Frequent Patient Discount – Chapter Two
"I should have known it was going to be a bad day right from the start, I burnt my tongue on coffee before I ever even left the house, then when I got outside I had a flat tire. I got to the boat dock and the boat we normally rent was gone, instead they give me this boat that looked like it should have been the prize out of a bag of Cracker Jack's. I finally got out on the lake and nothing was biting except the morning mosquitoes. I had about decided to just say forget it when I heard her scream."
"Who is her?" Jesse interrupted.
"I don't know who her is, we didn't exchange introductions," Steve responded flatly before continuing. "Now, you are the one who wanted to know what happened. Will you please shut up and let me tell you before I change my mind?"
Steve raised his arms above his head, interlocked his fingers, and stretched. He had been on the lake for a little over an hour and had not seen another soul, including any fish. He finished his stretch and reached towards the thermos to pour some coffee when a shrill scream pierced the quiet morning. Forgetting where he was he jumped up and caused the small boat to start rocking. He attempted to get his balance unsuccessfully, and as he fell over the side of the boat, his ankle caught up under the seat and twisted painfully. There was little time to consider the discomfort as his face impacted with the water, driving water up his nose and into the sinus cavity. He twisted to get his ankle free and heard another scream. With a great deal of effort he pulled himself back up into the boat, water poured off of him as he turned and glared at the motor which had proved itself to be a royal pain before he had even left the dock that morning. His first tug produced no results and a spurt of anger caused him to yank vigorously the second time around, the cord caught abruptly and the rubber handle bent his fingers backwards to an awkward and painful position. He released it quickly and stuck his throbbing fingers under his armpit. The stream of words that flew through clinched teeth would have made even the most hardened criminal blush. Regaining a small amount of composure he reached once again towards the offending cord and on the third try the small motor which sounded more like a mixer roared to life. He paused and tried to determine where the last sound had come from, another burst of noise made the task easier and he turned the boat in the direction it seemed to originate.
"Ok, so that's the ankle," Mark stated. His interruption earned him a glare that resembled the same one Steve used to exhibit when as a teenager he had been grounded. "That look had no affect when you were sixteen and it still doesn't, in fact, the turtle is more intimidating. Now continue on."
Steve spoke louder to be heard over Jesse's giggling. "After I got back in the boat, I heard her…don't say it!" He growled at Jesse, who was hiding an impish grin behind his hand.
"Anyway, I heard her scream and I headed in the direction that it came from."
He rounded a small bend in the lake to find two women in a boat, their faces were panic stricken, he reached a hand towards his hip to check his gun, Damn,he thought as he remembered he had left it at home. He cut the motor off and glided up beside the other boat.
"Ladies, what seems to be the problem?" Steve questioned.
"There," squeaked the smaller of the two women as she pointed to the far corner of the boat.
Steve looked back over his shoulder to see a medium sized turtle huddled under the seat.
"It tried to bite us," the other woman informed him.
"It seems he had made the huge mistake of latching on to one of their lines."
Jesse grinned over at the turtle. "That'll teach you, buddy, never string along two women at once!"
"Well, I thought if I could get it to the rangers, they would send it back East where it belongs," Steve said, "but she . . . "
Steve paused and eyed Jesse, daring him to ask. When he didn't Steve was interrupted by a snort of laughter, but not by Jesse, Mark was trying desperately to gain control of himself. "I'm sorry, I have a tickle in my throat, go on."
With a sigh, Steve continued his story.
If a turtle could appear terrified this one had mastered the look, its beady eyes were darting and its tongue was visible and Steve could swear its mouth was quivering.
"I really don't think he is dangerous." As Steve had spoken the turtle had decided to make a break for it, so at the speed of ketchup he had moved across the floor of the boat.
Seeing this breakneck pace, the larger of the two women shrieked and started beating the boat with her fishing rod, completely oblivious of the thin line with the hook on the end. Steve dodged as it flew over his head, but he had not been quick enough and the hook lodged in his scalp, but it didn't stay long because as she renewed her battle with the turtle she ripped it free and continued her frenzied reptile attack.
"Ouch," Mark responded and his face crinkled in sympathy. "That had to hurt."
"Yes, it did and does," Steve responded tartly. "While she was flailing around I reached down and tried to grab the turtle, that was a mistake, he got me with his beak, by the way, why do turtles have beaks? I thought only birds had beaks?"
"I don't know, Son, I'll buy you a book on turtles and you can do some research."
Once again Mark found himself the recipient of a hard look.
"YEOUCHHH," Steve screamed. In a quest for self-preservation he reached into the middle of the fray and grabbed the turtle, not taking care to find out which end he was grabbing, a decision he quickly regretted as a sharp beak crunched into his hand.
