everywhere, all the alarms went off, everybody in a
panic. A shame, really, he burned up some mighty finelooking T-bones.”
“Terrible,” Judith remarked. “I don’t suppose Mr.
Randall mentioned who brought him the liquor.”
“That was the funny part,” Curly said, swinging his
wrench like a baton. “He swore he didn’t know where it
came from. A Good Samaritan, he insisted.
know such good guys. Wild Turkey’s the best. I feel real
bad about him dying. He was a swell guy, and not just
as a ballplayer. He even offered me a swig out of his
bottle.”
148
Mary Daheim
Judith’s eyes narrowed. “Did you accept?”
Curly shook his head, which, in fact, was adorned
with a crown of gray curls. “Nope. I was on duty. The
good sisters here, they got rules.”
“I can see why you want to abide by them,” Judith
said with a smile. “Your job must be a challenge.
Everything in this hospital is so old, and I understand
that they’d rather fix it than replace it. Besides, you get
to meet some fascinating patients. Did you happen to
get acquainted with Joan Fremont or Joaquin Somosa
before they . . . ah . . . departed?”
Curly scratched his neck. “That actress? No, can’t say
that I did. No problems with her room. But Somosa’s TV
got unplugged somehow, so I went in there to get it going
for him. Nice guy, great arm. But his English wasn’t all
that hot. He seemed kind of agitated and kept saying
something about a bear. I guess he’d seen it on TV before
the set got unplugged. Anyway, I tried the nature channels, but no bears. Poor fella—I heard he died not more
than twenty minutes after I fixed the set and left.”
“Goodness,” Judith murmured. “That’s terrible.”
Curly shrugged. “It happens in hospitals. You get
kinda used to it. But it’s a damned—excuse my language—shame when people go before their time. The
Seafarers will miss him in the rotation this season.”
“The team will have to trade for a new ace,” Renie
said. “Not that I have much faith in Tubby Turnbull.
He’ll end up giving two hot minor league prospects
away for a first aid kit and a case of wienies.”
“Har, har,” laughed Curly. “Ain’t that the truth? You
gotta wonder why the Seafarers don’t fire his ass—excuse my language. But maybe he’s got pictures. If you
know what I mean.” Curly winked, waved the wrench,
and left the room.
SUTURE SELF
149
“A bear?” said Judith.
“The drugs,” Renie responded. “They were probably taking effect. Poor Joaquin must have been hallucinating.”
