David Baldacci - Simple Genius

Sean glanced at her. “Really? Which part: rich or asshole ? By the way, in that washcloth you’re wearing, I can just about see yours.”

Sean turned back to Albert. “Let me spell it out for you, Burt. Your father gave me the authority to clear this place out any time in my judgment things were getting out of hand.” He held up the bat. “Well, this is my gavel and judgment has been rendered.” He stared at the others. “So all of you can get the hell out before I call the cops.”

“All the cops do is come and tell us to turn the music down,” Burt sneered.

“Not if somebody tells them that there’s drug use going on. And underage sex and drinking.” Sean glanced around at the teenagers. “How would a felony arrest look? Think Mommy and Daddy would pull your keys to the Benz and cut the old party allowance?”

That statement cleared half the room. The other half disappeared when Burt tried to jump Sean and caught the handle of the bat in his gut for the trouble. Sean grabbed the kid by his shirt collar and hauled him off the floor.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Burt moaned. “I’m gonna be sick!”

“Just take deep breaths. But don’t ever try that again.”

When Burt had recovered he said, “I’ll get you for this.”

“What you’re going to do is clean up this place.”

“I’m not doing shit!”

Sean grabbed the young man’s arm and gave it a twist. “You clean up this place or we can take a ride down to the police station.” Sean pointed his bat at the dregs of the smashed bar. “I’ll be back in an hour to check on the progress, Albert. ”

Only Sean wouldn’t come back in an hour. Forty minutes later, Sean received the call on his cell phone. Michelle was lying unconscious in a hospital in D.C. after having been arrested for felony assault. He nearly smashed down the front door on his way to the car.

HE STARED AT HER lying in the bed. Sean turned to the doctor, who said, “Don’t worry, it’s not as serious as it looks. She had a concussion but otherwise the pictures of her head came back fine and there’s no internal bleeding. She got a tooth knocked out and suffered two cracked ribs and bruises over much of her body. She’s going to be in some pain when she wakes up, even with the meds.”

Sean focused on the one thing that looked totally out of place: a handcuff on Michelle’s right wrist, with the other cuff attached to the bed’s side rail. And then there was the beefy cop parked outside who’d searched Sean for weapons and told him he had ten minutes with her.

“What the hell happened?” Sean asked.

“Your friend walked into a bar and picked a fight with a guy. A really big guy.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because the big guy’s down the hall getting worked on right now.”

“ She picked the fight?”

“I assume that’s what the handcuff is for, although she’s in no shape to make a run for it. The other guy was pretty banged up too. She must be quite a pistol.”

“You have no idea,” Sean muttered under his breath.

After the doctor left, Sean drew nearer to the bed.

“Michelle? Michelle, can you hear me?”

All he got was a low moan. He backed out of the room, eyeing the handcuff with every step.

It didn’t take Sean long to run down the full story. He had a buddy on the

D.C. police force who checked the arrest report and filled him in.

“It looks like the guy’s filing charges,” the detective told Sean over the phone.

“And they’re sure she wasn’t provoked?”

“About fifty witnesses swore she attacked the other guy. And what the hell was she doing in that part of D.C. in the first place, Sean? Did she have a death wish?”

Did you have a death wish, Michelle?

He ran into big Rodney in the hospital corridor. His girlfriend was with him, still sponging stains off her dress.

“She’s been going through a really tough time,” Sean explained.

“You think we give a shit!” the woman yelled.

“I’m gonna sue her ass off!” Rodney bellowed.

“Damn right,” his girlfriend said. “That bitch! Look at my clothes.”

“She doesn’t have any assets,” Sean pointed out. “You can take her truck, but it’s got a hundred thousand miles on it.”

The girlfriend said, “Ever heard of garnishment? We take her whole paycheck for the next twenty years. See how she likes that.”

“No, you get a portion of her salary, but she doesn’t have a job either. In fact, after she gets out of here they’ll probably just take her back to the institute.”

“Institute? What institute?” the girlfriend asked as she stopped rubbing her dress.

“St. Elizabeths. You know, for people with mental problems.”

“I don’t believe this shit,” Rodney exclaimed. “That bitch attacked me!”

“You saying she’s nuts?” the woman asked anxiously.

Sean eyed Rodney. “Come on, you think any sane person would take a run at him? Especially a woman?”

“Damn, maybe the man’s right. I mean she’s got to be crazy to do that, right, baby?”

“Well, I want money from somebody, ” the woman said, hands on hips.

She eyed Sean pointedly. “A friend will do just fine. Or little miss karate bitch and her bony white ass can do some jail time.”

“Okay, I can probably raise some cash.”

“How much cash?” the woman snapped.

Sean quickly calculated what he had left in his account. “Ten thousand but that’s a stretch. It’ll pay your doctor bills and leave enough over to make you forget about it.”

“Ten? You think I’m an idiot? I want fifty thousand!” the woman roared.

“Doc says Rodney needs to get his knee scoped. And she broke his damn finger.”

“I don’t have fifty grand.”

“Well, I ain’t taking a penny under forty-five, I can tell you that,” the woman said. “Or we let this go to court and your friend can have a few years in prison to work on her damn anger management.”

Sean said, “Okay, forty-five.” That took away every bit of their safety net.

“And the bar got messed up too,” Rodney pointed out. “Man’s gonna want his money.”

“Fifteen hundred to the bar guy. And that’s my final offer.”

Early the next morning the matter was settled right outside the hospital. The prosecutor dropped his case when Rodney told them he wouldn’t press charges. As the big man folded the check he said, “I gotta hand it to her though, she nearly kicked my ass, but…”

“But what?” Sean said quickly.

Rodney shrugged. “She had me, man. I ain’t ashamed to admit it. She was doing that kung fu shit on me. But then right when she could’a taken me out for good, she threw this weak-ass kick. After that, it was all over. It was like she wanted me to bust her up. But she’s crazy, like you said.”

Sean hustled back inside the hospital. He didn’t want Michelle to wake up with the handcuff still on.

HER FITNESS WAS SUCH that Michelle recovered quickly from her injuries, at least her physical injuries. The effects of the concussion wore off, the ribs started to heal, and a tooth was implanted to replace the one knocked out. Sean had checked into a motel near the hospital and was there with her every day. Yet then another problem cropped up. When Sean brought Michelle home from the hospital the locks on the guesthouse had been changed and their bags were packed and sitting on the porch. Sean called his buddy the owner. The man who answered the phone said that Sean should feel fortunate the owner was not filing assault charges against him for attacking his son with a bat. And the man added that Sean should never attempt to contact them again.