The Case of the Running Bag - Chapter 12

Chapter 12 -

Did I Mention The Sisters Fate Are Fickle Bitches?

The woman at Reception was quite nice and said I could go back to Emergency. The Lieutenant was being patched up there and he left instructions for me to come on back. His wife and daughter were already there with him.
I got a sudden cold chill. Meeting his family, after he got shot, helping me, was not high on my list of things I wanted to do tonight. I wasn’t being given any options on the matter. I had no idea how they would react.
The nurse at the emergency desk looked like all kinds of business and stared at me.
“Look, I am not family man, but I was just in a shootout with Lieutenant Sanders,” I said. “I understand he is being patched up here.”
“You shoot him?” she asked.
“No, we were on the same side," I said. "I put down the cruds that did shoot him.”
Suddenly the all business nurse was all smiles, “201, Bed A,” she said.
I walked down the hall, shaking my head. That was just plain weird. I stepped into the semi-private room where the Lieutenant was sitting on a table where they worked on him. His wound had been attended to. His shirt was on, not buttoned. He looked like he was getting ready to leave.
“Hey Lieutenant, how’re you doing?” I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Hi, Watcher,” he said, “Come in and meet my wife and daughter.”
There next to his bed stood my new receptionist, Betty, and her daughter, Shanna the waitress. You could have knocked me down with a gentle push. I had no idea what was going down, but I figured it was a good thing I was in an emergency room.
I took a step back and just stared. I did mention that The Sisters Fate were... Yeah, I guess I did.
Suddenly everyone started talking, and I whistled. A nurse stuck her head in and told us to quiet down. She suggested we go to the hospital cafeteria to finish our conversation. Talk about taking a long silent walk.
We sat down at a small square table, each with a cup of coffee we weren't drinking. I didn't know if it was the coffee that was bad or the situation. I decided to break the ice without really saying anything.
“Will someone please say something?” I said.
“Thank you,” said Betty.
“For...” I started hoping someone would finish.
“For keeping my flatfoot husband from getting his head shot off,” she said.
“Hey, wait a minute,” interjected the Lieutenant. “He was the one who called me to be there.”
“And you couldn't send someone else?” Her look was one from a conversation that had obviously been had before.
“Whoa,” I interrupted. “He is right, I did call… for him. There wasn't anyone else I could trust. And I was expecting trouble, just not an ambush.”
Shanna started sipping her coffee with a slight smile on her face.
“What?” I asked.
“Usually I get sent to my room when this conversation starts up,” she said.
“Let's deal with the elephant in the room,” I said. “When was someone going to tell me that my new receptionist was married to a Lieutenant in Homicide?
“I would like to know without all the family history,” I continued.
“She told me the night she came home,” Sanders said. “It was a long discussion, but she reminded me that she had been a well-trained police officer and could handle herself in your office. There was a lot more to the conversation, and I am not thrilled with the circumstances...”
“Can you handle a piece?” I asked Betty.
“Hey,” said the Lieutenant.
“Yes I can,” stepped up Betty.
“Relax, Lieutenant,” I said. “I'm not taking her out into the field. But I will have Fritz set her up with a gun in the desk, for her own protection.”
“Oh,” said the Lieutenant.
“And why can't I work in the field?” asked Betty.
“I could be the receptionist,” said Shanna.
“No!” We three all responded in unison,
She just pouted.
“My being a receptionist, for now, is just fine,” said Betty.
I looked at Lieutenant Sanders, who just shrugged. I sighed and in the distant background, I could hear the muffled laughter that seemed to be following me around.
“Remember to meet me at nine tomorrow morning at Fritz's, the gunsmith south of Market,” I said to Betty.
Lieutenant Sanders started to say something, but Betty shot him a look that just brought a sigh. I knew this wasn't over, but just the end of round one. I wanted to get to the office to check on Hart. We said our good-byes.
“And you’re welcome,” I said to Betty.
She looked at me quizzically.
“For him,” I answered.
She just smiled. The battle was over for the night.
As I left the hospital. Max was still parked where I left him, slumped down in the driver's seat fast asleep. I knocked lightly on the driver's side window as I walked around to the passenger's side of the cab and climbed in. Traffic was light this late and it was easy to determine we weren't being followed from the hospital. There had been enough action for one night, and whoever was behind all this needed to regroup… I hoped.