by Mallory Kane
*
Lusinda woke up to a subdued blue glow. She lifted her hand to rub her eyes and felt a sharp pain on the back of her wrist. She looked down. It was an IV. The tube looked big enough to drink a soda through. In front of her bed was a smeared whiteboard with the date and four sentences written on it.
Good Morning.
Today is Wednesday.
Your nurse today is Judy.
Your aide today is Terry.
Hospital. But why? She started to lift her hand again, but a stinging tug reminded her that she couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the pain that was centered behind them and shooting backward down her neck. Even blinking hurt. She was really thirsty too. A tray table holding the ubiquitous plastic cup with a plastic straw wasn’t very far from the bed, but it was on her left side and her IV-bound hand wouldn’t reach that far. Besides, every movement hurt. She was sore all over.
With a groan, she settled back into the bed. If she couldn’t have any water, she’d go back to sleep. She’d just dozed off when a discreet knock on the door woke her. A youngish woman in pink scrubs peeked around the door. “Hi,” she said. “I saw from the monitor that you’re awake.” She walked into the room and over to the bed.
Lusinda’s eyes flew open. “You’re watching me?”
“No.” She laughed. “We can monitor your vital signs from the nurse’s station. I saw your increased activity. It’s just a precaution, until the doctor is sure that everything is back to normal.” She checked Lusinda’s plastic hospital bracelet, then looked at the IV port. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Lusinda,” Lusinda said. “Sometimes I’m called Sin.”
“Great. Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital?” Lusinda asked.
“What about how you got here. Do you remember?”
She shook her head. “I remember sirens, but no. Nothing until just now.”
“Your vitals are getting better, so once the doctor finishes rounds this morning, I feel sure he will take you off the monitor when he sees you today. Okay, IV looks good. I’m Leona. I’m your nurse for today.”
“You’re not Judy?” Lusinda asked tiredly, looking at the whiteboard.
“Judy?” The nurse followed Lusinda’s gaze. “Oh, that was yesterday.” She rubbed out Judy’s name with the side of her hand and wrote Leona. Then she wiped away the name Terry and wrote Renee. “Today is Thursday, not Wednesday.” She changed that as well.
“Could I have some water, Leona?”
“Sure, honey. Let me move the table around so you can reach the cup.” She rolled the table around the bed and made sure Lusinda could reach it.
Lusinda took the plastic cup and drank through the straw. The water was cold and refreshing. It had a bit of a stale taste to it, as if it had originally been ice that had melted, but she didn’t care. Her mouth was so dry she’d found it hard to talk. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, honey. Has anyone talked to you about what happened to you?”
Lusinda shook her head. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to, that I remember. I know somebody stabbed me with a needle.” She touched her neck with her fingers.
“That’s right. You actually received an injection of heroin and carfentanil.”
Lusinda’s head snapped up. “Bad dope? I got bad dope? Shouldn’t I be dead now?”
Leona’s eyes blinked rapidly for an instant. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but there is the danger that the combination of those two drugs could be fatal. But thanks to the man who called 911, the EMTs took care of you and got you here. Apparently, you didn’t get a full dose.”
“Do you know who called?”
“No, but he saved your life.”
Lusinda closed her eyes. She felt like she’d wandered onto a stage and found herself the star in a play she’d never rehearsed or even read.
Leona checked the IV bag. “Okay. I was told to notify the police as soon as you’re awake. I’ll pass that information along to the day shift and they’ll call them. Feel like talking to them?”
Lusinda rolled her head back and forth against the pillow. “No, but I know I have to. I’m sure they’re hoping to figure out who did this. Oh! What about Carlos? The man who was on the floor. I was afraid he was dead.”
Leona’s mouth kept smiling but her eyes turned sad. “I’m sorry. He didn’t make it. Was he a good friend of yours?”
Lusinda shook her head. “No. I barely knew him. I found him there.”
“He was pronounced dead on the scene,” Leona said. “Now,” she said, looking at her watch. “I’m about to go into the shift change meeting. I can tell the day shift nurse whether or not you want to talk to the police, but if you want my opinion, you should talk to them soon. You’re not going to remember everything, but the longer you wait, the more confused you’ll get.”
Lusinda didn’t want to talk to just anybody. She wanted Deputy Chief O’Reilly. She knew him. He’d be on her side. If she talked to anyone else, she wouldn’t know what to tell them. She needed a little time to figure out what she was going to say. “Could you wait?” she asked Leona.
An hour or so later, a physician came in with a gaggle of medical students trailing behind. The physician asked one of the students to sum up Lusinda’s case and he did. She listened, not finding much she could identify with in the sterile recitation of facts. The physician checked her IV, her vital signs, then took a pocket flashlight and shone it into her eyes, then away. In, then away.
“Her vitals are good and her pupil reaction is approaching normal. She can be discharged as soon as the paperwork is processed. You’ve all read the admission and progress notes, so you know she will be discharged into the hands of the NOPD. Does anyone know why?”
A couple of students raised their hands. “To be held until they find out who gave her the heroin?” suggested one.
