Stuart Woods - Fresh Disasters

“Just once, I think. You feel up to talking to the police?”

Stone lifted the sheet and examined himself. “Two questions first: One, am I hurt? Two, why am I naked? Have you had your way with me?”

“That’s three questions. You have a hairline fracture of the left wrist, which will require a temporary cast for a week, and a bad bruise on your left leg, probably from the bumper of the car, but no fracture. You were very lucky. You are naked, because I and others removed your clothing. It’s a nice suit; you’re lucky we didn’t have to cut it off. And I haven’t had my way with you-not yet, anyway.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. Okay, I’ll talk to the police.”

Dino appeared at his side. “Anything to meet a pretty doctor,” he said.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Who cares?”

Joan appeared on the other side of the bed. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“That’s it, make it about you. And I’m lying here, injured.”

She laughed. “Don’t start faking; we’ve already talked to the doctor.”

Stone looked at the pretty girl. “You’re a doctor?”

“I am. You want to see my license to practice?”

“Later, maybe. You told these people everything before you told me?”

She strapped a blue plastic cast to his left wrist and secured it with Velcro straps. “You were unconscious at the time. Oh, did I mention the bruise on your head, under your hair, and the concussion?”

Stone grinned at Joan. “See, I told you I was injured.”

“Tell me what you remember,” Dino said.

“I saw a dark blue car, from above, as I was flying through the air. Or maybe that was a dream.”

“What kind of car?”

“I’m not good at identifying automobiles from above.”

“Well, you’re right. A guy abandoned a dark blue Ford Taurus a block and a half from where you were hit, then he ran like hell. It’s being processed.”

“Anybody get a description of the guy?”

“Young, old; tall, short; fat, skinny.”

“The usual eyewitness testimony.”

“Right. I suppose there are forty or fifty people who would like to run you down with a car, but can you think of anybody in particular?”

“Let’s see: Carmine Dattila, Bernie Finger, Bernie Finger’s girlfriend, who should feel grateful to me, anybody who works for Carmine Dattila.”

“That’s a start. Anybody else?”

“Yeah, a guy named Devlin…I can’t think of his last name; must be the concussion. He’s Celia’s former boyfriend, and she told me to watch out for him.”

“She should have told you to look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Daltry. Devlin Daltry. Lives downtown somewhere. Call Celia at my Connecticut house, she’ll give you the address. Tell your guys to beat him with rubber hoses when they question him.”

“We don’t beat people with rubber hoses anymore.”

“All right, beat him with whatever you’re using these days.”

“We don’t beat people at all.”

“Well, what kind of police work is that? What is the world coming to?”

The doctor spoke up. “Does he always talk this much?”

“Always,” Dino said. “Can’t shut him up. Is he ready to leave?”

“Normally, with a concussion, we’d want to keep him overnight, but he’s alert and responsive, so you can take him home- if he goes to bed immediately and stays there until lunchtime tomorrow.”

“I’ll see to that,” Joan said.

“I’ll get his clothes,” the doctor said.

“I think you should dress me, since you so sneakily undressed me.”

“I’m going to send in a big black guy named Roger to handle that,” she said, handing a card and a slip of paper to Joan. “Here’s a prescription for a painkiller and a sleeping pill. Call me if he misbehaves, and I’ll stop by and hit him over the head again.”

“I’ll fill your prescription and deal with the bill,” Joan said.

Stone grabbed the doctor’s card from her hand. “Gimme that.”

Roger appeared with Stone’s clothes.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Dino said. “Don’t be long; my car’s waiting outside.”

“I thought she was kidding about you,” Stone said to Roger.

“The doc don’t kid,” Roger said, tossing Stone’s clothes into his lap. “Get dressed; we need the bed.”

Stone awoke from a drug-induced sleep, tried to turn over, then emitted a girlish shriek. Every muscle and bone in his body seemed to be making an angry protest. He struggled into a sitting position, grabbed the pill bottle on the bedside table and tossed down a painkiller with half a glass of water. He steadied himself for a moment, then navigated his way into the bathroom, taking short steps, peed, and shuffled back onto the bed.

He managed to reach the phone and page Joan.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily. “Did you sleep well?”

“That wasn’t sleep, it was a coma,” he replied. “And stop sounding so chirpy.”

“Oooh, it’s going to be one of those days, is it?”

“I hurt all over.”

“The doctor said you would.”

“She didn’t say that to me.”

“She said it to me, when you couldn’t hear her. Apparently, she made a quick assessment of your character and decided it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“I always want to know what’s happening to me.”

“She said you could faint or go into convulsions if you move around too much.”

“I didn’t want to know that.”

“Only joking. She said just to stay in bed until lunchtime, at least.”

“What time is it?”

“Lunchtime, in the land of the living.”

“Will you ask Helene to bring me something to eat, please?”

“What would you like?”

“I don’t care. Anything.”

“A sandwich?”

“No, I can’t eat a sandwich with one hand.”

“Did you lose a hand?”

“I have this blue plastic thing on my wrist.”

“Does it interfere with the movement of your fingers?”

Stone wiggled his fingers. “Apparently not.”

“Then you can handle a sandwich?”

“Tell her scrambled eggs and bacon. And an English muffin with marmalade. And orange juice and coffee.”

“Well, at least your appetite has survived.” She hung up.

Stone gingerly rearranged himself in bed and waited for the painkiller to kick in. His first inkling that it was working was when the pounding in his head began to subside. A moment later, he woke up with a tray on his belly.

“Eat,” Helene commanded. She was a compact woman with a thick Greek accent who had done for him for years.

Stone pressed the remote control, and the bed sat him up and raised his feet. “Good morning, Helene,” he said.

“Eat,” she said again. “You feel better.” She marched out of the room.

Stone ate hungrily. The various pains in his body were gradually replaced by a cozy warmth, and he was able to move more freely.

Dino walked into the room, unannounced. “You’re alive.”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“How did you feel when you woke up?”

“I hurt all over, but I took a pill.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Warm and fuzzy.”

“Must be a good drug. We hauled in Devlin Daltry and had a chat with him.”

“Did you beat him to a pulp?”

“Sure we did, and we dumped the body in the East River.”

“Did he have anything to say before he died?”

“He had an alibi, backed up by two retired cops.”

“The ones who chased me into Central Park, I bet.”

“Probably, but we had to release him.”

“Anything on the car?”

“Stolen.”

“You wouldn’t think a sculptor would know how to hot-wire a car.”