The Door Into Summer
Chapter 21Daggett watched the explosion from a safe distance. He saw Stu Bailey and Roy Gilmore go down in the aftermath and, for a moment in time, thought that he'd been lucky enough to catch two birds with one stone. Then he saw Bailey stagger to his feet and stumble over to the prone form of Gilmore; within minutes an ambulance arrived, then another. Damn! The two men were still alive. That was the second attempt on Bailey's life and both of them failed!
There was still hope of a sort. Tony had witnessed Bailey rise from the ground, but Gilmore didn't move. Maybe he'd gotten one out of two? Even if he hadn't, Bailey was off-limits for the time being. He'd be too suspicious of everything.
It was time to change his target. There was still one of the three that had been involved in his incarceration that he hadn't gone after – Jeff Spencer. As he drove back to Huntington Beach to pick up Rachel, a plan began to take shape in his mind. And it would involve the very person he was going to retrieve. How fortuitous he'd been when he saw the girl hurry into the donut shop that night. He smiled to himself; his investment was about to pay off.
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By the time Jeff got to the hospital Stu had already been released. He had minor cuts and abrasions on his forehead where he'd scraped the pavement, and a head wound that had almost been healed with fresh stitches in it. The younger partner found the senior partner pacing the surgical wing's waiting room. "How is he? Any word?"
Stu stared right at Jeff, and his expression wasn't hopeful. He didn't . . . couldn't answer Jeff's questions.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine."
"I see new wounds."
"Nothing serious," Stu replied, "or they wouldn't have released me."
"I don't ever want to get another call from a hospital about you, Mr. Bailey." Jeff knew that was impossible to guarantee, but he made the statement anyway.
"You know I can't promise that. Besides, I think this was aimed more at Gil than me."
"Daggett's favorite target seems to be cars."
"Doesn't it though?" Stu answered. "At least all he's destroying are the vehicles – so far."
"Now, tell me the truth. How are the ribs?"
"They feel like I got kicked by a mule – several times. Jeff," Stu paused, choosing his words carefully, "he didn't move. He had a pulse, but not a particularly strong one. The doctor told me he had multiple internal injuries, along with a broken leg and a piece of the car lodged in his shoulder. The nurse that gave my doctor the news shook her head when he asked her a question." Stu paused, while the private investigator gathered his wits about him. "I called Ellen; I didn't want her to hear it from Flaherty. She's on her way here now. He's bad, Jeff, and I feel like it's all my fault."
"Slow down, buddy. It was Gil's car that blew up, not yours. That bomb could have gone off at any time. Gil's a cop, remember? And he's made plenty of enemies by virtue of that fact. Stu Bailey is not responsible for everything bad that happens to anyone we know. Let's take it nice and easy until we've got some facts in hand, shall we?"
"Here's a fact for you – Daggett is not going to live to be an old man."
Before the discourse could go any further Ellen Gilmore appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. She rushed into Stu's arms and kissed him on the cheek, then did the same to Jeff. "Any word yet?" she questioned Stu. She was dry-eyed. Ellen had been through something similar too many times before.
"No, not since they took him up to surgery."
"What happened?"
"Here, sit down." Stu got Ellen situated in a chair, then sat down next to her. "I took Gil to lunch at Joe's Seafood in Beverly Hills. I made him go, Ellen. He's skipped out on me too many times. Gil drove; I still don't have a car. The parking attendant put the car close to the door. When we were finished we walked outside and the kid started the car to bring it to Gil. As soon as he turned the key in the ignition the car blew up.
"Both of us were thrown to the ground. By the time I got up and got to Gil the ambulance was on the way, but he never moved. He was alive, but that's all I can tell you. They brought us here separately."
Ellen sat there with her hands in her lap. "Have you seen the surgeon?"
Stu wanted to shake his head but knew better than to attempt it. "No. They took him straight in to surgery; another doctor tended to me."
"Why don't I go get us some coffee?" Jeff asked. "Cream and one sugar, right, Ellen?"
"That's right, Jeff, thank you." One Spencer was on his way for coffee, Ellen turned back to Stuart. "How are you? How are the ribs that got broken before?"
"I'm fine, Ellen."
A small smile graced Ellen's features. "I know what Gil means when he says he's fine. I bet you say the same thing. As long as there's no visible blood or major damage, you're fine. So tell me the truth, Stu Bailey. How are you really?"
