Cool Cache (27 page)

Eugene was dehydrated and emotionally shaken but mostly intact, more concerned about abandoning his beloved Volvo than hearing the results of his EKG. I told him there was too much chaos at the scene to rescue the car, although I promised to help him pick it up in the morning.

For four hours I sat in a chair next to his bed in the ER, waiting for Nerine to arrive by taxi to pick him up. My clothes were soaked in Deegan’s blood, so the nurse gave me a hospital gown and bathrobe to wear, and disposed of my garments in a biohazard bag.

Every few minutes, I pestered her about Deegan—how he was, where he was. She was pleasant enough, but she couldn’t tell me anything. In desperation, I called Jordan Rich and asked him to use his connections to find out what was happening. He had privileges at the hospital and knew the thoracic surgeons who would likely be working on Deegan. He pledged that they were all top-notch doctors, and the trauma center’s equipment was state-of-the-art.

Eugene pleaded with me to go to Deegan. He said he’d be fine by himself, but I wouldn’t leave him alone. There was nothing I could do until I heard from Jordan Rich. Still, it was torture waiting for the call.

“We were all sick with worry,” I said to Eugene. “Why didn’t you tell us where you were?”

He leaned back into the pillows and crossed his legs. The hospital-issued brown ankle socks with white gripper patches on the soles made him look like a bear cub.

“You would have only tried to stop me. I had to do this on my own.”

“Because of your mother?”

“Because of me. I have to learn to face life without crutches.”

“Knitting isn’t a crutch. It’s more like a hobby.”

“You know what I mean, Tucker. You baby me too much. Charley, too. I know you care about me, but the nest is getting crowded. You have to let me fly. If I crash and burn, I’ll get up and try again.”

It’s difficult to see your shortcomings laid bare, but Eugene was right. I did baby him too much, but not because I lacked confidence in him. He was capable, creative, and loyal to the core. Maybe I just wanted to protect him because his mother never had.

“I promise to do better in the future,” I said. “So, how did you find out it was Navarro who killed Lupe Ortiz?”

“I saw the number for Best-Way Cleaners on Lupe’s cell phone call history. When I drove to Montebello to check it out, I found a Mercedes parked in the back lot. It had a Garvey Motors sign on the license plate, just like the one you saw the night of Lupe’s murder. I staked out Navarro’s place for several days, and last night I followed him to the North Hollywood house. Tonight I decided to go back when he wasn’t there to see what I could find. He surprised me while I was taking pictures of the house with my cell phone. The next thing I knew, he was pointing a gun at me. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“You must have been scared.”

“Totally! Especially when I saw the chocolate pot. I knew he’d gotten it from you, and I knew you wouldn’t give it up without a fight. That’s when I realized I was in big trouble.”

“Do you have any idea what Navarro planned to do with the pot?” I said.

“Sell it. I heard him on his cell phone, haggling over the payment. He insisted on all sorts of complicated wire transfers, and the buyer wasn’t going for it.”

“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” I said.

“Maybe the quetzal feather was my
nahual,
protecting me from Navarro. I’m just sorry I couldn’t find out where he got it.”

I told Eugene about the research foundation in Ventura and the missing bird from the quetzal display. Just then a nurse came by and pulled the privacy curtain around us. I heard the wheels of a gurney rolling up to the next bed. Eugene and I exchanged worried glances. We had experienced too much trauma in the past few days. We didn’t want to see any more of it.

“Nerine was really worried about you,” I said, “and the colonel was ready to fly to L.A. to lead the search party.”

“I think you have my father confused with somebody who cares. I don’t look forward to hearing the lecture about how I screwed up again.”

“You didn’t screw up, Eugene. You found Lupe Ortiz’s killer.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I guess I did. Does Charley know?”

“Not yet. I’ll call him as soon as your mother springs you out of here.”

It was painful to watch the reunion between Eugene and his mother. Nerine stood ramrod stiff. Didn’t know what to do. I was afraid she would offer him a cookie and spoil the moment, but seconds later he threw his arms around her in an awkward embrace. She cried. Told him Liza and Fergie were at the apartment meowing and missing him like crazy. I wondered if Nerine would ever tell him they’d spent the past few days at a kennel.

After Eugene and his mother left, I sat in the lobby. While I waited for Jordan to contact me, I called Charley to let him know what had happened. He said “Shit,” and then he repeated the word five more times. He wanted to come to the hospital to get me. I told him no.

“Why don’t you quit doing all that business crap and come to work for me? At least I could keep an eye on you. Three years on the job and you’d be a full-fledged PI.”

“Oh, sure. As if that would ever happen.”

Charley was mothering me just as I’d done to Eugene, but I wondered if that’s what all good friends did for each other. Maybe it was better than the alternative—having nobody who cared about you at all.

“How’s Lorna?” I said.

There was a long pause before he answered. “Pregnant.”

I was stunned. “I thought the test turned out negative.”

“It was wrong. She went to a doctor. She’s eight weeks along.”

“Are you okay with that?”

He didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t see him through the telephone line, but I knew he was running his freckled hand over his crew cut, as he always did when he had weighty issues to consider.

“Ask me in seven months.”

As soon as I ended the call with Charley, I dialed Jordan Rich’s number. He apologized for not contacting me sooner, said he’d only just learned the latest news about Deegan’s condition. His tone seemed matter-of-fact, as if he was dictating a doctor’s report.

