~~
Jack was dozing lightly in his bed when he heard the door creak open and footsteps creep in. Opening one eye, he saw Norman Briggs looking at the card that was attached to the bunch of flowers that had appeared courtesy of Amanda on his bedside table. Jack shut his eye again, hoping that Norman had not seen him awake, but he was not discreet enough.
"Ah, Stewart, you're awake, good," Norman said, sounding pleased for a reason that Jack could not for the life of him work out. Perhaps he didn't want to know. No, Jack definitely did not want to know.
"Hey, Mr Briggs," Jack said, sighing. It was tempting to call the nurse and ask for something to help him sleep, instantly, but he had enough self- control not to. "What can I do for you?"
"Just visiting, just checking on you," Norman said, straightening the cover at the foot of the bed. "I care for my staff, you know, Stewart, do you know that? I care for each and every member of my staff like they were my children, and I like to know how they're all doing. How are you doing?"
"Not so bad," Jack said, slightly concerned at Norman's behaviour. Did he miss something, like Norman hitting his head hard on something? Maybe not, Norman had a habit of acting weirdly for time to time, in particular following major disasters, such as being held hostage, or earthquakes. Jack wondered if he'd missed a major disaster somewhere.
"By the way, Stewart, how was it that you came to be shot, and more to the point, why was it that you were the one representing Community General at the Charity Ball yesterday evening?"
Aha, that's what he wants to know, Jack thought to himself. He knew Norman would have to have hit his head really hard to be visited Jack out of kindness. "Well, Mark asked me to go instead of him," Jack said, laying out the facts for Norman. "And I got lost trying to find the bathroom when I saw the guy who got shot. I went to help him, but it was dark and I didn't realise the shooter was still there."
"You got lost trying to find the bathroom," Norman repeated, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. He shook his head and said, "Do you expect me to believe that? Do you really expect me to believe that you were shot due to the fact you got lost looking for the bathroom?"
Jack couldn't resist it.
"No, Mr Briggs, of course not, I should have realised that you are far more intelligent and perceptive to fall for that," Jack said, ready to let rip and give him something amusing to think about whilst he was confined to his dull hospital room.
"Yes, intelligent and perceptive," Norman said, approving of Jack's choice of words.
"You've figured me out, so I'll give you the truth. I'm really a member of the FBI posing as a doctor, and I was tipped off that the key witness in our investigation would be speaking at the Ball, and his speech was the code I needed to figure out who was behind the scam I've been dealing with for five years. So, I asked Mark if I could go instead, of course he knows what I'm really about, but he's the only one who knows and he's kept it quiet. So, after the speech I went backstage to talk with our witness, but someone got there first and got him. I was crouching down to hear his dying words when the shooter came out of nowhere and got me too. That's how I ended up here," Jack finished, enjoying the look of pure astonishment that had crept across Norman's face throughout his tale.
The hospital administrator stood, eyes like saucers, drinking up every word of the story that Jack had just spun. "You, you mean you're a spy, and not really a doctor?"
"Nah, I'm still a fully-trained doctor, but a spy at the same time. They picked me to go on this mission because I am a doctor, if you see what I mean." Jack looked left and right, checking that no one was in the room, listening, and Norman did the same. "I could kill someone with these two fingers," he said, holding up his index and middle finger.
Norman took a step back. "Ah, yes, well, erm, I've, erm, I've got timesheets to check, excuse me."
On his way out of the door, Norman ran into Mark and Amanda. "Dr Bentley, Doctor Sloan," Norman acknowledged before making his quick exit.
"What's gotten into him?" Amanda asked, watching the figure hurry away down the hallway. He was usually uptight, but Amanda was sure she'd never seen him run like that before. In fact, she had never recalled him run at all.
Mark had not failed to notice the grin that had crept across Jack's face. "What did you do to him?"
Jack, still grinning, said, "Norman didn't believe that I got shot looking for the bathroom, which I now remember," he added, having recalled some of what had happened since he had last been visited, "so I told him a slightly different version of events. You'll find out later, I'm sure." He saw the slightly apprehensive looks on their faces, probably at the thought of what he said to Norman, so Jack changed the subject. "So, you guys found anything out?"
