Читать книгу: «The Cop», страница 2

Chapter Three

He’d learned a lot in the past twenty-four hours, Cole thought as he poured coffee into the Thermos. Mostly tips from Dan Robert during his therapy session. Now he had snap-on bags and a basket on his walker that reminded him of the gear on his bike when he was a kid. He stuck the Thermos in one of the side pockets, a mug into another and made it back to his chair without worrying about spills.

B.D. and Curtis had driven him to the hospital that afternoon, and his dad had picked him up. He’d been too tired to talk much with his dad. In fact, he’d fallen asleep soon after they returned to the motel. He hadn’t awakened until J.J. stopped by about five. He hadn’t stayed long.

Sometime later, the doorbell rang, and Cole opened the door between the apartment and the office. He smiled when he saw Kelly Martin standing there in a bright green sweat suit, her hair wadded on top of her head and held by a big yellow clip.

“You look like a leprechaun.”

She grinned. “Leprechauns are wee folks. At close to six feet, I’m more like the Jolly Green Giant.”

“You’re not six feet tall.”

“Near enough. I’m almost five-ten.”

“That’s two inches, and two inches can make a world of difference.”

She raised her eyebrows, an amused expression on her face. “Really?”

“Yep. If that bullet in my chest had been two inches over, I’d be dead.”

“And if you’d been wearing a protective vest, you wouldn’t have had more than a bruise.”

“I wasn’t planning on a shoot-out.”

She touched his face and ran her fingers lightly along his jaw. “You’ve shaved.”

“Yeah. This morning. Want a cup of coffee?”

“Thanks, but I don’t have time. I’m on my way to aerobics class next door. I hope we don’t disturb you. The music can get pretty loud.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“Not a thing. Maybe you can stop by after your class. I have a couple of those brownies left.”

“Don’t tempt me. I wish I could, but I have to make rounds at the hospital.”

“Some other time then.”

“It’s a deal. See you later.” With a flutter of her fingers, she was gone.

He stood there for a few minutes after she left, feeling funny. Uplifted, he thought, trying to put a word to his feelings. No, that was dumb. Sounded like a spiritual experience in a tent revival.

He pushed his walker back to the recliner, eased into the seat and sat there for a minute, the backs of his fingers absently brushing his jaw. Then he dry washed his face with his hands and turned on an old Gunsmoke rerun.

KELLY WAS STRIPPING down to her exercise shorts when the door to Unit 2 opened. She glanced up toward the new arrival and was delighted to see the dark-haired woman who entered. “Hey, Carrie! When did you get into town?”

“This afternoon.”

“And you’re in exercise class instead of with your fiancée?”

Carrie Campbell, an old sorority sister from UT days and newfound friend, was engaged to Judge Frank Outlaw. She was a landman for an oil company and finishing up some projects before she moved to Naconiche and set up a law practice.

“Frank wanted to talk with his brother Cole, so I thought I’d drop by and sweat with the gang for a few minutes,” Carrie said, smiling and waving to some of the other women gathered. “I’m going over to meet Cole after Frank has time to use his persuasive skills.”

“His persuasive skills?”

“Yep. Seems that Cole has announced that he isn’t going to J.J. and Mary Beth’s wedding.”

“For heaven’s sake, why not?” Kelly asked.

“Search me. I think J.J.’s feelings are hurt, and Miss Nonie’s beside herself. Frank’s going to, quote, ‘try to talk some sense into him.”’

Mary Beth Parker, soon to be Outlaw, hurried in. “Sorry I’m late, gang, but it seems as if I have a million things to do. Wanted to remind you that I won’t be here next week.” She grinned. “We’ll be on our honeymoon, but Beverly will take over the class for me while I’m gone. Bev, will you get the music?”

“Listen, my friend,” Carrie said to Kelly as they lined up, “I’m going to be swamped with all the family doings tomorrow, but I’ll see you at the wedding on Saturday. I’m eager to catch up on all the latest.”

“Great.”

KELLY GOT A BEEP from the hospital about the time the exercise class was over. One of her patients was having problems, so instead of going home to shower and change first, she headed immediately to Naconiche Memorial.

