Dead Red (2 page)

“I’ll find an attendant,” the doctor said and stepped out of the room.

“What the hell was so damned important that Ricky hadda talk to you at two in the morning, Ray?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know or don’t remember?”

I shook my head. The blinding pain and bright lights reminded me not to do that again. I reached up to feel for any more glass and felt a lump on my head.

“Both, right now. He picked me up outside my place and we drove over to the Southside.”

“What the hell was he doing in a cab?”

“That’s what he’s been doing since he got back from Iraq.” More parts of my conversation with Ricky were coming back. “He said he wasn’t ready to go back to the cops, so he’s been driving his cousin’s cab to help out his mom with the rent and stuff.”

“How much have you talked to him since he’s been home?”

“Just a quick call when he got back. And then last night.”

The doctor came back with a water pitcher and some cups. I guessed he couldn’t find an attendant. He filled a cup for me and offered one to my uncle.

“No, thanks,” he said. “Got anything stronger?”

Dr. Watson laughed, thinking my uncle was joking. He wasn’t.

“Too tempting to keep it around this place.” He gave me the cup. “So, Mr. Donne, as I had expected, you have a minor concussion.”

“Minor?” I downed the small cup of water in one swallow. “Hurts like hell, Doc.”

“Be glad it’s not major, then. Anyway, I’d like to keep you overnight…” He looked at his watch. “Through the afternoon at any rate, for observation.”

I reached up and touched my lump.
Impressive.
My vision cleared up enough for me to read the clock on the wall; almost four thirty. “You’re saying all I got’s the concussion, right?”

“That’s what the X-rays showed, yes.”

“Then,” I sat up—much slower this time—“I’d rather just go home. No offense, but hospitals give me the creeps.” I flashed back seven years to the week I’d spent in the hospital after my accident. That time it was my knees, not my head.

“I strongly advise against it, Mr. Donne. A concussion, however minor, can still be a serious matter. I’d like to monitor you for at least twelve hours.”

“But I can sign myself out, right?”

Watson let out a deep sigh. “Yes.” He was disappointed in me.

“Then give me my clothes and show me the dotted line.” He gave me a look. “What?” I asked.

“Your clothes.” he said. “We had to throw them away.”

I closed my eyes. “Because of the blood.” I wasn’t asking. I’d been in the ER enough times as a cop and knew about throwing away stained clothing.

“Yes.”

I looked down at the blue robe I was wearing and tugged at it.

“Just get me a matching pair of pants, and my uncle will drive me home.”

“I just want to go on record,” Dr. Watson said, “that I’m advising against it at this point.”

“I hear you,” I said. “And I appreciate it, but I want to go home.”

“Okay.” Dr. Watson left the room obviously frustrated and, I hoped, in search of a pair of hospital pants and the necessary paperwork.

“I can drive you home, Raymond,” my uncle said. “But I don’t got the time to babysit.” He looked at his watch. “Gotta be at One PP this morning by seven thirty.”

I leaned forward and eased my legs off the hospital bed so I could sit up. The room starting spinning, so I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I said, “I’ll call Edgar.” I gave that some thought. I could call Allison, but why worry her at this time of the day? “What day is today?”

“It’s Saturday, Ray, and just the fact that you have to ask kinda proves the doc’s point, don’tcha think?”

“I can lie around at home just as well as I can around here.”

“You need to be monitored.”

“It’s Saturday,” I said as if I’d known it all along. “Edgar’s off. He can watch me and then we’ll have dinner together. Shit. I’m really hungry. That’s another reason to get out of this place.”

“You got his number?”

“Yeah.” It took me a little while to retrieve it from my memory, but when it came, I gave it to him, proud of myself.

“I’ll give him a call,” Uncle Ray said. “See if he can meet us at your place and stay the day.”

“He’ll do it.”

“I’ll do it,” a voice from the doorway said, and my sister, Rachel, stepped into the room. She had thrown a jacket over some gym clothes and looked as if she were expecting the worst. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be staying.” She gave our uncle a hug and then stepped over to where I was sitting. She gently wrapped her arm around my lower back. “Hey, big brother.”

I patted her knee. “Hey, little sister. How did you know—?”

