Catch Me if You Can
Chapter 13Jeff left the office at seven o'clock and drove straight to San Pedro. The receptionist informed him that Mr. Bailey had been moved out of Intensive Care and into room 422. Once there he found a new nurse in the room. Another blonde, this one a little chunkier but just as good looking. Her name badge read Lynn Avery, R.N.
"Nurse Avery, I'm Jeff Spencer, Stu's . . . "
"Yes, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Bailey was just moved down here about an hour ago."
"Have you . . . "
"Found any blood for him? Not yet, but we're calling the hospitals in New York now. Hopefully they'll have some available."
Jeff wondered if Nurse Avery always finished people's sentences for them, so he thought he'd try to find out. "Nurse Avery, would you . . . " There was dead silence for a moment, and then she burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer. I tend to finish people's sentences for them. I thought you were pulling my leg, so to speak, so I just kept quiet. What was it you wanted to ask me?"
"If you'd care to join me for coffee in the cafeteria?"
She smiled her best smile. "I'd love to. But I can't. Mr. Bailey needs my attention more than you do, I'm afraid." She picked up a wicked looking needle and gave Stu a shot in the left arm. "Antibiotics."
"Watch out for him, Avery," came from the patient. "Smooth talker."
"Well, sounds like you're a little more awake than you were the last time I saw you. At least you're out of Intensive Care." Jeff sat down next to the bed.
"Little bit. When were you here?"
"Don't you remember?"
Stu was quiet for almost a minute. "No."
"This morning, with Suzanne. She was reading you French poetry."
"Sort of remember the poetry."
"I was here with it."
"Oh," and Stu followed that with a big yawn.
"I see your flowers made it down here." The giant flower display was sitting on the bedside table. It had been joined in the room by two or three others. "And that you have other admirers."
"One's from Mimi." Mimi was Stu's most recent . . . friend.
"And the other?" Jeff asked
"Les at Warner Brothers."
"Do you mind?" Jeff asked as he picked up the card from one of the floral displays.
"Go ahead."
"Glad you finally nailed the guy. What took you so long? Get well soon, Les." He returned the card to its envelope. "Kookie says get well, dad and Roscoe was blathering about some horse in the fifth at Santa Anita named Stuart's Pride. I guess that's as close to a get well from Roscoe as you're going to get."
"I'd laugh but it hurts."
Nurse Avery came back into the room with another needle. "Time for your pain shot, Mr. Bailey."
"That's my cue to leave," Jeff told his partner.
"Why?"
"Because you fall asleep after you get a pain shot. I don't want to watch you sleep. I need to go home and do some of it myself. I haven't slept a lot since this whole mess started."
"Sorry."
Jeff shook his head. "Not your fault. I understand why you did what you did."
"Good." Another yawn from Stu.
"Goodnight, dad."
"Night, Jeff."
Jeff yawned all the way home, but by the time he took a shower and got into bed he was wide awake. Or so he thought. He lay in bed for maybe five minutes before he fell asleep, and he dreamt the night away.
Jeff was in the kitchen reading the morning paper. His wife was cooking breakfast for the family, and his children were running around screaming. A typical Saturday morning in the Spencer household. There was a story on Page 1 that had caught his eye and he didn't hear when he was summoned to breakfast.
'Private Investigator Killed in Police StingOperation' Private Investigator Stuart Bailey was killed Friday night in a sting operation gone wrong, police spokesman Captain Roy Gilmore told reporters. Bailey was supposed to be covered by an officer . . .
Jeff folded up the paper and laid it on the table. He smiled at his wife when she set his breakfast in front of him, but something about the article bothered him. Something about Bailey . . . all three of his children finally sat down to breakfast with their father; as he was talking to Joey about his baseball game, Jeff remembered. Stuart Bailey had once, a long time ago, made Jeff an offer. An offer to go into partnership with him. That was right before his mother talked him into becoming an attorney. Being a lawyer was profitable, but boring, and he'd always kind of regretted not taking Bailey up on the offer. Now he wondered . . . would Stuart Bailey still be alive if he and Jeff were partners in a P.I. firm? Or would Jeff be just as dead as he was? He loved his wife and he adored his kids, but still . . .
Jeff woke with a start and looked at the clock. Four in the morning. The room was dark, with just a sliver of moonlight coming through the blinds. He shook his head, not sure for a moment who he was or where he was – before he remembered. He had entered into a partnership with Stuart, who was thankfully still alive, and he had been asleep in his own bedroom. Alone. Which was perfectly fine, at least for now. "Thank you, God," Jeff Spencer, Private Investigator, whispered into his pillow as he drifted back to sleep . . .