"We know for certain that it was a planned murder," Mark said, thinking about how much easier it would be to trace the killer who knew the deceased, rather than a maniac gunman, a theory that they had now thankfully ruled out. "Our first suspect is Maria Chartham, once engaged to Anthony Holmes before he broke it off. I'm going to see what she has to say a bit later."
Mark felt bad for persisting the subject of Jack's memory, but he felt it necessary in order to find out as much as he could so that the identity of the killer could be revealed sooner rather than later. "Can you remember any more about what happened, Jack?"
Jack shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mark, I can remember some stuff, but none of it's relevant. I remember walking into darkness backstage just before I was shot, so even if I did remember anything it would probably be useless." Jack felt a little bit more of his memory of the event come back, and he talked quickly as he tried to get the words out, thinking that he might forget again if he didn't. "There were two silhouettes, one of the guy on the floor and the other of the guy crouching over him. I thought the guy crouching over him might be checking to see if the guy on the floor was alive, but he was checking to see if he was dead. Before I knew it, I got shot." He felt his heart rate rise at the memories, and he tried to slow down. "They were both silhouettes, I couldn't point out either guy if they walked right in front of my face. I'm sorry, Mark," he apologised again.
"Don't worry, Jack," Mark said, patting him on his good shoulder. This backed up Steve's idea of the killer sliding down the rope to check that Anthony was indeed dead. "Keep trying, see if anything else comes back," he added encouragingly.
"There is one thing," Jack said, frowning and looking up slightly as if he was trying to remember the exact details. He wasn't even sure if this was relevant, but he felt he had to say something. "You said this guy is Anthony Holmes, right?"
"That's right," Mark said, eager for Jack to continue.
"Well, he made a speech before he was killed. He said he'd been at Oakes Valley Hospital for two years, and that he'd been made Head of Paediatrics a month ago. Now, there were probably some other employees there who'd worked in that department for years, and had missed out on a promotion, and probably a hefty pay-hike, to someone regarded as the new kid."
"Good thinking," Mark said, making a mental note of this theory. "I'd been considering the possibility of someone losing their job to Holmes, and being replaced as Head of Paediatrics, but I'd not seen it from that angle. Amanda, are you free later?"
"I'll have a look around," she said, knowing without being asked what Mark wished for her to do. She had already been planning the route to Oakes Valley even before Mark had asked her.
There was a knock at the door at that moment, and those in the room were surprised to see Richard Holmes poke his head around the door. "Ah, Doctor Bentley, I-erm, could I have a word with you, please?" He ushered Amelia into the room and said, "I won't be long, wait in here with the Doctors, okay?"
"Oh, hi there, Amelia," Mark said as the girl approached the bed, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hooded sweater. "This is Doctor Stewart."
"Call me Jack," the patient said, hoping that this would put the girl at ease.
"What happened to you, Jack?" Amelia asked, unable to hold back her curiosity and resist questioning the young man's injuries. Jack at that moment realised that there was no need to help put the girl at ease - she was confident enough as it was. To Mark, she did not seem overly upset over her brother's death.
"I got shot," Jack said casually, shrugging his shoulders and immediately regretting it as a soreness immediately shot through his body. He clutched his left shoulder and bit hard to try and ease it.
"Hey, I wouldn't do that for a while," Mark advised as he watched Jack's face crease with pain. He waited to make sure Jack recovered from the spell of discomfort before he turned to Amelia and said, "Jack found your brother, but before he could help him the shooter found Jack."
"Oh, well at least you tried," Amelia said consolingly.
"Amelia, are you coping all right with your brother's death?" Mark asked, expressing the thought he'd been pondering over some minutes ago.
Amelia shrugged. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, put it that way," she said, "and I was pretty shocked to start with, but once the shock has hit me I adapt fairly quickly. Besides, as brothers go, Anthony wasn't the greatest."
"How so?" Mark asked.
"I was born about fifteen years after Richard and Anthony, so I had missed out on getting to know them really well," Amelia said, reminiscing her childhood days. "By the time I was old enough to walk and talk, they were going away to college, and to medical school. Richard stayed close to home, and after our parents died he took me into custody and cared for me. Anthony cared, but he was far more career minded." She shoved her hands in her pockets and a thought seemed to occur to her. "So, have you found out what the food in here is like yet? I was in here a few months back - I broke my arm - and it was pretty gross."