Stu almost laughed. You couldn't lie to a policeman's wife, not even a little bit. Stu shifted in his chair and winced. "They hurt . . . they've hurt before. I'm fine, Ellen, really."
"What about the parking attendant?"
Stu shook his head slowly. "No hope. He couldn't have survived."
They sat in silence until Jeff returned with their coffee. "Thank you, Jeff."
Jeff nodded at Ellen, then joined Stu and Ellen in the waiting room chairs. There was nothing they could do now.
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"Good day at the beach, doll?" Tony smiled at the blonde teenager when she climbed into the car that night.
"Okay," was the only answer he got. They were halfway back to the apartment before she said any more. "How was your day?"
"To tell you the truth, it didn't quite go as expected. But I've figured a way around that." Daggett glanced over at Rachel. "Anything special you want to do tonight?"
"Not really."
He was concerned by the answers and attitude he was getting. "Maybe it's time we sat down and discussed what we're going to do about our living arrangements."
"Sure, if that's what you want to do."
He looked over at her. She really was beautiful, as well as voluptuous, and probably not as virtuous as she made people think she was. Maybe it was time for him to find out. The thought of her in his arms and in his bed made him lick his lips in anticipation. Slow down, Daggett old boy. All that will wait. You've got something to take care of first. "Maybe not," he said out loud. "Let's play it by ear."
"Okay."
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Jeff, Stu and Ellen Gilmore were still sitting in the surgical waiting room at Beverly Hills General some four hours later. Stu paced, then Jeff paced, then they sat back down. Both were aware they were probably upsetting Ellen, but they had to do something with their nervous energy. Ellen sat quietly and waited.
Stu called the office and talked to Suzanne; she was relieved to hear he was "fine" but was worried about the Lieutenant. Jeff reached out to Kookie and warned him to watch his back, lest he get caught in the crossfire of Daggett's next attempt. And all three men were sure of two things, whether they had any evidence or not. First, it was Daggett who'd caused the explosion, and second, that he would be sure to try again. The only question became the identity of his next target.
It was almost eight o'clock when a very exhausted looking surgeon walked into the waiting room, removing his surgical cap and mask. "Mrs. Gilmore?"
Ellen stood. "Is he alive, doctor?"
"He is, Mrs. Gilmore. Sorry we took so long. It was touch and go for a while, but I believe we got everything taken care of."
"And the prognosis?" Stu asked.
"I'm sorry, you are . . . ?"
"These are my husband's best friends, doctor. Anything you tell me you can tell them," Ellen responded quickly.
"It looks like the prognosis is good, sir. He's going to have a long recovery period, and he might lose some mobility in his leg. But I have to say we got a better outcome than it looked like we would."
"What room is he in?" Jeff questioned.
"ICU room 214. He'll be there a minimum of forty-eight hours, and if everything looks good after that, we'll move him."
"Can I see him, Doctor . . .?
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gilmore. It's Evers. Doctor Evers. And certainly, I'll have a nurse take you there now."
"We'll wait for you here, Ellen," Jeff told her, and they watched as she walked out of the room.
The two partners looked at each other with the same thought. "Front door?" Stu asked.
"You betcha," Jeff replied. In just a few minutes they were standing outside the front door, each pulling out cigarettes. Jeff opened his lighter and lit both Stu's, then his. "I thought I was going to . . . never mind. I just needed a cigarette."
"Desperately," Stu added.
When they were finished they hurried back up to the waiting room. It was still empty. "At least we beat Ellen back."
"Not by much," Stu pointed out. Ellen was on her way down the hall. "How did he look?"
"He's looked better. He looks like you scraped the pavement with him, Stu."
"Ellen, I'm so sorry. It was all my fault . . .
"No, it wasn't. He's alive, and for that I thank God. You know the last thing Gil would want is you blaming yourself."
"Was he awake?" Jeff asked.
"No, between the anesthetic and the pain medicines, he's sleeping soundly. You two should go on home now; they won't let anybody but me in tonight. And don't worry about being here tomorrow. I'll let you know when they move him and you can come back then. Figure out who did this. And then . . . don't ever let them do it again. To you or anybody else."
"We'll take care of it, Ellen." Stu kissed her cheek; Jeff did the same.
As they rode down in the elevator Jeff asked, "Do you think we should have stayed with her?"
"No. They have an officer posted outside his door. And I'm sure she'll be in his room the rest of the night. Besides, Daggett can't think that fast."
"Let's hope not."