“No,” a second student said. “She’s a material witness to the death of the other victim.”
“You’re both sort of right, but the main reason she’s being released directly to the police department is because she’s an officer with the NOPD, and they wish to ensure her safety.”
The medical students were visibly impressed and began muttering to each other.
“That information was in the admission notes,” the doctor said archly. Then, in a commanding voice: “All right, let’s move along.” Obediently, the students turned and headed out of the room.
Lusinda didn’t have the courage or the strength to ask him when the police were coming to pick her up, so she just waved wanly at the last student who went through the door. The nurse’s aide, Renee, came in later with a liquid diet lunch and Lusinda drank a glass of tea and ate some green gelatin, but she wasn’t hungry and soon, she was nodding off to sleep again.
When she woke up, Deputy Chief O’Reilly was sitting in the visitor’s chair beside her bed. She blinked at him a couple of times, trying to get her bearings. She’d been dreaming. She and Carlos were on the run. Something was chasing them, but she couldn’t tell what it was. It was large and dangerous, and she knew if it caught them it would kill them. She passed Rick, who barely looked at them. She spotted the Ace Hotel in front of her but there was no door, so she had to keep running. Then the awful thing that was chasing them caught Carlos and he went down. That’s when she woke up.
“Hey,” O’Reilly said. “You okay? You were muttering in your sleep.”
“Yes,” she said. “I was running from something. I think it was the bad dope. It almost caught me.” She gave a short laugh but O’Reilly didn’t smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “It almost did. What the hell were you doing?”
Lusinda blinked. Why was he yelling at her?
“A few more minutes and you would have died.”
She nodded ruefully. “I know. I saw Carlos lying there. I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. I might have been able to save him.”
“Officer Johnston,
you know basic procedure,” he admonished. “You don’t enter a potentially dangerous situation without backup. Why didn’t you call 911? Or me?”
“My phone’s dead,” she said. “I think I left my phone cord in Rick’s apartment.”
O’Reilly’s eyes narrowed. “In Easterling’s apartment?”
She nodded without looking at him.
“Okay, well.” He stood. “You’re going to be asked all these questions and more down at Headquarters. There’s no reason for me to make you answer them here. I’ll get the nurse.”
Lusinda spent two hours being interrogated by O’Reilly in his official capacity as the Chief of the Bureau of Public Integrity, by Detective Lieutenant Dwight Larsen of the Eighth District, and by the Commander of the Homicide Division. O’Reilly insisted on staying in the room during the entire interrogation and several times, he stopped the other two from getting too personal or critical.
Finally, the interrogation was over and Lusinda and O’Reilly sat in the room alone. Lusinda was so tired that all her muscles were quivering. She wished she were back in the hospital where she could sleep and people would bring her water and lime gelatin. There, except for taking her temperature and checking her IV, nobody bothered her.
Using her thumb, she smoothed the bandage on the back of her hand where the IV had been hooked up, carefully avoiding the sore place in the center. Then she looked up at the large mirror, which she knew was one-way glass. “Do you think they’re watching us?”
“No. Nobody’s watching us. Why? Is there something else you want to tell me?”
Was there? She closely examined the bandage to be sure there was not one single wrinkle in it. O’Reilly had told her on the drive over here that she should be totally honest and answer all questions truthfully, even the ones about the undercover operation. She’d done her best, but she had not revealed that she and Rick had slept together. If Rick wanted to tell them, she couldn’t stop him, but she wasn’t going to. Not yet. It had nothing to do with her assignment or his. It had been stupid, but it hadn’t hurt either of their cases. Had it?
“Lusinda? You’re holding something back, aren’t you?”
“What?” She looked up at him and realized she hadn’t answered his earlier question. “No,” she said. “I’m just exhausted. I think I’m falling asleep with my eyes open.” She chuckled, but O’Reilly’s face didn’t change.
“Okay,” he said, sounding disappointed. “It won’t be much longer. Once we’re done, I’ll get one of the female officers to take you to your apartment. My wife picked up a few things for you. They’re in my car. Juice, eggs, coffee, stuff like that. I wasn’t sure what you’d have on hand since you haven’t been staying at your own place.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate it. Tomorrow morning I’ll go back over—”
He held up a hand. “Lusinda. Officer Johnston. I have something I need to tell you.” He sat a little straighter in his chair. “You’re off the case.”
Lusinda’s brain took a half a second to process what he’d said. “Off the case? You’re firing me?”
He smiled. “No. Nobody’s firing you. Why would you think that?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t been able to prove anything about Rick. I have not witnessed him doing anything illegal or even questionable. Apparently, either he’s not dirty or I’m no good at undercover work. Will you be sending me back to Baton Rouge or—?” As she asked that question, she realized that she wasn’t as homesick as she’d thought she’d be. She missed Vic, her partner, but she didn’t miss the midnight shift or the sadness she felt when she walked into the police station and saw her dad’s picture on the wall with the other fallen officers.
“Lusinda. Listen to me. As of yesterday, when you were brought into the hospital, you’re officially on sick leave while you recuperate from the effects of the drugs in your system. I managed to keep you off administrative leave, since the suspect’s fingerprints are on the syringe and yours are not.”