"I don't know, I've not had the pleasure of food yet," Jack said, looking at her suspiciously. He'd been in the business long enough to know that the girl was doing more than making idle chitchat, and he watched her intently as she strolled over to the window.
Amelia chuckled slightly as something outside caught her eye. "Oh, wow, look at that!"
"Look at what?" Mark asked, walking over to where Amelia was peering out of the window. Had the glass not been there, he thought that she would lean right out of it and take the fast route to the ground floor. "What is it?"
Amelia took the opportunity to delve into her pockets and throw her spare chocolate bar deftly behind her towards Jack whilst still apparently focusing one hundred percent of her attention on something outside. "I just saw the coolest old car, it look like it had just fallen out of Grease or something, I mean, you don't see many cars like that walking around nowadays."
"I don't see many cars in general walking around," Jack said, grinning. He had caught the chocolate bar as deftly as Amelia had thrown it and had immediately shoved it behind his pillow.
She turned back to him, pretending to glare at him for the comment he had made, but instead mouthed, "For trying to save Anthony." She continued her spiel about the car, saying, "I'm sorry you missed it, Doctor Sloan, it turned that corner like a second before you got to the window. I only caught a glimpse of it, but man it was cool."
Richard poked his head back around the door at that moment. "Come on, Em, time to go," he said, holding the door for her.
"Bye," she said, waving before she closed the door.
Mark instantly turned to Jack and said, "you can only keep it if you give me a piece, and if you don't eat it until after you've eaten your first solid meal, okay?" Mark knew exactly what was hidden behind Jack's pillow, and he wasn't going to allow Jack to get away with it unless he got part of it into the bargain.
"Fine by me," Jack said, breaking the bar in half and handing one of the pieces over. He smiled, thinking that it was a nice gesture from the girl, and cleverly done. Of course, he would have had the whole bar if Mark weren't in the room. "What gave her away?"
"I saw the reflection in the window," Mark said with his mouth full. He, like Jack, knew that Amelia had had something up her sleeve, and he made sure he saw exactly what it was.
"Nothing gets past you," Jack chuckled, wrapping the rest of the bar up and placing it carefully behind the basket of flowers.
~~
Jack was dozing lightly in his bed when he heard the door creak open and footsteps creep in. Opening one eye, he saw Norman Briggs looking at the card that was attached to the bunch of flowers that had appeared courtesy of Amanda on his bedside table. Jack shut his eye again, hoping that Norman had not seen him awake, but he was not discreet enough.
"Ah, Stewart, you're awake, good," Norman said, sounding pleased for a reason that Jack could not for the life of him work out. Perhaps he didn't want to know. No, Jack definitely did not want to know.
"Hey, Mr Briggs," Jack said, sighing. It was tempting to call the nurse and ask for something to help him sleep, instantly, but he had enough self- control not to. "What can I do for you?"
"Just visiting, just checking on you," Norman said, straightening the cover at the foot of the bed. "I care for my staff, you know, Stewart, do you know that? I care for each and every member of my staff like they were my children, and I like to know how they're all doing. How are you doing?"
"Not so bad," Jack said, slightly concerned at Norman's behaviour. Did he miss something, like Norman hitting his head hard on something? Maybe not, Norman had a habit of acting weirdly for time to time, in particular following major disasters, such as being held hostage, or earthquakes. Jack wondered if he'd missed a major disaster somewhere.
"By the way, Stewart, how was it that you came to be shot, and more to the point, why was it that you were the one representing Community General at the Charity Ball yesterday evening?"
Aha, that's what he wants to know, Jack thought to himself. He knew Norman would have to have hit his head really hard to be visited Jack out of kindness. "Well, Mark asked me to go instead of him," Jack said, laying out the facts for Norman. "And I got lost trying to find the bathroom when I saw the guy who got shot. I went to help him, but it was dark and I didn't realise the shooter was still there."
"You got lost trying to find the bathroom," Norman repeated, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. He shook his head and said, "Do you expect me to believe that? Do you really expect me to believe that you were shot due to the fact you got lost looking for the bathroom?"
Jack couldn't resist it.
"No, Mr Briggs, of course not, I should have realised that you are far more intelligent and perceptive to fall for that," Jack said, ready to let rip and give him something amusing to think about whilst he was confined to his dull hospital room.
