“She’s out of surgery,” Lily told him. “They’re sounding hopeful about her chances.”
“Helluva thing.” He shook his head and repeated himself. “Helluva thing. Guess people are saying Hodge was quiet, kept to himself?”
“More that he was an old grouch.”
“Huh. I’ve covered this sort of story before. Never been part of it.”
He was wrong about that. He’d never covered anything like this, but Lily didn’t tell him that.
She made her way to the second floor and, after speaking with a nurse, a small waiting room near the ICU. For company she had a television tuned to an all-news channel and an elderly man with skin the color of old teak who never took his eyes off the TV.
While she waited for Hodge’s doctor, she composed an informal report. She didn’t object to the brief wait; organizing her data and theories for Ruben clarified her thinking. She did object to the seating.
Whoever thought that molding plastic to fit a so-called average shape was a good idea? No one, Lily decided as she shifted yet again, was really average, which meant the seats were uncomfortable for everyone. Democracy was great for many things, but furniture wasn’t one of them.
She’d just sent the report off—she had a USB GPRS modem on her laptop—when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and slid her laptop into its silk-lined pocket in her tote. “Yes?”
It was Brown. The neighbors had confirmed that Hodge apparently hadn’t had any recent visitors. She told him to let everyone grab something to eat; she’d call him back with instructions after speaking with Hodge.
“All right. You want some advice?”
“Sure.”
He was silent a second, as if she’d surprised him. “You’re young, you’ve got a major goddamned investigation on your hands, and you’re a control freak. Don’t ask how I know. I know because everyone in law enforcement’s a control freak—that’s how we get off. You’re going to try to do everything yourself. Don’t.”
“That’s your advice? Delegate?”
“That’s it. You won’t do it,” he said glumly. “But I’m such a goddamned optimist I had to say it anyway.”
He disconnected. She started to put her phone up, but saw that she had a text message from Rule. When she opened it, she sighed. He was leaving now, heading for Leidolf Clanhome with Toby. He wanted her to call tonight.
“Some people!”
Lily looked up. The pair of women who stood in the doorway were twins. Had to be. They wore matching helmet-heads of iron gray curls and matching floral smocks with pink stretch pants. It was an unfortunate fashion choice, since each woman was at least a hundred pounds overweight—with about fifty percent of that in their boobs.
They had identical glares, too. The one on the left spoke. “Cell phones are not allowed in the hospital. Do you want to make all those machines quit working?”
“That’s unlikely,” Lily said patiently, “according the Mayo Clinic, which found no problems when cell phones were used near hospital equipment. Admittedly, Dutch researchers did find some interference, but that was at distances of five centimeters or so.”
The other sister snorted. “I suppose you know better than the doctors who make the rules, missy!”
Guilt twinged. It was never easy for Lily to ignore a rule, even one that was based on faulty assumptions. “My job requires me to stay in touch, ma’am.” She glanced at her watch. If that doctor didn’t show up soon—
“Some people think they’re too important to follow the rules everyone else has to follow, don’t they, Bessie?” Pink Pants on the left moved ponderously into the room.
Bessie? Oh, my. Lily managed not to grin.
“Ladies?” said a man’s voice with a hint of an accent. “Excuse me, please, ladies . . .” A second later the owner of the voice emerged from behind the women. He wore scrubs.
Lily rose. “Dr. Patel?”
“Yes, yes.” He came forward, beaming as if she were a long-lost cousin, one hand outstretched. He had teeth of news-anchor brilliance, a square face, and skin a rich, coppery brown that made her think of Rule’s older brother Benedict, though he came from the other side of the world.
What she immediately liked about him, though, was his height—maybe one inch above her own. It was a rare and admirable trait.
“You are Lily Yu?” he said.
“I am.” Dr. Patel, she discovered as she shook his hand, had a minor Finding Gift. This wasn’t a big surprise, as a disproportionately large number of physicians had some trace of magic, and not necessarily one connected with healing. Finding could be a handy diagnostic tool, she supposed, though given the meager nature of his Gift, he might just think he had excellent hunches.
“I am sorry for the delay,” he said, and looked truly apologetic. “I am the only cardiologist in Halo, you see.”
“Doctor,” one of the twins said, “I wish to make a complaint. This woman insisted on using her cell phone.”
Dr. Patel smiled gently. “Ladies, I hope you will do me the courtesy of sitting down and resting yourselves while you wait to speak with your own doctor, with whom you may register all the complaints you wish. Agent Yu . . . ?” He gestured at the doorway.
“Agent?” one of the twins gasped.
Lily slung her tote on her shoulder and preceded the doctor into the hall.
“Nicely done,” she told him. “You remind me of my grandmother.” Actually he was much nicer, but Grandmother could—when she wanted—cut someone off at the knees with such exquisite courtesy that he’d be thanking her even as he bled out. She didn’t usually bother, but she could.
Dr. Patel smiled. “I believe this is a compliment? Then thank you. Now, about Mr. Hodge . . . I believe you administered CPR at the scene? That was well-done. However, I must ask you to keep your questioning brief. His condition is good, under the circumstances, but his mental state is not.”
“About his mental state—is he rational? Does he remember what happened?”
“Rational? Yes, to the extent that he understands where he is and who he is, and can give permission for treatment. I don’t know what he remembers of recent events. He certainly remembers me, and the last time he was here.”
“When you implanted his pacemaker.”
“Yes. He had a major myocardial infarction. In fact, he died on the way to the operating room. Quite dramatic. I was most pleased to be able to bring him back, offer him perhaps many more years of life.”
Dr. Patel didn’t look pleased. He looked grieved and guilty, regretting what his patient had done. “This is not for broadcast, Doctor, but in a very real sense I don’t believe Hodge killed those people. I don’t think he was in charge of his body when the trigger was pulled.”
He stopped, staring at her. “But what, then—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you more.”
“If he is possessed . . . Agent Yu, we cannot have someone here who might harm other patients or staff. Unless he’s been exorcised—”
“There’s no demon in him now. I can be sure of that. I don’t believe he’s a danger to others at this time, but I’ve asked the chief of police to keep officers stationed at his room.”
“Yes, they’re here. I thought . . . I assumed Mr. Hodge was under arrest.”
“At this time, I consider him a key witness. I don’t know if he was complicit in what was done to him, or if he is every bit as much a victim as those who were shot. I intend to find out.”