The Door Into Summer
Chapter 27Tony drove for almost an hour before he heard anything on the radio. "This just in. Police are reporting the fatal shooting of two people in Newport Beach, one of them Jeff Spencer. Spencer was one-half of the well-known private investigative firm Bailey and Spencer, located on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood. He was taken to Beach Presbyterian Hospital but was pronounced dead on arrival. The other victim has not been identified, but it appears she was a teenager. Stay tuned for further information as it becomes available."
A smile spread across Daggett's face; the smile of a man that had finally gotten something right. He knew all hell would have broken loose in Orange County, so he headed down to San Diego, where he'd rented a room a week ago. He'd stay there, in his room with a view of the ocean, until everything settled down and he could drive back to Hollywood. There were still two men he owed payback to . . . Bailey and Gilmore.
It was a shame he'd disposed of the girl, but he viewed it as necessary. Once he'd used her as bait to draw in Spencer he really had no further need of her. Besides, it had gotten to be too expensive to keep her around, and there was always the chance she'd betray him. At least that possibility no longer existed.
Once he reached his new place he parked and unloaded the trunk. He put everything away inside; there wasn't much to unpack. Then he poured himself a gin and tonic and sat down to enjoy the view. "Here's to you, Jeff Spencer, for all the pain you caused me. May you rot in hell." He raised his glass in a toast to the fallen private dick.
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Stu was still sitting in the ICU waiting room when he heard the recognizable 'clack, clack, clack' of heels coming down the hall. He barely had time to stand before he was engulfed by a familiar French perfume and a pair of trembling arms. "Stuart, oh, Stuart. Is there any news? Have you seen him yet? Please tell me he's still alive."
"Slow down, honey. He's still alive and I haven't seen him. I was hoping to hear something before you got here, but nothing so far." Stu sat down and took Suzanne down with him. She still had her arms wrapped around his neck, almost in a death grip. He disengaged himself and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her.
"I'm sorry. I swore I wouldn't cry any more. Any word on Daggett? It was him, wasn't it?"
"Of course it was Daggett. And to think I dismissed him as nothing more than a small-time hoodlum. He's managed to rack up an impressive score for a creep who wasn't dangerous. Kookie," he said, looking up, "stay with Suzanne. I've got to go do something."
"You got it, dad. Where will you be in case?"
"Outside smoking. Or in the restroom. I won't be gone long."
"Got it."
Stu went to the restroom first, taking care of the necessities of life before washing his hands and splashing water on his face. He hurried down the corridor and took the elevator to the second floor, where there was an outside balcony. Stepping outside, it was the first time he realized he'd been at the hospital for more than twenty-four hours. He pulled out a cigarette, then his lighter, but hesitated a moment before lighting up. With every minute that passed, Jeff's chances of surviving the terrible onslaught Daggett had released on him improved. And Daggett's decreased, by more than the same margin. Stuart loosed the shaky grasp he had on his emotions for just a moment and said out loud what he'd been thinking since he first heard of the attack – "I'll kill you, you son-of-a-bitch, if it's the last thing I ever do."
He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders, then lit his cigarette. He had to hold it together, especially in front of Kookie and Suzanne. And the last thing Jeff would want him to do was fall apart. He smoked quietly, willing his emotions back into their hiding place, until he was the Stuart Bailey that everyone, including himself, expected. Calm and in control, level-headed and sure of himself, by the time he finished his smoke he was ready to return to the ICU waiting room and be 'dad.' After all, he thought, somebody had to do it.
He was walking down the hall when he heard the intercom call – "Code Blue, ICU 349. Code Blue." He ran back to the waiting room and the look on Suzanne's face said it all. The normally reserved Frenchwoman was once again in his arms sobbing uncontrollably.
"Shhh, Suzanne, it's alright. He'll be alright. He wouldn't leave us; there's too much work for us to do. Be strong," and somehow the calm demeanor of the man holding her tightly found its way to the woman he comforted, and the sobbing slowed to a mere sniffle.
