Chapter 34 – Head

Martin ran to the door, jerked it open and I jumped back or he'd have knocked me down as he hurried past.

"Your Doc Martin," said Bert, "always on the go!"

"My Doc Martin, Bert?" I relied with some humor.

"Yes, Louisa! Your Doc Martin. After what happened today, with Mrs. Tishell… well… I heard tell that he's staying - with you and the baby!"

I nodded. News does travel fast in the village. "Yes, he is… that is… we are…"

Bert cleared his throat and turned his attention to the woman on the exam couch. "Ari, Louisa Glasson here is Doc Martin's lady. She is out head teacher as well."

Ariadne (such an interesting name) looked up at me blearily. "Hello. Call me Ari. I'd shake your hand, but…"

"You just take it easy. I'll go see… what's happening," I said to her. "Bert you'll keep pressure on her wound?"

"Of course!" he said. "Alan, you go out there with Miss Glasson. Keep her safe!"

I heard furious grunts and oaths from the other room where a struggle seemed to be playing out. "You think I need protecting Bert?"

"No. But something is going on!" Bert replied. "I'll stay right here with Ari, won't I my sweet?" he asked the wounded lady.

Ari patted his hand with her right one, while Bert clamped her left arm with a towel that was growing redder and wetter by the minute.

The teenager, Alan and I looked out into the waiting room. There was a tussle going on, that was for sure. The man wearing handcuffs was rolling on the floor, one moment on the bottom of the pile, the next on the top. The pile also consisted of Joe Penhale, Martin, and the other man – the one who was limping when they crowded into the cottage.

The man in handcuffs was alternately throwing people off himself, or being thrown down, as the four men wrestled away on the hard slate floor. They occasionally managed to come to their knees, but by and large the wrestling match continued on the floor, banging into walls and chairs.

Al Large sat off to the side with a bemused look, throwing out comments like "Good one, Joe," "Doc, you almost had 'em there," and "Oh, that's gonna' hurt!" at a particularly loud or sudden blow.

I didn't see many punches, but it all looked very tangled and jumbled. They were all shouting, grunting with strain, and generally making a loud riot through grunts, snarls, words and curses while writhing, twisting, and pulling arms and legs.

"What do you think we should do?" asked the boy.

I backed away and said "From the looks of it, stay out of it!"

Martin swung his head to me as he was putting a head lock onto the struggling man. "Louisa, surgical tape!"

I ducked back into surgery and pulled a roll off Martin's procedures cart. I remembered this type of thing from when my dad's friend Jonathan tied Martin, Pauline, and me to chairs in the surgery for his ill-planned safe cracking job.

I hefted the roll of tape and Alan caught my eye.

"Feet!" the kid yelled out as he dove onto the pile and grabbed the man's legs.

With a swift motion I managed to get a turn or two of sticking tape onto his ankles and in a tug-of-war, strap them to a waiting room chair. The man's struggles slowed and he froze when he knew he was caught.

"Bloody sod!" yelled Joe at the man. "Try to escape? From my arrest?"

"You're lucky I tripped him, right officer?" said the other stranger.

Joe rubbed his face where a black eye seemed to be growing. "Thanks for that."

"Mick, you fool! Why'd you trip me?" the manacled man yelled out.

"Where would you go, Derrick?" the other answered. "Handcuffs and all? Run all the way back to Falmouth?" He looked at me. "I'm Mick. This," he said and prodded the man on the ground, "is Derrick."

"Shut it Mick! And sod off while you're at it!" said the restrained one, now sitting up as well as he could.

Martin dragged himself from the pile. "Joe, you are sitting on my foot!"

"Sorry Doc!" said Joe.

"Martin, are you alright?" I asked.

He bobbed his head at me and then pushed Joe away who was trying to help him stand. "Yes. Get off! Brilliant idea Louisa, for the tape around the ankles!"

"Why thank you, Martin. Alan helped. Now if you're done playing policeman, can you get back in there and suture up Ari? She's still bleeding."

Martin smoothed his shirt, now doubly mussed. "Yes."

Martin had not taken two steps when Mick called out. "Doctor! Derrick's gone all queer!"

The one named Derrick sat stiffly, propped against a chair with his ankles taped to another, hands manacled in front, but he was unmoving with a blank look on his face.

Martin looked at the man. "Oh God!" He waved a hand in front of his face, and got no response, not even a blink. Martin dug fingers into the man's neck for a few seconds. Then he poked the man in the ribs. "No response. Let's lay him back down."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Has he had these before? Does he take any medications? Drugs?" Martin asked Mick.

Mick shook his head. "No drugs, I mean no medicine. But I've seen him do this before. Just freeze up, get real quiet then, doesn't last long."

Martin grunted after laying the man down. He had grabbed a cushion from Morwenna's chair and placed it under his head. "Look's like an absence seizure – also called petit mal seizure He'll come around in a moment."

Like magic, the man blinked and yawned and started to curse at us. "Who you looking at?"

Martin still knelt at his side. "You have had a seizure, possibly from hyperventilating." He ran his hands over the man's head. "But you also have a bump on the back of your head. Still the petit mal may be from that blow on the head you got."

"Ouch," said the man as Martin touched his head. "That's where bright boy here whacked me with something."

Martin pulled a penlight from his pocket and waved the lit tip at his eyes. "Follow this. Now my finger." He moved his finger back and forth and then up and down. "Pupils are the same size and reactive. But I think you have a mild concussion, as well as your other issue. You'll need a neurological workup. What day is it? What year?"

"Uhm… Thursday? And 2011." said the man.

"No it's Friday," replied Martin. "Have a headache, you said?"

The man on the floor nodded.

"Concussion looks like." He examined the man's hand wrapped in a bloody kerchief. "Dog bite as well."

"That bloody little white dog did that, just when the copper coshed me."

"Well you were threatening the lady with a knife, Mr. Mann! And you were robbing the rest of us!" said Penhale defensively. Joe looked at me and Martin apologetically. "He was! Honest! I had to hit him!"

"You may have compromised this fellow's brain, Joe. Not that there was likely much to begin with." Martin said. "Wadebridge can evaluate him. Just don't hit him over the head again."

"So," started Joe, "you mean he might end up like me? My issues… and..?"

"Unlikely," said Martin, but the look on his face showed he didn't believe what he was saying. "Now, if you are all done making me a warder, can I please get back to being a doctor? Louisa, if you please." He pointed to the surgery door and we started to step there, just as the front door flew open and Morwenna barged in very wide-eyed.

"Doc?" she said running her pretty eyes over the people, the disarranged furniture, and the general mess. "What's going on?"

"Morwenna. Good. Please help Al out of that ridiculous costume so I can examine his shoulder, which he says is injured. I…" Martin looked at me, "and Louisa will be in surgery." He held the door for me and we went to tend to Ari.