Beer, Bait, and Ammo

by Harper, Chap

  “Gotta go. Good work today, Lester.”

  Lester picked up the fried chicken and placed the wine in his freezer when he got home, wanting to cool it quickly. He hoped he didn’t forget it and blow the top off his refrigerator. He sat on the couch and waited on Debi to get home and wondered to himself if all of the things going on in Hot Springs would be resolved in one big simultaneous raid. Would the bad guys use all the automatic weapons they had available? How long would the FBI collect information before they did anything? A long time, he bet, since they were a part of the government.

  Then, he remembered he had a doctor’s appointment with a brain surgeon the next morning at 10:30. Suddenly, he forgot all the criminal activity and focused on this visit to the doctor. The door opened, and Debi stood there, smiling. She ran over, laid down in his lap, looked up and kissed him. Now, there were no thoughts of criminals or brain surgery—just getting Debi into bed. Would it be before fried chicken, after fried chicken, or before the wine exploded in the freezer?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lester was early for his appointment at University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences in Little Rock. It took only an hour to drive there from Hot Springs, but he gave himself two hours to be safe. This was an extremely vital appointment for Lester. He contemplated taking Debi with him, but somehow, letting Dr. Steve Arrison examine him alone was important. He had more than an hour before the appointment started, so he filled out as much paperwork as he could, which wasn’t much. Debi could have helped with the forms.

  Lester began to think about what he had accomplished in his life in spite of his disability. He was a special investigator for the sheriff’s department, which limited his duty to the most complex and crucial cases. No longer did he have to work traffic, domestic battery, burglary, drug possession, or home invasion. He was in demand all over the state and known all over the US. Occasionally, he was asked to go out of state to assist. One newspaper called him a “Redneck Sherlock Homes.” That write-up made him smile.

  Most people had no idea of the time and effort he had invested in his self-education. Very few nights or weekends went by that he wasn’t listening to an audio book or typing with his braille typewriter. He had two computers and an iPad. He worked with Dragon Software to convert speech to written words but had no way to check them unless he had someone else do an edit. Sometimes he would dictate reports into Dragon and print them, but there were always many errors, which made the police report unusable in a court of law. For a while, he had used a dictation machine and paid for a transcriber to reproduce the reports. It was expensive and generally required an extra employee, which the Sheriff’s department couldn’t afford. So Lester had worked out a deal with Little Richard to type abbreviated reports from Lester’s small tape recorder. Rich got a very short statement from Lester and typed it for him. This method seemed to satisfy Sheriff Adams since it didn’t cost him anything, and it was accurate enough to take to court. Little Richard practically worked for Lester anyway since he had sought out the job to learn from the master.

  Lester felt his biggest accomplishment so far was his relationship with Debi. How could a poor boy from Mountain Pine, Arkansas who barely finished high school and had a job as a lowly deputy at a small town sheriff’s office be in a relationship with a really classy girl whose dad was a doctor and whose mom was a sorority sister from the University of Arkansas? Deep down, Lester didn’t believe he could keep Debi unless he was able to correct this deficiency in his brain. If Dr. Arrison told him he needed to remove his head and vacuum it out before he reattached it, Lester would have said, “Let’s get started.” While contemplating that thought, he heard his name called and was led into an examining room.

  The room had an x-ray reading monitor on the wall and unusually comfortable chairs for a doctor’s office. The nurse sat next to him and started asking him the questions that had been left off his questionnaire, which were most of them, except for Lester’s on-another-planet signature. Satisfied that she had his complete history, she weighed him and took his blood pressure. He asked about it, and she told him 223 lbs. and 117/78.

  “Is that okay?” he asked.

  “Perfect,” the young nurse said as she smiled and made eye contact. She had a slight accent and was exotically attractive. Maybe she was Spanish or Egyptian.

  “Where you from?”

  “I’m Palestinian.”

  “Isn’t the King of Jordan’s wife, Rania, Palestinian? At least her parents were Palestinian even though she was born in Kuwait. She is very pretty, as you are.”

