[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  “Eddie!” Megan Ann called from the bedroom.

  He ignored her, grabbed the telephone. “What do you want, Father?”

  Silence.

  “I know it’s you. Leave me alone!” Eddie clutched at his chest; the tightness was squeezing him unbearably, his wheezes expanded to fill every space in the room.

  “Wimp!”

  “Stop it!”

  “Bring me that woman or you’ll take her place. Do you hear me?”

  Eddie hung up and reached for his inhaler, pulled in four quick puffs. His heart raced while he waited for air to fill his chest.

  “Eddie!” Megan Ann yelled.

  He moved into the kitchen.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He took a new bottle of Absolut from the cupboard, filled a fresh glass with ice cubes, and left for the bedroom. Megan Ann was sprawled across the bed, eyes unfocused. He left the glass and vodka on the bedside table.

  Back in the living room, looking out across the city, St. George gave serious thought to who could have prompted the police to come to his place looking for Megan Ann. Somewhere along the line he’d made a mistake, left a trail.

  That worried him. Really worried him.

  If it could happen with her, could someone make a connection between him and the others he’d taken to Father?

  Tears ran down his cheeks. It was over. He should have stood up to Father years ago. It was time to break away, force Father to tell him where Mother was. Once he knew that, he could leave, close out his accounts, disappear.

  “Eddie!”

  Her voice lanced him like a sharp knife. One more decision to make. He walked slowly back to his bedroom.

  Megan Ann was sitting up, leaning against a pile of pillows stacked against the headboard. She was well into the bottle of Absolut he’d brought her only a short time ago, and the t-shirt was gone.

  She squirmed against the pillows, invited him to take her. He sat on the edge of the bed, gently lifted her head, and slipped a Roofie into her mouth. She reached for the glass of iced vodka and took a long drink.

  “Come to bed, Eddie. I need you. Real bad.” She ran her fingers slowly up and down the mound between her legs.

  St. George took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Soon.”

  * * *

  Gina sipped her cream soda, checked her watch, and waited. She assumed the next thing she would see was the pair of cops coming out with St. George between them.

  Ten minutes later, the cops exited the apartment, laughing, and alone. Where was St. George? Where was Megan Ann? And what was so damn funny?

  She felt pretty stupid. All this because St. George had gone on a date with Megan Ann. It looked like Detective Yee, Harry, and all the others were right—it all added up to a case of hot pants, nothing more.

  She studied the area: Tall buildings, all facing either a nearby park or the bay. What did the drug rep see from his windows?

  St. George: an elegant name. Well, he was kind of classy, just like all the other reps in their expensive clothes. Smooth and good-looking, they all looked more like celebrities than business people. There wasn’t an ugly duckling in the batch, at least not that Gina ever saw. Every one, man or woman, caught your attention.

  But there was something unusual about St. George. Yes, he was handsome, but his smile was forced and his eyes were almost always sad.

  Men! Always an enigma. And that made her think about Harry. What was she going to do? She couldn’t keep putting him off forever. She had to make a decision, one way or the other.

  Harry had tried hard last night to be objective about this whole business of the missing nurses. But it was really more than just that – he was tired of the tension over the getting/not getting married issue. And while he was sympathetic to her complaints about working in Advice rather than being involved in direct patient care – the kind of nursing that really meant something to her – her bouts of depression over her work situation had to be a real drag.

  Harry’s suggestion that she resign from Ridgewood and get into travel nursing with him was sounding better and better all the time. But was that the answer to their relationship problems? Or was that just doing another geographic and hoping for the best?

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. As soon as she found out what the real deal was with Megan Ann, she would have to get serious and do something about putting her life into some kind of order.

  Chapter 37

  Gina took a napkin from the take-out food bag and blotted each eye until she started to quiet down. She was tired of sitting, thinking, and staring at the apartment building. Now that the cops had come and gone, she wanted to find out for herself what was up with Eddie St. George and Megan Ann Hendricks.