“One of the guys phoned Dennis,” she said, referring to her detective boyfriend. “Dennis…” She looked over at our uncle. “…
called
me.” She took a breath. “I heard about Ricky. I am so sorry, Ray.”

“Yeah,” I said, letting her hug me a little harder. “Me, too … Fuck!”

She quickly pulled her arm away. “Sorry.”

“No.” My eyes started to fill, and I found myself fighting back the tears. I was not going to cry in front of my uncle in a goddamned hospital room. “It’s not you.”

Rachel put her arm around me again. “I know, Ray. I know. Let’s talk about it at your place.” She paused then added, “I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

And, just like that, her imitation of our mother made me laugh, causing my head to hurt once more and a few tears to spill down my cheeks. Rachel pulled a tissue out of her bag and gave it to me. That’s when Dr. Watson stepped back into the room, the look on his face more concerned than when he had left.

“Mixed emotions,” my uncle explained. “He’s fine.”

The doctor tossed a pair of blue surgical pants on the edge of the bed. “No, he’s not,” he said. He walked over and handed me a clipboard. “Sign on the bottom line and initial by the
X
’s.”

“Doctor,” I said, taking the pen from the clip and scribbling my name, “this is my sister, Rachel. Rachel, Dr. Watson.”

They shook hands and Rachel smiled. “Like Sherlock Holmes?”

“Exactly,” he said.
Like he hadn’t heard that a thousand times.
“I take it you were unable to talk any sense into your brother?”

“Not for the last thirty years. But I’ll take him home, make sure he doesn’t nap for more than two hours, and I’ll get some soup and crackers into him. If his headache gets any worse or he starts to vomit, I’ll bring him straight to the ER.”

“You’ve done this before?” he asked, sounding somewhat impressed.

“My boyfriend plays rugby,” she said.

“You got your car?” my uncle asked.

“Right outside.”

“Then let’s get a move on.” Uncle Ray offered his hand to the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Watson. You ever get pulled over for speeding in the tristate area, just mention my name.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Chief.” To me and Rachel he said, “Anything out of the ordinary, I want him in the ER immediately. If not sooner.”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel and I said in unison.

I stood up—the floor felt wonderfully cool to my bare feet—swayed a bit, and sat back down. I counted to ten and tried it again. Better, but I needed to hold on to Rachel to get into my new pants.

“There’s a big boy,” Rachel whispered.

“Shut up.”

“Yeah,” my little sister said. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“The nurse will be by with a wheelchair in a few minutes,” Dr. Watson said. “That,” he said, holding up his hand like a traffic cop, “is nonnegotiable. Hospital policy, Mr. Donne.”

“Thanks, Doc. Hey,” I said. “Where’s my stuff?”

He pointed to a plastic baggie on a table by the window. My uncle walked over to get it. As the doctor left the room, the nurse came in with the wheelchair. I had to admit it felt good to sit down again. Uncle Ray put the baggie on my lap. As we made our way to the elevators, he said, “You both have my cell number.”

“Yes.”

“Any changes”—he pressed the elevator button—“you get his ass to the ER like the doc said and then call me. You hear?”

“I hear you, Uncle Ray,” Rachel said.

“Raymond, I’ll be by around six tonight. We can order in some dinner. Then you and I are going to have a talk.”

“Don’t I need to talk to the detectives or something?”

“That’s one of the things we’re gonna talk about. I worked it out so I’ll be the one taking your statement.”

“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to tell you, Uncle Ray. I don’t—”

“We’ll have a long talk,” he repeated as we entered the elevator. “See what comes up.” Nobody said another word until we got to Rachel’s car.

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, Rachel pulled up in front of my building. The thought of walking up the four flights to my apartment made my stomach hurt. The thought of going back to the hospital made that pain subside. Rachel got out of the car and came around to my side. She opened the door, held out her hand, and helped me out. She gave me the baggie with my stuff.

“I saw a parking spot back there,” she said. “Can I leave you for a minute to go around the block and get that space?”

