The next day started quietly enough. The first thing in the morning I made my call to the handyman who did the work for the Sand Key condos. I arranged for the repairs to be done at Mrs. Reilly’s home and told him that I would be paying with VISA. He assured me, with a scout’s honour even, that he could get to the job sometime during the next week. I ate a light breakfast at the IHOP. The manager and Janille asked after Mia. I told them that she was making a slow but sure recovery. I walked back to the Holiday Inn to pick up the Jaguar from the back corner of their parking lot.
“Food Guy?”
“Hi Papa—how are you doing? How long have you been here?” Here was sitting on the trunk of the Jaguar.
“A little while I guess—I got a secret nest under the bridge and saw your car when I woke up. I got your watch for you.”
“That’s okay. You keep it. I’m glad you’re safe anyway. I have to go to the hospital now. I’ll find you when I come back. If you want to sleep in the yard, you can. There will be someone there to do some patching up in the next day or so.”
Are you going to be okay Food Guy?”
“Time will tell Papa. You take care of yourself Papa. And no open containers eh?”
The old guy just laughed. Open containers were what he lived for.
I left Clearwater Beach, drove across the Memorial Causeway, and on to Tampa Bay General Hospital. The head nurse today was a plump woman who looked as if she would be nice to have as your mom. She had always been friendly with me. She looked up from her work at the nursing station as I got off the elevator. She forced a smile, and then looked around anxiously. She said nothing. There wasn’t a cop assigned to Mia’s room any longer. That should have tipped me off. I walked into the hospital room just as Mia was waking up. A very young student nurse was giving Mia her medication. The young woman looked startled when I arrived and then, officiously insisted that I wait outside while Mia took her meds. Changing her clothes yeah—taking her meds—I didn’t think so. Something was going down.
“Joe, is that you?” Mia asked extending her unfettered left hand towards me as I moved back into her room and then to her bedside. This was the day the doctors were supposed to remove the bandages from her eyes—maybe for good. I took her frail hand, placed my backpack beside the visitor’s chair and sat down beside her. The student nurse did an act that would make Houdini proud. She disappeared.
“How are you this morning my beautiful little Sweet Cakes?”
“I don’t feel very beautiful with all these bandages on me Joe. Even with all the painkillers, I still hurt in a lot of places. The nurses have been really kind to me. They say that I’m improving every day.”
“That’s great,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could fake. “Maybe next week sometime we can go to the dog races together. I’ll tell you about my exciting career as a jockey.”
“That might be fun to hear about,” she laughed lightly. “Joe, you do know that your oars aren’t touching the water at all anymore?”
“Yeah, I know that Mia. I’ve been a little stressed lately.”
An officious looking nurse, one I didn’t recognize, looked in through the open doorway and smiled at us. She said nothing. As she left, she nudged up into place the gray tipped rubber doorstopper with the toe of her white shoe. The wide wooden door to Mia’s room swung slowly and silently closed. I turned my attention back to Mia.
“You know Mia,” I said, “oars in the water is a highly over-rated attribute, just ask any mountain climber,” I said trying to maintain my focus on her. “Would you like me to tell you a story about a princess, or maybe I could give you the blonde joke for the day?”
There was a sudden noisy disturbance in the hall. I thought at first there had been a medical emergency in one of the other intensive care rooms. That was wishful thinking. Those kinds of emergencies don’t usually sound like leather and metal moving under duress—the sound of armed men moving into position often does. I moved my backpack closer.
“Both—the blonde joke first, the princess story second,” Mia replied happily. She seemed unaware of the drama that was about to be played out. The big rolling boulder was about to come to a stop.
“Okay, the blonde joke first—I shifted in my chair slightly so that I could keep my eyes on the closed door of the room. Now there was heated whispering. Then, there was complete silence beyond the door. The joke would have to be a short one.
“Question: What do you do if a blonde throws a pin at you?”
Mia smiled. Maybe she had already heard this one before. She said, “I don’t know. What do you do if a blonde throws a pin at you?”
“Run like hell—she’s got a grenade in her mouth!” I said followed quickly with my own short laugh.
Mia giggled.
The door to the room suddenly swung open. I tensed. I don’t know why, but I put my hand down to the top of my backpack. Maybe, so that I could pull out the telephone number of the lawyer I had already contacted. I knew that I wasn’t going to shoot it out or resist. There had already been too many innocent victims.
Fred Cooper walked slowly and silently through the door. His almost empty hands were away from his sides. In one beefy hand, he had a small bouquet of pink and white flowers—carnations I think. He looked as tired as he always looked. He stopped a few feet inside the room and then looked at my hand poised above the backpack.
“Morning Joe,” he said and then moved deeper into the room. I pulled my hand away from the bag. “I thought Miss. Doulton might like these. She seems to be looking quite a bit better. I understand the bandages are coming off her eyes today. That will be nice.”
“What are they Joe?” Mia asked tugging at my hand gently.
“They are a beautiful bouquet of flowers Mia. Pink and white mini carnations I think. Fred Cooper brought them for you.” As I said Cooper’s name, Mia’s hand grasped mine more firmly.
“Thank you Mr. Cooper,” Mia said softly. “I’ll ask one of the nurses to put them in a vase.” Cooper’s dark brown eyes had not left mine for a second. He was trying for nonchalant, but I could tell that he was barely aware of Mia or anything else in the quiet room.
“Do you think I could borrow Joe for a little while Miss. Doulton?” Fred had directed his question towards Mia, but it really wasn’t a question. And it really wasn’t directed at Mia.
“I can do that,” I replied. “Mia, you be good and do exactly what the nurses and doctors tell you. I’ll get back to just as soon as I can—with a whole new batch of blonde jokes. And that’s a promise.” Mia still held my hand tightly. I bent over and whispered, “I’ll be fine. You just get better.” I kissed the back of her hand and slipped out of its grasp.
I walked over to Cooper. He nodded towards the door that had closed behind him. No handcuffs yet. “Thanks Fred,” I said handing him my backpack. “The flowers were a nice touch by the way.”
As I opened the door, I could hardly miss the fact that there was considerable congestion in the hall. Four bulky guys in full S.W.A.T. gear were pointing Heckler & Koch MP 7 submachine guns at my chest.
My mind flashed to a television news image of a tall, emaciated, black, rebel soldier in some small emerging African nation strapped to a tree looking over towards the news cameraman just before his firing squad blasted him into his version of Valhalla.
Fred stepped into the hall behind me. “Put those damn things away for Christ sakes,” he said angrily. “We’re in a friggin’ hospital for crying out loud. What’s wrong with you guys? He’s not resisting, and I’m driving him in. Go back to your station. And tell your captain that Kemp won’t forget this bullshit move.”
The young cops waited for their senior man to process Cooper’s words. Finally, a guy who had levelled a Colt 45 at me gave a quick nod of his head and snarled at Cooper, “It’s on your head if this asshole escapes.”
“I can live with that—go away before you shoot someone by accident.” Cooper said dismissively. He turned his attention to me, “Joe, sorry about that. T
he chief insisted over my objection. I’m parked out back. Kemp and I would like to talk with you for a little while off the record. I know you have a lawyer. We have talked to Morse. You must have some deep pockets Joe, but as I say—off the record. If you want Morse—no problem—we get all formal. But I think this might work for you.”
“You say that often Fred?” I asked sincerely.
“Nah,” he replied. “That’s the first time,” and he laughed out loud. He was relieved that he’d pulled off my arrest so smoothly.
I thought about Frank’s advice. “Okay—off the record.”