On the Ropes: A Duffy Dombrowski Mystery

by Tom Schreck

  39

  I got up around noon and, walking through the Blue, I found new parts of my body that ached. Al opened his eyes just enough to see me and then went right back to sleep. I looked at the paper and the only thing that made it from last night was an arrest of a Lawrence Espidera for promoting prostitution and for kidnapping, and several arrests of the women for soliciting. There was also a mention of the parties resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. Seemed to me that they were missing a whole bunch of minor details, like the deployment of a radioactive bomb in the Bronx and the local connections to an international terrorist organization by a prominent area oncologist. Thank God, I didn’t make the news.

  I poured myself some coffee and flipped on the TV. I forgot about Duffy’s cable world of “All Lifetime, All the Time,” but I didn’t have the energy or motivation to get up and do anything about it.

  It was early afternoon on Sunday, which meant there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of programming on Lifetime except for infomercials. The one on in front of me was from Crawford Medical Center, and it was advertising their new state-of-the-art Incontinence Treatment Center. I didn’t really want to form any visuals about the state of the art of incontinence care, so, despite my fatigue and pain, I started to get up to change the channel. No amount of pain would be worse than a half hour of incontinence treatment.

  I got up and was at the TV when the hospital administrator, Dr. Broseph, came on. He was at his desk with his white lab coat on, talking about the pain and suffering that comes with incontinence. This was the asshole that was getting Rudy fired, and I felt my hand ball up in a fist as I listened to his saccharin-laced speech about person-centered patient care.

  “… at Crawford, our mission is caring for the body and the spirit,” Broseph said. “It’s what makes the difference at Crawford. We care about you.”

  I looked at his white coat and thought about the expression, “body and the spirit.”

  I had an idea.

  I threw on some clothes, took half a dozen Advil, woke up Al, and headed to AJ’s. The NFL season had started, and the Foursome would be there—they’d be hungover and miserable—but they’d be there.

  I got there at halftime of the first game, which was good because I had a chance of getting some of their attention. They kept quiet during the game, but at the half they usually got right back into it.

  “It fucks up the entire water supply for weeks,” Rocco said. He was clearly angry that Jerry Number One seemed to be doubting him. “Everyone is flushing at the same time during the commercials and the water pressure gets dangerously low.”

  “I’ve taken a shit during a commercial on Super Bowl Sunday and everything went down okay,” Jerry Number Two said.

  “It’s not that it won’t go down—” Rocco didn’t have time to finish before TC interrupted.

  “You know, in South America the water swirls down the toilet the opposite way,” TC said.

  “The opposite of what?” Jerry Number One said.

  I decided it was as good a time as any to break in.

  “Uh, fellas, I need some help,” I said. The Foursome stopped and looked at me.

  “Rudy’s going to lose his job tomorrow unless we do something,” I said.

  “Look, Duff, I like Rudy as much as the next guy, but what can we do to save a doctor from the hospital bigwig that has it in for him?” Rocco asked.

  I had the Foursome huddle up and let them in on my plan. To a man they were all in. Rocco went home to get his hunting fatigues, portable generator, and high intensity lamp. TC went to get his boom box and the Boston Pops Fourth of July CD. Jerry Number One went to his son-in-law’s to borrow the deejay’s PA system, and Jerry Number Two went to get some of his high-end computer stuff. We were to meet back at AJ’s at 7:30 for a pre-game meal, actually several pre-game shots, with a plan of attack for 8:45.

  I had a few phone calls to make and went back to the Blue to make them. The first was to Rudy, and I got his machine. I kept shouting into the receiver for him to pick up, but he was either out or too depressed to deal with me. I tried one last time, and after yelling “hey, pick up!” a few times, I just said, “Rudy, don’t worry about your job. We’re about to take care of things.” And I hung up.

  The next call was to set things up. I made the call to my contact discreetly and agreed on a code phrase to let everyone know when to get things started. I wasn’t sure if this was going to work, but it was going to be fun trying. It was the least I could do for Rudy.

