid marks, nothing like that. I'm sorry, Mac."
Half an hour later, Maggie and I were sitting in her car outside Paul and Jilly's house.
"You look ready to fold in on yourself," she said. "Why don't you rest for a while before Paul comes home?"
"I don't have a key to the house," I said. "If it weren't for the big tooth convention in town I'd be at the Buttercup B and B. So I didn't think I'd be staying here with Paul."
"So no key?"
"No key. I figured I'd just curl up on one of those chairs on their front porch."
"You're too big to do much curling," she said, and drummed her gloved fingers on her steering wheel. "Actually, since we're sharing information, why don't you just tell me your ideas about Jilly? You know, the ideas you told me you didn't understand. Then you can head for that porch chair."
"You've got a good memory."
"Yes. What ideas, Mac?"
"Even if I tell you, you'll think I'm a nut case, or you'll just dismiss it because I was in the hospital when it happened, and you'll think it was a psychotic reaction to a drug."
"Try me."
I looked away from her, then inward, back to that night. "I was in the hospital. I dreamed about Jilly being in trouble that night. Somehow I was with her when she went over the cliff." I wanted to laugh myself at what I'd just said, but I just shook my head. "You think I'm psychotic, right?"
She said slowly, staring at me, "I don't know what to believe. What did you do?"
"The next morning I called Paul right away, found out that my dream had actually happened. I've got no clue as to why I hooked up to Jilly like that, none."
"Jesus," she said.
"I had to come here."
"You shouldn't have left the hospital."
"There wasn't a choice. As it was, I waited another two days. The longest two days of my life."
She didn't say anything for a very long time. She rubbed her palm on her thigh. The crease in her tan pants was still sharp. The pants looked as fresh as if she'd just put them on.
"And you and Jilly never had any sort of link before this?"
I shook my head. "There are just us four kids now. Our folks have been dead for some time. Jilly's three years older than me. I'm the youngest. We weren't all that close really, both of us busy over the past several years, but that's normal I guess. Then this damned dream happened. The thing is, I feel like something made Jilly go over that cliff-or someone. She was alone in that car, but she wasn't, not really."
"That doesn't make much sense."
"I know," I said. "I know. At least it doesn't yet. You want the kicker? At the end of the dream I heard a man yelling." I drew a deep breath. "It sounded like Rob Morrison. I recognized his voice just now."
"Jesus."
"There's no way I can just accept this as a suicide attempt, not unless Jilly tells me it was."
I sipped a rich Pinot Noir from the Gray Canyon vineyard in Napa Valley.
"That's it, Maggie. I can't remember anything else." "Did you recognize Jilly when you realized it was a white Porsche?"
Rob nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'd know Jilly's Porsche anywhere, just like everyone else in this town would." "What did you think she was doing?" I asked. "I didn't have a clue. I yelled and yelled at her but it didn't do any good. It was like she didn't even see me or hear me. Maybe she didn't."
"Did you see anything or anyone else?" "No, no one."
Maggie said, "In your opinion, was Jilly Bartlett willfully driving the Porsche over the cliff?" "It looked that way to me," Rob said. "Is there any doubt in your mind," I said, "that Jilly was attempting to kill herself?"
Rob Morrison raised weary eyes to my face. He rubbed his fist over the thick dark whiskers on his chin. "No," he said finally, "I'm really sorry, but in my opinion, she was trying to kill herself."
"What about a mechanical problem that caused her to lose control?"
"Her car's still twenty feet under water, but I didn't see any signs of mechanical problems. No exploding tires, no smoke coming from the hood, no skid marks, nothing like that. I'm sorry, Mac."
Half an hour later, Maggie and I were sitting in her car outside Paul and Jilly's house.
"You look ready to fold in on yourself," she said. "Why don't you rest for a while before Paul comes home?"
"I don't have a key to the house," I said. "If it weren't for the big tooth convention in town I'd be at the Buttercup B and B. So I didn't think I'd be staying here with Paul."
"So no key?"
"No key. I figured I'd just curl up on one of those chairs on their front porch."
"You're too big to do much curling," she said, and drummed her gloved fingers on her steering wheel. "Actually, since we're sharing information, why don't you just tell me your ideas about Jilly? You know, the ideas you told me you didn't understand. Then you can head for that porch chair."
"You've got a good memory."
"Yes. What ideas, Mac?"
"Even if I tell you, you'll think I'm a nut case, or you'll just dismiss it because I was in the hospital when it happened, and you'll think it was a psychotic reaction to a drug."
"Try me."
I looked away from her, then inward, back to that night. "I was in the hospital. I dreamed about Jilly being in trouble that night. Somehow I was with her when she went over the cliff." I wanted to laugh myself at what I'd just said, but I just shook my head. "You think I'm psychotic, right?"
She said slowly, staring at me, "I don't know what to believe. What did you do?"
"The next morning I called Paul right away, found out that my dream had actually happened. I've got no clue as to why I hooked up to Jilly like that, none."
"Jesus," she said.
"I had to come here."
"You shouldn't have left the hospital."
"There wasn't a choice. As it was, I waited another two days. The longest two days of my life."
She didn't say anything for a very long time. She rubbed her palm on her thigh. The crease in her tan pants was still sharp. The pants looked as fresh as if she'd just put them on.
"And you and Jilly never had any sort of link before this?"
I shook my head. "There are just us four kids now. Our folks have been dead for some time. Jilly's three years older than me. I'm the youngest. We weren't all that close really, both of us busy over the past several years, but that's normal I guess. Then this damned dream happened. The thing is, I feel like something made Jilly go over that cliff-or someone. She was alone in that car, but she wasn't, not really."
"That doesn't make much sense."
"I know," I said. "I know. At least it doesn't yet. You want the kicker? At the end of the dream I heard a man yelling." I drew a deep breath. "It sounded like Rob Morrison. I recognized his voice just now."
"Jesus."
"There's no way I can just accept this as a suicide attempt, not unless Jilly tells me it was."
I sipped a rich Pinot Noir from the Gray Canyon vineyard in Napa Valley.