"Yes, intelligent and perceptive," Norman said, approving of Jack's choice of words.
"You've figured me out, so I'll give you the truth. I'm really a member of the FBI posing as a doctor, and I was tipped off that the key witness in our investigation would be speaking at the Ball, and his speech was the code I needed to figure out who was behind the scam I've been dealing with for five years. So, I asked Mark if I could go instead, of course he knows what I'm really about, but he's the only one who knows and he's kept it quiet. So, after the speech I went backstage to talk with our witness, but someone got there first and got him. I was crouching down to hear his dying words when the shooter came out of nowhere and got me too. That's how I ended up here," Jack finished, enjoying the look of pure astonishment that had crept across Norman's face throughout his tale.
The hospital administrator stood, eyes like saucers, drinking up every word of the story that Jack had just spun. "You, you mean you're a spy, and not really a doctor?"
"Nah, I'm still a fully-trained doctor, but a spy at the same time. They picked me to go on this mission because I am a doctor, if you see what I mean." Jack looked left and right, checking that no one was in the room, listening, and Norman did the same. "I could kill someone with these two fingers," he said, holding up his index and middle finger.
Norman took a step back. "Ah, yes, well, erm, I've, erm, I've got timesheets to check, excuse me."
On his way out of the door, Norman ran into Mark and Amanda. "Dr Bentley, Doctor Sloan," Norman acknowledged before making his quick exit.
"What's gotten into him?" Amanda asked, watching the figure hurry away down the hallway. He was usually uptight, but Amanda was sure she'd never seen him run like that before. In fact, she had never recalled him run at all.
Mark had not failed to notice the grin that had crept across Jack's face. "What did you do to him?"
Jack, still grinning, said, "Norman didn't believe that I got shot looking for the bathroom, which I now remember," he added, having recalled some of what had happened since he had last been visited, "so I told him a slightly different version of events. You'll find out later, I'm sure." He saw the slightly apprehensive looks on their faces, probably at the thought of what he said to Norman, so Jack changed the subject. "So, you guys found anything out?"
"We know for certain that it was a planned murder," Mark said, thinking about how much easier it would be to trace the killer who knew the deceased, rather than a maniac gunman, a theory that they had now thankfully ruled out. "Our first suspect is Maria Chartham, once engaged to Anthony Holmes before he broke it off. I'm going to see what she has to say a bit later."
Mark felt bad for persisting the subject of Jack's memory, but he felt it necessary in order to find out as much as he could so that the identity of the killer could be revealed sooner rather than later. "Can you remember any more about what happened, Jack?"
Jack shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mark, I can remember some stuff, but none of it's relevant. I remember walking into darkness backstage just before I was shot, so even if I did remember anything it would probably be useless." Jack felt a little bit more of his memory of the event come back, and he talked quickly as he tried to get the words out, thinking that he might forget again if he didn't. "There were two silhouettes, one of the guy on the floor and the other of the guy crouching over him. I thought the guy crouching over him might be checking to see if the guy on the floor was alive, but he was checking to see if he was dead. Before I knew it, I got shot." He felt his heart rate rise at the memories, and he tried to slow down. "They were both silhouettes, I couldn't point out either guy if they walked right in front of my face. I'm sorry, Mark," he apologised again.
"Don't worry, Jack," Mark said, patting him on his good shoulder. This backed up Steve's idea of the killer sliding down the rope to check that Anthony was indeed dead. "Keep trying, see if anything else comes back," he added encouragingly.
"There is one thing," Jack said, frowning and looking up slightly as if he was trying to remember the exact details. He wasn't even sure if this was relevant, but he felt he had to say something. "You said this guy is Anthony Holmes, right?"
"That's right," Mark said, eager for Jack to continue.
"Well, he made a speech before he was killed. He said he'd been at Oakes Valley Hospital for two years, and that he'd been made Head of Paediatrics a month ago. Now, there were probably some other employees there who'd worked in that department for years, and had missed out on a promotion, and probably a hefty pay-hike, to someone regarded as the new kid."
"Good thinking," Mark said, making a mental note of this theory. "I'd been considering the possibility of someone losing their job to Holmes, and being replaced as Head of Paediatrics, but I'd not seen it from that angle. Amanda, are you free later?"