Kookie watched in awe as Stu Bailey worked the magic he seemed to have for saying just the right thing at just the right time. He thought of what a good match they were, Stu and Jeff. One always in control of the situation, the other smiling at the bright side of things. If he was ever going to realize his dream of being a private investigator, he couldn't have picked a better pair to learn from.
It was almost twenty minutes after the call that a doctor came in to see them. "Mr. Bailey? I'm Doctor Carter."
"Doctor, what happened? Is he . . . alright?"
The unasked question was, "Is he still alive?" and for just a moment Stu was afraid to hear the answer.
"He's still with us, Mr. Bailey. There for a minute we almost lost him, but that's not unusual considering where the bullet we took out of him was lodged. I can't promise when we can let you in to see him, but barring any further incidents it should be sooner rather than later."
The doctor left and Suzanne followed shortly after, to visit the ladies room and 'fix her face.' Kookie looked at Stu with an admiration he didn't always express. "I thought . . . I thought we lost him, dad. How do you stay so calm like that?"
"Years of practice, Kookie. Years of practice."
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"Mr. Bailey?" Gloria Ames asked her husband as soon as he hung up the phone. "It was nice of him to call. Did you . . . " She never got to finish her sentence. Suddenly Jerry Ames had Gloria in his arms, whooping, hollering and twirling her around.
"She's alive, Gloria! Rachel is alive!"
"She – what? Jerry, put me down. Are you sure you heard him right?"
Rachel's father beamed from ear to ear. "She's alive!"
"But the police . . . " her mother started.
"They were wrong! Bailey told me they were wrong. She was shot twice but she's expected to make a complete recovery! Oh, this is the best news!" And he held Gloria even tighter than before.
"Where is she?"
"In Beach Presbyterian Hospital." He finally put his wife down. "What are you waiting for, woman? Go pack a suitcase!"
Gloria laughed, the sound only an overjoyed mother can make. "Pack? I never unpacked."
"Then let's put the suitcases in the car and drive. We've got to go get our little girl."
For a moment her mother got serious. "She's not a little girl anymore, Jerry."
Rachel's father nodded. "I know. But she's still ours."
"Then what are we waiting for? The suitcases are in the bedroom closet. I'll pack us a lunch. That way we can drive straight through."
"Mr. Bailey said not to rush, he would take care of her. His partner's still critical in the same hospital."
"Let's go, Jerry. We're wasting time," Gloria insisted.
And Jerry Ames ran happily up the stairs to retrieve their suitcases.
Stu, Suzanne and Kookie sat in the ICU waiting room for what seemed like hours. Finally, Doctor Carter came back in the room. "Well, that just goes to show you, even doctors can be wrong. Sorry it's taken so long to come get one of you, but we finally feel confident that Mr. Spencer is coming out of everything we've put him through. Mr. Bailey, would you please come with me?"
Stu shook his head. "Suzanne, you go first."
The pretty receptionist jumped up and then looked back at her boss. "Stuart, are you sure? You've been here forever."
Stu smiled at her. If only Suzanne and Jeff would admit what everyone else already knew. "I'm sure, Suzanne. You go ahead."
She didn't have to be told twice. "Thank you, Stuart," and she followed the doctor eagerly.
"That was a good thing you did, dad," Kookie told Stu once they were gone and the room was empty again.
"Strictly self-preservation. I'd have never forgiven myself if Suzanne didn't get to see him and something happened."
"You mean like . . . "
"Yes. Don't say it. Besides, this way she'll feel better for having seen him."
"She really cares about him, doesn't she?"
Stu shook his head. "No, Kookie, it's way beyond that. She loves him. And it's not one-sided; he loves her. If I live long enough, some day I'll understand why they won't admit it."
Kookie looked mildly confused. "But he dates other people; so does she. Why not confess they dig each other?"
Stuart smiled. "That's one of the great mysteries of the universe, my friend."