“Yeah,” I said and made my way to the streetlight and leaned against it. “Just make it quick, okay? I need to lie down again.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

She drove to the corner, made an illegal right at the red light, and sped off. I grinned, put one arm around the lamppost, and closed my eyes. I needed to get horizontal soon. I considered vomiting right there on the street—hell, there was no one around to see me—but figured I could hold out another few minutes.
Wow
, I thought.
All the side effects of getting drunk without any of the fun.
I focused on my breathing.

In—count to five—Out—count to five. I was on my fourth round when someone grabbed me from behind, spun me, and shoved me into the post.

“Hey, Asshole,” Someone said. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Chapter 2

“HEY, SHITHEAD!” I HEARD MY SISTER scream.

My assailant turned, and I heard the sound of something being sprayed. Some of it got onto my lips, and it tasted like last week’s chili. Pepper spray. My eyes opened just as the guy’s hands left my shirt and covered his face.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, spinning completely around toward Rachel.

“Fuck you,” Rachel said. “Yah!”

My vision was still blurry, but I heard a sound like a bag being punched. Then the guy groaned, and I watched as his shape dropped to the ground. Rachel pulled her leg back and shot it into the guy’s side.

“Goddamn it, Ray!” the guy moaned. “Call your bitch off.”

“I am not his
bitch,
” Rachel said. “I’m his fucking
sister
.” She punctuated that with another kick.

“And I’ve got a fucking gun,” the guy said. “Kick me again and I swear to Christ I will shoot you.”

My vision was coming back now, and I saw a large guy with a blond crew cut reach into his jacket with one hand while the other kept him from going down to the sidewalk. Without thinking, I pushed away from the lamppost and threw my body into his midsection. I ended up sitting on the guy as he flattened out. My whole body was thumping with pain.

“Goddamn it, Ray,” he coughed up some phlegm onto the cement. “Enough already. I get it. I got my ass kicked by the Donne family. Now get the fuck off me.”

He managed to turn over and, for the first time, I got a good look at his face.

Holy shit.

I held my hand out to Rachel, and without saying a word she pulled me to my feet. She looked down. “You telling me you know this shit, Ray?”

“Nice mouth, sister,” Jack said.

Rachel’s leg went back as if to kick the guy again. I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Rache. Yeah.” I looked down at my former partner, who my sister and I had pretty much just beaten up. “I know him. His name’s Jack Knight. What the hell, Jack?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks Ray. I’m fine.” He got to his knees. “Jim Dandy.” He turned to Rachel and said, “I think you broke my fucking rib.”

“Oh, I remember now,” Rachel said, her breathing heavy. “This is Jack, whose favorite word is ‘fuck.’”

Jack stood up slowly, grinned, and spit out a mouthful of blood. “Same kinda wiseass as your brother, girlie. Could get you in some trouble one day.”

“Who’s holding his ribs and spitting out bodily fluids?”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Both of you shut up.” I looked at Jack. “What the hell, Jack? I don’t see you for … what? Two years and then—”

“What the fuck were you doing with Ricky T, Ray?”

“That’s what this is about?” My head started spinning again. “Can we talk about this upstairs?”

Can we make it upstairs?

Jack shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I need to use the john anyway.”

I reached into the hospital baggie, took out my keys, and handed them to Jack. “Lead the way. Fifth floor, no elevator.”

“This could take a while,” Rachel said.

“Fine,” I answered as I grabbed my sister’s arm. “School doesn’t start for another … two weeks.”

Jack opened the first of the two doors and held it open for us. When it clicked shut, he walked around us, lost his balance, fell into the mailboxes, and cursed again.

Rachel stiffened. “You trust this guy in your apartment, Ray?”

Jack caught his breath and opened the second door. “It’s okay, little sister. Big brother here owes me one.”

Whatever else Jack had said or done in the last few minutes, he was right about that.

*   *   *

After washing the pepper spray out of his eyes in my bathroom, Jack announced, “Nice digs, Ray,” then eased himself down onto my living room futon. I was already leaning back in my recliner. He put the wet cloth my sister had given him up to his eyes, looking like he had the world’s worst case of the flu. “All this on a teacher’s salary, huh?”

He moved a pillow to his side, where one or more ribs may or may not have been broken, and leaned back gingerly. I caught a small smile on Rachel’s face as she came back from the kitchen holding two glasses of water.

“Boys,” she said, handing us each a glass.