  I got to AJ’s half an hour early and with the pain I was in, I had doctor AJ write me a prescription for a couple of Jim Beams. Within minutes, the Foursome were in and they were ready to go to work. We all got into the Eldorado, and although Rocco wasn’t pleased to have Al step on his balls, he was happy when Al decided to sit on TC’s lap.

  We parked a half-mile away from where things were going to happen because I didn’t want the headlights to alert anyone ahead of time or scare anyone away. Rocco was in charge of reconnaissance and he went on ahead, walking the first quarter-mile and then crawling commando-style on his belly to get in position just ten feet from the spot. Through the darkness, I could see him set up the generator and have the lights in position.

  TC gave me the thumbs-up with the boom box cued to the right track. Jerry Number One saluted me, letting me know the PA was ready and Jerry Number Two, at my right flank, said the battery was charged and everything was a go.

  We waited in silence as I kept my eyes on my watch and counted down the time. The only sound in the pitch-black park was the tapping of Al’s tail on the grass.

  We listened and waited. There was a stirring and a rustle in the bushes. I looked at my watch, and it was right on schedule. The Foursome were quiet and I could feel the intensity of the anticipation. Then the call came, albeit in a slightly lisped voice.

  “The doctor is in!” Froggy yelled.

  Rocco hit the switch and flooded the bushes with light. TC hit the boom box and John Williams led the most resounding version of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” that you ever wanted to hear. Jerry Number Two quietly but officially said, “Rolling tape.”

  Right on cue, Jerry Number One began announcing.

  “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you the administrator of Crawford Medical Center, the one, the only … Doctor Albert Bro­seph … uh, and his friend Froggy! Hey, Doc, it really sucks to be you tonight!”

  There in the bushes, on his knees, doing unmentionables to a very happy Froggy, was Rudy’s arch nemesis. He was frozen and looked like he was going to choke, but not for the reasons you might think. I guess after tonight, no one could ever accuse him of not giving person-centered service to the Medicaid population. Jerry handed me the mic.

  “Hey, Doc, you may be wondering what we’re all doing here tonight.” TC turned down the music slightly, and Jerry Number Two moved in for a close-up of the administrator on his knees in front of a naked-from-the-waist-down Frogman. “It’s very simple. We’re friends of Doctor Rudy and we don’t want to see him lose his job. We have all of tonight’s activities on DVD and would be happy to upload all of it to the Crawford Medical Center website. Of course, we won’t do that as long as Rudy has his job. Understand?” I said.

  Broseph nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!” Broseph yelled through his tears. He looked more angry than shocked.

  “Good, now get the fuck out of here!”

  Broseph hurried to his feet, already running in the direction of the parking lot before he got his knickers all the way up and his shirt tucked in. As he ran off into the horizon, a spontaneous cheer went up from the Foursome with Al adding a baritone harmony.

  “Nice work, gentlemen,” I yelled in my best George C. Scott as General George Patton voice. “Tonight, I’m buying!” I looked over to the Frogster and we exchanged the thumbs-up signal.

  Cheers went up even louder. I had Rocco call Kelley on the cell and told him to do whatever he
had to do to get Rudy to AJ’s. We exchanged handshakes and slaps on the backs and poured into the Eldorado for our victory ride back to our headquarters. It was a hell of a fun ride.

  We all piled out, AJ poured five shots, and we toasted each other on a night well done. We were repeating the shot and carrying on with tonight’s war stories when Kelley walked in with Rudy behind him. It got really quiet as everyone looked at Rudy. His head was down, he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and he even looked like he had lost weight.

  “Duffy, what the fuck are you up to? I’m in no mood for your bullshit tonight,” Rudy said.

  “Is that any way to talk to the man who just saved your career?” AJ said from behind the bar.

  “What? My career? My career is fucked as of tomorrow.”

  A giggle came up from the Foursome and they could barely contain themselves.