"Ouch, let go, or I'll leave you with these women!" The turtle seemed to understand the threat and immediately released its grip and Steve transferred the creature to his boat.
"What are you doing with it? Are you going to hurt it?" The small woman asked.
Steve pushed the wet hair, out of his eyes and tried to control his temper and thought. Lady, if he could survive the two of you, nothing I could do to him should be a problem. "No, I'm not going to hurt him, there is a wildlife sanctuary on my way home, I'm going to drop him off there."
The larger woman observed him through thick, large framed glasses. "You're sure you aren't going to hurt him? By the way, your head is bleeding pretty heavily; you want me to take a look at it."
Steve suddenly felt the same fear the turtle must have been experiencing as both women leaned towards him. He searched his vest for something to staunch the flow of blood as he eyed the woman suspiciously. "No, thanks, my father is a doctor; he will take care of it."
As the two women contemplated his answer he evaluated his chances to take them if a fight broke out. He wasn't fond of the odds. He would never understand why some people would ever go fishing. With the immediate crisis resolved, he suddenly felt numerous areas of his body announcing their discomfort. His boot had gotten uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his make-shift bandage of today's sports section which he had retrieved from his boat had failed to staunch the steady flow of blood down his head and a sting had taken up residence in his hand. When he realized that they weren't going to respond he spoke.
"If you ladies are alright, I think I am going to call it a day."
"Ok, so we have covered the foot, the head and the hand, that leaves us with the Sloan throne and your shredded pants." Jesse prompted his voice muffled by the hand that covered the smile he couldn't repress.
"So, after liberating the turtle from Thelma and Louise…"
"I thought you didn't know their names?" Mark interrupted, his moustache twitching in a valiant effort to contain a grin.
The noise Steve made was unidentifiable, but Jesse chose to believe it was a laugh, despite the narrowed eyes that viewed him with little humor. "I got back to the docks with the turtle and as I got close to the bait shop I realized something wasn't right."
"What do you mean something wasn't right?" Mark asked.
"Oh, I don't know, Dad, superior detective skills, amazing deductive ability or maybe, just maybe the fact that I could see Nelson, the clerk, through the window with his hands up in the air."
"Oh, you are good," Jesse interjected and barely ducked out of the way as a wad of gauze was thrown towards his head.
"So, what happened?" Mark prompted.
"I was able to get close enough to peek in the window and saw a man with a gun, I decided it would be better to wait outside the door and surprise him, seeing as how I was only armed with a sharp beaked turtle."
"You still had the turtle?" Jesse inquired.
"Yes, I still had the turtle," Steve responded testily.
"Were you actually holding the turtle?" Jesse asked.
"Yes," Steve hissed at him.
"Why?"
Steve opened his mouth to reply, and when he found he had no good answer at the ready, he said simply, "I . . . don't know."
Both Mark and Jesse dissolved in laughter at this point, and Steve just groaned. It was several moments before the conversation continued.
"And then what?" Mark asked.
Steve knew his choices were limited. There were times that he knew a physical presence could be enough of a deterrent to disarm someone, but he knew he was not at his imposing best. His head and face were bloodied, he was limping, his hand was wrapped in a paper towel and he was carrying a turtle. Not an image that would strike fear into most criminals. As the man backed out of the door Steve spoke and the startled man jumped back and things went rapidly down hill from there. Steve stepped back and in his haste he forgot the barrel of minnows behind him, he lost his balance as the container gave with his weight and as he flew back and towards the left he legs flew at an odd angle and he heard a tearing noise just before he heard the gun discharge and he felt a sudden pain in his backside. He fell to the ground taking care not to injure his new best friend, the turtle. Steve looked up to find his view blocked by the shotgun. His clothes were wet, his face splattered with mud and there was a curious wiggling sensation inside his shirt.
"How did you disarm him?" Mark questioned.
"I didn't."
"You didn't?" Mark asked with an arched eyebrow.
"No, I didn't," Steve answered.
"Well who did then?" Jesse added.
"No one, exactly," Steve replied reluctantly.
"Exactly no one? I don't understand." Mark was genuinely confused.
"Well, when I left the house this morning, I was determined for once to be completely off duty. I didn't have my badge, gun, or cuffs, and the gunman was quite a bit bigger than me, and as I said, all I had was the turtle."
"I see," Mark said, "and you decided it was best to avoid an altercation?"
"Well, yeah. I was too close to the building, he could have gone back in and taken Nelson hostage."
"So, what did you do?" Jesse asked, impatient to know what had happened.
