***
The following morning, they had me up and walking the halls, even though I was connected to an assortment of bags and lines. It was slow going and painful. I started feeling a little better after breakfast and really turned the corner when they took the catheter out in the late afternoon.
Vargas showed up right after dinner with a card and a white orchid.
“How are you feeling, Luc?”
“Better than I expected. That’s for sure.”
“That’s wonderful. I was worried about you, partner.” She took a seat in a blue plastic chair.
“I told you it’d be all right.”
“I know, but you scared me the other day. You weren’t yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Luca, we ain’t been partners for ages, but we know each other. No?”
“Yeah, guess you’re right.”
“So, what do the doctors say?”
“They’re pretty sure they got it all.” She didn’t need to know about my new bladder.
“Thank God, thank God. You see, praying works.”
“You’ll make a believer out of me yet, Vargas.”
“You’re my pet project, Frank. If I can turn you around, the pearly gates will be wide open for me.”
“Very funny. Hey, what happened with Tommy Thumbs?”
“This is a social visit, Frank.”
“Oh, come on, I’m here only a week, and already I’m outta my mind.”
“Let’s just call it interesting.”
“Don’t play with me, Vargas. What’s going on?”
“Like I said, it’s a social visit, and you need your rest. We’ll talk, maybe tomorrow.”
Before I could protest, Vargas headed for the door. She pulled it open and turned around.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.” She was smiling ear to ear.
“What? Spit it out.”
“Some nice young lady, well, she seemed young, called for you.”
Could it have been Kayla? “Who was it?”
“Said her name was Kayla. She was worried about you. Said she was out with you when you took the nosedive.”
Kayla. I had to admit I’d thought about her a couple of times, but with the medical things moving at asteroid speed and the nature of my problem it didn’t seem like a good time to chat. Now I seemed to be in the clear and wanted, almost needed, to talk with her.
A nurse came in.
“How are you doing, Frank?”
“Pretty good. Do you know where my phone is?”
“Uh, no. I’ll check with the desk as soon as we get done here.”
“What are you going to do? Take blood again?”
She shook her head. “You’ve got to relieve yourself.”
“I don’t feel like I have to go.”
“I know. That’s because you no longer have the nerve system that signals it’s time to go.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
The nurse helped me get up and moved the IV pole along with me to the bathroom. I turned my back to her at the bowl, and she said, “You’ll have to sit, Frank.”
I shook my head.
She backed out and said, “Try pushing.”
I didn’t feel like going, and nothing was coming out, even though I was pushing.
“I can’t go. Nothing’s coming out.”
“It helps to raise your knees. Try getting on your tippy toes. Also rub or kinda tickle your abdomen. But be careful with the wound.”
I did as she said and after about five minutes of counting the yellow tiles on the wall, a trickle of pee finally dribbled out.
“Good, Frank. Now, when you’re done, try to see if you can feel the difference in your abdomen. I know everything is sore down there, but a lot of patients learn to detect a bit of pressure when they really have to go. It’ll be something to concentrate on.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
She wanted me to walk the halls before getting back in bed. I had no choice; my call would have to wait.
We got back in after circling the floor two times. It was tiring. The nurse dug out my phone from the room’s locker, and of course it needed to be charged, and I didn’t have a charger. The nurse said she’d get one for me and left.
She came back with a cord dangling from her hand and a smile beaming from her face.
“Here you go.”
I took the charger and tossed it on the nightstand.
“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to make a call.”
“Changed my mind.” Fact was, I realized I didn’t have Kayla’s number. I tried to recall her last name but was so exhausted I nodded out.
Chapter 18
Stewart
“Don’t wait. The time will never be just right.” - Napoleon Hill
What does she want? Phil’s not coming back, so move on already. I couldn’t understand why Robin was clinging to her old life. That was history. What, was she bullshitting when she’d say you gotta move on?
I was anxious. Could it be I was pressing things a little too fast? They were married ten years. I guess that’s a long time. But Philly wasn’t some devoted husband. Maybe she was just putting on a show for everybody, acting the way most people do. What you’re expected to do. All the mourning bullshit as the weeks and months fly by. Fools, that’s what they are. Who wants to waste years of your life holed up, playing poor me?
The head doctors all say you’ve got to give it time. Time heals all wounds, blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, as the clock is ticking, your life is slipping away. That’s plain stupid. If you’re eventually gonna recover, why not force the rebound sooner?
Mental toughness. Take the emotion out. That’s what it takes. Know what the plan is and shut the rest of the shit down.
I wish I would’ve realized it years ago. But looking back doesn’t do anything for anybody. Robin’s got to keep focused on today and maybe tomorrow. She can’t be wasting anymore of her time or mine.
I had to find a way to wake her up. In need of reinforcement, I got up to grab the new inspirational quote book I bought, then I remembered Robin’s birthday was coming up.