  She forced herself out of the Fiat, ran across the street. The same gray-uniformed doorman was still there, sitting behind his desk, working a crossword puzzle. He looked up when she tapped on the glass door and buzzed her in. The door swished closed behind her.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes. I was going up to see Eddie St. George.” She stood there, certain the guard was scrutinizing her swollen eyes and rumpled clothes.

  He glanced from her to his puzzle, quickly filled in three or four squares, looked up again, and said, “Popular man this evening. I need to give Mr. St. George a call to let him know you’re here. Name, please?”

  “Mazzio; Gina Mazzio.” She smiled and pushed at her hair, waited while he punched in the number.

  When he hung up, he got up from behind the desk. “He said it’s okay.” He started toward the elevator and indicated she should follow.

  “I don’t need an escort,” she said.

  “It’s the penthouse,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “So?”

  He held up a key ring. “Have to unlock the floor button for you.”

  On the way up, Gina fished in her purse for her lipstick, then used the polished brass plate of the floor selection panel as a mirror. She’d just zippered her purse together when the door opened and Eddie St. George stood there in front of her, smiling.

  She was caught up short. But he filled in the silence.

  “Ms. Mazzio! It’s so nice to see you again. And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “Is Megan Ann here? I need to talk to her.”

  “Oh?” He stepped away from the elevator door. “Yes, she’s here. Come on in.”

  She followed him into the living room, immediately noticing the sparkle of city lights through the penthouse windows. Megan Ann came down the hallway wearing only what was apparently Eddie’s V-neck tee shirt. It was obvious she had nothing on under the thin white cotton shirt. Also obvious that she was unharmed and perfectly happy. Looking at Megan Ann’s outfit, it made sense now why the two plain-clothes cops were laughing when they came back down.

  Yee’s right. There’s nothing going on here to make anyone suspicious. Just good old sex!

  “Gina Mazzio, RN, what are you doing here?” Megan Ann said, waving an empty old-fashion glass. “If you’re looking for a date, you’re too late. He’s mine!”

  “I got that,” Gina said. “I just wanted to see if you were all right … we’ve been worried about you at work.”

  “”Yeah, I know. Shoulda called in.” She gave a big double-shoulder shrug. “But that’s nice of you. Come on in and have a little drinky.”

  Gina smiled, shook her head, and looked at Eddie. He was fidgety and his face was bright red. But as far as Gina could see, there was nothing for him to be upset about. Maybe a little embarrassed, which she could understand. He was dressed in gray slacks and a midnight blue silk shirt; he could have stepped right out of a page in GQ. All he needed were wrap-around sunglasses, a Laguna Beach tan, and his usual gelled and spiky red hair, which was now flat against his head.

  Gina sat down on a plush love seat; Megan Ann plopped down beside her. “I was worried about you. Helen told me you’ve been out sick. Guess I wanted to see for mysel
f, make sure you’re all right.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Megan Ann said, each word articulating into a slur. “Did you meet Eddie? He’s so sweet. Treats me like a queen.”

  Gina looked up at Eddie; his green eyes were moist and he looked as if he were about to cry.

  “And what made you think you’d find Megan Ann here?” he asked softly.

  “I knew she had a date with you the other night,” Gina said with a self-conscious laugh. “And we haven’t been able to reach her since then.”

  Gina tried for an innocent look, hoping Eddie would buy it. “Just a shot in the dark, really,” she said.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Megan Ann piped in. “A shot or two sounds exactly what we could all use about now.” She waved a hand at Gina, then Eddie. “She and I had a fight over you, didja know that?” She curled up into the corner of the sofa.

  Eddie looked confused. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “She’s exaggerating,” Gina said.

  “She does that sometimes,” he said, trying to make light of it. “But I’m forgetting my manners. May I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Gina emphasized her response with a shake of her head. “I really should go. I’m imposing.”

  “Not at all.” He smiled again. “You certainly have time for a glass of Pellagrino, with a touch of lemon?”