"I . . . uh . . . I let him take me."
Steve carefully weighed his options. The robber had a double barrel shotgun that had only discharged one barrel, and while he, Nelson, and the criminal were the only ones in the immediate vicinity, there were a lot of civilians on the lake and at the various campsites around it. It wouldn't do to let the guy roam the park, so he had to stop him somehow, and the only way he'd have a chance to stop him would be to stick with him. Saying a quick prayer, Steve held onto the turtle and wallowed around in the dirt a little longer than necessary. As he expected, when the gunman got to his feet, he decided to take a hostage, and since Steve had made himself available, he got to do the honors.
He swallowed hard as the barrel of the shotgun was shoved in his face, and the man at the other end of it leered, "Get up, and grab your little pet. In fact, carry him over your head, that way, if you try anything, he'll hit you in the head before you can do it."
The gunman glared down toward the dock and asked, "That your boat?"
"It's a rental, but, yes," Steve replied.
"Let's go."
Steve was already formulating a plan as he headed back to the dock. The boat was unstable, but his captor didn't know that.
"So, we went down to the boat, and . . ."
"And you still had the turtle?" Jesse asked, giving the little green guy an affectionate look.
"Yes, I still had the turtle," Steve replied impatiently, "Now, do you want to know what happened, or not?"
When Jesse would have said something more, Mark shot him a withering look, and said, "I can't believe you offered yourself as a hostage again."
Steve bristled at first, and opened his mouth to bark a rude retort, but when he saw the latent worry on his father's face, he said gently, "Hey, Dad, it's over, and I'm all right . . . mostly. I had about two seconds to make a decision, and that's really the only thing I could do."
Mark nodded, and tried a smile though now he didn't much feel like it. "I know, that, Son, but I still don't like to think about it. Anyway, go on, what happened next?"
Climbing into the boat with the turtle still positioned above his head had been an adventure. Steve had made his way towards the back and the motor.
"Can I put the turtle down?" Steve asked his captor.
"Sure, but no quick moves or the turtle gets it," the man snickered as he pointed the gun at the reptile.
Steve scowled as he carefully placed his hard-shelled friend on the seat. They shared a brief look and Steve could swear the little guy had winked at him. Steve began what he knew from his attempts earlier in the morning would be an arduous task of starting the boat's motor. He pulled the rope the first time and heard the familiar spluttering noise. As he had pulled his arm back to make another attempt, he heard an almost sucking noise behind him that was immediately followed by a scream and the boat suddenly began to rock, the only thing that kept it from tipping over was the fact that it was still secured to the dock. Steve turned around quickly and saw the shotgun fly through the air and land on the dock, his captor now on his knees holding his hands up to his face and one thoroughly satisfied turtle sitting on the seat of the boat with what Steve would swear was a grin on his wrinkled little face. Steve's voice took on that tone that adults often take when talking with small children and pets and he reached out and stroked the hard shell.
"Did you get the big bad man? What a good boy!" The moment might have continued if not for the sound of a throat clearing and Steve looked up into the face of a park ranger.
"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" the young man, whose name badge read Dewey, asked.
Steve, a little chagrinned at having a fellow law enforcement officer catch him baby-talking a reptile, didn't quite know what to say at first. Before he could get his tongue untied though, his captor stood up, faced the ranger, and said, "Thank God you're here! This lunatic is trying to kidnap me!"
"I what?" Steve shouted, but before he could go on, his eyes fell to the thirty-eight his kidnapper had stuffed into the back waistband of his pants, and he knew the situation was still dangerous.
"I had a bad day fishing," the crook said, "so I decided to go home early. I was just going into the shop to check the boat back in when this nut case came rushing out and shoved me into the barrel of minnows. By the time I got up off the ground, he was sticking his shotgun in my face and telling me to carry his turtle."
The whole time the robber had been talking, Steve had been casting meaningful glances from Dewey, to the back of his captor's pants, but when the other man finished speaking, Dewey just looked past the crook and asked Steve, "Well, sir, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Steve knew what he must have looked like covered in mud with the remains of the sports pages sticking to his bloodied scalp as he babbled at the turtle, and since Dewey hadn't taken his hint, from the young man's perspective he'd also just spent the past several moments with his eyes rolling in their sockets as if they were about to tumble out of his head. He could see by Ranger Dewey's expression that the man was already trying to determine whether he should be contacting the county sheriff or the nice young men in their clean white coats to come and take him away. He knew that in his current state, there was no way he could convincingly explain that the story was true but the roles had been reversed.
Sighing, Steve said, "Nelson, the clerk at the bait shop, knows me. He'll tell you what happened."