She knew she was in trouble when she spotted Warren Iverson and his wife at the nurses’ station. The moment Mr. Iverson caught sight of her in sweats and damp hair, his beady eyes popped, and his bulldog jowls began to quiver. Mrs. Iverson stood beside him like a cornered mouse. Warren Iverson was one of the few human beings on Earth who she could actually say she detested. Unfortunately he was the chairman of the hospital board. And to put it mildly, she wasn’t on his Christmas card list, either.

He looked her up and down as if she were a fresh pile he’d just stepped in. “Dr. Martin!”

She forced a bit of a smile with her curt nod. “Mr. Iverson. Mrs. Iverson.”

“I can’t believe that you’re in the hospital dressed like that!”

Biting her lip to hold back a stinging reply, she simply shrugged and stepped around him to get her patient’s chart and speak with the nurse. Bedamned if she was going to make excuses to that jerk, nor was she going to be goaded into creating a scene. He would love an excuse to yank her hospital privileges.

Watching him from the corner of her eye, Kelly saw his mouth working like a hooked catfish and steeled herself for another assault. Thankfully it didn’t come. Mrs. Iverson timidly tugged at his coat sleeve, and he stalked down the hall.

Lorene Cuthbert, the middle-aged R.N. at the station, glared after Iverson. “Sanctimonious old fart!” she muttered as she and Kelly went in the opposite direction. “What does he have against you anyhow?”

Kelly chuckled. “Maybe he doesn’t like redheads.”

But that wasn’t what he had against her. Kelly knew exactly why Warren Iverson hated her. He had found the birth control pills that Kelly had prescribed for his daughter Rachel. Forget that Rachel was eighteen. Forget that she was sleeping with most of the single men in town and a few of the married ones. Forget that Kelly had talked with her repeatedly about the physical dangers of her behavior. Iverson had found the pills and gone into a rage, calling Rachel a whore and calling Kelly worse. When his daughter turned up pregnant a few months later, he threw her out of the house and blamed everything on Kelly for encouraging such abominable and licentious behavior.

Kelly shook off the effects of her encounter with him and put on a pleasant face for her patient.

Mrs. Phelps, an eighty-seven-year-old widow, smiled sweetly as they entered her room. “Now, don’t you look pretty in green?”

“Why, thank you,” Kelly said. “I hope I don’t smell like a horse. I’ve been to aerobics class.”

“With Mary Beth? I liked going to her seniors stretching class when I felt up to it. I hate to miss her wedding. She will be such a beautiful bride, and J.J. will be a handsome groom.”

Kelly only smiled and listened to Mrs. Phelps’s frail heart. This was the hardest part of being a doctor. There was very little she could do except to make her patient as comfortable as possible. Oh, how she wished the hospice program was in place already. She’d been working to get it going for a couple of years, and, if luck was with them, it would be up and running in a few months.

But too late for Mrs. Phelps.

AT SEVEN FORTY-FIVE on Friday morning Kelly heard a car drive up in front and a door slam. She lifted a slat on the miniblind to look out. Why she bothered, she didn’t know. As always, it was Gladys Sowell, her maid, climbing from the back seat of Naconiche’s only taxi and gathering her black coat around her. Taxi fare was part of her pay. There were no buses in Naconiche, but the taxi fare was nominal and the driver, Gladys’s cousin, dependable.

A stocky woman with graying hair gathered up in a bun, Gladys was in her midfifties but looked older. She arrived every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at seven forty-five on the button to feed the cats and Kelly, do laundry and keep the house spotless. A better housekeeper than she was a cook, she also cleaned the office rooms every afternoon at a reduced rate in exchange for medical attention. Since she was a terrible hypochondriac, Gladys probably got the best end of the deal, but she was a legacy along with the retiring doctor’s practice.

Kelly finished dressing and walked into the kitchen where Gladys was feeding the cats and talking baby talk to them. Rocky and Pierre adored Gladys, and they were winding themselves around her legs as she pulled off her coat and put on her apron. Kelly had given her the coat last Christmas.

“Mornin’, Dr. Kelly. How ’bout some bacon and eggs and biscuits?”

“Just fruit and cereal this morning, thanks.” Gladys’s idea of breakfast was greasier than anything at the City Grill. “How are you today?”

