An Unexpected Lead

That night, Britt decided to deal with their prisoner in the basement. His wallet revealed that his name was Ted Wilkins. Hornet looked down at their prisoner. He looked young, mid 20's at most. Greasy gold-blonde hair fell over his face. They normally didn't tie up their suspects for interrogation. But then again, they normally dealt with them at the scene or in the Black Beauty. Not in the bunker. Hopefully the time Wilkins spent alone had loosened his tongue. The second round of Hornet gas was beginning to wear off. He opened his drowsy green eyes. "Good morning." Hornet said, crossing his arms.

Wilkins realized that he was both tied up and the prisoner of the Green Hornet. "Jesus Christ!" Experience had taught Hornet that the threat of torture made people sing like a canary faster. "What do you want?"

"Information," Hornet flicked the Sting open. Pointing the tip close to Wilkins' stubbly cheek, he looked at him. "I hear Manuel has his fingers in drugs now. Didn't think the Lucky Rabbit was making enough."

"You and half the city know he's in that stuff." Wilkins was shaking as Hornet paced around the chair. A glint on his bound hand caught the Hornet's eye. It was a gold class ring set with a deep red garnet stone. Could it be? He couldn't remember if Frank described Wilbur's ring or not. He wriggled the ring off Wilkins' finger, examining it closely. Dr. Isaac Wilbur was neatly inscribed inside the band.

"Care to tell me where this came from?" Hornet held the ring up to Wilkins' face. His face blanched and his pupils dilated. "Well…?"

"It was a gift." Wilkins blabbered. A tear streamed down his cheek.

"Bullshit, I know you're lying," Hornet replied. Grabbing the collar of Wilkins' shirt, he leaned into his pale face. "I'm going to ask you again. Where did you get this?"

Wilkins gulped, no doubt terrified of the Hornet's cold stare. "Why the hell do you want to know? You'd kill if you were ordered to!"

Hornet let go. "Let me make this clear. I don't bump off doctors. Nor do I like people who do. Who ordered you?" He activated the Sting's sonic frequency engine. It whorled threateningly, but it wouldn't fire until he switched the safety off. Not that the Hornet would switch it off on a human being. But he was sorely tempted to.

"Butch did! I was told to take care of the old man. Make it look like a robbery. I was told the guy was going to squeal. Please don't kill me!" Wilkins winced and kept his face as far away from the Sting's tip as the chair and rope would allow him.

Hornet turned off the Sting and pulled out his gas gun. Wilkins panted like he had just finished running a marathon. Sweat dripped down his face. The Sting's rounded tip rested under the man's chin and pushed it up. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight." Hornet said with disgust and aimed the gun. Pulling the trigger released a cloud of green gas. One puff and Wilkins was unconscious. Hornet put the gun away before folding up the Sting. "Ok, Kato." Hornet opened the door and found the valet waiting. "Time to call Frank. We'll take this punk to the police station later. No doubt they'll find something to book him on."

"Unbelievable," Frank shook his head as he looked at the gold ring in his hand. "And you say Manuel ordered the hit?"

"I know," They were now in Britt's study. Britt had taken off his fedora, mask and gloves. Kato, in a white jacket and bow tie sat in a nearby chair. He was upright, lest he disturb the healing wound. "What started as a drug ring bust has turned into a murder investigation."

Frank rubbed his forehead. "Why would Manuel want to kill Dr. Wilbur? Take that back, why would anybody want to hurt him?"

"The drugs…" Kato said thoughtfully.

Britt saw where Kato was going. "Of course, who'd suspect a hospital doctor of being a drug runner?"

"Wait, am I missing something?" Frank asked.

"The drugs Donnie told me about. What if Wilbur was supplying Manuel with drugs?" Britt grew excited. "And what if he had an attack of a guilty conscience and tried to back out?"

Frank put the pieces together. "Manuel murders the hypotenuse, makes it look like a robbery and all backtracking to him is lost. But there's a problem, Britt,"

Uh oh, Britt thought. "What's that?"

"Dr. Wilbur was the driving force behind St. Jude's. The hospital is already on shaky ground thanks to his murder. If it breaks now that he might be involved in drug smuggling, it'll make it worse. Maybe even force the hospital to close down."