  “Or how about some vodka, for me,” Megan Ann said. “With a touch of Eddie.” She giggled and started to doze off

  Eddie never looked away from Gina. “Okay, vodka for Megan Ann, and for you, Ms. Mazzio?”

  “Pellagrino is fine.”

  Gina watched as Eddie ran his fingers through Megan Ann’s hair as he walked past her towards a large wet bar. She could see he was taken with her. Maybe this was what Megan Ann needed, someone to really care about her, treat her with respect and love.

  Gina decided to be polite and take a couple of sips of the sparkling water, then be on her way.

  * * *

  Eddie could hear the buzz of their voices in the living room: Megan Ann, awake again, but getting quieter and quieter; Gina telling Megan Ann how worried everyone at work was about her absence. He guessed Gina was the one who had instigated the missing person report.

  Eddie prepared their drinks, taking more time than necessary while he looked out the window at the patio trees and their blinking Christmas lights.

  They say your life flashes before you just as you’re about to die. What will I see at that moment? Father, who hates me? Mother, who is long gone, who deserted me for someone or something more important than me?

  He listened to the wind outside whistling through a partially opened window.

  Did Mother ever care what was going to happen to me?

  Before he picked up the drinks, he dropped a Roofie in Gina’s glass to match the one he’d given Megan Anne after the cops had left, then carried the two glasses into the living room.

  Gina drank half her Pellagrino in a single continuous gulp. “Didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

  “I’m always thirsty,” Megan Ann mumbled, looking up at Eddie, but unable to lift a hand to take the glass from him.

  Eddie knew she was drunk, doped up, and being silly, but the way she looked at him lanced his heart. No one except Mother had ever looked at him that way.

  “I do have to be going,” Gina said.

  He nodded, took a seat, and watched. Gina and Megan Ann’s eyes glazed over at the same time. Experience told him that really shouldn’t happen, given the difference in their ages and physiology, factored with the rate of alcohol consumption for one vs. none for the other. But there it was, both of them nodding off at the same moment.

  Chapter 38

  Jacob St. George glared at his son, watched him struggle under the dead weight of some bitch slung over his shoulder. Eddie’s steps were heavy, his knees sagged, and he was drenched in sweat.

  Just like the dumb ox he’s always been. And goddam if he isn’t making those disgusting squeaking sounds he’s made ever since he was a little brat.

  He watched the veins and cords in Eddie’s neck bulge as he lowered the woman onto the hardwood cutting block. His son clutched at his chest, tried to catch his breath, then slumped onto a stool, wasted.

  Pinpricks of hatred crawled up and down Jacob’s skin; he wanted to lash out at his son, tear his eyes out, knock him to the floor, stomp him. But there was no time for any of that. Milty would be here in less than an hour, expecting all the body parts to be packaged, individually labeled, and ready for delivery. He needed Eddie.

  Jacob turned his attention to the woman on the block. She sure as hell wasn’t the one his son brought to the shop Monday; the one Eddie stole away.

  This slut didn’t even look like a nurse, and she sure as hell wasn’t a redhead.

  Miserable wimp. Nothing gets done the way I want it. Have to tell him over and over and over what to do, how to do it.

  Jacob stared at the woman: big, tall, and dressed in goddam purple.

  Detest that color. Goddam! What happened to nurses’ uniforms? Skirts, damn it! They’re supposed to look like women, angels of mercy.

  This one’s dressed like Lola. Lola the fornicator. Lola the adulteress. Always wearing purple, taunting me with it, said it made her red hair look sexy. Sexy my ass. Only wore it because I hated it. She wanted to be pretty, wanted to fuck someone, anyone. Just not me.

  He could still see her, still hear her in his head, like she was alive and torturing him. Until that voice shut down, other nurses would keep paying for her sins. That or until the crusher chewed up his brain, grinding it to mush and oblivion.

  Jacob tried to eviscerate Eddie with a penetrating glare.