“What about him? Did he confess to killing Carlos?”
“He’s being arraigned. The DA is offering him a plea deal in return for his testimony about the bad dope.”
“Is he going to take it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Sir, please, I don’t want to be on sick leave,” Lusinda said. “I want to keep working on the case. I feel responsible for Carlos’s death. I should have been able to do more.”
“You smashed the guy’s nose. I’m not sure how much more you could have done.”
She shook her head. “Please don’t make me take sick leave.”
O’Reilly patted her hand. “Rest and enjoy yourself. Watch some movies.” O’Reilly swallowed, probably because of the look she was giving him.
“Watch some movies? With all due respect, I’m a police officer.”
“And this is protocol for police officers.”
She put her head in both hands and blew out her breath in an exasperated sigh.
“You’re exhausted and it’s going to take you more than a couple of days to get back to normal. By the way, I need you to remain here in New Orleans for the present time. You’re still detailed here, at least until you’re recuperated. You’ll get a call about a doctor’s appointment in about a week or so. At that time, they’ll tell you how much longer you’ll need to be off work. Now, let’s get you signed out of here and to your apartment. I’ll find that female officer.”
Lusinda took a long breath. She knew she was acting like a kid who’d been given detention. But O’Reilly was right. She was exhausted, and it was obvious that the drugs had dulled her brain. But there were a couple more things she needed to know. “Wait a second. I need to—I need to ask you something.”
O’Reilly checked his watch. “Yeah, sure.”
“So Rick is continuing his investigation?”
“Officer Easterling is still on the case. Detective Lieutenant Larsen doesn’t want to lose the inroads he’s made. To pull him out of Beauregard’s now would be an unnecessary interruption and would put him under suspicion from the very people we are infiltrating. Also, we’re temporarily suspending our internal investigation of Easterling. We’re shorthanded and he risked exposing himself to help you and Carlos. He’s the one who found you. He called in the 911, although he didn’t stay around to talk to the police.”
“He left the scene?” That surprised Lusinda. “To protect his cover?”
“Actually, he rode to the hospital in the ambulance with you.”
“Oh.” Lusinda’s legs gave way and she collapsed back against the straight-backed chair. “Why?” she muttered. “Why would he do that?”
“Maybe because he was worried about you,” O’Reilly said wryly. “Now, before we go, are you sure there’s nothing else you need to tell me? Anything that might affect Easterling’s assignment? Or anything you know that you haven’t mentioned yet?”
Lusinda closed her eyes. She was so tired she felt like crying. Her eyes stung and dampness seeped out through her lashes. “I’m really tired,” she said. “I don’t have anything else to say.”
O’Reilly sat there for a moment, then pushed back his chair. “I’ll get the officer to take you home.” He sounded disappointed.
“Thank you,” Lusinda said tightly. How was she going to survive for the next week or more, with nothing to do but think about everything she’d done wrong?
Chapter Sixteen
Rick had barely closed his locker when he heard Beauregard’s staff talking about Carlos. He’d expected the news to travel through the French Quarter like a prairie fire in a windstorm. There had been nothing in any of the newspapers or on TV that had identified Carlos by name, but this was the French Quarter, and not even the Internet spread information as fast as word of mouth did down here.
“It was an overdose,” Nina said.
“That can’t be. Carlos never touched drugs,” another waitress responded.
“Never say never,” Tom said.
&nb
sp; “I don’t believe he OD’d,” the waitress countered. “I heard that him and Jack Adams lived together. I think he was murdered, just like Adams.”
“Jack Adams? The attorney who OD’d on the bad dope?
“Neither one of them OD’d. They were murdered. Don’t you listen to the news?”
So some people knew that Carlos and Johnny had been together. Rick wondered how far that information had gotten.
Earl broke up the group. “Get to work, all of you. If Carlos was murdered, you’re not going to solve it tonight.” He nodded at Rick. “Beau wants to see you,” he said.
Rick frowned. “Beau? What about?”
But Earl wasn’t having a conversation. “No idea. He’s in the back. In his office.”
Rick shook his head.
“Behind the poker room.”
Rick headed to the poker room. When he opened the door, the room was spotless, just like it had been the other night at the game. The bottles behind the small bar sparkled and there was no lingering smell of smoke. In fact, there was no sign that anyone had ever been in the room.
Rick walked over and knocked on the door in the back of the room.
“Come in.” The voice was pitched low, with the faint lilt of a Cajun French accent.
Inside the door was a space that had been built for luxury and comfort. The walls were paneled with what looked like cherry wood and a large desk dominated one side of the room. Behind the desk were dark green curtains, just like the ones that hid the mysterious back rooms from the restaurant and bar. Standing in the shadows beside the desk was a bodyguard. He was silent and still, but his eyes watched Rick’s every move.
Near the door was a cozy conversation area, lit from above by a circle of pendulum lamps. There were two oversized easy chairs under the lamps and a round coffee table between them. One of the chairs had a side table with a large retro ginger jar lamp on it. Beau sat in that chair.