“Well, what the hell are you doing about it, Detective? Are you finished with your investigation? Have you caught the damn shooter or are you just going to sit here and drink coffee all day?” the indolent marshal asked humiliatingly.
“Marshal, I don’t appreciate you busting my balls over this issue. I think I’ve proven myself to you often enough over the last six years, I don’t need any of your snide comments.”
“Okay, then I’ll get off your back for a while, but remember the mayor and the community are counting on us to catch this son-of-a-bitch and they want it done yesterday, understand?”
Pratt wondered, What did the prick mean by ‘counting on us?’What the hell was he doing to be a part of us?
“I believe I got that message loud and clear, Marshal, and I’m heading over to the hospital now to see Mr. Green,” Johnny answered, trying to steer clear of any more volatile subjects. The detective radioed his 10-20 to dispatch and reported that he was on his way to Jack Green’s house.
A few days later, Jack was discharged from the hospital but before he left, he said good-bye to Phil and promised to visit him every week.
Just after nurse Jimmy brought him the doctor’s signed discharge papers, he slipped Jimmy a twenty-dollar bill and said, “Thanks, Jimmy, for the care you’ve given me. You’ve been a great nurse and I really appreciate it.”
Jimmy refused to take gratuity and politely said, “Thank you very much, Mr. Green, I can’t accept this. I am an R.N. and we’re not permitted to accept tips, though I’m flattered by your offer. I’m just doing my job to get you out of here because we need the bed for other patients,” he said with a broad smile, even though he was aware the hospital was more than half empty.
Thereafter, Jack visited Phil two weeks in a row. On the third week, when he saw Phil apparently sleeping on his side, he thought, Thank God. But when he walked around Phil to face him, he was stunned with disbelief. The patient was a different person. All he could think was, Shit. Why, God, did you have to take him before the time the doctors said he had left to live?
As Jack was leaving this “great get-no-sleep medical institution,” an orderly was required to wheel him down to the exit doors in a wheelchair even though he could have walked it himself. Brenda was going to be driving them home. She arrived with the car, double parked, and rushed inside to greet him. The orderly helped Brenda get her husband into the car and finally they were on their way home.
As Brenda pulled into their driveway and stopped the car, they agreed as to how today would’ve been a great time for a garage, instead of a semi-circular driveway leading to their front door. Both she and Jack turned their heads every which way inside the car to assure themselves the coast was clear from any possible shooter. After inspecting all around them, the two of them roared with laughter when he suggested, “Let’s serpentine to the front door; as the good guys do in the movies while trying to evade bullets.” They exited the car and made it to their front door as quickly as his injury allowed him to move.
The twins were doing much better now and back in school. And wow, did they have stories to tell their friends. They met three friends inside the door of the school, and within minutes they were surrounded by at least five more.
“When our dad got shot in the kidney, the surgeons had to remove it and replace it with a pig’s kidney. Yeah, really! Pigs have similar kidneys to humans. The doctors don’t believe that his body will reject the transplanted kidney and say that he’ll be okay.”
By now there were fifteen or twenty kids surrounding the girls. One boy posed a question, “Really, they transplanted a pig’s kidney into him?”
The twins answered in unison just as they had prearranged. “The doctors say he’ll be back to normal, being able to pee, you know? They just aren’t sure that they can get our dad to ever stop oinking and rolling in mud.”
This got a boisterous laugh from everyone, so spirited that some of the teachers down the hallway stuck their heads out of their classroom doors to see what was happening. They shushed them and reminded them that they are in school and ordered them to get to class. Before everyone dispersed, the twins said, “Seriously, thanks for all your prayers and get-well cards and for supporting both of us through this horrible nightmare. We love you all!”
Eleven
“I’m investigating the shooting of your husband,” Johnny told Brenda, flashing his badge as she opened the door. He didn’t take out a gun or ask for her husband, which eased her apprehension.
“Mrs. Green, do you have any idea who might be angry enough to want to shoot or possibly kill your husband?”
The word kill sent shivers down her spine, giving her goose bumps, and rebooting her anxiety. “Absolutely not. If I had, I certainly would have told the police to go and look for that person,” she replied critically. “My husband is a good man, and everyone loves him. He wouldn’t step on an ant. He’s an actuary for heaven’s sake, not a mob boss. He works for The McFarland Accounting and Insurance Company. He’s an expert in predicting the likelihood of future financial events for his company’s clients by using numbers, not crystal balls. He designs innovative ways to reduce risk for the insurance company, not for himself personally.”
Pratt tried a new approach to his questioning. “Do you know where your husband eats his lunch during the week?”
“Well, yes, he often eats at the synagogue with Rabbi