I’d have to do something nice for her. Something different. Go to a fresh place with no memories of Phil. Maybe the new place on the water in Marco. I can’t remember if she’d been there. Food’s a hair better than okay, but the setting is pretty sweet. A couple of cocktails with a sunset and you’d be as relaxed as liquid. I gotta ask her if she’d been there without tipping her off.
I sat down on the lanai and opened to a random page. Unreal, one of my favorite quotes:
“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.”
This guy T. E. Lawrence was a genius.
***
What the fuck? I couldn’t believe my ears that some woman detective had come to the office asking about me. It must’ve been Luca’s partner, that Detective Vargas. Now I gotta listen to Greely’s bullshit? Maybe I should just quit, tell them to fuck off.
Nobody but Tony said anything, but I could tell the way everybody looked at me they knew the police had come. I wanted to punch that bitch Judy in the face when she said Mr. Greely wanted to see me. Her voice was dripping with contempt, like I was some street thug. She never liked me, the old bag.
Who do these cops think they are? Shouldn’t they have told me they were coming? Don’t they give a damn if they screw with somebody’s job? I didn’t give two dumps for the job, but when I go, I’m going out on my terms.
What could Greely say? He had nothing to talk about. What, I’m late every now and then. I make a couple of mistakes here and there. The cops are wasting their time, and you know what? That’s a good thing as far as I’m concerned. Let them chase their tails with my job. They won’t find anything there.
Luca
An August sun shower broke out and I jogged, nah floated, into the station. I felt as happy to be here as I was the first day out of the academy. I couldn’t believe my eyes; everyone was standing and clapping. These people and most everyone I’d run into down here were always off the hook nice. But getting an ovation for being in the hospital?
I shook a few hands and thanked everyone as I made it to my little piece of real estate. It was uncomfortable for me, but I was glad to be back in my office after almost three months away.
Vargas was behind her desk, looking as good as she ever did. She had a smile as wide as the Gulf of Mexico.
“Good to have you back, Frank.”
“But not good enough for a standing O like everyone else?”
She threw a ball of paper at me.
“They do this every time someone gets sick around here?”
“You didn’t just get sick, bozo, you had cancer, and you’ve beat it.”
I still hated hearing the C word. “We’ll see about that.”
“Don’t be getting gloomy on me, Luca. My horoscope says it’s going to be a surprisingly upbeat day.”
I waved her off and asked, “Can you update me on the cases?”
Vargas filled me in on four drug cases, two armed robberies, and an assault, before getting to the Gabelli case. It was virtually the only case I had been thinking about while recovering.
I asked, “What did you ever find out about the bookie, Tommy Thumbs?”
She grabbed a file and opened it.
“He was tight-lipped, but no doubt that Gabelli was in deep to him.”
“How deep?”
She grimaced. “Wouldn’t say exactly, but said it was a lot and that he was concerned but not worried about the debt.”
“Concerned but not worried? Gabelli get behind the eight ball regularly?”
Vargas nodded. “Tommy said there was a handful of times that Gabelli had an unlucky streak.”
“We got time frames?”
“Said he didn’t keep records, but said it was over the last two years or so. Said he was sorry to lose such a good customer.”
“What was your sense of him?”
“He’s creepy. I didn’t like the fact he knew Gabelli was missing. When I pressed him, he said Gabelli owed him money and went looking to collect.”
“Makes sense. Can’t collect from a dead man.”
“So why you so hot on what Tommy Thumbs had to say?”
“Gives me a better handle on what’s going on. If Gabelli was into Thumbs for big wood, then chances are he was in over his head with another bookie or two. Plus, these guys play hardball to collect, and sometimes things just get out of hand and somebody ends up dead.”
“It could show Gabelli was desperate if he owed to a couple—”
“Bingo, Vargas, you’re learning.”
“And desperate men do desperate things.”
She threw one of my favorite phrases back at me. I thought it sounded pretty damn good.
“What now? How do you want to follow this?”
I said, “Why don’t you go see Stewart? Ask him again about why he never said anything about his buddy Phil gambling. He may be hiding something, and I’ll go see the missus and also swing by Gabelli’s office.”
***
The Gabelli house had the new coastal contemporary look. It was off-white with dark Bahama shutters and had modern-looking garage doors with opaque windows. Everything had straight lines and a simple elegance to it. When I first started seeing the new style it felt too modern, but I came around quickly, and this one was real nice. I liked the way the pavers were laid in a herringbone pattern. I figured the home was worth a minimum of two and a half to three million as I rang the bell.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Robin’s gleaming smile and warm handshake threw me off. She was dressed in a red silky dress. Did she wear that just for my visit? The dress hugged her, outlining a body worthy of any men’s magazine. Not a straight line anywhere, I thought, as Robin showed me into a two-storied family room.
“Can I get you something to drink, Detective?”
