Chapter 4
Dr. Milburn entered the lounge, fully expecting to see Mark Donovan waiting for him. The already poured cup of coffee was a pleasant surprise, though.
"Well, Mark, what's your take on all this?"
"That's what I was going to ask you, Doc. Do the injuries fit the story?"
"Some of them do."
"The lady's?"
The doctor nodded as he sipped his coffee, eagerly anticipating the caffeine jolt to come. "The head wound clearly came from the accident. The bruising on her wrist and arm, neither of which appears to be broken, matches her story of catching it between her body and the car door. There are a couple of minor scrapes on her knuckles that are... atypical."
"Atypical how?"
"She was wearing gloves. There's no way she got those scrapes in the accident."
"Any guesses on how she might have gotten them?
"Take the scrapes and subtract the accident? I would say she hit something before she put her gloves on."
"Or someone?" Donovan asked but the doctor only shrugged noncommittally. "So that brings us to Mr. Raines."
"A broken nose with substantial bruising but no blood? Definitely not part of the accident. If Miss Street hit something and that something was Mr. Raines' nose... well, I'll have to check the X-ray but it appears to be a nice clean break."
Donovan studied his coffee as he tried to piece the puzzle together. "Did you see any other injuries on her? Anything that would have given her a reason to hit him?"
"No, and she didn't complain of pain anywhere other than her head and arm. This is not a girl afraid of an abusive boyfriend. If some sort of situation escalated, I'd say he was one very surprised young man when she didn't cower."
Nurse Gates appeared in the doorway, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. "Doctor, Miss Street's X-rays are ready."
~P&D~
Dr. Milburn turned from the light board. "You've got a hard head, young lady."
"That's what my mother says," Della smiled back at him.
"Well, this time it's a good thing. You have a very mild concussion, but I don't foresee any problems. I'll give you something a bit stronger for tonight so you can get some rest, and aspirin should be enough tomorrow. You come straight back here," he shook a warning finger at her, "if the headache lasts beyond that or if you experience any blurred vision. Oh, and no alcohol for a few days."
"I can handle that." She wasn't much of a drinker anyway and didn't even keep liquor in her apartment on a regular basis.
"Good girl. You've also got a mild sprain in your wrist." He picked up a bandage and began wrapping her arm. "No heavy lifting for two weeks."
"What constitutes 'heavy lifting'?" Della asked, thinking of some of the files she had to wrangle.
"A bag of groceries, small pets, neighborhood children, that sort of thing. Don't worry, it will let you know if you forget." He checked his work then patted her hand to indicate he was finished.
She slid off the exam table. "Where do I pay for your services so charmingly rendered?"
The girl continued to impress him. There had been no melodrama, no histrionics... she didn't even seem to be aware that she was the victim in all this. It wasn't fair that she should have to pay money for what had been done to her. "I believe Mr. Raines will be taking care of that."
"He will?" Della blinked in surprise.
"Don't you think he should?"
She almost missed his conspiratorial wink. So there was to be more coercion than chivalry in the financial department. Well, that was fine with her. Stephen had offered to pay her bills, this would be his one and only chance to do so. "Now that you mention it, yes I do. Thank you, Dr. Milburn."
He walked with her back to the waiting area where Officer Donovan leaned against the nurses' station. "Come back in a week and get those stitches out."
"I will, and thank you again."
Dr. Milburn turned and headed for Exam 4 to read Stephen's X-rays.
"If you're feeling up to it, Miss Street," Donovan said, "I'd like to ask you a few questions."
Pasting on a weak smile that wasn't an act, she said, "Of course, officer."
"How long have you known Mr. Raines?"
"About six months," she said simply.
"Where were the two of you going?"
"He was taking me home."
"From where?"
"From his apartment; he had made dinner for us."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth the voice of Mr. Washington, the senior partner emeritus at the law firm she worked for back home whispered in her head. 'Answer only the question you are asked. Never volunteer information.' One of her duties as an intern had been to keep the spry old man - retired but still coming into the office three days a week - out of everybody else's hair. He had nurtured her interest in law and saw to it that the firm did as well. Now he was helping her again.
"Did something happen?"
"No, dinner was quite pleasant."
The policeman caught a flicker of uneasiness in her eyes. "What about after dinner?"
"We were in a car accident." The thread of pain that underscored her words kept them from sounding flip.
Donovan noticed that her timeline skipped from the meal directly to the accident. "Okay, can you tell me how the accident happened?"
"Mr. Raines said a dog ran into the road."
"I know his version, now I'm asking for yours," he prodded gently. "Was there a dog?"
"I honestly don't know. I was looking out the passenger window. I just heard him yell 'hang on' then I was bouncing off the door." Della didn't believe there had been any dog but couldn't see the point in saying so. "Sorry I can't be of more help, Officer Donovan. Do you need anything else from me?"
Accepting her termination of the interview, Donovan replied, "No, Miss Street, I think everything's covered, unless there's something else you want to tell me about the accident... or anything else?
"No, nothing."
"Thank you for your cooperation."
"Thank you for being there." Her grateful smile was genuine but so was the soft, tired sigh that followed it. "I wonder how long it will take to get a cab here at this time of night."
"You don't want to wait for Mr. Raines?"
"I don't think Mr. Raines will mind if I don't wait for him - and not getting a cab is part of why I'm here in the first place."
That was the sort of information he had been fishing for, and Donovan waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he smothered his own sigh, pulled out his notebook and flipped through the pages. "You don't live far from here. I can drive you home and be back before the doctor is finished with Mr. Raines."
