Two Guys Detective Agency (3 page)

“Someone up there will be able to give you more details,” the woman said gently, then pointed. “The

elevator bays are down that hall. The waiting room on the second floor is more quiet than this one.”

Once again, Oakley took the lead. Klo and Stone hesitated, but she motioned for them to come along.

She made introductions and everyone shuffled awkwardly. No one wanted to be here. The elevators

seemed to take forever to arrive, and the ride up was equally interminable. The hospital was surprisingly

busy for so early in the day…so much sickness, so many tragedies, every day. It was the kind of thing

people were oblivious to until it touched them.

When they reached the second floor, it took a few minutes to find the waiting room and longer to find

someone to answer questions. A desk nurse scurried away to find a doctor and Oakley stayed with Linda.

She squeezed the Kleenex box, trying to stay calm. But her mind kept jumping around to other possible

problems — had the payment for their health insurance made it by the cutoff date? Had the check cleared?

Did Sullivan have disability insurance through the agency? And worse…why didn’t she know? She hated

she was even thinking about such things when she didn’t yet know the extent of Sullivan’s condition, but

the financial implications had to be faced at some point. Panic licked at her stomach.

“Take a deep breath,” Oakley said quietly. “Everything is going to be okay.”

She nodded, breathing in and out…in and out. At that moment she was so grateful to have him there.

A tall woman wearing scrubs strode up. “Smith family?”

“Yes,” Linda said. “How is my husband?”

“Stable,” the physician, who introduced herself as Dr. Kozac, said. “But we still haven’t been able to

figure out what’s wrong.”

Linda frowned. “I thought it was his heart.”

“It is, but some of his other organs have been compromised, too. Is he taking any prescription drugs?”

“No.”

The doctor flicked her gaze to Oakley, then back. “Mrs. Smith, can I have a word with you in private?”

“You can speak freely. Oakley is my husband’s best friend.”

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Does your husband take illegal drugs?”

Linda blinked. “No! No, of course not. He’s a former police officer, he’d never do such a thing.”

The doctor looked at Oakley for confirmation.

“To my knowledge, he’s never taken illegal drugs,” Oakley said.

Linda was irked with the doctor. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Just trying to eliminate some possibilities. Your husband hasn’t been able to communicate with us.

We’re still running tests to find out why he collapsed.”

“He’s had a cold the past few days,” Linda supplied. “But it didn’t seem serious.”

Dr. Kozac nodded to the box of Kleenex Linda held. “Is anyone else in the home sick?”

“No.”

“Does he have any allergies?”

“None that I know of.”

“Any history of family illness?”

“His father died of emphysema.”

“Okay,” the doctor said, although she obviously wasn’t satisfied. “We’ll keep you posted on his status.”

“Can I see him?”

Dr. Kozac hesitated, then glanced at her watch. “A nurse will come to get you, but only you can go in,

and only for a few minutes, at least until we know what we’re dealing with.” The doctor strode away, on to

another emergency.

Linda looked at Oakley, fighting tears of frustration. “I still don’t know anything.”

“Let’s go to the waiting room,” he soothed. “We’ll get a cup of coffee, and wait for word. He’s in good

hands.”

She nodded, gripping the Kleenex box like a lifeline. Klo and Stone were in the waiting room. They

stood, eager for an update. Linda shared what little she knew (leaving out the bit where the doctor had

asked if her husband was a druggie), then settled into a stiff, worn chair. Oakley disappeared, presumably

on the hunt for coffee.

She felt numb.

“I tried to reach you at home this morning,” Klo offered, “but kept getting a fast busy signal.”

Linda recalled dropping the phone after Oakley had called. She probably had compromised the system

somehow. “Thank you anyway.” She gave the woman’s hand a squeeze, remembering her earlier comment

that they hadn’t had appointments today. Business was lousy, and she wondered if Sullivan had paid his

secretary recently.

“I, um, couldn’t get through to your cell either,” Klo said carefully.

“It’s probably turned off.” Linda rummaged in her purse, debating whether to call Sullivan’s widowed

mother in Florida, or to wait until she had more news. She and Marbella Smith had never really gotten

along — Linda sensed the woman still thought she’d gotten pregnant in college on purpose in order to ruin

her son’s life. Marbella had never considered the fact that Sullivan had been equally complicit in the

unplanned pregnancy and that Linda’s plans had been waylaid as well. That his mother had gotten two

gorgeous grandchildren out of it hadn’t seemed to matter — the woman was an iceberg.

Linda pulled out the cell phone and powered it up, only to see a message on the screen to please contact

her carrier about her account. Translation: Her service had been cut off, which Klo probably suspected.

“Battery is dead,” Linda mumbled, then stuffed the phone back into her purse. She felt sick…er.

“Use mine,” Stone said, extending a phone with lots more bells and whistles than hers.

She smiled and thanked him, then stepped away to call Sullivan’s mother. Thankfully, Marbella didn’t

answer. Linda left a brief message that Sullivan had collapsed and was in the hospital, but he was stable and

she would call again as soon as she knew more.

She disconnected the call and wondered if she should call anyone else, but no names came to mind.

Sullivan was an only child and was only casual friends with other men in their neighborhood. Besides

Oakley, she couldn’t think of anyone her husband would want her to call. As for her family, her father

was…
indisposed
, so there was only Octavia, an hour away in Louisville. But married to a rich attorney,

living in a gated community, and looking down her nose at her sister’s life choices, Octavia might as well

be a million miles away.

Linda realized she hadn’t spoken to her sister since she’d called to thank her for the makeup kit a couple

of months ago. The conversation had been fast and frosty and forced. She knew that for her sake, her sister

would be sorry to hear that Sullivan was hospitalized, but suspected Octavia would somehow add it to the

heap of shortcomings she attributed to the man Linda had married.