"I'll have a look around," she said, knowing without being asked what Mark wished for her to do. She had already been planning the route to Oakes Valley even before Mark had asked her.
There was a knock at the door at that moment, and those in the room were surprised to see Richard Holmes poke his head around the door. "Ah, Doctor Bentley, I-erm, could I have a word with you, please?" He ushered Amelia into the room and said, "I won't be long, wait in here with the Doctors, okay?"
"Oh, hi there, Amelia," Mark said as the girl approached the bed, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hooded sweater. "This is Doctor Stewart."
"Call me Jack," the patient said, hoping that this would put the girl at ease.
"What happened to you, Jack?" Amelia asked, unable to hold back her curiosity and resist questioning the young man's injuries. Jack at that moment realised that there was no need to help put the girl at ease - she was confident enough as it was. To Mark, she did not seem overly upset over her brother's death.
"I got shot," Jack said casually, shrugging his shoulders and immediately regretting it as a soreness immediately shot through his body. He clutched his left shoulder and bit hard to try and ease it.
"Hey, I wouldn't do that for a while," Mark advised as he watched Jack's face crease with pain. He waited to make sure Jack recovered from the spell of discomfort before he turned to Amelia and said, "Jack found your brother, but before he could help him the shooter found Jack."
"Oh, well at least you tried," Amelia said consolingly.
"Amelia, are you coping all right with your brother's death?" Mark asked, expressing the thought he'd been pondering over some minutes ago.
Amelia shrugged. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, put it that way," she said, "and I was pretty shocked to start with, but once the shock has hit me I adapt fairly quickly. Besides, as brothers go, Anthony wasn't the greatest."
"How so?" Mark asked.
"I was born about fifteen years after Richard and Anthony, so I had missed out on getting to know them really well," Amelia said, reminiscing her childhood days. "By the time I was old enough to walk and talk, they were going away to college, and to medical school. Richard stayed close to home, and after our parents died he took me into custody and cared for me. Anthony cared, but he was far more career minded." She shoved her hands in her pockets and a thought seemed to occur to her. "So, have you found out what the food in here is like yet? I was in here a few months back - I broke my arm - and it was pretty gross."
"I don't know, I've not had the pleasure of food yet," Jack said, looking at her suspiciously. He'd been in the business long enough to know that the girl was doing more than making idle chitchat, and he watched her intently as she strolled over to the window.
Amelia chuckled slightly as something outside caught her eye. "Oh, wow, look at that!"
"Look at what?" Mark asked, walking over to where Amelia was peering out of the window. Had the glass not been there, he thought that she would lean right out of it and take the fast route to the ground floor. "What is it?"
Amelia took the opportunity to delve into her pockets and throw her spare chocolate bar deftly behind her towards Jack whilst still apparently focusing one hundred percent of her attention on something outside. "I just saw the coolest old car, it look like it had just fallen out of Grease or something, I mean, you don't see many cars like that walking around nowadays."
"I don't see many cars in general walking around," Jack said, grinning. He had caught the chocolate bar as deftly as Amelia had thrown it and had immediately shoved it behind his pillow.
She turned back to him, pretending to glare at him for the comment he had made, but instead mouthed, "For trying to save Anthony." She continued her spiel about the car, saying, "I'm sorry you missed it, Doctor Sloan, it turned that corner like a second before you got to the window. I only caught a glimpse of it, but man it was cool."
Richard poked his head back around the door at that moment. "Come on, Em, time to go," he said, holding the door for her.
"Bye," she said, waving before she closed the door.
Mark instantly turned to Jack and said, "you can only keep it if you give me a piece, and if you don't eat it until after you've eaten your first solid meal, okay?" Mark knew exactly what was hidden behind Jack's pillow, and he wasn't going to allow Jack to get away with it unless he got part of it into the bargain.
"Fine by me," Jack said, breaking the bar in half and handing one of the pieces over. He smiled, thinking that it was a nice gesture from the girl, and cleverly done. Of course, he would have had the whole bar if Mark weren't in the room. "What gave her away?"
"I saw the reflection in the window," Mark said with his mouth full. He, like Jack, knew that Amelia had had something up her sleeve, and he made sure he saw exactly what it was.
"Nothing gets past you," Jack chuckled, wrapping the rest of the bar up and placing it carefully behind the basket of flowers.
~~