"Hey, Miro, you gotta take me to the pharmacy down the street."
"In a minute Miro will get that done. In an itsy-bitsy minute. Soon as Miro gets you settled."
"Okay, but my shoulder is killing me. So's my back."
"Stop being a noodge."
They were standing at Jack's busted screen door. Miro took the key out of the flowerpot. "Bad hiding place, honey. A cop should know better." He opened up and let them in. The house was full of flowers and people.
Susan was there with Herman, Shane, Alexa, Lieutenant Matthews, Chick, even some guy Jack didn't know who smiled way too much. Izzy was also there, this time looking a lot like Wayne Newton in tennis togs.
"Hi," Susan said as she stood to meet him, then came across the room and took his hand.
"What is this?" Jack asked. He could smell trouble. Trouble and carnations.
"We need to talk to you," Susan said. "Sit down."
"I don't wanna sit down," Jack grumbled.
Susan turned and motioned to the smiling man. "This is Dr. Marion Trent."
"I don't need a doctor."
"Dr. Trent is a drug-intervention counselor."
Jack looked over at Dr. Trent the way you look at a big black spider hanging in the corner of your garage.
Dr. Trent kept the old grin pasted up there, smiling like a Halloween pumpkin. As an intervention counselor he was undoubtedly used to silent disapproval. Jack's didn't bother him at all.
"Okay, so what's the deal here?" Jack said.
"Jack, we're worried about you," Susan said. "And we all care desperately about you. We're your friends."
"It's true," Miro said from behind him. "Your buds."
"Okay… you're my friends. Okay, good." Jack knew what was coming next and it pissed him off. After all, he needed to be in charge of his own life… didn't he? Wasn't he?
"Okay," Jack said. "But this still doesn't tell me what's going on." Although he knew.
"Jack, I think you have a serious addiction to pain killers," Dr. Trent said.
"You do? How can you tell? I never met you before."
"We do, too," Alexa Scully said. "Jack, sit down and listen to us, okay? We have your best interests at heart."
So Jack sat. Alexa was a police lieutenant and the cop in him always obeyed a ranking officer.
Miro perched on the arm of a chair, but he got up quickly because there wasn't much upholstery there and it was like sitting on a split-rail fence.
"Okay, gimme the pitch," Jack said sullenly.
"You're angry," Susan said.
"Hey, you people don't know my problems. Are you forgetting I stopped a Parabellum with my spine a little while ago?"
"Hey, Jack, that was almost seven years ago… seven years" Shane said.
"Six," Jack corrected. But fuck it, even he knew he was quibbling.
"Six then," Shane said. "Hey, pal, six years of popping 'cets and you don't think you've got a problem?"
"No, I don't think I have a problem," Jack said. He was feeling ganged up on and outnumbered. Jack looked at those furrowed brows and said nothing.
"I think you do have a problem," Miro said from a spot behind him.
"I'm not talking to you, Miro. You led me into this ambush."
"Jack," Miro said, "I took a terrible beating to protect you, so if I don't have a right to be concerned about your health after that, who does?"
"Don't pull that old Japanese spiritual ownership crap on me. You know how I feel about what you did, but it has nothing to do with this."
"Yes it does," Miro persisted. "Because now I care what happens to you, honey, and I'm not going to let you throw your life away on some stupid pain pills."
"Listen to him," Chick said. "He's talking sense."
This from the guy who was afraid to drink out of Miro's glass.
What the hell is going on here?
Susan came across the room and knelt in front of Jack. She took his hand in both of hers. "Jack, you've got to do this."
"Do what?"
"We've arranged for you to be admitted to the Betty Ford Clinic this afternoon. Dad and I are going to drive you there."
"I don't have an addiction. This is crazy."
"You do have an addiction," Herman said. "Listen, Jack, I owe you a lot more than I can tell you. Without you I would have lost everything. Now I'm on the cover of Lawyer Magazine. I'm so hot now I'm on fire. Judge King is even going to rehear my motion to reduce the fine. Childbirth may have mellowed her. I'm going to see to it that before I leave town your problem is taken care of."
"Don't do me any favors, Herman," Jack growled.
"Honey…" Susan this time, not Miro. He looked over at her. "I love you. In front of everybody I'm telling you I want us to be together… always. But not unless you get this problem taken care of. If you want us to be together you're gonna have to take it from here."
