had been discovered. He probably talked and told them I had the notebook. I believe that is why they are coming today.'
As if on cue, we heard doors slam and the sound of people walking down the hallway.
'What is in this notebook, Jerome?'
'Do not speak of it, and please do not let them take me!' he said in a hushed voice, his eyes watching the door. It opened.
'Oh, excuse me,' Gloria said. 'I didn't know you were in here, Billy. Is this the young man you were telling me about?'
'Yes. I just was telling him about his brother's death.'
Gloria set down a jug of water and a couple of glasses on the bedside table. A nurse followed her in with a tray holding several bottles of pills. Gloria bent over the bed and took Jerome's good hand in hers.
'I am so sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do for you?'
'You are very kind,' Jerome said, struggling to put on a brave face. 'No, thank you. I can't think of anything.'
'Any chance we could release Jerome into the custody of his parents?' I asked.
'I'm sorry Billy, but this is a restricted ward. I can't release any of these patients. Orders. From Headquarters.'
I knew that last bit was aimed right at me, and I deserved it for putting her on the spot. Had to give it a try though.
'Are the French going to take custody of some of these boys today? Can Jerome have some time to get over his shock before you hand him over?'
'That's very considerate of you, Billy, but there's no need to worry.
Lieutenant Mathenet is having his shrapnel wounds attended to. Nothing life-threatening, but he won't be questioning anybody today.'
'Good… How's Joe? Wasn't he with Mathenet?'
'Yes, I haven't seen him since the raid. He's probably busy clearing the bomb damage. Now, get out and let Jerome rest. I have medications to give him and the doctor is making his rounds.'
'I'll just sit with him, if that's all right.'
'It is not, Lieutenant. You can come back later in the day, but right now, out! That's a medical and a military order.' She tapped the captain's bars on her blouse.
'Okay, Captain,' I said, raising my arms in mock surrender. 'Jerome, I'll see you later and we'll talk some more. Your brother was a very brave officer.'
'Thank you for bringing me the news yourself. I appreciate hearing it from someone who knew Georges.'
I nodded and looked into his eyes, trying to signal I'd be back as soon as I could. I went out the door and almost collided with Doctor Dunbar, Boy Wonder.
'You still hanging around here, Boyle? Isn't there a war on or something?'
He wasn't looking for a response and I didn't give him one. I sure knew there was a war going on, but I was trying to figure out what the or something was. And what this notebook business was all about. My head swam as I half-stumbled, half-shuffled out of the ward.
I was dead on my feet. No sleep the night before, a young soldier shot right in front of me, a secret murder witnessed, an emergency run to the hospital with a dying friend, an air raid with explosions that nearly knocked my teeth out, telling a kid his brother was dead, and hearing about a mysterious notebook, all before lunch. It was too much. I yawned. That only made me more tired.
I tried to focus on Jerome's notebook, but all I could think about was Diana. Why was I still hanging around here when I should be out looking for her? Maybe it was time to blow this joint.
To hell with the notebook. Probably some French political thing, so why should I care? Still, it nagged at me. I needed to see Jerome alone again and find out just a little more. Then I had to figure out a way to get to Bone. That contact at the supply depot was still the only clue that might lead to Diana. I yawned again, and my feet dragged as I headed to the mess hall to get some coffee. My eyelids were getting heavy and I wanted to take a little nap. Maybe some shut-eye would be better than coffee, I thought. No harm in that.
I was so intent on talking myself into taking time to sleep that I never noticed the truck. I kind of heard tires crunching on gravel but I didn't pay any attention until the driver laid on the horn. Only then I realized I was walking down the middle of a road, a long driveway that led from the Supply Depot and around the hospital to the main entrance. I jumped to the right just in time to avoid a deuce and a half truck barreling along as if it was on a racetrack. I turned to yell at the driver and give him the single digit salute, but I never got a word out. I was too stunned. Luc Villard was riding in the passenger's seat, wearing a U.S. Army olive drab shirt and khaki overseas cap, tilted at a jaunty angle. I could swear he smiled at me.
I yelled 'Hey Stop!' and swallowed a mouthful of dust and grit kicked up by the truck's tires. I didn't stand a chance but I ran after it anyway, making it around the corner of the main building in time to see it hit the main road and turn right. Away from Algiers. Toward Bone.
I watched the truck disappear, lost in the flow of military traffic. People began to run by me, toward the medical supply depot. One orderly nearly knocked me over in his rush, and I turned to follow him, glad to have someone else take the lead.
Chapter Ten
It took only a few minutes for a crowd to gather. There were plenty of doctors and nurses looking on, but that wouldn't do Staff Sergeant Joseph Casselli any good at all. Unless this penicillin stuff could fix a slit throat and put all the blood on the floor back in his veins.
We were crammed into a small storeroom in the Medical Corps Supply Depot. Doctor Dunbar was kneeling over the body, checking the wound. Must've been only professional curiosity, since Casselli was beyond all help. Gloria Morgan stood back, her hand clutching a handkerchief, dabbing her moist eyes. I checked the shelves lining the walls all around us. Cases of medical supplies were stacked up everywhere, but the shelves weren't full. I looked at a clipboard hung on a nail. It was a complete inventory of the stock in the room. There were medical instruments on the list, silk thread, all sorts of bandages and other routine supplies. I flipped to the section marked 'Drugs.' Morphine, sulfa, penicillin, and a whole bunch more I never heard of.
'Where's the morphine?' I didn't know if this was a drug heist but it was the most logical place to start.
'Who the hell wants to know?' growled a stocky officer, pushing enlisted men out of the way as he squeezed into the storeroom.
'I do, sir. It looks like stuff is missing-'
'And who the hell on God's green earth are you? Goddamn it, someone tell me what's going on here!' His forehead was raging red and I could see a vein pulsing on his temple. Maybe Dunbar was about to have another patient. He was a short colonel-otherwise known as a lieutenant colonel-and sported a big unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. He was thick around the waist and gray at the temples. He looked at home in his U.S. Army khakis and had probably been fighting desk wars since before I was born. I decided to play it straight with this guy.
'Lieutenant Billy Boyle, sir! Doctor Dunbar requested that I assist him here after he discovered Sergeant Casselli's body.'
'Joe? Dead? Jesus H. Christ on a crutch! Dunbar, what happened here?'
Dunbar rose up and automatically dusted his hands off, as if ridding himself of a slight inconvenience. I knew doctors were fanatics about clean hands, but that was about touching patients all day. Live ones. Plus, Casselli hadn't been dead long enough to get the creepy crawlies scurrying over him, so no need to worry there. My dad had always reminded me to watch for the telltale signs that suspects give. Some people can't look you straight in the eye when they He to you. They'll shift their eyes around and glom onto anything except you. But other people can lie like a rug and never take their peepers off yours. Now, maybe the good doctor wasn't really a suspect, but that gesture made me wonder. Maybe he should be. A doctor would know just where best to slit a throat. It sounds