"All of it for nothing." Kato stretched his legs. "Even if Wilbur did break the law, that hospital is needed."

"And we've got no hard proof he's involved either. So we're back to square one." Frank spoke, frustrated.

"Maybe not," Britt rubbed his chin. "Donnie's our eyes and ears into St. Jude's. She might give us an idea as to where to look next. Once we find out where the drugs are going, getting Manuel shouldn't be a problem."

"I can call her right now and ask her to come over. She should be on break by now." Frank took out his cell phone.

"No Frank," Britt stopped him. "We need you on the Manuel end of the investigation. Any and everything you can to get on him, the better. The evidence provided by the safe-house's cameras and bugs will need to be analyzed as well. Kato and I'll investigate Wilbur's murder."

"That's a tall order, Britt." Frank warned. "Donnie's not somebody who scares easily. What makes you think you can get her to talk?"

"Because the Hornet won't be talking to her. Britt Reid will."

Life somewhat returned to normal in the days following Wilbur's death. There was work to be done at the hospital. Hippo still squeaked and squawked. And Casey and I decided to become roommates, despite our mutual concerns that Hippo was going to become Hortensia, her tortie cat's snack. Turned out that we had nothing to worry about. If anything, it was funny to watch the cat sit so still in front of his cage and stare at him. Hippo soon figured out that Hortensia couldn't get to him and could imitate Casey calling for her. No surprise that the cat always fell for it.

I liked Casey immediately. She was warm and friendly. Granted, we did lead separate lives due to my crazy work hours. But for the most part, we did get along.

One evening, I sat in the apartment, reading a long abandoned book. I had been granted another 72 hour furlough, my first since Wilbur's death a week previously. Hippo was busy climbing his sisal rope, dangling and swinging. As usual, Hortensia watched him. Casey stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a peasant blouse with a patchwork skirt.

"Grab your purse." Casey threw my jacket at me. "We're going out."

"Why?" I held up my book. "I just got to the best part."

"It's salsa night at the Pink Pony Club. Some of my coworkers are going. All you do these days is work and sleep. Come on, it'll be fun."

I wasn't sure. The last time I actually danced was learning the line dance in middle school gym class. It ended with me knocking down the other students like bowling pins. All 20 of them. And everyone made sure I never lived it down either. "What if I can't dance?"

"It's ok." She leaned in and, even though we were the only ones in the apartment, whispered. "Between you and me, Britt doesn't like dancing either."

"Britt?" I remembered his green eyes and how they crinkled when he smiled. "What about him?"

"Britt's going with us and probably will sit out too. He wanted to know if you were coming or not."

I remembered how nice he was to me when I learned of Wilbur's death. And I do admit that I wanted to talk with him more. I could sneak in my book in order to keep myself entertained. "Ok, let me put Hippo back in his cage."

Casey smiled. As we were leaving, she said in afterthought, "Oh and uh, don't tell Britt that I told you he doesn't like dancing."

Live music was playing at the Pink Pony Club when Casey and I arrived. A crowd was mingling on the dance floor. Everything was pink, fortunately a bright and warm color. The waitresses wore hot pink short shorts with tight white tank tops. The tank tops were emblazoned with a pink outline of a running horse, mane and tail loose in the wind.

"Well, look who's finally here!" Britt hollered and waved his hand high in the air. He was sitting at a table that was piled high with jackets, sweaters and purses. "We were wondering if you were ever going to show." Britt stood up and hugged Casey warmly. A tiny pang shot through me. Why does she get a hug? Did…did he just give her a peck on the cheek?

Hang on Dawn Marie Anders, I scolded myself. Are you jealous? No, I tried denying it but didn't convince myself. Ok, maybe a little, but I barely knew him. So why was I? Casey and I were slowly becoming friends. Of all things in life, a guy isn't worth losing a friendship over. I learned that the hard way back in high school. I kept my mouth shut. So if Britt's seeing her, fine, cool. She can have him. Who am I to get in the way? But a tiny part of me I wished that I was her.

When Britt finally broke the hug, he turns to me. "Hey, Donnie, it's nice to see you again." He smiled as he shook my hand.

