by Nora Kane
“We came around on each other. Even if we still hated each other, I didn’t want to see him dead.”
“Did you know Burke?”
“The guy from Fraud?”
“He worked his way into the Organized Crime Task Force, but yeah, that’s the guy.”
“I knew of him, but I didn’t know him. What’s the situation with Radcliff?”
Rodriguez sighed. “I assume they’re taking bullets out of him and stitching up the holes.”
“I kind of figured that much.”
“All we know is he was still breathing when they brought him in. They gave us the usual ‘we won’t know anything until after he gets out of surgery line’ and for all I know, they’re telling the truth. Even if they’re not, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“They say when they might be done?”
“They didn’t.”
“So, I wait here?”
“Or at home.”
“Just because some cops are still hung up on the past?”
“Not just the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“The tip they were following was about your old boyfriend.”
“Mal?”
“You got another old boyfriend suspected to be an accessory to murder?”
“So, this is my fault?”
“Logically? No. But there’s not a lot of logic going on right now. With two people dead, people tend to get more than a little emotional.”
“So, I just go home?”
“I’ll keep you updated.”
“You know this is bullshit.”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
Margot got as far as the sidewalk before she turned around and went back inside. She didn’t bother to look to see if Rodriguez was still in the emergency waiting room as she marched past.
The person at the reception desk directed Margot to another waiting room where people waited for results from surgery. A flat-screen television listed the patient's name and their status. She ignored the throng of homicide detectives who’d taken up residence on the right half of the room and walked straight to the screen.
Margot didn’t see any of Radcliff’s family there. She knew none of them lived in town and most were out of state. The only people he had here for him were fellow cops and Margot. Rodriguez came into the waiting room. She saw Margot and shook her head before going to hang out with her detectives.
Rick Radcliff was listed as in surgery. No other information was given. Margot could feel the eyes on her, but she didn’t care. She saw an empty chair on the other side of the room and sat down.
Detective Cranston, whose corrupt partner, Anderson, had shot himself in Rodriguez’s office a few short months ago left the group and walked over.
“You need to get the fuck out of here,” the old detective told her.
Margot stood and for a brief second Cranston looked smugly satisfied.
“Are you going to make me?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, you old bat. I said, are you going to make me?”
Cranston stood silently, trying to think of what to say.
“Look, if you are, get to it. If not, go sit your old ass down.”
“You want to fight right here in the waiting room?”
“No, it won’t be much of a fight, and we both know it. It’ll be me kicking your ass. So, Cranston, throw hands or sit the fuck down. I’m not going to ask again.”
“Real classy, Margot,” he replied.
“Don’t talk about class to me while you’re trying to strong-arm me out of here. He doesn’t even like you. If anyone shouldn’t be here, it’s you.”
Cranston shook his head and walked back to the others.
“Anyone else have something to say?” Margot addressed the group.
No one did. Margot sat back down and watched the screen.
Chapter 3
“It hasn’t changed in hours. You’re going to drive yourself crazy staring at it.”
Margot looked over at the detective who had sat down next to her. She didn’t know him. She believed his name was Driver. The only reason she knew his name was that Radcliff had mentioned how glad he was to see a new guy in homicide, if only because it meant that after almost two years, he wasn’t the new guy anymore. If Margot remembered correctly, Driver had been on the OC task force with Burke before taking the opening in homicide after Detective Anderson’s suicide.
“Didn’t they tell you I’m the bad guy here?” Margot said to him as she went back to the television screen. Like it had for the past two hours, it still read ‘in surgery.’
“They did, but Radcliff and Ames liked you, and they’re pretty smart guys. I’m Detective Driver.”
“I know. What do you want, Driver?”
“Just to talk.”
“I’m not much for conversation right now.”
“Fair enough.”
Margot thought he would leave, but Driver stayed where he was. After fifteen minutes passed without him getting up, Margot told him, “You’re not going to make any friends sitting with me.”
“I’m not making a lot of friends anyway. They paired me with Cranston, and all he does is tell me how I’m not his old partner, Anderson.”
“Consider that a good thing. Anderson wasn’t a good cop. And trust me, I know all about being a bad cop.”
“I’ve heard, but I’ve also heard it wasn’t all your fault.”
“Enough of it was. Keep in mind, Radcliff doesn’t exactly have an unbiased opinion when it comes to me.”
“That was Ames who told me that.”
“Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t put words in his mouth, especially now.”
Margot wiped a tear before she said, “Damn it, I’m going to miss that guy.”
“Me too. I was jealous of Radcliff coming in and getting a partner like Ames instead of a crusty burn out like Cranston.”
“Because Ames was so nice?”
Driver let out a short laugh. “You’re right, he could be a little crusty himself, but in a good way. He was a good detective. Probably our best.”
Margot couldn’t disagree with that. She went back to looking at the screen. It hadn’t changed.
“I wasn’t kidding about watching that. It will make you crazy.”
Margot suspected he was right, but she couldn’t look away.
“The main suspect right now is your old boyfriend...”
“I know all about it.”
“I suppose you do. Sorry, I don’t want to be your enemy.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Just to talk.”
“Homicide detectives don’t ‘just talk.’ You come over here to interrogate me?”
“No.”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
“Actually, I’m an excellent liar. You just happen to be very difficult to lie to.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s not an insult.”
Margot went back to watching the television screen. Nothing changed.
“I get the feeling I’m going to be working this one, if only because everyone else is swamped. Rodriguez won’t want Cranston, but I don’t see the old guy giving it up, even though he probably should. The fact is, I’d rather have you helping me.”
