Family Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 2) (9 page)

“Which way?” I asked, and she pointed in the direction we’d
been heading.

We turned down another hall, passing a nurse who showed no
interest whatsoever in the four of us, and I wheeled my patient into the living
room. Maddie nodded and smiled, indicating that the living room and rec room
were indeed one and the same.  A woman in a white coat who I assumed was a
doctor was leaving as we came in.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Silva.  You have more visitors than most
of our patients combined,” she exclaimed, but she continued out the door before
Mrs. Silva could correct her.  I stepped out behind her, leaving Mrs. Silva in
the living room with Maddie and Felicia.

“Excuse me,” I called out, and the doctor turned around.  Her
hair was streaked with gray and she wore it up in a matronly bun.  At first
glance, she seemed old enough to be my mother, but on closer inspection her
complexion betrayed her age.  There was a complete absence of lines anywhere on
her face. She was either twice as young as she appeared, or she’d had one hell
of a Botox job.   “Hello.  I’m wondering if all the floors have a room like
this for the patients, or is there just this one?”

“No, no.  Each section has its own living room and dining
facility.  Is this your first visit?

“Sure is.”

“Well, I hope you’ll visit again.”  She turned and left without
further discussion and I went back into the living room.

Maddie and Fee had already made the rounds and I could tell by
the look on Felicia’s face that the Faker wasn’t there.  She looked like she’d
swallowed a sour grape.

“He’s not here,” Maddie said.

“Each area of the hospital has its own living room and dining
room, so he’s got to be in this wing,” I said.  “I say we take Mrs. Silva for a
little ride.  What do you think?”

Maddie’s eyes twinkled.  “You’re brilliant!”

“I know.”  I leaned down and addressed Mrs. Silva.  “How would you
like to take a little tour of the place?”

The three of us tagged along behind Mrs. Silva’s chair and we
wheeled up and down the hall, looking at name tags and checking out any room
that housed a male patient.  It was easier than I thought, since the majority
of patients were of the fairer sex, and on top of that, many of the rooms were
empty. 

But after a while, we were running out of rooms and the Faker
still had not surfaced.  With two rooms left, I was feeling that we had bombed
in the initial phase of our plan.  The sour grape look had returned to
Felicia’s face.  Maddie took one room and Felicia took the other.  Maddie came
out first, with a look that confirmed my feeling.  She shook her head just as
Felicia came out of the last room.

“I think I found him!” she whispered.

“You’re kidding!” Maddie exclaimed, and the two of them clasped
hands before going back into the room.  I left Mrs. Silva in the hall and
followed my accomplices into a room that the name tag indicated belonged to Rafael
Mendez. We approached the bed cautiously and peered over the bed rail.

“Oh my God.  What have they done to him?” Maddie said.

The guy was lying on his back with his head slumped to the side
at an irregular angle.  He was wearing a ridiculous Gilligan hat pulled so low
over his forehead that he could barely see out.  His eyes were open, but they
were red and glassy, and he was staring vacantly at nothing.  It was positively
creepy.  At first I thought the guy was dead, and my inclination was to run.  
But then I realized that he wasn’t dead; he’d been drugged to the gills. 

“Look what they’ve done to him,” Maddie repeated, this time on
the verge of tears.  “Bless his heart.”  She reached over and stroked the guy’s
arm.  In the movies, this would be the part where the patient reaches out and
grabs Maddie’s arm and the audience shrieks in fright, but in this scene, the
poor guy didn’t even acknowledge my wife’s touch. 

“Come on,” I said, taking each of them in an arm and guiding
them out of the room and back into the hall. 

“You want to write his name down?” I suggested to Felicia, and
she nodded and went fishing into her handbag.  I decided that this was above my
level of investigative skills and that I’d call Niki with what we had and let
him take over.  

We wheeled Mrs. Silva to the living room and made our way back
to the stairwell.  The door we’d come in through was closed and the janitor was
nowhere in sight.  I wasn’t feeling great about the situation, but at least
we’d been able to give a name to the Faker.  There was still a chance that we
could get something out of him.  I opened the door and was about to look around
before I stepped outside, when an alarm sounded so loud that I had to cover my
ears.  A strobe light above the door was flashing in protest to its having been
opened.

It took me a couple of seconds to get my shit together before I
yelled, “Run!” and the three of us took off full speed toward the Suburban. 
People were looking around trying to figure out why the alarm had sounded.  I
unlocked the doors with the remote and opened the door to a blast of heat and jumped
into the driver’s seat, bumping my knee hard on the steering wheel.  I cursed
silently, then out loud when I saw a guard standing at the door we’d just come
out of.  He was looking around and when his eyes found us, Maddie waved to him
nonchalantly and smiled. The guard didn’t smile back.  He started in our
direction and I could see him going for his sidearm. 