Della knew what kind of stir that could cause. "That's very kind, but I'd rather not have my neighbors see me getting out of a police car."
"I understand." He turned to a fresh sheet in his notebook, scribbled something, tore out the page and handed it to Della. "Call this cab company. Abe's the night dispatcher. Use my name; they'll get a cab out here quick."
"Thank you, Officer."
~P&D~
Stephen waited with ill-concealed impatience while the doctor double checked the X-rays and just managed to keep silent when some manipulation of the damaged area was required to ensure proper healing.
"You'll want to put ice on that nose when you get home. There's not much you can do about the bruising but it will help with the swelling."
"Thank you," Stephen said brusquely, adjusting his tie.
"You can settle your bill and Miss Street's at the desk."
"Miss Street's bill?"
"Well, she was injured in your car due to your actions while you were driving," the doctor made a note on the chart then looked over his glasses at his patient, "it's only right that you pay her bill, don't you think?"
Stephen wisely kept to himself his opinion that Della's actions back at the apartment were equal to his in the evening's debacle. "Well, I... that is... Of course, you're quite right, doctor." He stood and straightened his jacket. "I should go do that now so I can see Miss Street home."
Dr. Milburn walked out with him. "There's no rush. Officer Donovan put her in a cab about ten minutes ago."
~P&D~
Stephen felt Donovan watching him as he paid both bills.
"Do you feel well enough to drive?" Donovan asked. "I can take you back to your car." The offer was perfunctory and made no attempt at appearing to be anything else.
"No, I don't think so. I'll get a cab and pick up my car tomorrow."
"That's not a bad idea. Miss Street couldn't corroborate your story..." he let suspicion hang in the air for a moment then continued, "but she didn't dispute it, either. I'd advise you to be more careful in the future."
"Thank you, officer, I will do that."
Donovan went out to his prowl car, leaving Raines to fend for himself in getting a cab.
~P&D~
Exhaustion set in as Della rode silently in the back of the cab.
Jake Berman didn't normally mind chatting with his passengers, but calls for cabs to hospitals at this time of night tended to lead to quiet rides. People leaving the hospital often had their minds on somebody they had left behind, some sick, some injured, some dead.
He kept an eye on her in his rearview mirror. This girl looked more tired than anything else, although he had seen the bandage around her hand and wrist. Tears were a possibility but he heard not so much as a sniffle from her.
When the cab pulled up outside her apartment building, she had the fare ready, including a generous tip.
"Here, miss," he handed her a card with the cab company's name and number. "Abe said to call anytime."
"I will. Thank him for me please, and thank you, Mister -?"
"Berman, miss, Jake Berman."
"Thank you, Mr. Berman. Good night."
"Good night, miss."
Jake never dropped off a night fare, man or woman, without seeing that they got inside safely, but he made a special point to watch this girl. He could almost feel the pain when she absentmindedly put her injured hand on the railing only to pull it back, cradling it in her other hand for a long moment. At last, she climbed the steps and entered the building. He had heard the word 'trudged' but had never seen anyone do it until now. She was inside and he couldn't do any more than that.
Pulling away from the curb, Jake radioed in his availability then headed for the theater district. He should make it there before most of the shows let out.
~P&D~
Della dropped her purse, gloves and keys on the end of the sofa and briefly considered dropping herself there as well. She knew better than to do it because she wouldn't want to get up again. The clock on the small desk read five to eleven. Her body felt as though it should be later... much, much later. Best to keep moving.
Her first stop was the kitchen. She filled two ice packs, one for her head and one for her arm. Taking a checked dish towel from a drawer, Della couldn't help but think about the pack she had prepared for Stephen, and she felt a small bit of self-righteous satisfaction when she remembered the bloody mess he had waiting in the sink when he got home.
Leaving the kitchen, she went into the bedroom, going to the closet to choose a suit for tomorrow, something proper for an interview but wouldn't stand out at the office. She had intended to do it when she got home from work, but Stephen's call - and the subsequent events - had derailed the plan. After some deliberation, she decided on a dove gray one that she could pair with a silver blouse.
She took off the suit jacket she was wearing and scanned it for blood stains. Relieved to find none, she set it aside to go to the cleaners anyway. She removed her blouse and inspected it next. Again, no blood, but that was when she noticed the bruises on her left arm where Stephen had grabbed her.
'Thank goodness for long sleeves. 'I wouldn't have wanted to explain those to Dr. Milburn or Officer Donovan.' she thought. 'So the only casualties were a handkerchief and a glove... oh, and my head, my arm and Stephen's nose.'
And the suit she had picked out for tomorrow, Della realized with more than a little chagrin. The navy one only had three-quarter sleeves which would reveal the bruises as well as making the bandage on her right wrist more obvious. She went back to the closet and took out what had been her second choice, a deep plum colored one with long sleeves. It was more fitted and feminine than she wanted but hopefully the somber color tempered some of that.
Della finished changing into her nightgown with a sigh, and unable to avoid it any longer, went into the bathroom to get her first good look at the cut on her forehead. She stood in front of the mirror and cautiously peeled back the bandage, wincing when the tape pulled at her skin. The stitches were small as Dr. Milburn had promised. There wasn't much swelling and the bruising appeared minimal. The ice pack would help with that. She would reassess it in the morning, but for now it looked as though the right makeup and hair style should keep it hidden.
She went back into the bedroom, more than ready to crawl between the sheets. One ice pack went into the dish towel which was wrapped around her wrist, held in place by a couple of large safety pins from the jar on her dresser. She settled under the covers and put the other ice pack on her head. All she wanted now was to go to sleep and put this whole horrible night out of her mind.
TBC