“Only tolerable. I had a sour stomach all night last night, and it kept me up and down a right smart.”

“Have you been taking your medicine and watching your diet?”

“I’ve run out of them little purple capsules.”

Kelly knew it was futile to scold Gladys about her diet. “I’ll leave some samples at the office for you.”

“And I’m out of my nerve pills, too.”

“I’ll get some from my bag.” She kept a supply of Gladys’s harmless “nerve pills” in an unmarked vial and dispensed them a few at a time.

“I’ll have you some oatmeal done in just a jiffy. It’s cold as a cast-iron commode out there, and you need something to stick to your ribs. You’re likely to be busy today.”

Gladys turned out to be right. Kelly had a booger of a day. It seemed that half her patients had ailments, and two emergencies kept her at the hospital until after eleven that night. Even her cats, Pierre and Rocky, yowled at her when she walked in the door.

“Sorry, guys,” she said as she scooped some food into their dishes and gave them fresh water. “I’m pooped. Don’t wake me early in the morning or you’re toast.”

She fell into bed and slept until almost eight. She would have slept longer except that she had two phone calls. One was a patient in labor, the other was Nonie Outlaw. She returned Miss Nonie’s call on her way to the hospital.

“Dr. Kelly, I’m at my wit’s end,” Miss Nonie said. She sounded distraught and near tears. “It’s Cole.”

Kelly’s heart gave a lurch. “What’s wrong?”

“He refuses to go to J.J. and Mary Beth’s wedding. We couldn’t even pry him out to go to the rehearsal and dinner last night. Everybody in the family has tried to talk to him, but he’s a stubborn as Vick Trawick’s mule. I—I thought that since you seem to have a way with Cole that perhaps you could persuade him.”

“Does he have a suit to wear?”

“Frank was going to lend him one, but nobody would care if he came in pajamas and bathrobe.”

He would, Kelly thought. “I’m on my way to the hospital now, Miss Nonie, but tell Frank that I’ll drop by and pick up the dress clothes when I’m done. The wedding’s at three, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but the clothes are already at the inn. Everything is hanging in a bag in the office. Frank left it there last night—in case Cole changed his mind.”

“I’ll do my best, Miss Nonie. Stop worrying about Cole and enjoy the day.”

BY THE TIME Kelly got home, showered, tamed her hair and dressed in a rust-colored outfit, it was after one-thirty. She ate half a protein bar on the way to the Twilight Inn.

When she walked into the office, she saw the garment bag hanging on a hook behind the desk. Picking up the clothes, she took a deep breath then knocked on the door to the apartment.

Cole opened the door wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of the new sweatpants she’d bought. He gave her the once-over, then smiled. “You look mighty fine, Red. Going somewhere?”

“I am. To a wedding, and I need a date.”

“Can’t help you there. But I can offer you a cup of coffee.”

“Got any brownies left?” she asked as she breezed by him with the garment bag.

“Nope. Ate the last one this morning for breakfast.”

“With your eggs?”

“Instead of my eggs.”

“Works for me,” Kelly said. “Had lunch?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yep. Take off your pants.”

He looked amused. “I think we’ve had this conversation before.”

“A slight variation.” She unzipped the bag and took out the dark suit pants. “Put these on instead.”

“I’m not going to the wedding, Red.”

“Don’t call me Red. And you already told me that you’re not going to the wedding with me. You did, however, ask me out for coffee, and how would it look with you in sweats and me in my finery?”

“In,” he said.

“In?”

“I asked you in for coffee, not out.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “I prefer out. Need help with your pants?”

“Yeah.”

It was a dare if she’d ever heard one.

“Okeydokey.” She stuck her thumbs in the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and peeled them down. Thankfully he was wearing underwear. “Lift your right foot. Now your left. Good.”

She kicked off her shoes and got into an awkward semisquat behind him to help him put on the dress slacks. The process was a struggle, but they finally made it. The legs were just a tad too short, but she didn’t mention it. She figured that with him sitting in his wheelchair nobody would notice. The white shirt was snug but fit well enough.

By the time they had buttoned all the buttons, a fine line of sweat beaded his upper lip. Kelly said, “Let’s sit down and rest a while. Want some juice? Orange, tomato, apple?”

“Orange would be good.”