"Good to see you too, Britt." I smiled as Casey and I sat down. Casey and Britt began chatting. Now to get back to my book. I opened my purse, took it out and began reading it. This wasn't so bad after all, I thought as I continued. I even had nice music to relax to.

"Donnie…Donnie, did you hear Britt?" Casey asked.

"Hmm?" I looked up from my book. "Sorry, what?"

Britt was grinning at me. "I was asking you if Casey had to drag you away from your book to get you here."

I held up my book. "That she did." I put my book back in my purse, blushing. "I have to read or else I'll go completely crazy."

"At least you like reading. I remember some kids in my classes that didn't. Bet your teachers loved you." Casey said.

"Actually, no." I chuckled. "They tried everything they could think of to keep me from reading during class. After a while, they gave up trying and let me read. I bet they were convinced that I wasn't going to learn anything."

"And you've proved them wrong." Britt winked before waving a waitress over. "I'm in the mood for a Jack Daniels. What would you ladies like to drink?"

"Oh, I'm fine thanks." Casey said.

"Me too Britt, you don't have to." I held my hand up.

"I know I don't have to, I just want to." Britt said with a boyish grin. The waitress finally came over. "I'll take a Jack Daniels on the rocks. Casey, will it be the usual?"

"Might as well." Casey gave in. "I'll take a Tom Collins."

"And Donnie, what about you?" Britt turned to me. "I'll pick it for you if you try to refuse."

"If you insist." I turned to the waitress, "Do you have Sidecars?"

"Most certainly." She smiled and walked off.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Britt asked.

The beat of the music changed. Once slow, it was now fast and energetic. The group of Sentinel employees began to dance. A couple of them waved over to us. "Might as well, you coming Donnie?" Casey asked as she stood up.

"Nah, unless you want me sending all of you to the emergency room."

Casey laughed. "No, we don't want that." She passed a final look to Britt before joining the group of dancers.

"What was that all about?" Britt propped his elbow on the table and rested his head on his fist.

I turned the same shade of pink as the walls. "Let's put it this way, I'm a battering ram on roller skates when I dance."

"Literally leave the crowd breathless, huh?" Britt was smiling and lightly chuckling. As much as I didn't want to, I started laughing and finally confessed to the middle school incident. "Whoa, I don't want to be around you then when you line dance." Britt pretended to shuffle away.

"I don't dance, that's how I avoid it."

"Perfect, takes care of that problem doesn't it? To be honest, I don't like dancing either. Didn't have a pleasant experience in jr. high gym class too."

The waitress returned with our drinks. "Thank you," Britt paid her. "Well, here's to…sitting out." He held up his lowball glass of Jack Daniels.

"Salud," we clinked glasses.

It was almost 1 in the morning when Britt got back from the Pink Pony. Kato wasn't there to greet him, he was probably asleep. Not that Britt wanted to wake him up. As accustomed as they were to late hours, Britt really wanted to get to bed. He was putting on his wife-beater and sweats when his cell phone rang. It was Casey. "Hi, Casey, did you guys get back ok?"

"Yeah," he could imagine her rubbing her eyes. "You owe me big. I think I broke a toe or two. That's how many people stepped on them."

Britt chuckled. "Will dinner tomorrow night at Marconi's be sufficient?"

"You're on." Casey yawned. "Did you learn anything important from Donnie?"

"Well," Britt thought. "I learned that as a third grader she gave a classmate a black eye and a limp for ripping the book she was reading out of her hands and taunting her to hit him."

Casey gave a tired laugh. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Anything else?"

"And she likes getting up early in the morning and going on 3 mile long walks every day."

"A typical Donnie in the morning,"

"She likes to laugh and smile. And…" he realized that there was a slight edge to Casey's voice. "Are you jealous?" He asked seriously.

"No!" Casey sounded a little guilty, like a kid who got their hand caught in the cookie jar. "Getting information from her is the only reason we took her out on salsa night in the first place. I sacrifice a relaxing evening and you're telling me that you didn't get any useful information?" She spoke sarcastically, but there was still an undertone of annoyance. Britt knew she deserved to be.

