Richard Marsten - Murder in the navy

“What’s your game, Greg?”

“What’s yours?” Greg asked point-blank.

“I’ve got cat fever. That’s no game.”

“You’re not sore at me, are you, mate? After all the tips I’m giving you?”

“I don’t need any tips. I’m sick, and that’s it.”

“You’re sick like I’m sick.”

“Blow,” he said suddenly. “Get the hell out of here, Greg.”

“Sure. One more tip, though. Watch for the nurse comes on at twelve hundred. Now, she is really something, mate. Really something you should go for. And we do want to make your stay here a pleasant one, now don’t we?”

“I’m not looking for any nurses,” he said.

“No?” Greg’s eyes narrowed. “I remember you, mate. Maybe you was too busy to notice me the last time you was here, but I remember you. I remember you goddamn well. I got a memory like an elephant.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Greg said tersely.

“So?”

“Nothing. Just remember that I remember you.” He walked to the door. “I’ll be seeing you, mate.”

“Not if I see you first,” he called after Greg.

At 1223, Jean Dvorak walked into his room.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Miss Dvorak.” She smiled professionally. “And how are you feeling today?”

“Pretty miserable,” he said, his eyes lighting. Greg hadn’t lied to him. This one was really something. This one made all the others look sick. This one was for him.

“Oh, really? Well, now, let’s see.” She walked to the foot of the bed and lifted his chart, her eye passing rapidly over his name and then dropping to the temperature recordings.

“I got cat fever,” he said.

“Yes, I see that. Well, your temperature hasn’t been too high.” She smiled again. “I think you’ll survive.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said. “Now that I’ve got something to live for.”

She looked at him curiously for a moment, and then she gave a tiny shrug. “You get all the rest you can,” she said.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“How does what feel?”

“Being an ensign?”

“I never much think about it,” Jean said.

“Don’t you feel sort of silly when an enlisted man salutes you?”

She smiled and said, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“I thought so.”

“Why’d you think so?”

“I don’t know. I just figured you for the kind of girl a uniform didn’t mean very much to. The stripe, I mean.”

“Mmm. Well, you’re very observant.”

“I try to be.”

“You’re also very talkative. You should be getting some sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy. Not any more.”

“Aren’t you? Well. Perhaps I’d best call the doctor and have you released. If you feel that well, I mean.”

“I’m still pretty sick,” he said, smiling

She went to the bed and put her hand on his forehead.

“My mother used to do that,” he said.

“You don’t feel very warm.”

“I think maybe the fever is dropping. It’s supposed to drop after a while, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Well, we’ll see.”

She started from the bed, and he said, “Are you going so soon?”

“Why, yes,” she said, surprised.

“Why don’t you come back again? Later.”

She looked at him, her mouth and eyes curling in amused surprise. “What for?”

“We’ll... talk a little.”

“Well, maybe,” she said.

“It’ll help me get better,” he added hastily. “I’ve been very lonely.”

“Lonely? You were just admitted last night.”

“I know. But I get lonely in hospitals.”

“Well, I’ve got to see my other patients.”

“And afterward, will you come back?”

“You’re a persistent young man, aren’t you?”

“I’m just lonely,” he said.

“I’ll see.”

“Promise.”

“Now, really...”

“Or don’t you talk to enlisted men?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Navy Regs,” he said.

“I don’t think Navy Regs apply to a nurse talking to her patient,” Jean said.

“Then you will be back?”

“I didn’t say that. You’re something of a seagoing lawyer, aren’t you?”

“Come on. Miss Dvorak,” he said. “Say you’ll come back.”

“I’m overwhelmed,” she said, smiling and shaking her head. “You get some sleep now.”

“I’ll see you later?”

“I might stop by. If I’m not too busy.”

“Promise,” he said.

“I never make promises I’m not sure I’ll keep.”

“Then promise, and keep the promise.”

“They ought to make you a recruiting officer,” she said.

“Then you’ll come back?”

“Yes, later. For just a few minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Breathlessly, no doubt,” she said, and left the room.

She went back to him a little later, after she’d seen her other patients. He was propped up in bed, the pillow behind him, and he stared through the window, with the sun laying long golden bars across his face. He looked very weak and very pathetic that way, and she paused in the doorway for a moment before entering. She had always felt an enormous sympathy for anyone who was ill, and his pose when she entered was such a desolately lonely one that she felt a sudden wrench of her heart. He kept staring through the window, unaware of her presence, and she wondered for a moment if she shouldn’t leave him with his thoughts. Instead, she walked crisply to the foot of his bed, and he turned when he heard the rustle of her uniform, and then a smile mushroomed on his face.

“Hi,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. Gee, I’m glad to see you.”

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. You looked so... so solemn.”

Pain seemed to stab his eyes, and he turned his head for a moment, the sun limning his profile. “Well, you know,” he said.

“No, I don’t. Is something wrong?”

He turned to face her again, studying her, studying her minutely, as if trying to memorize her features. “No, nothing,” he said at last. He smiled broadly. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about, anyway.”

Jean looked at him curiously. “If it’s anything I can help with...”

“No, no, nothing. It’s just... a fellow gets lonely sometimes.”

“How long have you been in the Navy?” Jean asked.

“Oh, a while.”

“Homesick?”

“A little.”

She raised her brows and looked at him again. There was a strange quality about him, a feeling of utter truth that was somehow submerged. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was being honest with her, or whether his tongue was in his cheek, and this inability to determine his motives annoyed her and piqued her interest at the same time. For no real reason, she asked, “Are you married?”

“No,” he answered quickly, without hesitation.

“Girl back home?”

“No,” he said. “That’s not it.”

“Just miss things in general, is that it? Your town, the people there?”

“I suppose,” he said, and his voice was lonely and forlorn again, and she felt once more an enormous sympathy sweeping over her.

“I feel like that sometimes, too,” she said. “It’s a normal thing.” She paused. “It’s hard to pick up your roots. The Navy asks you to do that, but it’s very hard, I know.”

“Do you like the Navy, Miss Dvorak?” he asked.

“Yes. Very much.”

“Good.” He paused. “I do, too.”

“Well, good. That makes two of us.”

“Except... well, never mind.”

“No, what is it?” she asked.

“Well, the regulations. Sometimes they bother me.”

“The regulations bother everyone. You have to have regulations, or you wouldn’t have a navy.”