As I put the key in the ignition, I flashed to the most
overused scene in the movies where the engine cranks and cranks but the car
won’t start, as the murderer moves in on his prey.  Luckily, that only happens
in the movies.  The old Suburban cranked up on the first go; I threw the bad
boy in reverse and squealed the tires, throwing loose gravel at the security
guard as I peeled out, making our getaway. 

I was exhilarated. It had been a long time since I’d taken a
risk outside the courtroom and it felt great.  Niki would have been proud.  He
usually had a hand in whatever scheme I’d been talked into, but there was no
denying the thrill that came with pulling off something like that.  It was a
rush.  And by the look on Maddie’s face, she felt the same way.  I slid out of
the parking lot onto the highway and floored it.

“You are so sexy when you run!” Maddie said.

“What do mean,
when I run
?  What about when I’m not
running?” I tried to sound offended but it was a lame attempt.  I was too high
from the thrill. 

She reached over and patted my leg.  “You’re sexy then too. 
But even more so when you run.” 

I liked the thought of being sexy in my wife’s eyes.  Too bad
we couldn’t ditch Felicia and act on the impulse that was taking shape in my pants. 
I moved Maddie’s hand higher and her eyes got big, but she looked to the back
seat where Felicia was yakking on the phone and took her hand back. 

“Are we going to sue the hospital?” Maddie asked, but I was
completely distracted.  My mind was elsewhere.   

“I don’t know yet.  I’m going to have Niki check out a couple
of things and we’ll see what he comes up with.”

Felicia was off the phone and she poked her nosy head in
between us.  “What do you mean you don’t know yet?” she demanded.  “What
happened to the most hellacious lawsuit and all that?”

I don’t often wield my law license as a weapon, but in this
case I’d made an exception.  I actually had no intention of filing suit against
the hospital or the Administrator, but the more I thought about it, the more fun
it sounded. 
Someone
needed to sue their ass.

Felicia was conspicuously quiet the whole ride back home. 
Every once in a while I’d glance in the rearview and catch a look that told me
she was in some far-away place.  And as obnoxious as she tended to be with her
mouth open, her introspective mood was more than a little unsettling.  It was
like those times when a house full of kids suddenly goes dead silent.  You just
know something’s up.  The last time that had happened, I’d caught Max in the
bathroom wielding a dripping toilet brush, and he had just finished scrubbing
the outside of the toilet and all of the cabinets.  His shirt was soaked and
there were droplets of toilet water on his face and arms where the stiff
bristles had splashed back on him.  So I feel justified when I say that
conspicuous silences scare me.

My next encounter with Earl Jefferson was a chance meeting,
although if you asked Maddie, she’d say it was fate.  She has this ridiculous
notion that there are no coincidences and claims that everything happens for a
reason.  I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it had been a weird day from
the start, so the fact that I’d run into my client at the most unlikely of
places may have struck me as odd, but stranger things had happened.  What made
the encounter all the more curious was the fact that I’d been talked into doing
something I’d never done before, so to see a familiar face in the midst of my
alien setting was both unsettling but somewhat comforting at the same time. 

I’m embarrassed to admit that up until that day, I had never .
. . not once . . . donated blood.  Then that morning, out of the clear blue
sky, my wife announced that there was a blood drive, and she suggested that we
go together to the blood bank to donate blood.   I was floored.  As much as I
pride myself on being a tough guy – I’ll gladly get out there and scrap with
the best of them – having someone stick a needle in my arm and suck out my
blood was another matter.  It was something I could have easily gone a lifetime
without doing, which was exactly what I’d had planned.  So when Maddie made the
suggestion, several thoughts went through my head.

“You’re kidding right?” I asked, hoping, but not believing,
that she would joke about something like that.

She looked at me like I was from outer space.  “No, I’m not
kidding.  Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . I don’t know . . . pale.  You just kind of turned
white, like all the blood left your face.”

Maddie is a perceptive woman.  I looked in the mirror. “I look
perfectly normal.” 

“You look like a scared pup,” she laughed, then the revelation
hit her, “Don’t tell me you’ve never given blood!”

To admit to it was unthinkable, but I could hardly tell my wife
a bald-faced lie.  I dodged the question.

“I’m swamped at the office this morning.”

 “You’re scared to give blood,” she accused.  My wife was
laughing at me, and not even trying to disguise it. 

“That’s ridiculous.  I’m in trial preparation.”

She shook her head.  “That’s not it.  You’re scared.  I can see
it in your eyes.”

“I’m not scared of anything!” I declared, but even the pitch of
my voice gave me away.  I sounded like a whiny girl.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared,” she gushed.  My wife came
at me with open arms but I wouldn’t let her near me. 

“Cut it out, Maddie,” I said, making sure my tone was forceful
and masculine, but she wrestled me into a hug whether I wanted it or not. 

She took my face in her hands and kissed me on the lips.  “You
are adorable.  I love you so much, Samuel.”

I relented and kissed her back.  “Okay, I admit it.  I’ve never
given blood.”