  “Thanks, but how would you know that?” the nurse asked, her mouth open at full gape, and the tone of her voice approaching condescending.

  “Ma’am, I’m not stupid.”

  “Mr. McFarlin, not a handful of college-educated people in this state would know that. I thought you had a learning disability?”

  “You have no idea how many audiotapes I listen to, and pretty women are sort of a hobby.”

  “You’re amazing, Mr. McFarlin! Is Rania the queen of Jordan?”

  “She’s the queen consort, as Queen Noor is still alive and has the title ‘the Queen Dowager.’ Queen Noor, however, can’t be called the Queen Mother since she is the stepmother of King Abdullah II.”

  “You really are amazing!” the nurse again exclaimed.

  “The doctor will be here shortly. It was truly nice to meet you. And thanks again for the compliment.” She left the room, shaking her head.

  As she walked down the hall, she met the doctor heading toward the exam room. She stopped him and told him what Lester had said about Jordan’s rulers.

  “This guy is some kind of savant. To not have the ability to read, he has learned more than most people will in a lifetime!” she said excitedly.

  “I’ll try not to screw him up,” Dr. Arrison said with a grin. He pulled the files from the receptacle outside the exam room and looked over them for a minute before he entered.

  “Lester, I’m Steve Arrison. I’m a neurosurgeon, but wonder sometimes if I wouldn’t have had more fun as a gynecologist,” he said laughing, and Lester joined him to lighten the mood. “It’s a pleasure to meet the famous policeman I read about in the paper. The Democrat-Gazette did a profile on you a couple years ago, and I became a fan back then.” The doctor shook Lester’s hand and sat down in a chair next to him, hoping to make him comfortable.

  “They called me the ‘Redneck Sherlock Homes,’ which I thought was really funny. I think the unique nature of my type of dyslexia allows me to see crime scenes from a front and backwards perspective. So it could be I’m a little more thorough than some other investigators. But most of the success is from doing the work most cops won’t take on. Also, I’ve studied some of the truly great detectives, such as Pollaky, Lees, and Allan Pinkerton. And I’ve followed the work of J.J. Armes, who also had a disability that required him to use metal claws for hands.”

  “What is amazing for me, Lester, is the ingenious ways you have accessed this knowledge without the ability to read. Tell me why you want to read when you seem to have exceeded most folks’ educational experiences with your unique methods.”

  “Doc, most educational opportunities at the advanced level are traditional brick and mortar universities. Helen Keller did something during her time that made her a superwoman hero for me. My disability is a minor stumped toe compared to what she had to overcome. However, today the blind schools’ approach to advanced degrees is limited. I would like to attend law school, where I can take part in mock trials and have the law books at my fingertips, or online as I understand they are now. I guess the word ‘normal’ is what I’m grasping for,” Lester said, with some emotion.

  “Lester, let’s talk about what is most likely scar tissue on your brain, the operation, and possible results. When you were injured as a result of a car accident twenty-one years ago there was a violent blow to your head. There was trauma and bleeding above the area of the brain that affects language skills. Thre
e years before that, you had a severe ear infection that caused hearing loss on that same side of your head as the blow. It was the perfect storm for a severe learning disability, but since you had been blessed from birth with superior intelligence, you kept finding ways to learn outside normal channels available to most people.” The doctor opened a large file that had been sent to him by one of Lester’s childhood doctors, who was listed in the original file generated by Debi. He had requested those files, which had followed Lester around from doctor to doctor, but Lester wasn’t aware of their contents.

  “I know your mother, Lilly, was a school teacher, but doing a little research on her school history, which was part of your medical records, I see she was a member of MENSA and had a genius level IQ. Your dad, Adrian, apparently has a normal intelligence level but rarely got to attend class because his parents were so poor. Do you remember your mother?”

