The Expendable Man (32 page)

“It was he who ran me off the road.”

“We know,” Skye said. “You've told us often enough.”

He couldn't remember. He tried to joke. “I've been talking in my sleep?”

“Constantly.”

“Othy hit me. And she kept laughing, laughing . . .” He opened his eyes and peered for Edward. The doctor was on the other side of the bed. “Hysteric, you know.” Politely, he redirected his attention to Skye. Skye was his lawyer, the one who was going to get him out of this trouble. “The police officer has the report. And Venner. White-trash Venner.”

“I've seen it,” Skye stated.

Then they must have known Othy attacked him. Unless damn Venner altered the report. He'd been asleep all day, he shouldn't be so tired. But of course, it was the medication, to kill pain, maybe an extra dose to keep him quiet when the marshal came. He had to know why the marshal came. His voice sounded slow, too faint, and he shook his head in annoyance. That was a mistake. A million pains jumped within his skull. But they woke him up. He saw the patio beyond French doors. He was at Skye's.

“Why was the marshal here? And Ringle?”

“You were conscious?” It was Ellen who asked.

“Briefly.” He didn't look at her but his fingers tightened on hers. “Why?” he asked.

Houston's expression was troubled.

“I have to know,” Hugh said. “I'm strong enough.”

Without embellishment, Skye recited, “Othy turned himself in early this morning. Admitted he'd lied before, out of fear. Admitted Bonnie Lee came to him in her trouble. He still denies he fathered the baby, insists it was one of her Indio friends.”

That much could be true. She would have fastened onto the one who could do the most for her. Unlike the high school boys, Fred O. had a job, lived in a big city.

“She had fifty dollars.”

“No! She had seventeen cents and the little I gave her.”

“Fifty dollars hidden under the lining of her handbag.” She'd kept it clutched to her. “Some of it she earned; some she took from her father's wallet. Othy drove her to your motel. When she came out, it was done. The police lab has moved into that unit; Ellen is staying here.”

“They won't find anything.”

Skye said, “Let them probe. It will give us more time. I've spent the day asking questions of anyone and everyone who admits knowing Fred O.”

Hugh demanded, “He says I killed her?”

“He's read the autopsy report too; he knows how badly she was cut up. He says he didn't know where to take her, what to do with her. She couldn't travel back home in that shape. Neither of them had motel money. He'd parked the car while he tried to figure out what to do, it just happened to be on Indian School Road. Suddenly she started gasping, and keeled over, dead.”

If true, it made the abortionist and the murderer one man.

“He admits he panicked. He put her in the canal. He says the head blow was caused by some debris in the canal. He brought in a jacket and travel bag he says were hers.”

“The police believe his story?”

“They don't reject it.”

Because part of it was true. Because he had driven her from the abortionist's, had stopped on the Indian School Road. But she wouldn't have died of the operation, not that soon. Not unless her heart gave out.

“They came here to arrest me.”

“To take you in for questioning,” Skye amended.

“Has Othy been arrested?”

“He's out on bail. His part was minor; he could get merely a suspended sentence.”

“He killed her!” Hugh cried hoarsely. “Don't you see, that's why he's made this confession. He's running scared.”

Skye said, “Don't despair. The police are checking and double-checking and looking for witnesses—”

“When are they coming back for me?”

“Not until the doctor lets you out of bed. I hope that won't be for several days. I need the time.”

It was essential he talk to Edward alone. He closed his eyes. “I'm awfully tired.” The reaction was what he wanted.

Ellen released his hand. “We'd better go, let him rest.” She was, of course, speaking to Skye.

“Yes, it's almost dinnertime anyway. Would you join us, Dr. Willis?”

Hugh narrowed his eyes. Edward was moving to the doorway where the others were standing. “I wish I could but I haven't seen my family since yesterday. They're sort of expecting me at home.”

Hugh waited, timing it for Skye and Ellen to step out of the room, the doctor on the threshold. It hurt to raise his voice, “Edward, before you go . . .”

