shut the door.
Harmon and Cecil watched the scene from the front seat of the Crown Vic parked down the street.
'One less homeless person in the world,' Harmon said.
'I've never ridden in a limo,' Cecil said. 'Bet it's neat.'
'Not so much for the bum.'
They had staked out Andy Prescott's office most of the day, but so far no one had gone in or out of the door to 1514?.
Where was this guy?
'We don't even know what Prescott looks like,' Cecil said.
'Like a lawyer. You see anyone over there looks like a lawyer?'
'I haven't seen anyone in this whole town looks normal, except the rich guy in the limo. You think that's Prescott?'
'A traffic ticket lawyer with a limo and a bodyguard? I don't think so, Cecil.'
'Good point.'
Inside the limo, Russell told Darrell to drive to Austin General Hospital in downtown. Andy dug his cell phone out of his backpack and called ahead while Russell performed CPR all the way to the emergency entrance where a team of nurses and doctors had gathered outside. Andy opened the door and jumped out. He and Darrell lifted Floyd T. out and placed him on the waiting gurney. The doctors and nurses stood frozen in place, staring at Floyd T. like he was an illegal Mexican immigrant walking in the front door.
'Come on, get him inside!' Andy said.
'Is he homeless?' a nurse asked.
'Yeah. So?'
'So we're a private hospital. If he doesn't have insurance, you have to take him to the public hospital.'
'He's a war hero!'
'Then take him to the VA hospital,' a doctor said.
'Where's it at?'
'San Antonio.'
'That's eighty miles from here!'
Russell climbed out of the limo.
'He has insurance. Me.'
The nurses' and doctors' expressions changed.
'Mr. Reeves,' the nurse said.
'Take care of this man.'
'Get him into the ER!' the doctor said. 'Stat!'
The entire medical team sprang into action. One jumped up onto the gurney and straddled Floyd T. and started CPR. The others pushed the gurney inside through the automatic doors. They disappeared around a corner.
Thirty minutes later, Andy had registered Floyd T., Russell Reeves had signed a financial responsibility form, and they were sitting in the waiting room. Waiting. And drinking a Jo's coffee. Russell had sent Darrell on a coffee run. Floyd T. was in emergency bypass surgery.
'Thanks, Russell.'
'Good coffee.'
'Not for the coffee. For Floyd T.'
'I know.' Russell shook his head. 'Hospitals. This is a private non-profit hospital-they pay no state or federal taxes in exchange for providing free care to indigents. But they don't. They send poor people to the public hospital. And when they do treat the uninsured, they charge them double what they charge insured patients.'
'Why?'
'Because they can. And because the insurance companies demand discounts normal people can't get.'
'Different prices for different people for the same treatment? That's not fair.'
'No, Andy, it's not. They should have their tax exemptions revoked. But the government doesn't enforce the law. Politics. I've been against national health care, but now I know it's the only fair way to go. Otherwise, it won't be long before only people like me will have health care. At least then we could operate the health care industry like a business instead of politics. The U.S. government is the biggest single purchaser of drugs in the world-Medicaid, Medicare, the VA-but it doesn't negotiate discounts from the pharmaceuticals. It pays list price. How stupid is that? But the drug companies bribe politicians with campaign contributions, so Congress makes it illegal for a U.S. citizen to go to Canada and buy the same drugs cheaper.'
Russell took a few moments to calm himself.
'So tell me about the eighth woman.'
Andy handed the dossier to his client. Russell thumbed through it while Andy gave him a full report on Sally and Jimmy Armstrong in San Diego. Russell was shaking his head.
'Paralyzed at sixteen… his whole life in a wheelchair.'
'Seven out of eight kids, Russell.'
'He's not mine, Andy. And neither is his sister. I knew Sally twelve years ago.'
'Another married woman? While you were married?'
'She was divorced. She must have remarried.'
Andy recalled that Sally Armstrong's divorce and second marriage were mentioned in the dossier.
'All these sick kids.'
'You're over-thinking this, Andy. Life is random. Cruelly random.'
'At least Jimmy's getting great care.'
'I'll still wire a million to your trust account. You can fly back out to San Diego and give it to her… after you find Frankie Doyle.'
'The DNA matched?'
Russell Reeves nodded. 'The girl's mine, Andy.'
'Natalie Riggs is pregnant?'
Tres' face was grim. 'Two months, the doctor said.'
Andy and Tres were sitting at their usual table at Guero's. Dave was at his nude yoga class, and Curtis was teaching an evening seminar.
'How's she handling it?'
'She's happy.' Tres shrugged. 'Hormones must've kicked in. She and her mother, they're at Neiman Marcus right now picking out maternity clothes.'
'Hey, she'll probably start wearing underwear now.'
'Yeah… big underwear.'
'There's just no pleasing you, Tres.'
'She took her cameraman with her.'
'To buy underwear?'
'For the news. Says she's going to do a series on pregnancy and motherhood from start to finish, in real time.' He drank from his beer. 'Course, that means we've got to get married now. You'll be my best man?'
'Do I get free beer?'
They drank Coronas and contemplated life for a few minutes, as if offering a moment of silence for Tres' bachelorhood.
'Man, she had a great body,' Tres said softly, as if speaking of a deceased dear friend.
'She'll get it back, Tres. Natalie's not the type to keep the baby fat.'
'That's what she says. But you should've seen her getting down on the double-chocolate cookie-dough ice cream last night.'
Another moment of silence, this time for Natalie's great body. Tres broke the silence again.
'How's Floyd T.?'
'Good. Double bypass surgery. They said he needed to sleep, so I left, came straight here. Doctor said he'll be in the hospital for a week.'
'Reeves took him over there in his limo? Paid for his care?'