“Help you? I’m not a cop.”
“Yeah, but last I checked, you dug up the goods on Anderson, and it was you who tracked down Viuda Negra’s safe house.”
“My private detective gig had some crossover. My client was accused of the crime Anderson did, so I did my job. Viuda Negra dragged me into the investigation when she decided to shoot up my apartment. As much as I want to find whoever did this myself, I’m staying out of it.”
Driver let out another short laugh. “The hell you are. I wouldn’t, if I were you. I just want to know what you find out.”
“You want me to give you Mal.”
“Or have me come by to clean up the mess.”
“You think I’m going to kill him?”
“You saying, if you get the chance, you won’t? I know what I’d do if I were you.”
Margot didn’t answer.
The television screen finally changed.
It read ‘out of surgery.’
“Does that mean he’s alive?” Margot asked. “Shouldn’t he be in recovery. That’s where other patients went after surgery.”
Driver didn’t answer because he didn’t know.
It wasn’t long before a man in a lab coat came into the room. Since Radcliff didn’t have any blood relatives there yet, he gestured to Rodriguez. She followed him out of the waiting room. As she did, she and Margot made eye contact. For a long moment, Margot thought she might invite her to hear what the surgeon had to say, but she didn’t. To be fair, she didn’t invite anyone else either.
The meeting wasn’t long. Rodriguez returned after about ten minutes. She motioned for the throng of cops to follow her.
When Driver stood up, he said to Margot, “Come on. Anyone who was really Radcliff’s friend knows how he feels about you.”
Margot wasn’t waiting for his permission, but she did feel better following them out there after getting it.
They gathered in a smaller but empty waiting room. Margot moved to the corner of the room where she was out of sight but could still hear.
“Good news, Detective Radcliff survived surgery,” Rodriguez announced. “The doctor said the procedure went about as well as it could have.”
“Does that mean he’s going to be okay?” a detective asked.
“No, it means he made it past what the surgeon described as the first hurdle. He lost a lot of blood and suffered a lot of trauma. The next twenty-four hours are apparently crucial. That is all the information I have. I strongly suggest you all go home and get some rest. We have jobs to do tomorrow.”
Rodriguez folded her arms, which apparently was code for she was done talking because no one asked any more questions. Cranston walked out, and that made it okay for the others to follow.
On his way out, Driver slipped Margot his card as he said, “Stay in touch.”
“You do the same,” Margot told him.
Driver nodded like he would, but Margot had her doubts; homicide detectives tended to look at the information flow as a one-way street going their way.
The room cleared out except for Margot and Rodriguez.
“You should go home too,” Rodriguez told her, “there’s nothing to be done here but wait.”
“Maybe I want to wait.”
“I doubt that. I’m going to ask you to stay out of the investigation.”
“I kind of figured that.”
“You didn’t listen when I asked you to stay home.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Rodriguez walked out, leaving Margot alone. It was a feeling she worried she might have to get used to.
Chapter 4
Eventually, Margot did go home. She probably would have left earlier—with Radcliff in the intensive care unit all she could do was stay in the waiting room—but the fact Rodriguez told her to leave made her want to stay.
Since her bed was more comfortable than the chairs in the waiting room and the hospital would have frowned on her drinking whiskey over ice, heading back to her apartment proved to be the correct decision.
After getting a solid four hours of sleep, Margot called Shaw to tell him she’d be late and swung by the hospital. No one would talk to her because she wasn’t a relative, but she could check the television screen where his basic status might still be posted.
She was glad to see his name was still on the screen since that meant he was still alive. His status had moved from ‘out of surgery’ to ICU. Margot wished the words ‘in recovery’ could have been next to his location instead.
She was turning to leave when a young man approached and asked, “Are you Margot?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Rick’s brother, Ron. I’ve seen your picture. I’m glad you’re here.”
It took the ‘Rick’ part a second to register since even after all this time together, she still thought of him as Radcliff since that was what she called him when they first met.
“I’m glad to see you here as well. Did they tell you anything other than that he’s in the ICU?”
“Not much. The doctor told me every hour he makes it increases the odds he’ll make it another. Are you planning to stick around?”
“I need to go to work at least for a little while, but I’m planning to come back,” Margot lied. Shaw would understand if she didn’t want to come in, and there was nothing she was doing that couldn’t wait but as long as Mal was out there, she felt like she needed to look for him.
Ron nodded, “There’s not much to do here but wait anyway.”
“If I gave you my number, would you update me if anything happens?”
“Of course.”
Margot recited her phone number and Ron added it to the contacts on his phone. He called her immediately so she had his number as well.
“Rick thought a lot of you. I wish we could have met for the first time differently.”
“Me too,” Margot told him. “Please call if something happens, good or bad.”
“Hopefully, it will be good. We’re all praying for him.”
Margot nodded and headed out. She wasn’t much of a believer in prayer, but she figured it couldn’t hurt.
Chapter 5
“What are you doing here?” Shaw asked as Margot walked into the office. “When you said you were coming in late, I didn’t figure to see you until this afternoon, if I saw you at all.”
Their secretary, Ms. Collins, didn’t speak, but it was clear she was thinking the same thing.
“I have work to do.”
“Shaw Detective Agency work? Or something else?”
“Something else.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“If it was you in this situation, would you sit it out?”
“I didn’t ask what I’d do, I asked if it was a good idea.”
“Probably not, but I’m not letting that stop me.”