Part 8 (1/2)
Chelsea sat down, eyeing the fast-food debris on Joe Winder's tray. One of Uncle Ely's Elves, sitting at the other end of the table, belched sonorously. Charles Chelsea pretended not to notice. He said, ”Not to brag, Joey, but I think I did a pretty fair job with this ditty myself. Mr. X loved his quotes. He said I made him sound like a real human being.”
With the tips of his fingers, Joe Winder began to rub both his temples in a ferocious circular motion.
Chelsea asked, ”Now what's the matter?”
”Headache.” Winder squinted as tightly as he could, to wring the pain out of his eyeb.a.l.l.s. ”Listen, I called Dr. Koocher's house. He didn't go home last night. His wife is scared out of her mind.”
”Maybe he just got depressed and tied one on. Or maybe he's got a girlfriend.”
Joe Winder decided not to tell Chelsea that Koocher had tried to reach him. ”His wife's eight months pregnant, Charlie. She says he usually calls about nineteen times an hour, but she hasn't heard a word since yesterday.”
”What would you like me to do?”
”Worry like h.e.l.l,” said Winder. He stood up. ”Also, I'd like your permission to talk to Pedro Luz. I think he's hiding something.”
Charles Chelsea said, ”You can't talk to him, Joe. He's in the hospital.” He paused wearily and shook his head. ”Don't ask.”
”Come on, Charlie.”
”For rabies shots.”
”I should've guessed,” Winder said. ”My condolences to the dog.”
”It wasn't a dog,” Chelsea said. ”Can't this wait till tomorrow? Pedro's in a lot of pain.”
”No,” said Joe Winder, ”that's perfect.”
Pedro Luz had been taken to the closest emergency room, which was Mariners' Hospital down on Plantation Key. The nurse on duty remembered Pedro Luz very well, and directed Joe Winder to a private room on the second floor.
He didn't bother to knock, just eased the door open. The impressive bulk of Pedro Luz was propped up in bed, watching a Spanish-language soap opera on Channel 23. He was sucking on one end of the plastic IV tube, which he had yanked out of his arm.
”That doesn't go in your mouth,” Winder told him.
”Yeah, well, I'm thirsty.”
”You're bleeding all over the place.”
”What do you care?” said Pedro Luz. With a corner of the sheet he swabbed the blood from his arm. ”You better get out of here. I mean right now.”
Joe Winder pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. Pedro Luz smelled like a fifty-five-gallon drum of rubbing alcohol. His luxuriant hair stood in oily black spikes, and his ma.s.sive neck was covered with angry purple acne, a side effect of the fruit-and-steroid body-building diet.
”You like your job?” Winder asked him.
”What do you meana”at the Kingdom? Sure, I guess.” The security man pulled the covers off his legs, so Joe Winder could see the bandages on his ferret-gnawed ankle. ”Except for s.h.i.+t like this,” said Pedro Luz. ”Otherwise, it's an okay job most of the time.”
Winder said, ”So you really wouldn't want to get fired.”
”The h.e.l.l are you talking about?”
”For lying. I think you're lying.”
”What about?”
Joe Winder said, ”Don't play dumb with me.” As if the guy had a choice. ”Tell me why you sent a man to Koocher's lab yesterday. I know you did, because he called me about it.”
Pedro Luz got red in the cheeks. The cords in his neck stood out like a rutting bull's. ”I already told you,” he said. ”I don't have no report on that guy.”
”He's missing from the park.”
”Then I'll do up a report,” Pedro Luz said. He breathed deeply, as if trying to calm himself. ”Soon as I get outta here, I'll make a report.” He took the IV tube out of his mouth. ”This stuff's not so bad,” he said thoughtfully. ”Tastes like sugar syrup.” He replaced the tube between his lips and sucked on it loudly.
Joe Winder said, ”You're a moron.”
”What did you say?”
”Make that a submoron.”
Pedro Luz shrugged. ”I'd beat the p.i.s.s out of you, if I didn't feel so bad. They gave me about a million shots.” He leered woozily and opened his gown. ”See, they broke two needles on my stomach.”
Joe Winder couldn't help but admire Pedro Luz's physique. He could see the bright crimson spots where the hypodermics had bent against the muscle.
”Least I won't get the rabies,” said Pedro Luz, drawing merrily on the tube. ”You oughta take off, before I start feeling better.”
Winder stood up and slid the chair back to its corner. ”Last chance, Hercules. Tell me why you sent a man to the lab yesterday.”
”Or else what?”
”Or we play ”This Is Your Life, Pedro Dips.h.i.+t.” I tell Kingsbury's people all about your sterling employment record with the Miami Police Department. I might even give them a copy of the indictment. A spine-chilling saga, Pedro. Not for the meek and mild.”
Pedro Luz removed the tube and wiped his lips on the sleeve of his gown. He looked genuinely puzzled. ”But they know,” he said. ”They know all about it.”
”And they hired you anyway?”
”Course,” said Pedro Luz. ”It was Kingsbury himself. He said every man deserves a second chance.”
”I admire that philosophy,” Joe Winder said, ”most of the time.”
”Yeah, well, Mr. X took a personal liking to me. That's why I'm not too worried about all your bulls.h.i.+t.”
”Yes,” said Joe Winder. ”I'm beginning to understand.”
”Because you couldn't get me fired no matter what,” said Pedro Luz. ”And you know what else? Don't never call me a moron again, if you know what's good for you.”
”I guess I don't,” said Joe Winder. ”Obviously.”
SEVEN.