“Especially people I care about a lot.”
“The irony here, of course,” I said, “is that, given the kind of work I do, I expect to occasionally be involved in these kinds of situations. But today I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I looked at her for a moment. “Laura, you know me well enough to know that I’m not into that macho crap that a lot of men are. I don’t go looking for fights, but sometimes, like it or not, my job forces me to deal with people who insist on physical confrontations. Besides, I don’t think I was in any real danger at the school today. Not like last spring, when that guy tried to shoot me in the park.”
“I know,” she said, “but last spring, we barely knew each other, and I didn’t see you an hour later with blood and a bandage.”
And again I got the eyes.
“I know you now.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah.”
Gwen brought our dinners then, and the mood lightened as we took our time eating.
“So you’re going to the hospital to see Anthony and his mother?”
I nodded.
“She’s going to want you to talk him into quitting whatever gang he’s in.”
“Probably,” I agreed.
“Do you think you can?”
“Probably not.”
“But you’ll try, even though you don’t know this boy, never even met him?”
“Larretta was a good kid,” I said. “Maybe got the short end of life’s stick a couple of times.”
Laura smiled at me, and for the second time during that meal, I looked at her and said, “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just that the more I know you, and know about you, the more I like you. You’re a good man, Jeremy Barnes.”
She held my hand again for a few minutes.
“Hey,” I said, “did I tell you that this bandage was put on by a very sexy paramedic?”
“Goodness,” she said. “I hope you got his name.”
“No, no,” I said. “This wasn’t a guy paramedic. It was a girl paramedic.”
“Oh,” said Laura. “Well, then, never mind.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “This isn’t how I imagined this conversation would go.”
“Really? What did you have in mind?”
“I thought maybe you’d have a jealous fit and, in a frantic attempt to win back my affection, offer to engage in unspeakably erotic acts with me.”
Laura opened her eyes wide and said, “Right here in Timmy’s? I hardly think Dolores would approve.”
“Well,” I said, “I’d be flexible on the actual when and where, as long as you got the erotic part right.”
“Of course,” she said. “And you’re quite sure you didn’t get the cute boy paramedic’s name?”
“I told you, it was a girl paramedic.”
“You were delirious with pain. Perhaps it caused you to make a gender identification error.”
“There isn’t that much pain,” I said.
“Hmm, perhaps not.”
I frowned.
“What’s wrong?” asked Laura.
“I’m pouting,” I said. “Expressing my disappointment with this conversation.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Then, after a pause, she smiled that smile and said, “Hey, little boy, I’ll bet I can turn that frown upside down.”
I opened my eyes wide and said, “Right here in Timmy’s?”
“Well,” she laughed, “perhaps I’d better wait until a later date to fully implement that particular plan. Meanwhile, though, I still think I can wipe that look off your face.”
“Betcha can’t,” I said, deepening my pout.
Sliding her stockinged foot up under my pants leg, she leaned closer.
“Did I mention how good your pecs look in that T-shirt?”
I smiled.
Sometimes I am so easy.
Chapter 12
After dinner, I drove home and changed into a pair of jeans and tennis shoes, which, while not as colorful, were still a better match for the gray T-shirt than my blood-splattered slacks. I got to Oakland General at a little past seven, parked in one of the side lots and walked into the main lobby and over to the circular registration/information center. An older woman with Denise written on her name badge asked if she could help me, and I told her I’d come to see Anthony Warren. She punched at the computer in front of her for a minute and then asked if I’d take a seat while she located the patient in question. I went over and sat on a red vinyl couch, and within two minutes a heavyset black man about my height came through the swinging doors to my left. He was wearing a dark green hospital security uniform and I was expecting him. He glanced at Denise, who looked in my direction. The man nodded and came over and sat down next to me, but far enough away, I noticed, that he was outside my arm’s reach.
“Good evening, sir,” he said. “I understand you were inquiring about one of the patients.”
“Anthony Warren,” I said. “His mother asked me to come. I’m going to get my wallet now so I can show you some ID, okay?”
He nodded, and I got my wallet out and handed my private investigator’s license to him. He looked at the picture and then at me.
“I know,” I told him. “I’m much better looking in person. I get that all the time.”
He grunted and, maybe, smiled a little.
“Yeah, well,” he said, “we all have our little fantasies.”
He gave my license back to me and held out his hand, which I shook.
“Harold Carruthers, Mr. Barnes. Police asked if we’d sorta keep tabs on the kid for a while.”
“Because of a possible gang connection with the riot today,” I said.
“Hmm-mm. Cops didn’t think there would be any trouble, but just in case, we got the boy in a private room, and we’re monitoring all his visitors.” Standing up, he said, “C’mon, I’ll take you up there.”
We took the elevator to the fifth floor, where we walked down a long hallway with three different colored lines on the floor. At the end of the hallway, we came to a small waiting room, where Larretta Warren was sitting on the edge of an overstuffed chair. She was still a skinny little thing, but now there was a bit more of an edge to
