Bad Doctor (11 page)

22

I GET TO my feet and turn to find two men holding a gun on Willow. When she stops screaming, they start.

“What the fuck’s going on here?” one of them shouts.

They see her look at me and the other guy yells, “Sir? Stay right where you are, and don’t move a muscle. I may not look like it, but I know how to use this gun.”

He’s right. He doesn’t look like a killer. He looks like a conjoined twin.

“You,” the first twin says to Willow. “Put that shit back in the trunk and go stand beside the battered husband.”

“My friend’s been shot,” she says. “That’s Dr. Box. This is his medical bag. He needs it to help my friend.”

“Fuck your friend!” the first one says.

“Oh, stop being such a Clint Eastwood,” the second twin says. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Willow.”

“Your full name, dear.”

“Willow Breeland.”

“Nice to meet you, Willow. I’m Charlie, and this is—”

“Don’t tell him our names, you moron!” the first twin says.

“Oh, like she needs our names to identify us?” Charlie says. “She can’t just say, ‘the Siamese twins held a gun on me?’ Because there are too many of us shuffling around the greater Dayton area?”

Willow suddenly notices Bobby, lying dead in the dirt, ten feet behind the twins.

And shrieks.

The twins angle their bodies to see what she’s looking at, and Charlie says, “Omigod! Look at that penis! It looks like the space shuttle!”

“He’s dead,” the first twin says.

“If he is, he’s got petrified wood for a penis. Omigod, I made a joke! He’s got a petrified woodie!”

They shuffle to Bobby’s body for a closer look while keeping an eye on me and the gun on Willow.

“Well pardon
me
!” Charlie says to me. “What are you
doing
?”

“Pissing,” I say. “What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re pissing,” he agrees.

“Who’s this?” the first twin asks Willow.

“My boyfriend, Bobby.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Charlie says.

“He was a piece of shit. I hated him,” she says.

“Men!” Charlie says. “Can’t live
with
them, can’t live
without
them.”

“I can live without him.”

“You go, girl!”

“Who shot him?” the first twin says.

“He shot himself.”

“Then where’s the gun?”

She points toward the house. “He threw it over there after running out of bullets.”

“One of those bullets hit the window of our van,” he says. “It caused me to run off the road. We blew a tire and hit a tree.”

“I’m sorry,” Willow says.

“Why’s he naked?”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long dick is what it is,” Charlie says, giggling. “By the way, this is my brother, Carlos.”

“I can’t believe you told her my name!” Carlos says.

They shuffle ten feet closer to me and notice Cameron on the ground.

“He shot her, too?” Carlos asks.

“He did,” I say. “And I need to get the bullet out of her shoulder before it does further damage.”

Charlie angles his head toward Willow and says, “You can take the bag to the doctor, honey.”

Willow rushes to my side and hands me the medical bag. She looks at my eyes and says, “Can you even see?”

“I could perform this surgery with my eyes closed.”

It’s a true statement, and a good thing, since my eyes are so swollen, I’m looking through slits the width of spaghetti noodles.

I give Cameron a shot of morphine and use my scissors to remove half her blouse. It takes less than five minutes to cut out the bullet, clean the wound, and stitch her up. When I’m finished, Willow wraps the blanket around her.

Behind us, the twins are laughing.

“For the love of God,” Willow says.

“What now?”

“They’re playing ring toss.”

I turn around to see them standing a short distance from Bobby, trying to toss necklaces onto his enormously erect penis.

“Two to nothing!” Charlie squeals. “I’m winning!”

23

WILLOW HOVERS OVER Cameron while I walk over to the twins.

“Are you done already?” Charlie says.

“I’ve done what I can, but we need to get Cameron to a hospital. Unless you plan to shoot us.”

“We need a ride home,” Charlie says. “Right, Carlos?”

“Are you serious?” Carlos says. “You plan to show him where we
live
?”

“Try to remember. We’re Siamese twins. If Dr. Box wants to know where we live he could simply ask around. How many conjoined twins live in the area, do you think?”

Carlos says, “We held a gun on him!”

“So?”

“We played ring toss with a dead guy’s dick.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?” Charlie says.

Me, for one.

Charlie says, “Dr. Box, when you report these events to the police, are you going to mention us?”

“Not if you let us go. Assuming you can get your car off the property before the police show up.”

“Mom can change the tire. But our cell phone doesn’t work out here. We’ll need a ride home.”

“How far is that?”

“Less than eight miles. It’s not out of the way if you’re heading to Dayton.”

“Why would I go to Dayton?”

“That’s where the closest hospital is. You did say you were taking Cameron to the hospital, right?”

“I did.” I look at the car. “Can you guys fit in the back seat?”

Charlie says, “I don’t think there’s enough room for everyone. How about if I go with you and Carlos stays here?”

Carlos says, “You’re not funny, you know.”

The twins spend five minutes trying to climb in the back seat of the Mercedes, but it’s not working.

“Wait a minute,” Charlie says.

The brothers move out of our hearing and talk to each other a minute, then shuffle back.

“We’ve chosen to trust you,” Charlie says.

“How so?”

“You can take Cameron to the hospital. On the way, when you get a signal, call the phone number I’m going to give you. That’s our mom. Tell her where we are. She’ll come here, change our tire, and get our van started.”

“Your mom can do all that?”

“All that and more!” Charlie says.

“Sorry guys, but I can’t see well enough to drive.”

“Good point,” Charlie says.

