“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Knew it was something.”
She then returned to her business of putting Sammy in jail.
The money was just the small stuff. Now, as the perspiration moved from his brow to the side of his face, and as it flooded from his palms, these lousy agents were invading his medicine kit.
He watched. They opened his pill containers and examined the contents. They showed the contents to each other. They glanced at him and didn’t say anything.
“I got a prescription somewhere for everything,” Sammy said, “even if some of the pills got messed up. You know, wrong bottles.”
The agents didn’t say anything.
Sammy was already wondering which of his lawyers he would call, or maybe his manager Adam Winters in Santa Monica, when and if they gave him his phone back. Actually, he pondered, thinking it through further, he might need someone in New York. And fast.
Then Sammy’s spirits hit the floor and shattered. The female agent found what would be the grand prize for her today.
She opened a small vial that was within a larger prescription vial. In the smaller container, there were two little tightly folded packets of aluminum foil, thick and plump, and double wrapped.
“Hey. Gimme a break, could you?” Sammy asked. “Please?”
The agents unwrapped the foil. The contents of the first packet looked like oregano. Or catnip. The agents sniffed. It didn’t appear to be catnip or oregano and it wasn’t basil, either. Well, a pot bust was a pot bust. Worse things could happen.
Then a worst thing did. The second agent unwrapped a smaller packet that had escaped notice at first. The contents this time was a single small cube.
“I don’t know how that got there,” Sammy tried meekly.
“Right,” the male agent said.
The female reached for a pair of handcuffs. All three of them knew what hashish looked like when they saw it. And they saw it right now.
“Sorry, Billy,” she said. “And you know what? This is a real shame. I always liked your music.”
EIGHTY-FIVE
Woman’s body found in Rock Creek Park
POSTED: 4:55 p.m. EST August 21
UPDATED: 7:33 p.m. EST August 21
WASHINGTON (The Washington Post)-A woman was found dead in Rock Creek Park near Walter Reed Hospital on Thursday. Police familiar to the case confirm that it was a homicide from gunshot wounds.
The body was found by a jogger at 9:12 a.m. It was about 30 yards off Sherill Drive near 16th and Aspen streets in Northwest.
Police said the woman appeared to be in her late 50s and was of European descent. She was wearing a tan raincoat and appeared to have a valid passport from a South American country.
“A possibility is that the individual came into the woods to walk and was met by a robber. There were no other signs of trauma other than the gunshot. Her purse was open and there was no money or identification in it, other than her passport,” DC Police Inspector Jerome Myles said. “We just don’t know any more at this time.”
Police said they are awaiting further results from the medical examiner and are attempting to locate any relatives of the woman. Her name has not yet been publicly disclosed.
EIGHTY-SIX
On the morning of the next day, the doctors at the American hospital moved Alex out of critical care into a private room on a regular ward. Late that same afternoon, a nurse came in with a name on a piece of paper to see if she would recognize, to see if a prospective visitor would be allowed.
She recognized the name and was very pleasantly surprised. “
“
“
The nurse rolled her eyes, gave a slight smile, and shrugged, which meant, yes, okay.
The nurse left. A moment later the door eased open. A large man with a slight limp entered the room, carrying a huge bouquet of fresh flowers and a small shopping bag. He wore a dark suit and a dress shirt open at the collar and was a day or two unshaven. More importantly, he was walking very well on one real leg and one fake one.
Alex sat up in the bed and thought of pickup games of basketball back in Washington for the first time in several days, not to mention the dark in March when this same man had deterred her suicide.
“Oh my,” she said. “You sure show up at the strangest times.”
“Hope you don’t mind,” Ben answered.
“Not at all.”
Impetuously, he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She accepted it. They exchanged as much of a hug as IV tubes would allow. He stepped back and placed the flowers at her bedside table.
“You sure know how to find trouble, no matter where you go,” he said.
“It finds me. What are you doing here?”
“Right now,” he said, “I’m visiting you in the hospital.”
She laughed for the first time in days. It hurt.
“I can see that much,” she said, “but why are you in Paris?”
“I’m visiting you in the hospital,” he repeated.
“I don’t follow,” she said.
It was very simple, he explained. The group that she played basketball with back in Washington, the family at the gym, had heard that Alex had been hospitalized in Paris.
Critical condition, but improving.
“Who did you here that from?” she asked.
“Laura. Laura Chapman.”
“Ah. Of course.” It made sense. Laura would know through government channels.
“Did Laura mention what happened?” she asked.
“No,” he answered hesitantly. “What did happen? Some sort of accident in the subway?”
“You could call it that,” Alex said. Then she shook her head. “Long story, actually. For another time, okay?” She motioned to a chair.
“Okay,” he answered.
“Well, anyway,” he continued, sitting down. “There are about fifteen of us regulars who you play with. Dave. Matt. Eric. Laura. A couple of guys whose names you don’t know but who you’d recognize. We all sat around talking a couple of nights ago after a game. I said someone should go visit. So we each dropped a hundred bucks into someone’s sweaty gym bag.”
Alex could feel herself smiling.
“We called it our ‘Alex fund,’ ” he said. “We put everyone’s name in another bag. Whoever’s name got drawn would make the visit, the ‘fund’ covering the expense of the trip, time lost from work, and so on. Since it had been my idea, I was selected to make the draw.”
She laughed. “And you drew your own name?”
Hesitantly, he said, “Yeah. I drew my own name.”