But it worked. Edward excused himself and returned. The others went on down the corridor.

Hugh whispered, “Close the door.” Edward gave him a dubious glance. “Close it. As if you're going to do another examination or are getting me the bedpan.”

Silently Edward walked back, closed the door. He returned to the bedside.

“How bad is the damage?”

“Not bad.”

“Level with me. I'm in the business myself.”

“I'm leveling, Hugh. You have a couple of cracked ribs. I've bound them. You're badly bruised but no bones broken.”

“Kidney damage?”

“Nothing that shows up. I took a couple of stitches in your lower lip.”

Hugh scowled. “He kicked me. Bastard.” No wonder he couldn't talk right. He was afraid to ask the main question but he did, watching Edward with care. “What about skull damage?”

“None.” Edward sighed soft relief. “None at all.”

Was he leveling? Hugh pressed it. “My eyes. They blur.”

Edward grinned. “With the dope I've pumped into you, it's a wonder you can see your hand in front of your face.”

Hugh lifted his swollen hand. He could see it plain. “Steady too.”

Edward said, “Fortunately, when you keeled over on them, they didn't try first aid. They got you to me at the hospital without delay.”

“Skye was there.”

“That was a bit of luck. Ellen couldn't have managed alone.”

And why was Skye there at that hour? He didn't ask Edward. “Does the family know?”

“You're bunking with an old friend for a day or so. Reunion celebration.”

“They believe it?”

“Why not? I'm quite good at dissembling.” Edward touched his shoulder. “Don't worry about that part of it. I'll cover. You're in good shape considering everything, Hugh. Another day in bed—”

Hugh interrupted bluntly. “I need some medicine.”

The suggestion confused Edward.

“I want you to shoot me full of B-12. And I want some biphetamine. Strong.”

Edward wasn't slow to understand. “You can't—”

“I have to. I haven't seen Doc Jopher yet.”

“Someone else can go.”

He remembered not to shake his head but he made it emphatic. “I have to do it myself.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow may be too late.”

Edward knew this was true, but refusal was on his face. “I can't let you do this—”

Hugh interrupted factually. “I'm going to do it. With or without help.”

Edward capitulated. “When do you want these things?”

“As soon as you can make it back here.”

On reluctant feet, Edward started to the door. “I can probably get the supplies in Scottsdale.”

“I'm trusting you to say nothing.”

“You can trust me.” Edward closed the door after him.

The medication was wearing off and his strength was returning. He ached in every bone and muscle but he was no longer in danger of fading out. He had a terrific thirst. He managed slowly to turn himself and raise onto his left elbow. It was a bit more difficult to reach across with his right hand and lift the water glass on the bed table, but he did it. He drank a little water, slowly. When he'd finished and put down the glass, he didn't sink back onto the pillow as he wanted to do. Modern medicine taught you to try your strength, to get on your feet as soon as possible; to get on them even when you couldn't believe it was possible. There was no head injury. Medically, it wouldn't hurt him to try to get up.

He waited until he had become accustomed to the half-reclining position and then, using the palms of his swollen hands for leverage, he pushed up until his shoulders rested against the headboard. The effort set his head to spinning like a phonograph record.

When he had rested a little, he would try to swing his legs out of the bed. If he could stand upright, he could stagger into the adjoining bathroom. There was a soft rap on the door. It had been too much to hope that he would be left alone.

It was Ellen who looked in. When she saw his position she rushed across the room. “You shouldn't be sitting up.”

“I was just changing position.” He tried to smile. “To see if I could.”

“Why didn't you ring?” She indicated the small china bell on the bed table.

“I didn't need help,” he assured her.

She was settling him with her lovely, strong hands. Scolding as his mother would have. He let her arrange the pillows, tuck him in. “I just came to see if you needed anything. Are you hungry?”

“I couldn't eat. And I don't need a thing.” He thanked her.

“If you want anything, please ring,” she urged. “You know I'm staying here tonight.” There were circles under her eyes. She probably hadn't slept at all.