Willow walks up and stands beside me.

“We need to get going,” she says.

Carlos says, “the Doc stays with us.”

“I can live with that,” Willow says, with far more enthusiasm than necessary.

“No,” I say. “I can’t trust Willow to go to the hospital or talk to the police, for reasons that would take too long to explain. Plus, I’m a doctor. It’s safer for Cameron if I’m with her, in case she goes into shock or starts convulsing.”

“He can’t drive, and I’m not staying here with you guys,” Willow says.

“Then I’m afraid we’re at an impasse,” Charlie says, pointing the gun at me.

“Just a minute,” I say.

I motion for Willow to follow me a short distance. Then say, “I don’t suppose there’s a working phone in Maggie’s house.”

“I’m sure she canceled the phone service before moving out.”

“Can you get inside?”

“If the key’s where used to be.” She looks at Maggie’s house, then back at me. “Why?”

“If I slice the tissue beneath my eyes I’ll be able to see well enough to make it to the nearest hospital. These guys seem relatively harmless. I think I can talk them into letting you stay in the house with the door locked until their mom shows up.”

“How do you expect me to get home?”

“I’ll come back to get you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I swear I will.”

“I can’t even trust you to take Cameron to the hospital,” she says.

“Why not?”

“She’s a gunshot victim. As soon as she’s admitted, the police will start asking questions. They’ll want to investigate the crime scene. Bobby’s here, I’m here—you’ll be in the hospital getting patched up, or in the interrogation room at the police station.”

“So?”

“I don’t like it.”

We look at each other a minute. Finally I say, “How did you and Cameron wind up with Chris Fowler’s bedspread?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Breaking and entering’s a felony.”

“As you should know.”

“True. But when you add theft?”

“Yeah?”

“All I’m saying, you might need to come up with a good explanation.”

“If I do, it’ll be better than your explanation of how Bobby died from a flesh wound.”

“Are you serious? The guy was on heroin, coke, and Black Stone powder. He beat me up, shot Cameron, and shot himself in the leg. That’s a lot of trauma to the system.”

“The coroner might wonder about the nutmeg.”

“Bobby must’ve done that on his own, to stop the bleeding.”

“That’s your story?”

“It is.”

“Then you’ve got problems,” Willow says.

“Why?”

“That theory won’t match my testimony. Or Cameron’s.”

“What are you, a lawyer?”

“No, but my father is.”

“What you’re saying, we’re at an impasse.”

“Looks like it,” Willow says.

“In that case I’ve got another idea,” I say.

“Tell me after I pee!”

With that, she walks to the porch of Maggie’s house, reaches behind one of the steps for the key, and uses it to gain entry. Moments later, she comes out, locks the door, replaces the key, and I tell her my plan for getting us all where we need to go at the same time.

“I like it,” she says.

24

WILLOW’S GOT THE flashers on as she drives the back roads to Dayton at five miles an hour. The twins are sitting on the hood of the Mercedes. Charlie’s gun is pointed at Willow. If she tries any “funny stuff” he’ll put six bullets through the windshield.

Every few minutes, a car passes. One guy slows to match our speed and says, “Nice hood ornament!” But takes off when Charlie turns the gun on him.

Twenty minutes later Charlie motions Willow to stop.

“What now?” she says.

“We’ve got phone service,” he says. “Turn into the next driveway and drop us off. We can call mom from here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Cameron needs to get to the hospital, and we’ve detained you long enough.”

“Thank you Charles,” Willow says.

We drop them off, say our goodbyes.

Willow looks at me and says, “Does she really need to go to the hospital?”

“No. Cameron needs medical care, but she’s eminently safer with me.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Don’t get me started.”

“Were you ever planning to take her?”

“Yeah, but I worry about leaving her in the hospital. And you’re right. The police will want the details.”

“Any chance we could take Cameron somewhere and you could care for her till she heals?”

I think about that. We could drive to New York and I could keep a swollen eye on her when I’m not working. But if she wound up dying I’d have a problem with the authorities. Not to mention her parents.

“No,” I say. “Too many people are involved.”

“If you mean the twins, I expect they’ll keep quiet.”

“What about Gary, from the Firefly?”

“What about him?”

“He pinned my arms while Bobby beat me up.”

“That brings up a good point. Why did Bobby beat you up?”

“He caught me at the club, trying to leave money for you and Cameron.”

“Money?”

I nod. “In envelopes.”

“How much?”

“Six thousand each.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

She says, “Bobby didn’t spend twelve thousand on drugs.”

“I don’t know how much he spent. But he and Chuckie were in my car. And some other guy drove Bobby’s motorcycle back to your place.”

“Mark Boner,” she says. “Boner the Stoner. You’re right. Too many people.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, then,” Willow says. “We need to do three things. Third, get our story straight.”

“What’s first and second?”

“First, we drive back to the farm and fish through Bobby’s clothes for the rest of the money.”

“That’s first?”

“Cameron and I earned that money in the most disgusting way imaginable,” she says. Then adds, “No offense.”

“You can’t mean having sex with me was worse than living with Bobby and getting the shit beat out of you all the time.”

Willow says nothing.

“Be honest,” I say. “It can’t have been
that
bad, could it?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

I sigh. “I guess not. What’s the second thing we need to do?”

“Dump the bedding and vacuum cleaner in dumpsters in Dayton.”

“Okay. And then we take Cameron to the hospital?”

“Yup.”