"I finally figured out something about Donnie. Now let me finish before you spout off. She normally keeps details about work private. This is going to take longer than I thought."

"So I'll need to buy a pair of steel-toed high heels?"

Britt laughed. "Nothing that drastic. If we can get friendly enough with her we can probably get something."

"She could be protecting someone." He heard Casey pulling back her sheets.

"Maybe, we don't know. But she doesn't strike me as that kind of person. I'm going to let you go to bed. And Casey, before I forget, I didn't mean to get you upset or anything when I asked if you were jealous. I don't have feelings for Donnie. She's quite the character but I don't feel anything."

"I know, Britt." Casey yawned. "I just worry that your heart's going to overtake your head someday."

"That's why I have you and Kato, to keep me in line." Britt chuckled. "Good night, Casey."

"Night, Britt, see you tomorrow." Britt hung up but something gnawed in the back of his mind. He wasn't lying when he said he had no feelings for Donnie. But…he wanted to know her better. And he wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh again.

"How are you feeling, Marsha?" I asked the wrinkled little elderly lady as I tucked the sheets around her.

"Much better, bless you Dr." Marsha gave me a toothless grin. "You're a saint."

I blushed. "I try my best." I gently squeezed her fragile hand. "Ring if you need anything."

"I will. Good night, Dr. Anders." I heard Marsha sigh in contentment as I backed out of the room and into the hallway. I wasn't required to make sure the patients under my watch were comfortable for the night. But I like doing it. And I think they like it as well. I haven't had any complaints yet.

It was a quarter after 8. Marsha was my last patient to check. The nurse's station was decorated with cutouts of smiling pumpkins arched black cats and friendly green witches, even though it was late September. Linda, the jolly and plump night nurse was sitting at the desk. I took a wrapped cherry-flavored sucker from a ceramic bowl shaped like a jack-o-lantern. "I just finished my rounds. Has my replacement come on duty?"

"He just clocked in and called to say he was on his way up." Linda smiled. "You're going on break?"

"Yep," I stretched. "Time for my nap. See you in 4 hrs."

"See you then," Linda waved. I walked to the locker room and changed into a clean set of scrubs. Not that sleeping in my blue pleated skirt and white blouse was uncomfortable. It's more to keep my work outfit looking neat instead of a bedraggled mess.

"...of course I'm pissed off!" I heard Bruce angrily shouting on the other side of the locker room door. I didn't hear anybody respond. He was obviously on his cell phone. I leaned on the door to better hear it "Well, damn it, what do you want me to do about it? Just sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn't happen? I can't do that! Either you do the right thing and come clean or I will!" I heard a loud sigh before he began to plead. "Isaac trusted you. He once told me that he could rely on you for anything. He would've done anything for you. Your mistake is what killed him. Please, don't let Butch take any more control over your life than he already has." I heard a loud snap as he closed his flip-phone with a groan. I decided to find out what was going on.

Outside, I saw Bruce leaning against the wall. A clear medicinal bottle was in his left hand. His right rested over his eyes. The locker room door clicked closed behind me. He took his hand off his face and looked at me. "How much did you hear?"

"You were shouting." I put my hand on his shoulder. "John, what's wrong?"

Bruce looked at me. His eyes were bloodshot red and dark gray pouches were forming under his eyes. Something was really wrong. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it and offered a weak smile. "Just got into a fight with a friend, that's all."

"Are you sure?" I squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you but it's nothing for you to worry about, Donnie." Bruce gently took my hand off his shoulder, squeezing it. "Get some rest. You deserve it." He turned away and began walking down the hall.

I was left trying to piece together what was going on. Bruce was fighting about something. It was about Dr. Wilbur and Butch Manuel. My mind was twirling. So it wasn't a robbery after all? Manuel put a hit on him? But why would he hurt Wilbur? Did Wilbur have something to do with the drugs? Or…my heart stopped cold. No, it can't be. I tried to deny it but failed miserably. I didn't have any proof, but I realized that I had to accept that as a possibility.

There was a traitor in our midst. One of the doctors has been stealing drugs from our stores for Manuel. Wilbur had discovered it and tried to stop it…he was murdered to stay quiet.