by George Wier
“Aw,” the nurses proclaimed in unison. The doctor laughed.
“Michelle loves her daddy,” Julie said.
The doctor patted my back and handed me a towel.
“It’s a good, healthy sign,” he said, which actually rang true with me. Sometimes you have to walk through hell to get a little slice of heaven.
*****
Sonny Raleigh was chatting with Jessica in the waiting room when I came out to make the announcement. I acted as if he wasn’t there. Served him right.
Sonny was a short, barrel-chested fellow with permanent dark circles under his eyes and an knowing, mischievous grin painted on his face. He was about my age but looked ten years older, the result of hard and fast devil-may-care-but-I-sure-as-hell-don’t living. Sonny used to race stock cars back in the seventies. A maverick from the Land of Mavericks, which is to say South Central Texas. I liked the old sonuvabitch—that is, when I could stand his company. At least he paid his bills and—usually—kept his mouth shut.
Jessica had Jennifer on her lap. Jenny was wriggling and trying to free herself. She was in the toddling stage and the whole wide world was her playpen.
“Yay Mom,” Jessica said. “Mrs. Fertility strikes again.”
“Hush,” I said.
“Day Hom,” Jenny articulated, and wiggled her butt. Jessica let her slide to the floor and I reached down and snatched her up before she could toddle away. She could be pretty fast.
“Daddy,” Jessica said, “you smell like throw-up.”
“I said ‘hush’. Mom’s gonna be okay. You have a new baby sister.”
“Michelle?”
“Yeah.”
“Way to go, Bill,” Sonny said and offered his hand. I shook. He handed me a cigar. “That’s a Kinky Friedman cigar,” he said. “Slow burning, just like the Kinkster.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said. “Why are you here, Sonny?”
“It’s that—”
“Dirty old man?” I finished for him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about there, Sonny. He came in your front door and dropped dead. Ask any lawyer. You’ve got zero liability.”
“I already called a lawyer. He said the same thing.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked.
He gripped my arm, led me a few paces away from Jessica and whispered to me: “Because, this sort of thing is right up your alley.”
“I don’t have an alley, Sonny. I’ve got a green belt out back, but no alley.”
“Har-dee har har. Look, the old man said something about ‘The Falling’.”
“Right before he fell?”
“Yeah.”
“Sonny, he was probably describing how he felt.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Take the case, dad,” Jessica said. I looked to my right and she was right there. So much for secrecy.
“Yeah,” Sonny said, “take it, Bill. I want to know who this guy was, how he wound up twenty miles from anywhere at my bar, and why he died.”
“And what he meant by ‘The Falling’, right?”
“Exactly!”
“I don’t have the time just now, Sonny. I’ve got a recovering mother to watch over, kids to raise up with moral fiber, and bills to pay.”
“Yeah, yeah. Heard all that. Great. Come on, you’d be doing me a big favor.”
“I’m sure I would. I’m no private investigator, just in case you’re forgetting.”
“I can help you, dad,” Jessica said.
Fifteen years old with an attitude, as if she could boss anybody around, including her teachers and her parents.
“You can’t help me, Jess,” I said. “No way.”
“Then you’ll do it? Thanks, Bill!” Sonny grabbed my left hand and shook it, as if doing that were the most natural thing in the world. My right held Jenny, who busily attempted to shred my cigar. I wanted that cigar.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed.
“You won’t regret it, Bill,” Sonny exclaimed, a broad grin spreading across his face.
“Yay dad!” Jessica said and took Jenny from my arm and patted her butt. Jenny very nearly succeeded in getting my cigar and it took both of us to pry her tight little fingers off of it, carefully.
Jenny frowned at me.
“Is there any sign of foul play in this one?” I asked Sonny.
“I don’t know. But the coroner’s boys left right on the heels of a fellow who wanted to know all about it. I think I got his card somewhere.
“A cop?” I asked.
“Uh. I think so. Some kind of investigator.”
“‘Investigator’ does not always mean ‘cop’,” I said. Call me Mr. Worldly Wise.
“I know that,” Sonny said. “Like I said, some kind of investigator. I think maybe a cop.”
“Go home, Sonny,” I said. “I’ll ask around. It’s probably all I can do anyway.”
“That’s good enough for me,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”
“If there are any expenses to amount to anything, I’ll draft your trust account. I’m your trustee, after all.”
Sonny was already heading for the hospital exit. He flashed another grin over his shoulder and Jessica waved at him.
“Stop flirting,” I told her. “He’s old enough to be your, uh, father.”
“Um, Dad,” Jessica said, turning to me, “Mom’s gonna be pissed you took another case.”
“You like seeing people in trouble,” I told her. “It’s a serious character flaw. And watch your language. And by the way, where has Penny gotten off to?”
“She’s making time with that doctor over there,” Jessica said and pointed.
I turned to look. Sure enough, my secretary was there fifty feet away in very close-bordering-on-intimate conversation with a young doctor, who appeared almost as interested in her as she decidedly was in him. At least her taste in men was changing. This doctor very likely had not a tattoo anywhere on him. Also, I was willing to bet he had bathed before coming to work, two little items at which Penny’s previous—now Peace-bonded—beau would have scoffed.
“It’s not polite to point,” I said.
“I think she likes him,” Jessica said. “Maybe they’ll get married and have a bunch of rug rats just like you and mom.”
“Great,” I said. “Give me your mother’s car keys.”
Jessica deflated. Sometimes being a dad is tough. Probably it’s as tough as being a daughter. “And go change Jennifer’s diaper, Jess. That girl drips.”