She walked back and handed the phone to Stone. “Thank you. You said Sullivan wanted you to meet

him this morning?”

He was instantly on guard. “That’s right.”

“Do you know why?”

“I assume he needed help on a case.”

She turned to Klo. “Would that be the big case he’s been working on?”

Klo pursed her mouth. “I don’t know…Sullivan has kept me a little out of the loop lately.”

Stone wasn’t the only employee of Sullivan’s with a checkered past. Klo was a former stripper, and

according to Sullivan, her network was extensive. He trusted the older woman; Linda sensed that he even

relied on her. The fact that he wouldn’t share details of a case with Klo was puzzling.

Oakley returned with a cardboard holder of large coffees to pass around. Linda drank deeply,

welcoming the bitter burn and the zing of caffeine. It crossed her mind that she probably should be praying

for Sullivan’s recovery. Considering she hadn’t been to church in a while, it seemed disingenuous to ask

for a favor now, but she sent a request heavenward anyway.

“Mrs. Smith?”

She looked up to see a female nurse offering a tentative smile.

“I’ll take you to see your husband now.”

Linda handed her coffee to Oakley, who gave her a bolstering wink. Then she shifted her purse to her

shoulder, curled the box of Kleenex in her elbow like a football, and followed the woman, her heart

hammering in her chest. She was led down hallways, through massive swinging doors, and finally into a

room lined with equipment that dwarfed the bed in which the patient lay.

She thought she had steeled herself for the worst, but the sight of her big, hardy husband lying listless

and pale in a hospital gown was like a punch to her lungs. She gasped into her fingers, but held herself in

check.

“Five minutes,” the nurse murmured.

“Can I talk to him?”

“Of course. But he hasn’t responded to anyone since he arrived.”

The nurse left and pulled the door partially closed.

Linda approached Sullivan’s bed slowly, choking back a sob as fear and apprehension invaded every

cell of her body. She’d never seen her husband in a weakened state…he’d once pulled a double shift while

suffering from the flu, and hit the winning run in a softball game with a broken rib. The beep of his heart

monitor jarred her raw nerves. When anxiety threatened to engulf her, she took a deep breath and shook

herself. Right now the most important thing was getting him back on the road to wellness.

Upon closer inspection, his freckled skin had a yellowish cast. His buzzed reddish hair was sweat-

matted, his mouth slack. She used a Kleenex to dab the perspiration from his forehead. His eyes were

closed and when she placed her hand on his cold fingers, he didn’t respond to her touch. Her heart

crunched when she realized someone had removed his ring. Neither of them had ever taken off their

wedding bands.

She leaned over his bed to speak close to his ear. “Sullivan, it’s me, sweetie. You’re in the hospital,

getting better, and I’m here with you.”

No response.

“Sullivan, it’s Linda. The doctors are trying to figure out what happened — ”

His fingers moved beneath hers, and her heart gave a little jump of joy.

“I felt that…I know you can hear me.” She squeezed his fingers again and waited for another response.

Instead, he made a mewling noise, as if he were trying to wake up. She pulled back to see his eyes

fluttering open. He glanced around wildly.

Linda’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Welcome back.” She stroked his arm to soothe him, but instead, he

grew more agitated.

“Relax, sweetie. I’m going to get the doctor.”

But his fingers tightened around hers and his eyes pleaded. “Love…eee…” The sounds came out thick

and distorted, as if he’d had a stroke.

She smiled. “I love you, too, sweetie.”

But he shook his head, obviously distressed. Then his body went rigid and his eyes flew wide, glazed

with pain. The heart monitor beeped in rapid succession, and another machine emitted an alarm.

Panicked, Linda raced to the door and yelled, “Help, somebody!”

The nurses were already jogging toward the room, with Dr. Kozac leading the charge. Linda was swept

into the hallway, then handed off and shepherded back through the industrial swinging doors with the

promise that someone would come for her as soon as he was stable again.

She raced back to the waiting room and when Oakley came to meet her, she sank against his chest. He

calmed her with shushing noises and strokes to her back, as if she were a child, then led her to a chair. She

told them what had happened in a halting voice. Another family had taken seats on the opposite side of the

waiting room. A little girl stared at Linda and inched closer to her mother. It made her think of her own

children, and how they would react to their father being so scarily ill.

“It’s going to be okay,” Oakley repeated over and over in that blanket-like voice of his. “Sully is strong

and he has so much to live for.”

Klo and Stone added comforting sentiments of their own.

She nodded and wiped, nodded and dabbed, until the tissue she held was shredded. In the melee of

exiting Sullivan’s room, she’d lost the stupid box of Kleenex. Oakley removed a snowy handkerchief from

his back pocket and pushed it into her hand.

She blew her nose, feeling self-conscious about abusing such a personal item. “Don’t you have to work

today?”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Klo and Stone, too, stayed close. Linda made a mental note to tell Sullivan how supportive his friend

and coworkers had been during the crisis.

There was so much she wanted to tell him, she realized, so many things she’d left unsaid recently

because of trivial resentments. Her behavior now seemed so petty, she was ashamed. She would fix things

between them, fix their family. They would be happy again.

They would.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Kozac appeared at the doorway, looking weary — and holding

the missing box of tissue. Linda surged to her feet and strode toward her, the others following behind.

“How is he?”

The doctor maintained a poker face. “Your husband suffered a massive heart attack and his heart

stopped beating. We tried to revive him, but despite our best attempts…”

Everything shifted into slow motion as Linda recognized the “death talk” that was obviously required