  “I do, but sometimes think that I am manufacturing the memory from the few pictures I have of her. My dad has filled me in as well as to what happened with the accident. This information about her being a genius is new to me. People have always said how smart she was—my aunt and uncle, especially. She went to college when she was fifteen and got a BS degree in two years—I did know that from my aunt. I remember very little about the car crash since I was knocked out. I’m glad that I don’t have to recall my mother being killed.”

  “Apparently you inherited some of your mother’s superior intelligence, so re-learning or learning from scratch possibly won’t be too difficult or take that long. I kind of think you would enjoy the process. I’ve met Dr. Green’s daughter, and from what Marty says, she wants to help you. In my opinion, an outside teacher might keep you on task better during the language and reading process. However, since there is no record of an operation of this nature, we need to talk about it.” The doctor got up from his chair and walked to the backlighted x-ray board, slid in a colored transparent piece of film, and flipped on the light.

  “Here is your scar tissue.” He showed Lester a dark mass on the right frontal lobe of his brain.

  “It isn’t just lying there where it can be picked up with forceps and removed. It is interwoven into that part of your brain that recognizes symbols and even some speech patterns. I’ll have to cut some tissue below it in order to remove it. So, let’s talk about risk and reward. Do you have any questions at this point?”

  “Doc, in your experience do these scar tissue cases extend very deep into the brain?”

  “Not usually. In most cases I’m able to remove them and merely scape off a few millimeters of tissue to get the residual scar.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about the good, bad, and the ugly,” Lester said.

  “The brain bleeds when you cut into it,” Dr. Arrison explained “In your case, it should be minimal, but the operation will require a shunt tube for a few days to remove the blood and avoid a clot forming. Because of the location of your scar tissue we can go through the sinus cavity without drilling a hole in your skull. This makes the operation less invasive and normally results in less bleeding and a faster recovery time.

  “You’ll be in bed here for a couple-three days and will have light duty for a couple of weeks. After that you can resume normal duties except no long flights or scuba diving for a few months. Avoid fist fights—use your gun instead,” Doctor Arrison laughed.

  “Doc, if you were to guess a post-operative prognosis what do you see?”

  “As soon as you come out of the anesthesia, most likely there will be some confusion and maybe some memory loss. Gradually you will be able to use that part of your brain from a normal perspective or left-to-right viewing angle. Letters won’t mean much to you until you see them lined up correctly for a change. Before, as I understand it, the words from written script enter your brain and were scrambled because of the scar tissue interfering. Now you shouldn’t have the interference, but you may have the memory of the way you viewed letters and words before. It’s going to be a lot of work to re-learn it all, but you will still have the superior intellect to get through it all. Your post-operative pain will be headaches and soreness from having stuff crammed up your sinus cavity. There are no guarantees and plenty of risks—excessive bleeding, blood clots, stroke, and death. Any more questions?”

  “Can you do it on a Friday so Debi won’t miss so much work? I think my dad can stay a few days as well, if he’s needed.”

  “Yes, I can do it on a Friday. If we get lucky, you might be discharged on Sunday or Monday. You would be off work, though, for a couple of weeks, letting the brain heal. Do you think the criminals will take over the world by then, Lester?”

  “Good chance they already have. I’ll see how many of them I can shoot before then so we’ll be ahead of the game. Do I schedule with your front desk?”

  “Yes, and you won’t able to eat or drink anything after midnight the day before,” Dr. Arrison said.

  “It was great to meet you,” he continued. “Of course, as I have already said, there are no guarantees with this operation, and there are always risks with surgery. Someone will need to read the consent form to you before you sign it. I’ll do my best to fix your problem, Lester.”

  The doctor walked out with him and directed him to the front desk, where he found the pretty Palestinian girl waiting to help him.

  “My name is Sari, by the way,” she said. “Mr. McFarlin, do you have a day that you wish to schedule your surgery?”

  “Next Friday, if that’s possible?” He looked directly in her dark brown eyes and smiled. Sari smiled back. Then he used the line he always used when he met pretty girls.

