Authors: Garrett Addison
They headed to the bar adjacent to the hotel restaurant as
they waited for a table. Ikel ordered the beers and they sat in an unobtrusive
area hidden from the greater restaurant. Initially both Ikel and Devlin were
silent; Ikel because he was parched from the volume of talking he’d done escorting
Devlin on his brief tour of the hotel facilities, and Devlin just digesting
everything.
Devlin sat with a contented smile enjoying the beer and
the moment. His day had come full circle. From waking almost destitute, being
assaulted by ‘friends’ and being robbed, he was now employed, well paid and the
guest at a nice hotel.
“What do you think so far?” Ikel asked after watching
Devlin as he sat with an almost blank, vacant expression but a relaxed smile.
“About what? I like the hotel, and the beer is good.”
Devlin replied cautiously.
“And LastGasp’?”
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“I like honest. Save your subtlety for someone else.
It’s wasted on me!”
“OK. LastGasp’ seems good. It seems like a good job, for
at least a little while.”
“That’s honest?” commented Ikel disappointedly. “I
thought you were going to say something interesting.”
“Alright. Honesty,” Devlin took a deep breath.
“LastGasp’ seems like a crock of shit, but hey, I can do anything if I’m
getting paid for it. You seem like a nice guy and I can see that we’ll get on
OK. Lori seems nice, but I’m interested as to why she’d look in my bag. Women
would chuck the shits if they knew a guy went snooping in their handbag, so
yes, I’m a little put out by that. David strikes me as a bit of a prick, but
perhaps we’ll get used to each other. As for Glen? I’m appreciative for him
giving me a job.” Devlin waited for Ikel’s reaction.
“Great,” replied Ikel simply.
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“You want
my
opinion on
your
opinion?” Ikel
teased, taking another drink of his beer. “LastGasp’ is alright, so you’re
wrong, but maybe this is something that you need to discover for yourself.
David is a bit odd, but he’s OK once you get to know him. He has trust issues
too, so you should understand him better than most.”
Ikel writhed in his seat, standing to remove a vibrating
phone from his jeans pocket. He checked the caller I.D. on the display and
answered. “We’re in the bar.” He ended the call and looked to Devlin.
“Lori’s going to join us.”
“Did you and Lori join LastGasp’ together?” Devlin asked,
looking to learn more about her.
“No, Lori met Glen through me a bit after I joined. I
knew her from years back and we bumped into each other in the street. Then Glen
recruited her. That’s mainly what he does.”
“I thought I was just filling a recent vacancy, or that
Glen was just doing me a favour.”
“People come and go, so he just keeps bringing newcomers
on board.”
“I’m just thinking,” Devlin hesitated. “I was just
thinking about everything I know about LastGasp’ which, admittedly, isn’t
much. I’m interested in why people wouldn’t stay. Doesn’t that interest you?”
“Not really.”
“Pay is good. Conditions are good. I’ve known people to
stay in crappy jobs for ages, so I just find it interesting that there are no
staff who’ve been around for longer than a few months.”
“I asked Glen about Derrell, and why he quit,” replied
Ikel. “Derrell was another reader who left before my time. But Glen used to
talk about him often.
“I thought you said you weren’t interested!” sniped
Devlin.
“Well yes. But anyway, Glen just said everyone leaves for
a reason and when they’re ready. Clearly I’m not ready and so I’m staying.”
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘if something’s too
good to be true then it probably is’?”
“Yes. So?”
“So I’m looking for a catch.”
“There’s no catch,” Ikel replied succinctly.
“Given my recent history, I’m very mindful of keeping my
nose clean.”
“LastGasp’ isn’t illegal. Even Lori told you that?”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“LastGasp’ doesn’t demand anything illegal, and neither
does Glen for that matter. You have my word on this. Happy?”
“I guess.” Devlin allowed his concerns to be placated for
a while. “Time will tell.”
“Time will tell what?” asked Lori on her arrival, keen to
catch up with the current conversation. She had changed her clothes and looked
substantially fresher than when they left LastGasp’. Now she was wearing an
open necked blouse that revealed more skin and bust, and it had the desired
effect. Both Ikel and Devlin were fixated on her.
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat!” Lori all but demanded. She
headed away from the bar to the tables. Ikel and Devlin took the hint and
quickly finished their drinks in order to follow.
Chapter - 16.
Malcolm waited restlessly for Detective Reymond to return;
he knew it was only a matter of time. With the restraints removed, he could
move about his bed and the room, but there was no escaping the fact he was idle
when he had things to do; his projects were waiting. His scan of the papers
however told him that the wait on one such project was nearly at an end. His
timing had been almost perfect.
Reymond returned to Malcolm’s room not long after dark.
“We need to talk about Angie,” he announced as he slumped himself on the
bed-side chair.
“So you met her then?” Malcolm said, reclining on his bed,
surfing through the channels on the ceiling mounted television. He regretted
not giving the Detective any eye contact, but his plan was not about making
friends. In the greater scheme of things, Reymond was little more than a
spectator, an important spectator admittedly, but really just a bit player
without whom his discharge would be delayed.
“Met her. Saved her.” Malcolm felt Reymond watching him
closely. “We need to talk.”
“What happened?”
“Aside from the beatings?”
“Fresh ones?” Malcolm asked curiously but not really
surprised.
“Not that I saw, but I’ll be checking with the doctor
after her admission. It’s interesting that there didn’t appear to be any
bruising less than about a week old, and you’ve been here in hospital for a few
days. Wouldn’t you say?”
“What’s he done this time?”
“Thanks for sparing me the denials, but talking in the
third person doesn’t convince me.”
“Detective, I don’t need to convince you of anything.
Angie is a friend, and while I can’t vouch for how
you
treat
your
friends, I sure don’t treat them that way. Where is she?”
