gate.
“But!” he called after her, “strictly nonalcoholic beverages for you!”
“Ah! He’s nagging already! I knew no good deed went unpunished!”
The two laughed and headed out into the night.
Epilogue
It was a small clinic, tucked away far from the tourist areas of the Quarter. It was the kind of place that really didn’t ask questions. Run by the kind of doctors who didn’t care about their patients’ pasts, but were just worried about making sure they had a future. Mose had surprised Griffen by telling him just how much their gambling organization contributed yearly to the clinic. It and several other shady groups in the city.
You never knew when you might need such a place.
One of Mose’s people, or Griffen’s people depending on how one counted, sat in the lobby. His instructions were plain: call up the line if anything happened, and don’t interfere. He wasn’t told any more than that, or any less.
A long, black car pulled up in front of the clinic. The type of car that never, ever got seen on this side of town. Not even passing through. Three men, built strong and solid, stepped out of the car. They all looked professional, dressed in suits cut just big enough to hide the bulge under each of their jackets. Yet they also seemed to have a family resemblance.
Next out of the car was a short, round woman who still seemed just as solid as the boys. Her face was fleshy and plain, but her eyes were sharp as a hawk’s. Even out in the street, the man inside could tell that she was watching everything. This was someone he would never, ever play cards with, and that was how he made his living.
The four of them came into the clinic. They didn’t stop to ask for directions. They didn’t pay any attention to anyone but watched everyone just the same. The woman seemed to lead, even though two of the men stood in front of her and the third just behind.
They walked to the room Griffen’s man had been told to watch. Didn’t knock, didn’t hesitate, just went on inside. He pulled out his cell, put out the call, and did not interfere. Orders were orders, and he was glad for these ones. He had thought it was the woman inside the room he had to worry about.
Inside, Lizzy lay on a hospital bed, and even in the dim light, she looked awful. Her face was a collection of bruises. Gauze was packed over one eye and wrapped around her head. Most of her was hidden by a blanket, but at least one leg was in a cast and an IV provided a constant drip of painkillers.
She stirred, seeming half-conscious, and her good eye rolled for a few moments before tracking, even the fractured colors in it appearing pale and sickly. When it caught sight of the woman standing just inside the doorway, it widened. Lizzy tried to sit up and groaned, falling back in bed.
Her voice was soft, quiet. A wounded-kitten voice.
“M-m-mmmother?” she stammered.
Melinda stepped up to the bed and picked up the chart hanging off the end of it. With one hand on the bed rail, she read it while her fingers tapped a slow rhythm. Her anger apparent only in the force of her drumming fingers, which were slowly denting the metal.
She put down the chart, and her voice was molten iron as she spoke two simple words that made her daughter flinch and try to curl in on herself.
“What. Happened?”
ROBERT (LYNN) ASPRIN, born in 1946, is best known for the Myth Adventures and Phule series. He also edited the groundbreaking Thieves’ World anthologies with Lynn Abbey. He died at his home in New Orleans in May 2008.