Ranger Dewey gave them both an indulgent smile and said, "Well, then, why don't we just go have a friendly chat with Nelson? With any luck, we can all be home in time for supper."
With the shotgun at his feet on the dock, Dewey naively believed he was dealing with an innocent tourist and a bedraggled, but now harmless, maniac. Bending forward to pick up the weapon, he stupidly took his eye off his two suspects, and the not-so-innocent not-so-tourist took that opportunity to pull his thirty-eight out of his waistband.
"Get down!" Steve yelled as he rocked the flimsy boat hard to port, but the robber managed to squeeze off a shot before he hit the water anyway. Even as Ranger Dewey went down screaming when his leg gave out beneath him, Steve noticed with some satisfaction that the turtle had wisely pulled his little head and flippers as far into the shell as they would go.
Diving from the little boat, Steve drove his shoulder into the criminal's midsection and let his momentum carry them both underwater. A couple of hard blows to his back made him come up gasping for air. He looked around, and spotted the other man, gun still in hand, trying to get back into the boat. He was hanging half over the side and seemed to be having trouble getting his legs up when he suddenly screamed in agony and pulled the gun up dangerously close to his face.
Steve, knowing what was about to happen next, lunged for the hand that held the gun. He didn't stop the man from firing, but the waves he created did make the shot miss its mark. The turtle, frightened by the noise, pulled back into his shell again, taking a chunk of flesh with him. The criminal, wanting nothing more than to escape the sadistic little animal, turned on Steve. One powerful shove knocked the big cop off balance and into the dock when he slipped in the mushy mud and fell back among the pilings on which the little dock had been built.
A bit confused by the sudden fall and all the bubbles, Steve thrashed about in the muddy water for several moments, trying to figure out which way was up. Just as he surfaced, alone in the dark beneath the dock, he heard the roar of the shotgun discharging again, the click of it breaking open, and the thud of two empty shells dropping onto the dock above his head. He could only assume that someone was reloading.
His heart pounding in his chest, Steve silently caught his breath, and then, dreading what he might find, as quietly as he could, he slipped under the water and swam out from under the dock.
"Nelson was up on the dock, and the guy was long gone. Someone from the LA County Sheriff showed up, and some paramedics to take care of Ranger Dewey, I gave my statement and came here. The end." Steve held his breath, not even daring to ask Jesse to hurry up so he could get home in time to clean up before work, hoping against all hope that he had satisfied his friend and his father's curiosity.
"Now wait a minute," Jesse said, and Steve felt his heart sink to his toes. "I'm still not sure how you disarmed the guy."
The bloody matted head dropped down in shame and the muttered response was barely audible. "The turtle did it."
Jesse didn't try and suppress the laughter anymore. He guffawed loudly and through watering eyes glanced over at Steve's current partner who at that moment was happily floating in the sink. His knees weak from laughter, he hooked the stool under the exam table with his foot and quickly sat down.
"Nelson," Steve said quietly, and he raised his hands high as the shaken clerk turned on him with the shotgun.
Quickly Nelson shifted the barrels to point in a safe direction. "Jeeze, Steve, don't spook me like that. That creep busted my glasses and you're likely to get your head blown off before I can see who you are."
"Where is he, Nelson?"
"He ran off when I fired the shotgun. I snuck down here while you two were fighting and grabbed it, and when he knocked you down, I figured I had to shoot. He was far enough away that I think I missed him. He didn't yell anyway." Nelson grinned. "He sure did run, though." A frown replaced the grin. "I'm sorry I couldn't catch him for you, but I did call 911. The sheriff and an ambulance are on their way."
Steve nodded. "You did the right thing, Nelson."
Nelson squinted in the direction of the boat and grinned again. "Who's your friend little friend and what's he got there?"
Steve stared for a minute, and then his face crinkled up in a smile. Paddling happily in a half-sunken boat, the turtle was swimming between the seats, a thirty-eight revolver clamped tightly in his beak.
"Now, can you please finish up and let me go home?" Steve pleaded.
"Does Cheryl know she has been replaced?" Jesse asked between bursts of laughter.
He was saved from what promised to be an ugly response by a short knock on the door and the entrance of one of the interns.
"Doctor Travis?"
Jesse somehow mumbled out a response. "Yes, Michael, what is it?"
"I would like your opinion on a case."
Jesse further composed himself. "Sure, what's going on."
"Well, it's really bizarre, it seems that this guy had a turtle latch on to his nose…," he got no further because his concern quickly switched from his patient to the doctor who had just collapsed off the stool and onto the floor and now lay curled in a fetal position with strange sounds emanating from his mouth.