Page 52 of Ticket Out

She finished her rounds without incident, and changed and left as soon as possible, heading for Notting Hill first, to visit the small little shop tucked up next to a haberdashery that sold groceries from Trinidad and Tobago.

As she stepped inside, she wondered suddenly if Solomon owned it, then dismissed the idea. If he did, Mr. Rodney would have as much of the special Trinidadian coffee he loved so much as he wanted, whereas he coveted it, and limited himself to one special cup a day.

Perhaps it was a foolish gift, as he couldn’t have any in the hospital, but she hoped it was something for him to look forward to when he got out.

The hospital was cool inside, and she found Mr. Rodney sitting up in bed, talking to Catherine when she arrived.

“Gabby!” He almost jumped out of bed, and both she and Catherine leaped forward to stop him. “You’re all right?” he asked, subsiding back against the pillows in the face of their alarm.

“I’m very sorry you were attacked, but he didn’t lay a finger on me.”

“I was telling Catherine how you pushed him, and called him a coward.” Mr. Rodney patted Catherine’s hand. “She went for him, like a tigress.”

Gabriella studied him as she sat down on the only other chair left in the room. “You look pretty good for someone who was stabbed.”

“Not stabbed so much as slashed,” Mr. Rodney said. “Not nearly so dangerous and easily mended.”

“That’s good.” She pulled out the coffee, and handed it to him as he crowed in delight.

When the nurse came to shoo her and Catherine out, she told them the doctor would probably discharge him by the end of the weekend.

“This your trouble following Mr. Rodney?” Catherine asked as they walked out together.

Gabriella looked over at her, lifted a shoulder and nodded at the same time. “I don’t understand why, but probably.”

“You don’t understand why?” Catherine sounded surprised.

“If it’s the man who killed those two people I found, I don’t understand what the motivation is. I can’t identify him.”

“He maybe doesn’t know that.” Catherine sounded less edgy. “Or it might just be someone who doesn’t like seeing a white girl walking with a black man.”

“That’s what George said the police thought, at first.” She shook her head. “But there was none of the stupid name calling that usually goes with that. He came out fast and quiet, and he went straight for Mr. Rodney, like he was getting him out of the way before he focused on me.”

“Why’d you make Melvin disappear?”

Again she lifted a shoulder. “Just being overly cautious. The man who probably killed those people might also be selling drugs at Dance-A-Go-Go. If the police got wind of where Melvin works . . .”

Catherine stopped and was staring at her. “Mel needs to know this.”

“I know. Can you pass it on?”

They had reached the bus stop, and Catherine nodded, but given the number of people around them, they didn’t discuss it further.

Later, Gabriella got comfortable on her window seat, legs extended out in front of her, coffee in hand, and looked out of the small, open window to the street below. Birds were raising a racket, settling into trees for the night, and the golden light of sunset washed over the old, slightly ramshackle houses, lending them a glamor they didn’t usually have.

There were people walking on the pavement, but no one was behaving suspiciously, or appeared to be paying unusual attention to her house.

Some children played hop scotch a few houses up, but as she watched, their mother called them in for their dinner.

Tea, they called it here.

She forced herself to acknowledge that there could be someone, clever enough not to be obvious.

She’d been thinking a lot more clearly this afternoon than she had this morning. Since Catherine’s pointed questions.

Even if her attacker didn’t know exactly where she lived, he had a good idea of her general area. He’d followed her bus once, and while she’d lost him, she hadn’t gotten off that far from home. The second time, he’d followed her right to the club. Which meant, for everyone’s safety, she couldn’t go back there until this was over.

Mr. Rodney was hurt because she hadn’t understood how determined this man seemed to be to kill her.

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