I took a seat in a light blue armchair. “I’m okay, but thanks anyway.”
She smoothed the dress where it hit her ass and sat in a swivel club chair with black piping.
“I so glad you’re feeling better, Frank.”
She went from detective to Frank in a nanosecond.
“Thank you. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“I understand that Mr. Stewart and you had an affair. What can you tell me about that?”
She crossed her arms. “There’s not much to say. It was something I regret. It was over in a heartbeat.”
“So, the affair didn’t last long?”
“No, it did not, and I wouldn’t call it an affair; it was a one-time thing.”
“Did your husband know about it?”
“Are you crazy? It’d kill Phil if he knew.”
“When this, shall we say, interlude ended, did things get back to normal?”
She smiled. “No harm, no foul.”
There wasn’t a referee in sight. “That’s an unusual way of putting it.”
“Look, it was stupid of me. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was mad at him and things just got out of control, you know what I mean?” She crossed a leg, revealing a thigh Frank Perdue would kill for.
Having had my share of encounters, I certainly knew how things could spiral, but said, “Are you referring to the affairs that your husband had?”
“It wasn’t that, or maybe some of it was that, I guess. But he was traveling like crazy. He was never home, and Dom, well Dom was there and we hung out a lot. I was lonely.”
She swiveled to the left, showing a little more of the fine china before swinging back. The pout on her face and behavior was the furthest you could get from the type A she was. It crossed my mind she might be playing me.
“Was ending it a mutual thing?”
She frowned, showing the first wrinkle I’d seen on her.
“Not really.”
“I assume Mr. Stewart wanted things to continue?”
She nodded. “No doubt. He kept badgering me to give it another chance.”
“Badgering?”
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Look, I made it perfectly clear it was a one-time thing. I told him it was over and done with, and that was that.”
I was glad type A resurfaced. As much as I tried, I didn’t really trust myself to resist her if the opportunity arose.
“And Mr. Stewart backed off?”
“For the most part.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“It’s just that there’s always something there, you know what I mean?”
Boy, did I ever. I avoided the question. I said, “You say that like you have some experience in the, uh, area?”
Did she just bat her eyes? She recrossed her legs and said, “I’m no angel, but I love my husband and don’t play around.”
Yeah, right. This was interesting and fun. I was glad to be back in the saddle. I explored the infidelity subject for a while, but I didn’t feel any other of her transgressions had much to do with the case, so I wrapped it up and hightailed it to a McDonald’s to use the restroom. No way I was going to use her bathroom.
***
Damn it. Someone was in the commode. It’d been a good four hours since I took a pee, and my abdomen was feeling the pressure and that was a no-no. The doctors told me not to mess around with pushing the time between leaks, as it could rupture the internal incisions.
After hopping around for a minute or two I banged on the door.
“Hurry up in there.”
“Leave me alone, you moron.”
“I gotta go bad, man.”
“Tough shit.”
I wanted to kick the door down and rap this guy in the mouth, but I was afraid I’d
pee in my pants in the process and headed out the door. I looked both ways, scooted into the lady’s room and sat on one of their thrones. It was the fastest time I got a stream going and it felt good.
The thought of sex got me down. Things weren’t right down there. The doctors said it would take time, but it seemed like things were disconnected somewhere between my mind and Little Luca.
The door opened and I pulled in my feet. It had to be a young girl by the look of her sneakers. She went into the next stall and took her sweet time as I wondered if a man’s breath was discernable from a woman’s. After she did her business, I saw her feet by the sink. She washed, thank goodness, but didn’t move. What the hell was she doing, admiring herself in the mirror?
Finally, her feet left the sink and the door swung open. I scrambled to my feet, zipped up and cracked the stall door open. I grabbed the bathroom door and pulled it open to the surprise of an older lady on her way in.
I said, “Sorry, I thought this was the men’s room.”
She eyed me suspiciously, so I had to duck into the men’s room for a while and fake flush before heading to the parking lot.
Chapter 20
Stewart
“Expect the best. Prepare for the worst. Capitalize on what comes.” - Zig Ziglar
It was Robin. “They found Phil’s car.”
Damn it. Valentine’s Day was around the corner, and this would throw a monkey wrench into my plans.
“Phil’s car? Where?”
“Lehigh Acres. It was stripped down somewhere off of Jaguar Boulevard.”
“Oh. Did they say they have any leads about Phil?”
“No, they said it was in a place where the local gangs bring the cars they steal.”
“Did they get anything off it, like fingerprints?”
“They didn’t say, but this is the first piece of good news since Phil disappeared.”
“It’s not good news, Robin.”
“What’re you talking about, Dominick?”
I hated when she called me Dominick. It was so impersonal, like a room monitor at school or something.
“It could mean Phil’s not coming back.”
She gasped. “Oh no. Do you really think so?”
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