“Edward's coming back to give me another shot. After that I'll get settled for the night,” he told her. She started back across the room. “If you sit up waiting for that bell to ring, you'll be the one in the hospital. Promise me you'll go to bed soon.”

“I'll sleep if you will,” she smiled.

“Skye too.”

“He has to go back to town. He's interviewing more of the bus drivers.”

Hugh asked point-blank, “Have either of you slept today?”

She said, “I rested a bit when the police were here.” Her hand turned the doorknob. “If you want anything—”

“Good night,” he said firmly.

Once they got to bed, they wouldn't wake easily. They'd be too worn out to be checking on him all evening. After her footsteps could no longer be heard in the corridor, Hugh managed to push out of bed and get to his feet. Once the dizziness had cleared, he was able to make it to the bathroom. He hurt all over, he was weak; however, it wasn't too much of an ordeal. He didn't stay up long. He was only too glad to return to the bed. But next time it would be easier.

He was too impatient to rest for long. Edward wouldn't let him down, not Edward, but he should have returned by now. Again Hugh forced himself up and out of the bed. By slow stages he walked the length of the room, to the door. He rested briefly against it before starting his tedious return. Halfway, he stopped before the mirror and forced himself to look into it. The gargoyle who gazed back at him was uglier than he had imagined. Well, Ellen had Skye for company.

He heard the doorknob turn, and moved too quickly. The room tilted, the Navajo rug at his feet quivered like sand. Quickly he clutched the bureau, held tight. It was Edward who opened the door.

Hugh groaned. “I was afraid Ellen had caught me out again.” He let go too soon and swayed like a metronome.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No.” Hugh grimaced. “I've got to learn.” Slowly but with increasing confidence, he covered the space to the bed, sank down on it.

Edward prepared the shot. “Double dose?”

“Yes, please.” The needle connected. It hurt.

“It won't help too much tonight. But you'll be in better shape tomorrow.”

“It'll help some. The bennies?”

The doctor handed him a glassine container of capsules. “Go easy on them.”

“I only want one. To keep me on my feet.”

Edward put away his materials. “I can't dissuade you?”

Hugh sat up again. “I don't want to do this. I have to.” He touched Edward's arm. “One more favor. Give orders outside that I'm not to be disturbed for several hours. I need that much time.”

“I'll tell Ellen. Skye has gone out.”

“Thanks for everything. And say a prayer this is it.”

“I've been on my knees all week,” Edward said.

When Edward was gone, Hugh got up again and walked to the closet. They had taken his clothes away. For the ragbag, or perhaps Skye kept them as evidence.

He couldn't go to Jopher's in pajamas. He'd have to borrow from Skye. If Ellen should catch him at this, it would be necessary to tell her of his plan. He didn't want to add that trouble, but if it happened, he could handle it. The capsule had already begun to work; he felt capable of handling any problem.

Soundlessly he opened the door to the corridor. The light had been left on. From the living room he could hear music; Ellen was there. Using the wall for support he padded in the opposite direction, until halfway along he found what must be Skye's room. He entered, put on a light, and closed the door behind him. In the dressing room, there was a king-size walk-in closet. He leafed through the clothes with growing concern at their immaculate tailored condition. But he found what he wanted on a hook, a pair of worn Levis, bleached to a mottled blue. With them over his arm he stepped over to the shoe cabinet and easily found a pair of old tennis shoes, stained beyond repair, fraying at the seams. Skye was human, he didn't discard his old shoes. Against all his upbringing, Hugh forced himself to open drawers. He collected a faded-blue sports shirt, its freshness would be gone by the time he struggled into it, a pair of shorts, and a pair of heavy white tennis socks. The latter would take up some of the extra space in the tennis shoes. Skye was bigger than he. He remembered a belt as he started away. He didn't select the oldest one of well-rubbed leather, it could be a cherished relic. There was a fairly old black one which could be replaced. He'd have to punch some extra holes in it.