Aleida fell silent.
It was time to be honest about his love, even if he lost her friendship. Yet today wasn’t the day for such a speech, not from a hospital bed, not wearing pajamas, not with two dozen witnesses on the ward.
She raised a wobbly smile, and she tapped her knuckles in the familiar pattern. “Please don’t worry about me. I can see you worrying, but I’m fine.”
“Are you?” He flicked up half a smile. “Your mouth says you’re fine, but your fingers say otherwise.”
“Oh dear.” She slapped her hand as if it were naughty. “Itisn’t about last night. I really am all right. The Lord was with me, and you came, and so did the police. It isn’t that.”
“What is it, then?” It was serious, yet he couldn’t help but joke. He stroked the satin collar of his dressing gown. “Is it the dismay of seeing me in my nightclothes? How can you ever respect me again?”
A smile flitted over her lips, then flitted away. “I have something to say. I keep debating, but I need to say it.”
A pit carved into his stomach. Had she decided she no longer wanted to be friends? Or had he offended her in some way?
A commotion arose from the doorway, and Louisa Jones marched in, Guy Gilbert, Norman Fletcher.
Aleida’s face fell, and she bit her lip.
As much as Hugh wanted to see his friends and colleagues, even more he wanted to hear what Aleida had to say. Even if it was dreadful.
“Collie!” Lou planted a fist on her rounded hip as Hugh’s friends gathered around his bed. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to report the news, not make it?”
“Oh, I didn’t—”
“Balderdash,” Gil said. “I was there when you solved the case, and so was Inspector Clyde.”
The inspector stood to Gil’s side.
“Good day, Inspector,” Hugh said.
“Mr. Collingwood.” He nodded to Hugh, then to Aleida with a warm smile. “And dear Mrs. Martens.”
Fletcher held a fedora before his stomach. “Gil rang me early this morning about last night’s events. François Jouveau was correct—this is a big story, worthy of broadcast. I want you to broadcast it, Collie—live.”
“Live?”
DI Clyde crossed his arms. “The police have not yet issued a statement to the press about the case. Mr. Fletcher and I agreed you had more than earned the scoop.”
“This was Gil’s idea,” Fletcher said. “He insisted you had to report the story. I agree.”
Gil lowered his chin, and his cheeks colored. “It’s only fair.”
“Thank you.” Hugh blinked over and over. “But when? The news of the arrest can’t be delayed much longer.”
“On the one o’clock news,” Fletcher said.
“Today?” The clock on the wall read 12:45. “How on earth?”
“That’s why we brought the detective inspector,” Gil said. “So you can interview him. And look—Aleida’s here too.”
“Can you?” Hugh swung his gaze to her. “Would you?”
“Gladly.” She was quite at ease on the air.
“But I’m in hospital.” Hugh patted the bed in case they’d forgotten.
Fletcher gestured toward the ward door. “We have permission. Young and MacTavish are hooking into the telephone line. They’ll bring in the equipment shortly. You have fifteen minutes to prepare your story. You’ll have five minutes on the air.”