She poured juice while he eased into his recliner.

He emptied the glass when she handed it to him, then he leaned back and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, she touched his arm. “Ready to put on the tie?”

He opened one eye and frowned. “Red, I’m not sure I can manage a tie.”

“I can.”

“You’re a woman of many talents.”

“You’d better believe it. I mastered the art when my dad broke his arm.”

“When was that?”

“A while back, but I figure it’s like riding a bicycle,” she said. “It will come back to me. Sit up a little.” She slipped the blue silk tie under his collar and expertly knotted it. “There you go.”

“I’m impressed.”

“As well you should be.” She glanced down at his gray cotton socks and rose to retrieve shoes and dress socks from the bag.

Frank had thoughtfully provided black dress loafers that would slip on easily. Problem was, they didn’t slip on easily.

“Push,” she said as she knelt on the floor at his feet. “Harder.”

“Darlin’, I can push from now till kingdom come, and my foot isn’t going in that shoe. Let me see it.” When he looked inside the loafer, Cole said, “No wonder. It’s too short and too narrow. I wear a thirteen double E.”

“Good Lord, and I thought my foot was big.” Kelly glanced at her watch. It was almost two-thirty. “Don’t you have some other shoes?”

“Under the bed.” He nodded toward the other room.

Kelly went looking, but all she found were the furry moccasins. She came back holding one in each hand. “These?”

“Yep.”

Restraining herself from rolling her eyes, she said, “Let me make a quick call.”

She phoned Olsen’s, the only men’s store in town that sold something other than Western wear and work clothes. They didn’t have any dress shoes in Cole’s size; they’d sold the last pair to Stanley Bickham last Thursday. They had one pair of brown sandals left over from summer. She even called the store that carried cowboy boots, hoping to find something nice in his size. The only things they had to fit were two pair of rubber boots and some tan steel-toed loggers.

Knowing that there wasn’t time to drive to Travis Lake and back, Kelly grabbed the fur-lined moccasins. “At least these will keep your toes warm,” she said as she slipped them on his feet. “Stand up and let’s put on the coat.”

The fit wasn’t too bad. “You look very handsome,” she told him.

“For a sausage?”

“Maybe the coat’s a little tight across the shoulders, but if you don’t button it, it’s fine. Let me get your wheelchair.”

“I’ll use the walker.”

“We’ll use the chair. Listen to the doctor.”

“Darlin’, you’re not my doctor.”

They finally compromised and took both.

While Cole buckled his seat belt, Kelly anxiously checked her watch and prayed that her timing would be right.

She drove to a convenience store, hurried in to make her purchase and came out with two small foam cups. She handed one to Cole.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Coffee. I told you we were going out for coffee.”

He took a sip and frowned. “It tastes like engine sludge.”

She tried it. The stuff was ghastly. She dumped both cups in the trash and drove to the church. He didn’t even comment as she parked in the side lot.

“I thought that since we were dressed up and out anyway, we might go to the wedding,” she said.

That amused expression of his was back again. “You did, huh?”

“You’ll go?”

“Red, for most of my adult life I’ve been around the worst kind of scum who can lie easier than they can tell the truth. Not much gets by me, and you didn’t even come close.”

“If you knew my intentions, why did you go along so easily?”

“I’m a pushover for redheads.” He winked.

“You really wanted to come, didn’t you?”

He shrugged and glanced away. It was that pride again, Kelly thought. He could have never gotten dressed by himself, and he didn’t want to ask for help or be a burden to any of his family. Lord, the male ego was unbelievable.

Once he got into his wheelchair, she pushed him into the church and to the side door of the sanctuary. J.J. stood there with the minister and his brothers Frank and Sam.

J.J. broke into a big grin and slapped Cole on the back. “’Bout damn time you got here. We’re fixin’ to start.”

“Let’s take our places, gentlemen,” the minister said, opening the door.

He went in and J.J. and Frank followed. Sam, the youngest brother and a Texas Ranger, grabbed the handles of the chair and started wheeling Cole in behind the others.

“Hold it, Sam!” Cole whispered. “I’m not going with y’all. Hell, I’ve got on Daddy’s house shoes.”

“Shut up, Cole,” Sam said. “And smile.”