She pulled her head back to look me in the eye.  “Really?  But
you’re always so brave and self-assured; I can’t believe you’re scared of
needles.”

“I’m not scared of needles.  I’m afraid I’ll pass out
afterwards.  You hear of that happening all the time.  How humiliating would
that be?”

“I don’t think it’s all that common.  Besides, they keep you
there until they know you’re fine. You wouldn’t pass out.” 

Regardless of the outcome of our conversation, somehow I knew
that I was going to end up going with Maddie to the blood bank that day. 
Whether it was something I had to prove to myself, or something I had to prove
to my wife, I was going to end up minus a pint of blood within hours. 

And it was in this setting that I ran into Earl Jefferson.
They’d taken my blood and all had gone well.  Maddie was in the chair next to
me and a woman was still working on her.  I lay there for a while afterwards,
realizing what a chicken I’d been all those years, keeping all that blood to
myself when I could have been sharing it, and when I got up I felt like a new
man, smug and self-satisfied with my newly adopted ideals.  Yes, I was feeling
quite the man.  For about 15 seconds. 

“Mr. Collins?”

It was a huge black man, but I couldn’t focus on his features. 
My vision had gone all blurry and my mind was getting fuzzy.  “David Robinson?” I asked, and I immediately thought of Oliver.

“It’s me, Earl Jefferson.  You okay, Mr. Collins?  You don’t
look so good.”

“I’m a little diz . . .”  I never finished the sentence.  The
last thing I remember was my enormous client picking me up and carrying me like
a baby towards a couch.  And then I passed out cold. 

I woke up fully aware of what had happened, and in complete
cognizance of the depth of my humiliation. My wife was hovering over me, my
client standing behind her.  I could just imagine how it must have looked.  It
wasn’t one of those macho rescues like you see in football when a player helps
an injured teammate off the field with his arm around the guy’s back.  Oh, no. 
This was Sam the Sissy being carried off like a girl. Hell, if I’d crumpled to
the ground it would have been less embarrassing. 

“Are you okay?” Maddie asked.  She wasn’t laughing now; there
was real concern in her voice. 

“Hell no, I’m not okay!  I can’t believe you carried me like a
girl!  What the hell was that?”

A wide grin spread across Earl’s face. “I couldn’t just letcha
fall.”

I tried to sit up but Maddie pushed me back down.  “No, but you
didn’t have to carry me like that!” I repeated.

Maddie turned to Earl.  “He’s just grumpy.  Don’t take it
personally,” she said, then she fixed me with a look that said,
thank him or
else.
 

I glared at my wife, but conformed none the less.  I stuck out
my hand, “Thanks for your help,” I said, and we shook on it. 

“Ain’t no big deal.”

I looked at Maddie.  For some perverted reason, I felt like
placing blame; and since she was the one who talked me into giving blood in the
first place, naturally it was her fault.  “I told you,” I said accusingly, but
she didn’t take the bait.

“You sure did.  It’s just a good thing that Earl was here so
you didn’t get hurt.  Thank you again, Earl.”

“Awe, you’re welcome ma’am.”

The three of us ended up going to lunch and it was there that I
discovered that in addition to being a computer wiz, Earl had another hidden
talent. 

I thought it was strange how quickly he glanced over the menu,
only to close it and never open it again; yet he recited his lengthy order
verbatim off the menu.  Then, when the bill came, Earl calculated in his head,
down to the penny, how much each of our orders came to, including tip and tax,
without consulting either the menu or the bill for prices. 

“How’d you do that?” I asked, not even trying to hide my
amazement.

His expression was blank.  “Wussat?”

“The bill.  You calculated the whole thing in your head.  How’d
you even know how much mine and Maddie’s lunches were?”

“I saw it on the menu.”  He left out the
duh
but I could
hear it in his voice.

“What?  In the 10 seconds it took you to peruse the thing?”

“Yeah.”  Now there was a
What about it?
tone, like I’d
accused him of stealing.

I put my hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender.  “Hey,
I didn’t mean anything by it.  I just can’t believe you can do that.  Do you
have a photographic memory or something?”

He relaxed and smiled, revealing all those teeth. “Something like
that.  I’m good with numbers too.”

“Evidently.”

Maddie piped in.  “I knew someone who could calculate numbers
in his head.  You could ask him anything, and just like that,” she snapped her
fingers, “he’d tell you the answer.”

“See,” Earl said.  “It ain’t no big deal.  Lots of people can
do it.”

“No.  Lots of people
can’t
do it, Earl.  That’s huge. 
Why in the world would you be working on an assembly line when you’ve got that
kind of talent?”

“I dunno.  Guess I never really thought about it.”  He pulled
out his wallet and started rifling through it.

“I’ve got this,” I told him, and I reached out for the bill. 
He put his huge hand on top of mine before I could pick it up. 

“I pay my own way.”

“No problem. I’ll bill you for it.” 

I paid the bill and we parted company, but an idea had taken
root in my head and it was beginning to cultivate.