  The purple bitch left behind a useless, ten-year-old sissy. Looking at Eddie only made Jacob hate her all the more for what she’d done.

  Rotten cunt

  “What the hell took you so long?”

  “No more, Father,” Eddie said, avoiding Jacob’s eyes. He stood and rearranged the dark-haired woman on the table.

  “Why’d you bring me this one? She’s not right and you know it. Not even a nurse.”

  “She’s a nurse, Father.”

  “Doesn’t look like a damn nurse.”

  Jacob limped around the table, put a hand on the unconscious woman’s breast, then took heavy poultry shears from his hip pocket and cut away her clothes.

  “Too big! Too tall!” He yanked the clothes from under her, like pulling a tablecloth from under a set with dinner dishes. “You know that. Dammit!” He reached out and tugged hard at the black hair on the woman’s head, then reached for her pubic hair. “Does this look like a redhead to you, dumb ass?”

  He walked up to Eddie, who backed away even though his son towered over him. Jacob jabbed a finger into his chest.

  “Where’s that little red-headed number you stole from me, took to that fancy uptown apartment of yours?”

  Eddie continued to back-peddle, but his eyes were rebellious. “You can’t have her. She’s mine.”

  Jacob laughed at the tall blob of nothing that was supposed to be his son. “Yours? What would you do with a woman, any woman? You’ll do what I tell you … you…” He tried to concentrate on the next word but his brain refused to focus. “Pussy,” he finally said. “Pussy! Pussy!”

  “Say what ever you want, but you can’t have Megan Ann. She’s mine. I love her.”

  Jacob’s tongue was thick; he couldn’t swallow his own spit. He reached into his apron pocket, opened the vial of pills, and without even counting, tossed several into his mouth, forcing them down by dry-swallowing over and over. Some of the pills flew out of his mouth; most went down his throat.

  “Can’t have? You lost that fuckin’ pea brain of yours? This is a business, little Eddie St. George. You’re not walking away after all these years. I need those packages.”

  “Take this one, then. She’s got what Hiller needs, same as Megan Ann.”

 
“Not the same. And fuck Hiller. They have to be right for me, you idiot. Right for me! Right for me! I want them small. I want their red hair. Real red hair. Is that so fucking hard to understand?”

  The silence lengthened before Eddie replied: “No matter what you do to me, you’re not getting Megan Ann.”

  Jacob’s stomach churned, threatened to erupt. His son was stupid. Puny and stupid.

  “You’re the one who brings them here; you’re just as guilty as I am, Eddie. Somewhere in the back of that puny brain you gotta know that. The crusher’s going to get me; I’ll be dead, but you’ll get the big needle if you don’t do what I tell you. They don’t disappear without me.”

  Jacob’s legs wouldn’t hold him; he dropped down hard on the stool Eddie had moved away from. His throat was still swollen. Why did all of this suddenly seem so funny? He laughed and laughed. “You talk to me about killing?”

  Eddie looked at him, his face forming a big, fat, friggin’ question mark.

  “Don’t go acting high and mighty. You’re a drone, a slave owned by those pill pushers.”

  “We help people.”

  “Even you don’t believe that shit. I’m dying because a blob of something no one can kill is eating away at my brain.”

  That sounded really funny. He roared with laughter, croaked out, “Maybe I have mad cow.” He pointed at Eddie. “Do you get it? A butcher with mad cow!”

  “Father! Stop it!”

  The laughter was gone as quickly as it came. “What have your brilliant drug big shots done for me? What have you done for me?”

  “I … I’ve tried to find a treatment for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah! You work for a pack of hyenas. You lie to the docs, lie to the public. And for what? Money! Well you’re not the only one who can make money.”

  “We do some good,” Eddie said.

  “Well so do I, little boy. The body parts I sell do more good than those phony studies you scream about.”

  “You murder people, Father.”

  “We murder people, Eddie. We! Me, you, and that slimy drug company you work for. Don’t ever forget that.”