“They said he’s still in emergency, so go there.”
I felt like I’d been running all over the planet today. Back and forth like a yo-yo. I found the medical center and the parking garage, going around and around until I was on the roof. Must be a busy day. I didn’t want to know how much they were going to charge me for parking.
The emergency room was packed. All sorts of people, some moaning, some wailing, some bloody. I went over to the information desk.
“Yes?” The woman’s voice was sharp, as if she’d spent the whole day shouting at a bunch of preschoolers who’d gotten out of hand.
“I’m looking for Trevor McKay. The paramedics brought him over here from the Venetian earlier. I understood he was still in emergency.”
She was one step ahead of me, her long nails clicking against her keyboard. She stared at the screen, pursed her lips, and looked up at me. “Just a second, please, miss. Are you family?”
I decided to lie. A little white lie.
“Yes.”
The woman picked up the phone and indicated I was to go sit and wait.
There were no seats. Not that I’d want to sit anywhere. Not that I wanted to even have my feet on the floor in this room. There were smells in here, booze and vomit and body odor mixed together. Some blood splattered the floor near a young man holding a dark cloth over his arm. A closer look showed that the cloth had blood on it.
No, thank you. I think I’ll stand.
About five minutes passed, and I heard the woman saying, “Miss? Miss?”
I turned to see a man in a white lab coat standing next to her, a smile on his face. Sister Mary Eucharista would say that a smile in this place was nothing short of a miracle.
A second look at him told me he was good-looking,
“Miss McKay?” he asked.
I shook myself out of my reverie and shook my head. “Kavanaugh. Brett Kavanaugh.”
Confusion clouded his eyes. “I was told you were Mr. McKay’s family.”
I couldn’t lie to this guy. “I’m a friend. He became ill in my shop.”
He frowned, obviously uncertain whether he should continue talking to me, but then made a decision.
“Please follow me.”
We walked through sliding frosted doors into the actual emergency room. Beds were lined up in a semicircle around a big nurses’ station. We didn’t stop, just kept walking until we reached a door to a small office. He indicated I was to go in, and he came in behind me, shutting the door.
“I’m Dr. Bixby.”
He held out his hand, and I took it, a shock running through my arm. I let out a nervous giggle, pulling my hand away too quickly. A glance at his face told me he felt it, too. He was blushing. Really blushing.
I saw now that his name tag read, DR. C. BIXBY.
“What’s the ‘C’ for?” I asked, indicating his tag.
He put his hand up and fingered it. “Colin.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
He pointed to a chair. “Have a seat, please, Miss Kavanaugh.”
I did as he asked. I might have done mostly anything he asked.
I’d dated a guy a few months back who was rich, good-looking, and a playboy. We’d had some laughs, but I knew I had to pull out of it before I got sucked in even further. He was the kind of guy who’d break my heart if I let him.
Since Simon, things had been a little slow on the dating front.
Maybe that’s why I found myself admiring Dr. Colin Bixby’s obvious attractive physical attributes.
Not to mention his nice smile.
Which had disappeared. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, his lips pursed in a grim line.
“I’m deeply sorry to have to tell you that Trevor McKay passed away about half an hour ago.”
Chapter 16
I felt like I’d swallowed a bag of marbles.
“Excuse me?” I managed to sputter.
His expression conveyed his compassion. “He didn’t indicate a next of kin on his paperwork. I’m glad you came in.”
Next of kin? I barely knew anything about the guy except he could lip-synch to Britney songs while dancing on six-inch heels and look like he was having the time of his life. I also knew he had a pinup girl who looked remarkably like Britney Brassieres on his upper left arm. Ace had done the ink.
I didn’t even know where the guy lived.
Charlotte did. As I thought of her, I took a deep breath. This would devastate her.
“How?” I asked softly.
“He was incredibly dehydrated when he came in. He lost a lot of fluids. We couldn’t keep anything down him.”
“He didn’t look good when he came to my shop earlier.”
Colin Bixby frowned. “Yes, I meant to ask. What shop is that?”
“The Painted Lady.”
His eyes traveled over the garden on my arm, the dragon poking up over my tank top. “You’re the painted lady,” he said softly.
I nodded. “That’s right.” His gaze was a little disconcerting, but not in a bad way. I had to keep talking or I’d get too distracted. “He was at my shop when he became ill. Although, come to think of it, I think he was sick when he arrived. You know he was in the hospital overnight?”
“Yes.” Colin Bixby leafed through a file folder that he picked up off the desk. “He had a concussion and a small chest wound. According to the report, he was perfectly fine when he was released this morning. All tests showed normal.”
Covering his tracks in case I wanted to file a malpractice suit or something.
“It doesn’t say how he got the concussion,” he added.
“He got knocked over.”
The doctor’s eyebrows rose.
I nodded. “Some guy shot a champagne cork at him. Hit him square in the chest. The shock knocked him off balance, so he cracked his head against the floor. He was wearing six-inch heels, so he didn’t have too much traction.”
“I hate to ask…”
“Trevor McKay is a drag queen,” I said matter-of-factly. “He was performing at Chez Tango last night.”
“MissTique’s show?”
Now I was the one who was surprised. “That’s right. Do you know her?”
He nodded, and by the way his jaw was set, I knew that was all I was going to get. Interesting. But a little troublesome. Here I was, feeling all warm and fuzzy and other things about this guy, and this admission meant quite possibly that he was gay. I hated to think my radar was that off center. I totally had felt that little spark.
“I’d like to get some information from you,” Colin Bixby was saying.
