Part 33 (2/2)
Connie was wiping the sweat from his face.
Kneeling beside him, Preduski said, ”I called an ambulance.”
Some time must have pa.s.sed. He seemed to fade out in the middle of one conversation and in on the middle of the next.
He closed his eyes.
Opened them.
”Medical examiner's theory,” Preduski said. ”Sounded crazy at first. But the more I thought about it ...”
”I'm thirsty,” Graham said. He was hoa.r.s.e.
”Thirsty? I'll bet you are,” Preduski said.
”Get me ... drink.”
”That might be the wrong thing to do for you,” Connie said. ”We'll wait for the ambulance.”
The room spun. He smiled. He rode the room as if it were a carousel.
”I shouldn't have come here alone,” Preduski said miserably. ”But you see why I thought I had to? Bollinger was a cop. The other half of the Butcher might be a cop too. Who could I trust? Really. Who?”
Graham licked his lips and said, ”Prine. Dead?”
”I'm afraid not,” Preduski said.
”Me?”
”What about you?”
”Dead?”
”You'll live.”
”Sure?”
”Bullet wasn't near the spine. Didn't puncture any vital organs, I'll bet.”
”Sure?”
”I'm sure,” Connie said. sure,” Connie said.
Graham closed his eyes.
epilogue.
SUNDAY.
Ira Preduski stood with his back to the hospital window. The late afternoon sun framed him in soft gold light.”Prine says they wanted to start racial wars, religious wars, economic wars ...
Graham was lying on his side in the bed, propped up with pillows. He spoke somewhat slowly because of the pain killers he had been given. ”So they could gain power in the aftermath.”
”That's what he says.”
From her chair at Graham's bedside, Connie said, ”But that's crazy. In fact, didn't Charles Manson's bunch of psychos kill all those people for the same reason?”
”I mentioned Manson to Prine,” Preduski said. ”But he tells me Manson was a two-bit con man, a cheap sleazy hood.”
”While Prine is a superman.”
Preduski shook his head sadly. ”Poor Nietzsche. He was one of the most brilliant philosophers who ever lived-and also the most misunderstood.” He bent over and sniffed at an arrangement of flowers that stood on the table by the window. When he looked up again, he said, ”Excuse me for asking. It's none of my business. I know that. But I'm a curious man. One of my faults. But-when's the wedding?”
”Wedding?” Connie said.
”Don't kid me. You two are getting married.”
Confused, Graham said, ”How could you know that? We just talked about it this morning. Just the two of us.”
”I'm a detective,” Preduski said. ”I've picked up clues.”
”For instance?” Connie said.
”For instance, the way the two of you are looking at each other this afternoon.”
Delighted at being able to share the news, Graham said, ”We'll be married a few weeks after I'm released from the hospital, as soon as I have my strength back.”
”Which he'll need,” Connie said, smiling wickedly.
Preduski walked around the bed, looked at the bandages on Graham's left arm and on the upper right quarter of his back. ”Every time I think of all that happened Friday night and Sat.u.r.day morning, I wonder how you two came out of it alive.”
”It wasn't much,” Connie said.
”Not much?” Preduski said.
”No. Really. It wasn't so much, what we did, was it, Nick?”
Graham smiled and felt very good indeed. ”No, it wasn't much, Nora.”
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