  “Aw shit, Jerry, let’s stop the suspense. Show Rudy how we spent our night,” I said.

  Rudy was confused and sort of stumbled over to Jerry Number Two, who hit a button on the back of his space-age gadget. Rudy reluctantly watched the two-by-two screen like a guy who was being forced to hear a joke. Then he got a puzzled look on his face.

  “What the? … that’s Broseph … sonofabitch …” Rudy looked up at me. “You … holy shit.” Rudy was stammering.

  “Shhh, Rudy. Listen to Duffy’s speech,” Rocco said.

  Rudy looked at the recording in disbelief. His eyes welled and he started to chuckle, at first almost silently and then louder. Before long he was bent over with his hands on his knees, laughing so hard I thought he would hurt himself.

  “You crazy Irish-Polack bastard. C’mere,” Rudy said.

  He gave me a bear hug that hurt my ribs and sent shivers of pain through my body. Rudy had tears on his cheeks and was laughing as he hugged every single one of the Foursome. Then he picked up Al and pirouetted around with him until the hound howled.

  “You fuckin’ guys …” Rudy said, shaking his head.

  “I’m guessin’ you got ol’ Broseph by the balls for as long as you want him,” TC said.

  “That asshole blows anyways,” Jerry Number One said.

  “Poor guy has had a frog in his throat for a long time,” Jerry Number Two added.

  “Yeah, a long time ago, Froggy told me about some big-deal doc giving as much as getting in the park. He said something about him being on TV and talking about ‘body and spirit,’” I said. “It wasn’t hard to get the Frogster on board.”

  “Looked pretty hard to me,” Rocco said.

  Rudy looked me in the eyes and I saw him start to well up again. I raised my Schlitz to him and he toasted me back with his cognac. Mission accomplished.

  We drank for a few hours and laughed until it hurt. It was a Sunday night, so the guys were starting to look at their watches and think about the workweek. Kelley came over with his Coors Light to say good night.

  “There’s no doubt about it, man—you’re nuts,” he said, cracking a smile. “Shouldn’t a hard-working social worker type like you be heading home to meditate and get ready for a Monday in the business of saving lives?”

  “Geez, Kel, I almost forgot. Tomorrow I’m getting fired. It’s the sixteenth.”

  “I’m sorry, Duff, I forgot,” Kelley said.

  “After this weekend, Kel, I’m not sure I care.”

  Kel slapped me on the back and I headed out to the Eldorado with Al at my side. I thought about getting fired, and I had lied to Kelley. I did care, not because I was worried about Claudia or getting in trouble, but because sometimes, though I don’t like to admit it even to myself, I like helping people no one else wants to help.

  40

  On Monday morning I dragged myself out of bed and got ready to go get fired. I thought about just not showing up and not giving the Michelin Woman the pleasure of doing it, but I didn’t want to be a coward. I’d live without the job, though it might not be real easy to get another one in human services after getting canned here.

  Before I headed to the clinic, I took a ride past McDonough High. It was just after eight and the kids were gathered outside delaying going into school until the last possible minute. I let the Eldorado idle and listened as Elvis sang “If I Can Dream.” I spotted the girls I had met a week or so ago on my visit and they were snapping gum and all talking at once. I looked closer and saw Shony in the circle with the other girls. She was part of the circle, but she was quiet and not taking part in all the gabbing.

  I tooted my horn and all the girls looked up, stopping their activity just for an instant before going back into it. Shony strained to see who I was, and when she recognized me, she smiled and came to my window.

  “Mr. Duffy, what are you doing here?” she said.

  “Just driving by,” I said.

  “Thank you for all you did for me.” Shony looked down.

  “Shony, do me a favor?”

  “Sure, Mr. Duffy.”

  “When you think of your stepmom, please remember how much she loved you. And do your best to remember that’s what counts.”

  A tear ran down Shony’s face, and she nodded without saying anything.

  “Thanks, Shony, I got to go,” I said.