Miro slapped his hands together. "Miro loves it! A proposal."
Jack looked around the room. Shane and Alexa nodded. Chick was staring at his shoes, but as Jack's gaze fell on him he looked up, his ham-red complexion shiny in the hot room. The two of them locked gazes. "Do it, man."
"It's the right thing," Izzy said. "You do it and I'll write a song about it.
Cats gargling his name on the Sound Machine. How could he say no?
Then Lieutenant Matthews stood. He'd said nothing thus far, so when he spoke everybody turned to look at him. "Jack, listen. You get straight and I'll work on something downtown. Maybe we can get you assigned to work for us as a special consultant."
"Or you can come to work for the Institute," Herman suggested. "We've got an opening for a new detective. We'll never do better than Jack Wirta."
Two job offers and a marriage proposal and all he had to do was go see the former First Lady for a couple of weeks. It hadn't been a grand slam because Miro hadn't offered him a partnership in Reflections.
Jack did want to ditch this problem. He did want to get off the 'cets, but there was something very humiliating about all of this.
As Chick once told him when they were in Homicide, "If ten people tell you you're drunk, don't drive."
Cop logic.
So there you have it. Jack Wirta, America's foremost chimpanzee detective in a twelve-step program. Somebody call Swifty. Get this to the AP.
They parked the Betty Ford Clinic in Palm Springs, and Herman got out and retrieved Jack's overnight bag from the trunk. Jack's back and shoulder were killing him but he was starting to feel slightly better about all this. Maybe he could finally get this problem under control.
"Jack," Herman said. "I was serious about wanting you to join the Institute for Planetary Justice."
"Really?" Jack didn't think he wanted to join the Institute unless they could rename it.
"I'm serious," Herman said. "Right now I'm working on a new class action suit against the Department of Energy and six oil companies. I could use some.help."
"Gee, Herm, I don't know. My car uses lots of oil. I count on those guys."
"This is big," the heavy attorney said waving his hands around like he was cleaning a plateglass window. "Get this, Jack, I think the government conspired with the oil companies to steal the patent rights from the estate of a man who designed a paint that acts as a solar panel. I don't have to tell you what would happen if they used solar-energy-generating paint on cars."
"They'll get hot and explode?" Jack said, trying to look unsophisticated and dumb, something he could usually accomplish without effect.
"No, no. They'd run forever without fuel. Think what that would do for the economy, for the environment… for the planet.
"Right… right, for the planet. Yeah, I can see that."
"You and Susan and I could make a difference here. You could be a part of this. We could reverse global warming."
"I'll give it some thought," Jack said.
Then Susan took his hand and led him up to the front door of the clinic where a tall, thin woman named Elizab
eth Donovan was waiting for him. Jack had been expecting the other Betty.
'Til be right in," Jack assured her. Elizabeth left and he turned to Susan.
"I'm so proud of you," she said. "And Dad is serious, you know. He really wants you with us."
"Is he always like that? I mean, does he always look like he's selling used cars?"
"Yeah, even though his ticker got fixed he still has a runaway heart."
"Right," Jack said. "I can see that."
"So gimme a kiss and call me every day."
Jack did as he was instructed: he took Susan Strockmire in his arms and kissed her. His love for her poured over his tortured body, soothing everything, making him whole again.
"I want to do it," he said.
"Do what?" she looked puzzled.
"Marry you." He was still holding her. "I want you to be my wife. I want us to grow old together. I want Izzy to sing at our wedding."
"I accept, but wouldn't Barbra be a better choice?" Then she smiled and kissed him again. This one lasted a long time. She pulled back and studied him. "You're my hero," she said softly. "Now, get in there and kick some ass."
So Jack Wirta, newly engaged hero, turned, but instead of riding into the sunset he walked into the Betty Ford Clinic. The door closed and Elizabeth Donovan took his arm.
"Mrs. Ford is in her office and wants to meet you. You'll really like it here. This month will just fly by."
Month? Nobody said anything about a month! But she had a death grip on Jack's arm and was leading him down the hall. There was no turning back. He had a job to do.
He'd ride off into that damn sunset later.
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Runaway Heart Page 32