“Detective Deegan was unconscious and in shock when they brought him into the ER,” he told me. “The wound was just to the left of midline, at the midchest level, and his breathing had telltale sucking sounds. They inserted an endotrachial tube and began breathing for the patient. Next, they performed an emergency thoracotomy to address the low blood pressure. At that time, they evacuated copious blood from the chest and incised the pericardium, evacuated the blood from around the heart, and repaired a bullet hole in the left ventricle of the heart. After that, his blood pressure came up with transfusion, and they sent him to the operating room. The upper aspect of the liver was lacerated by the bullet, which finally lodged against a rib. The left lower lobe of the lung was also penetrated. All this resulted in the hemopneumothorax.”

“Jordan, no offense intended. Just tell me in English. Is he going to be okay?”

He hesitated before answering. “They repaired his liver laceration and sent him to the surgical intensive care unit. That was about two hours ago. He’s breathing on his own, and they’ve removed the respirator. All his vital signs are stable. At the moment, he’s semiconscious. I’ve pulled some strings and cleared you to visit, but he may not be able to communicate.”

All I could manage was a halting “thank you.” I closed my cell phone and asked the nurse for directions to Deegan’s room.

Chapter 37

On the way to Deegan’s room, a burly guard in uniform stopped me at the elevator. “You gotta sign in. What’s your name?”

“Tucker.”

That was apparently good enough for him. He wrote
Tucker
on a sticky name tag and handed it to me. So much for security. I could have been at a chamber of commerce mixer.

As I entered the elevator, my throat felt as if it had developed an inoperable tumor. I checked in at the nurse’s station and explained that Jordan Rich had cleared me to visit. The charge nurse checked Deegan’s chart and directed me to the recovery room, where several uniformed LAPD officers stood guard near the automatic double doors that admitted gurneys, doctors, and nurses.

I assumed Deegan’s mother and his sisters were on their way. Carly, too. I thought of Riley and the feelings of loathing she had toward Deegan’s fiancée. Soon she would feel that way about me, too. There would be no strategizing about Luv Bugs the next week. By then, she wouldn’t even be speaking to me. I didn’t want to be around when she arrived. I couldn’t face her, knowing she would probably never forgive me for what happened to her brother.

I walked past carts and equipment until I saw Deegan lying in a bed, hooked up to tubes and machines. He looked pale and vulnerable. I remembered our conversation earlier in the week when he asked me if he looked like he needed protecting. He did now. I slid a nearby chair to the bed. Deegan’s eyes were shut. I reached over the rail and touched his arm, fighting to maintain control of my emotions.

“Hey, Deegan. It’s Tucker.”

He didn’t respond. I’d never seen him so still before. Even when we were together and I would watch him sleep, there were always signs of life. I laid my hand on his forehead. It was cool. I held his hand. I felt prickles on my nose. My eyes began to swell. I let the tears flow.

“Damn you, Deegan. If you die, I swear I’ll come after you in eternity and kick your ass.”

I laid my head on the sheet and allowed mascara to smear the pristine white cotton. Sometime later, I heard a voice say, “Knock, knock.” I looked up and saw Jordan Rich. He had on green scrubs under his white doctor’s coat and a stethoscope visible in his coat pocket. I must have looked like a wreck, with makeup running down my cheeks. My nose was red from crying and I still had on those dorky hospital PJs.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I let go of Deegan’s hand and dabbed at the tears with the sleeve of the robe. “It’s okay. He’s asleep.”

“He’s on a lot a drugs. They want to keep him quiet.”

“I guess I’m not helping.”

Jordan’s expression looked pained, as if somebody had just punched him in the stomach. “I didn’t realize you and Detective Deegan were so close.”

I felt sad for him, for all of us. Riley Deegan’s mission for Luv Bugs was to put people together who should be together, and stop everybody else from making bad decisions. I didn’t know in which category I belonged. Jordan Rich was a kind and genuine man, a great catch for some woman, maybe even me.

“Detective Deegan is engaged,” I said. “We’re just friends.”

His smile seemed tentative. “He’ll be okay, Tucker. I’ll make sure of that. I’m going to watch over him myself.”

My vision grew blurry with tears. All I could do was muster a nod of my head.

“There are people here to see him,” Jordan said. “Visitors are only allowed in one at a time.”

I stood. “Okay. I’ll go.”

He held up his hand to stop me. “Why don’t you stay a few minutes more? I’ll tell them to wait.”

Jordan left the area, closing the privacy curtain behind him. I sat in the chair and picked up Deegan’s hand again, lacing my fingers through his. His skin was cold and dry.

“There’s so much we never said to each other. I don’t know why. Maybe we were too proud or too independent or too stubborn. I know you can’t hear me, but I’m going to tell you how I feel. I love you. I’ve probably loved you from the moment we met. I think you loved me, too, so I’m trying to figure out why we never told each other and why our lives were never in sync. I know it doesn’t matter anymore, but I just wanted you to know.”

I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say—
I know we can never be together, but I’ll love you till the day I die
? That sounded too close to reality to be of comfort. I kissed his hand and tucked it under the sheet. I put the chair back where I’d found it and walked toward the exit. I didn’t expect to see Joe Deegan again, so I turned to get one last look. His eyes fluttered and then opened. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been conscious or if he’d heard anything I’d just said to him.

“Hey, big guy. It’s Tucker. I was just leaving. You have lots of people waiting to see you.”

He said something, but the words were barely audible. I walked back to the bed and leaned over him.

“I couldn’t hear what you said.”

His voice was a raspy whisper. All I could make out was a single word—
Stretch.