  Before I could get the car in gear, Shony dropped her books and hugged me awkwardly around the neck and head and kissed me. Just as quickly, she picked up her books, turned away, and ran into school.

  Elvis was finishing up the song. He was giving it all he had and was letting me know that as long as I’m standing, as long as I am alive, I can continue to dream.

  He was right, of course.

  Elvis was always right.

  I couldn’t put it off any longer; it was time to face Claudia and get it over with. I tried to slip into the office inconspicuously, but there’s something about having your face black and blue and having four sets of stitches across your mug that seems to draw people’s attention.

  Monique winced when she saw me.

  “You okay?”

  “I think so,” I said. “There’s a note on my desk from Claudia to be in her office at nine thirty and to bring my keys. I’m guessing I’m not getting a promotion.”

  “Duff, you’ll always be all right by me,” Monique said and lightly touched my shoulder.

  I went out to see Trina. She couldn’t look at me and welled up. It was awkward for a second, so I left her alone. I didn’t want to make the situation worse.

  At exactly nine thirty I went in to see Claudia for my execution. I could tell she was just thrilled, having outlasted me and won our little conflict. Today’s process was her reward. She was going to draw this out and make it as painful as possible.

  “Please, sit down, Duffy,” she said.

  She closed the door and returned to her seat behind her desk.

  “One of the hardest things I have to do is to tell people that their performance is not measuring up. I feel in your case, I have made my position well known about how you did your job. I also feel that your latest behavior has left me no choice in the matter.”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, get on with it.” I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s your problem, Duffy, you don’t take criticism well. There are several things I need to go over procedurally,” she said.

  “Gee whiz,” I said.

  She ignored me and started to read off a prepared statement.

  “Four weeks ago you were warned about the inadequate state of your medical records. A thorough audit of those records Friday indicated very little improvement,” she paused to clear her throat.

  “There have also been incidents of inappropriate use of the clinic’s resources. This includes viewing pornographic material on the Internet.” She briefly looked up to check my reaction. I did my best to look indifferent.

  “There also have been several situations in which your judgment involving over-involvement with the clients has been documented. Despite warnings in all of these incidents, there has been very little improvement in your perfor
mance, conduct, or attitude,” she paused to look at me.

  “Do you understand each of these concerns as they have been stated, Duffy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Therefore, effective immediately, I am officially term—”

  Someone was yelling outside the door. There was a disturbance coming from the lobby, and it was getting louder. Claudia buzzed Trina.

  She said a few words and quickly hung up and went and opened her office door.

  “Where is he? Where is that crazy man?” It was Hymie and he was being uncharacteristically loud. I dreaded facing him and dealing with the shame of letting him down.

  “Where is he? He’s like some sort of superman, this Duffy!” Hymie was outside Claudia’s doorway. He walked right past Claudia, ignoring her greeting.

  “You crazy goy bastard!” Hymie yelled with his arms wide. Then he reached up and pinched me hard on the cheek. Behind him, just outside the doorway, was Kelley in full uniform, and next to him was Crawford’s mayor, Jerry Jenkins. I hadn’t a clue what was going on.

  “Mayor, Officer Kelley, come in here,” Hymie said.

  Claudia was frozen.

  “Claudia, c’mon and join us, we got big news today,” Hymie said.

  Claudia walked like a zombie into her office.

  “This guy Duffy, do you have any idea the heroics he pulled this weekend? He’s a superhero.”

  “Well, Mr. Zuckerman, actually—” He didn’t let me finish.

  “Never mind! Mayor, excuse me for talking over you, I’m just so excited!” Hymie said. “Please, Mayor, go ahead.”

  Mayor Jenkins was a stately, handsomely tan man, and he was dressed in a perfectly tailored midnight-blue suit.

  “Duffy, Officer Kelley has brought to our attention what you did over the weekend. You put yourself in harm’s way for the sake of one of your clients. You saved countless children from horrific trauma, and it is clear that you are a committed human service worker,” Jenkins said.