Part 14 (2/2)
”I've got to head back to the station,” she said, finis.h.i.+ng her questioning. ”While I'm there, I'm going to talk loudly, and at length, about how you want nothing more to do with any of this and that you have no intention of testifying.”
I started to protest, to say that as long as Barbara Selby was in this hospital, I wasn't dropping out, but Ranson waved me silent.
”This was a warning, Micky. You've caused them a lot of problems.
Someone connected to the police force is pa.s.sing information on and I want it pa.s.sed on that you're not going to have anything more to do with the police or fighting drug rings. Understand?” Ranson said.
”She's not going to be doing much of anything for a while,”
Cordelia answered.
”Good. I'll come back later to see you,” she said to me. Then to * 103 *
Cordelia, ”Take care of her and make sure she doesn't try anything foolish.”
”You've got it, Joanne. Say h.e.l.lo to Alex for me,” Cordelia replied and Ranson left.
Alex? Who was Alex? As in Alexandra Sayers, perhaps? Cordelia started poking on my side some more and I became preoccupied with more important things, like my threshold for pain. After a long (it seemed long) while, she said, ”You're lucky. It appears your ribs are bruised and not broken.”
”Good, can I go home now?” I asked.
”I think you should stay at least overnight for observation,” she answered, in typical doctor fas.h.i.+on.
”If I promise not to sue you for malpractice, can I leave?” I asked.
Being sick is not a luxury poor people can afford in this country. I always rate my medical needs on whether or not I worry about how much it costs. If the first thing that struck me about staying overnight in the hospital was how much it was going to cost me and how little I could afford to pay it, then I wasn't damaged enough to have to stay in the hospital.
”What's your hurry?” she asked.
”I hate hospital food.”
She chuckled, then asked, ”What's the matter, don't have health insurance?”
”Only the Mack truck variety.” She gave me a questioning glance.
”In case of getting hit by a Mack truck and being in bed for six months,”
I explained.
”Well...did you get hit in the head?”
”No, I'm always like this.”
”I want some X-rays of your ribs, if they're negative and nothing else shows up-and you make good on your promise not to sue me- we'll work something out.” She smiled at me and then got an orderly to wheel me down to X-ray. After X-ray, I was deposited in an out-of-the-way examining room, given some pain medication, and left to enjoy it.
Cordelia showed up a couple of hours later.
”Your X-rays are negative. How do you feel?”
”I'm not ready to race the Iditarod, but then it doesn't snow down here enough for me to worry about it.”
”So you say. Let's see you stand up and walk a straight line.”
* 104 *
I slowly sat up, then slid off the examining table and a.s.sumed a standing position.
”Should I touch my fingers to my nose and recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” I asked to cover my unsteadiness.
”Not necessary,” she replied. She gave me a thorough look over.
”Okay, let's go.”
She threw me an old sweats.h.i.+rt to put on, obviously hers. Good thing America's getting in shape these days and wearing baggy clothes or I'd have nothing to wear. I followed her all the way out of the building.
”No, this way,” she said as I started to branch off.
”But the bus is this way.”
”My car is this way.”
She led the way to the parking lot. This was fortunate, because I wasn't sure I had bus fare. Her car was a silver Toyota, a couple of years old. We got in and I gave her my address. She pulled out of the parking lot.
”How do you know Joanne Ranson?” Good detectives always ask questions, even if their noses are packed with cotton.
”Grandpa Holloway is a staunch law-and-order supporter. Every year around Mardi Gras, he has a big formal party for a.s.sorted law enforcement people. I always have to attend. So I've seen Joanne in pa.s.sing for a while now. Where did you meet her?”
I had to stop and think for a minute. I had met Ranson through Danny, but it had been socially, not professionally. I didn't know if Cordelia knew that Ranson was gay and I didn't think I should tell her I met Ranson at a party for girls only down in the Quarter. I was trying to come up with an alternate story, but the pain and drugs were slowing me down.
”Wait a second,” Cordelia said. ”You weren't lovers, were you?”
”Us?” I said, my surprise at the question clearly showing.
”I guess not,” Cordelia answered her own question.
”It was at some party in the Quarter a couple of years ago,” I answered. Cordelia obviously knew that Ranson was a lesbian.
”This isn't the best section of town,” she said, noticing the neighborhood.
”But it's not the worst,” I replied, defending the surroundings of my humble abode.
* 105 *
”True. Have you worked with Joanne before?” For a doctor, Cordelia was being a good detective.
”Not really. We spar a lot.” Before Cordelia could say that that was obvious, I clarified. ”In karate. Once, after cla.s.s, we saw a mugging and Ranson and I ran the guy down. I guess you could say that was working together. She's a tough fighter. Hard to read.”
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