  “I guess a pretty girl like you is already married?”

  “Engaged.”

  “To a doctor, I bet. It’s hard to compete with them.”

  “Yes, to a young resident. You, sir, are a flirt, and I know you have a beautiful girlfriend in Hot Springs.”

  “I never know when she’s going to run me off, so I have to keep making friends.”

  She smiled and slapped him on the arm. Lester thought about her dark body and how exotic she would look naked. He couldn’t help himself. He was a guy, and that’s just the way he was wired.

  “You will be the first surgery of the day on Friday, which means you need to be here at 5:30 a.m. Let me see: I have your group coverage through the sheriff’s department. The hospital will hit you up for the deductible later on. Whoever brings you in on Friday needs to read the consent form to you. They will ask if you have a living will.

  “I hope things go well for you, and we’ll see you Friday morning.”

  “Will you be there to hold my hand during the surgery?”

  “Sorry, I’ll be in bed with my boyfriend, but thanks for thinking about me.”

  Lester turned and waved goodbye to Sari and went to his car. He sat there for a while and contemplated the scope and importance of this operation. He knew it would be worth it to take a few steps backward in order to move forward with his life.

  Calls had to be made, starting with his dad. Normally he wouldn’t be able to call until after five since his dad didn’t have a cell phone. Lester had bought several of them for him, but he either lost them or crushed them in some type of work accident. The truth was that he didn’t like them. If people needed him they could call him at night when he got home from work.

  He decided to call Debi first, but before he could dial her number, his phone rang. It was her.

  “Lester—babe—what did he say?”

  “He’ll do it. I’ll be in the hospital about three days—then off work for two weeks—no fighting—scuba diving—airplanes rides—for a couple months. Sex is okay if you do all the work. Early Friday morning. Can you take me and stay with me? I’m sure my dad can come relieve you,” Lester said. His excitement was evident in the rapid way he spoke.

  “Sure, I’ll be there. I’ll move two appointments to next week. What did he think the results would be?”

  “I’ll be confused for a while
and may not recognize people but should be able to learn normally after a while. He doesn’t really know since he’s never had a case like this.”

  “You coming home?’

  “Yeah. Hey, we need to take my dad out to eat this week so you don’t have to meet him for the first time in the hospital. He likes barbecue so we can meet at Stubby’s, if that’s all right?” Lester said.

  “Okay. Today or tomorrow night?” Debi asked.

  “I’ll see if he can do it late this afternoon. I think his new job ends early. Do you have anything planned?”

  “Oh, yes! But we can do it later after you get home. I want to make sure I get everything out of you before they start messing with your brain. You might not like me afterwards. Maybe you’ll be attracted to fat black women or skinny Chinese women. Who knows? An inch cut there and it’s heavy Hawaiian women. A slight cut a half-inch to the left and only blondes will satisfy you,” she laughed.

  “I already like blondes, Chinese, and black women, especially ones with big asses. A dark-headed, brown-eyed Greek woman just happened to show up in the nick of time. I’ll call you after I talk to Dad and let you know about dinner. I have a get-acquainted interview with Mrs. Sydney Carter before I come home. You set it up for me, remember?”

  “Yes, I do. Tell her I said ‘hi’ and be nice to her. Oh, I have a 5:30. Can we be done by then?”

  “I think so. I’ll call you.”

  Lester hung up and drove to his new speech therapist’s office, which was only a few blocks away. Mrs. Carter was very professional, reviewed his file, and set up an appointment to see him after the operation. She didn’t ask why Debi had dumped him but probably had figured it out the minute she saw him. Sydney was still very trim and attractive at sixty. If Lester had any desire for an older woman, she would do nicely.

  Lester drove towards Hot Springs, ready to call his dad as soon as he arrived home. He decided he might pick him up and drive him to Stubby’s since there were some things he needed to talk to him about in case this operation went badly. Lester didn’t want him to worry, but a man-to-man talk needed to happen, and Debi didn’t need to hear it.