“You do at least
sound
concerned,” Detective
Reymond persisted.
Malcolm didn’t need to feign concern. The more that Reymond
delayed answering the question, the more he feared for the flaws in his plan.
Leaving Angie alone was not ideal, but it was necessary. “Just answer the
question. Where is she?”
“She’s still in emergency, but she’s sure to be admitted.
When I got to the address you described, she was not in a good way. Initially
I thought it was an overdose. There were pills everywhere, and I called it in
like a suicide, until I saw the syringe.”
“Angie isn’t a junkie.”
“I never said she was.” Detective Reymond drank from a
disposable cup he’d brought in with him. He continued only after
unconvincingly staging the savour of a second mouthful. “There was a syringe
embedded between her shoulder blades. Thereafter, I considered the overdose to
be an assault.”
As focussed as Malcolm was on his plan, he was not above
reflection as to how protecting her could have been managed. Any purist privy
to his plan would consider Angie to be inconsequential, but Malcolm wasn’t a
purist. After closing his eyes and breathing deeply for several moments, he
resigned himself to the greater good of his plan. “How is she?”
“She’ll live. We’re still waiting for test results to
confirm what else was in the syringe, and the actual needle. Blood-work is
pending. Of course, the HIV tests will take a while for a conclusive result.
She asked after you as soon as she came around.”
“She
was
clean, at least.”
“She was reserved about your relationship too,” the
Detective said. “I’ve always been amazed that battered women always slipped back
into being half of a relationship, a dysfunctional relationship admittedly, but
a relationship nonetheless. You’re only out of the picture for the attack with
the syringe. The puncture mark around the needle was clearly very recent, even
if there was evidence of some rust at the wound, and the makings of a bruise
was not visible until she’d arrived here.”
Malcolm didn’t say anything. He had a good idea who would
have been responsible and what the guy was capable of, but this was not the
deal. Clearly the bastard had no intention of letting Angie get away lightly,
but obviously he had a soft spot for her. Malcolm could imagine the bastard
trying something new, forcibly giving her something to take the edge off her
fear. He could picture their confrontation as clearly as if he’d actually been
there himself. Angie cowering in the corner, the guy yelling himself into a
frenzy before he started to sink the boot in, over and over. Then Angie would
do what she always did, offer sexual servitude in order to placate the man.
Periodic rape didn’t solve her problem, but it made her immediate concern that
this time he might go too far, even for his standards, dissipate somewhat.
Malcolm knew that just being with Angie had given her not only physical security,
but also a little self-confidence, and he wouldn’t have liked it. Poor Angie.
At least in hospital she’d be safe for now, and thereafter his plan would see
to her continued safety, or at least get her off the hook for her to chart her
own path.
“You know who did it, don’t you?” Reymond asked. “Is
he
the same guy who’s responsible for her other injuries?”
Malcolm considered telling the Detective what he knew, but
this information was not part of the plan. He hoped he’d convinced Angie to
remain strong for a little while longer.
It was now time to leave. He knew he wouldn’t see Reymond
again, but it was nice to meet him just the same.
“If it’s not too much trouble, and unless you’ve got
something else to talk about Detective, I’d like to get out of here.”
Chapter - 17.
Angie was under close observation in the ward. She soon
came to realise that this meant that she was to be periodically disturbed by a
zealous nurse checking her vitals before leaving to wake another patient. This
was different to all of her previous hospital stays where she’d invariably been
admitted while unconscious or near comatose. She reasoned that this particular
nurse’s routine was no different to those of her past admissions, but being
awake, the near continual disruption was annoying. She was exhausted but had
been unable, or possibly unwilling, to really sleep, choosing instead to doze
with Malcolm sitting at her bedside. She must have fallen asleep more deeply
than just a simple doze, and now she was awake only to discover that he was gone.
Again.
A strangely familiar face entered the room. He identified
Angie, obviously recognising her, and walked slowly towards her, waving to the
nurse scurrying around the room tending to each of the patients in turn.
“Not too long, Ghoul,” the nurse said softly so as to not
wake anyone not already awake. “She needs some rest or I’ll need to sedate
her.” She shamelessly spoke about her patient as if Angie wasn’t in the room.
The guy shrugged off the comment, pulling up a seat at
Angie’s bedside. “Hi Angie, do you remember me?”
“You were the one who called the ambulance. I can’t
recall if I thanked you earlier.” Angie rested a moment, labouring to breathe
with one less than perfect lung. “I can’t remember your name but I know it
wasn’t what that nurse just called you.”
“Fair enough. My name is Detective Alan Reymond. All of
the nurses call me ‘Ghoul’ and I’ve long since given up caring enough to try to
stop them!”
“Why?”
“Why do they call me ‘Ghoul’, or why haven’t I stopped
them?” Reymond replied playfully. “I’ve given up trying to stop them because
I’m old and I’m more interested in the fact that they know me well enough to
consider me as regular as a piece of furniture here. As for why they actually
gave me the name. My primary role is ‘hospital liaison’ and I also have the
dubious honour of being the name at the bottom of many of the city’s police
reports of suicides. Some comedian considered it downright ghoulish that I was
routinely involved in so many suicides, apparently, and the name has remained
with me.” Reymond yawned, hiding his gaping mouth behind a manila folder. “We
really need to talk Angie.”
“There’s not much to talk about.”
“He’ll do it again,” Reymond said, ambiguous as to whom he
was referring to. “I can protect you.” Angie only shrugged. “Malcolm’s not
the good guy here.”
“I sincerely doubt that. But you go ahead and think what
you like.”
“You know you’re not the first victim of domestic violence
who’s shunned Police involvement. Will you be so
lucky
next time?”
Angie had heard all of this before.
Chapter - 18.