“Yes, of course. But she never mentioned anything about it. Not that I can remember.”
“She probably wouldn’t have, even if she knew. And maybe she didn’t know. Or maybe she didn’t know, and then she found out — which strengthens the motive.” He paused. “Or maybe I’m all wet.”
“No, everything you say sounds possible.”
“Sure, but how do you go about... Oh, why don’t I shut up and kiss you?”
“I’ve been wondering,” she said softly, and then she went into his arms.
He was familiar with the hospital routine. Connerly brought him to the entry desk, and a pharmacist’s mate there took his name, rank, and serial number. Connerly gave him all the pertinent information dully, a matter of routine.
He turned then to his shipmate. “O.K., pal,” he said. “Get well quick, as the civilians say.”
“Thanks.”
Connerly left, and the pharmacist’s mate eyed the man from the Sykes and said, “Want to follow me? Take your pea coat and your ditty bag.”
He followed the pharmacist’s mate to a room at the end of the corridor. “You can put your coat in there, mate.”
“Won’t someone steal it?” he asked.
The pharmacist’s mate shrugged. “What’s the matter? Don’t you trust us?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” he answered.
“Well, you got to put it in there, anyway. Those are the regulations.”
“You know what you can do with regulations, don’t you?”
“Look, Mac...”
“All right, all right,” he said. He took his pea coat into the room and hung it on a hook alongside the other blue jackets.
“We’ll get you some pajamas,” the pharmacist’s mate said. “Come on, follow me.”
He followed the pharmacist’s mate down the antiseptic-smelling corridors of the hospital. They stopped at another room, and a second pharmacist’s mate looked up from a copy of Married Love, put the book down, and handed a pair of pajamas and a towel over the counter top.
“You better go to the head before I show you your bed,” the first pharmacist’s mate said. “You’ll be on bedpan after this. What’s wrong with you, anyway?”
“Cat fever, they said.”
The pharmacist’s mate shrugged. “You can change your clothes in the head, too. You got any valuables you want checked?”
“I’ll keep them with me, thanks.”
“That’s right. You don’t trust nobody.”
“Not even my mother, mate.”
“That’s a bad way to be, mate. I feel for you.”
He smiled and left the pharmacist’s mate. In the head, he put on the pajamas and then put his wallet into his ditty bag, in which he had packed his toilet articles and his stationery. When he came outside again, the pharmacist’s mate was leaning against the wall.
“This way,” he said. “You give me them clothes and I’ll have them checked for you. Ain’t no one going to steal your dungarees.”
“How long you been in the Navy, mate?”
“Why?”
“I’ve had everything from scivvy shorts to shoelaces stolen from me.”
“Well, this is a hospital. We take pity on the sick.”
“I know a guy who had a set of dress blues stolen from him while he was flat on his ass with pneumonia.”
“You got pneumonia?”
“No.”
“Then stop worrying. Here’s your bed.”
He looked through the doorway. “A private room?” he asked happily.
“Yeah. You really rate.”
“How come?”
“The ward is jammed. Besides, this room was just vacated.” The pharmacist’s mate paused. “The guy who had it suddenly dropped dead.”
“Oh.”
“Damn’est thing you ever saw,” the pharmacist’s mate continued. “Comes in with a simple thing, and all of a sudden drops dead.”
“What’d he come in with?”
“Cat fever,” the pharmacist’s mate said sourly. “Sleep tight, mate.”
He went into the room smiling. He had not expected a private room, and the unforseen windfall worked like a shot in the arm. He hung his ditty bag on the bedpost, taking his wallet from it and stuffing it between the pillow and the pillowcase. He tested the mattress with his palm, pleased with the soft comfort of it, pleased with the crisp white sheets. This was a far cry from the sack aboard ship. Ah, yes, there was nothing like hospital duty. Bull’s-eyes and toast tomorrow morning, orange juice. Ah, this was grand.
He pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.
He’d have to act sick in the beginning, of course. He’d really had cat fever once, and so he knew the symptoms he was supposed to show. It wouldn’t do to be suspected of malingering. He’d irritate his throat by chewing on some tobacco shreds, and this was as good a time as any to do that. He reached into his ditty bag, pulled out a package of cigarettes, and then broke one of the cigarettes open, aware of the fact that nicotine was a poison, but not planning on chewing that much of it. He put several shreds on his tongue, wincing when the bitterness filled his mouth. He forced them to the back of his throat, almost choking on them, and then he spat them onto the palm of his hand.
He began clearing his throat, purposely straining it, wanting red to show when the doctors examined him. He didn’t know how he’d raise his temperature again, but he’d figure something. A lighted cigarette in the ash tray, perhaps, and then some subterfuge to get the nurse out of the room. He’d work it. He’d worked it before, and there was no reason to think he couldn’t work it this time.
He was very pleased with the way things were going. He’d been spotted by Schaefer last time, but that was on a ward. He had a private room to himself this time, and that meant he’d be alone with whatever nurse they gave him. He had very rarely met any woman who hadn’t appealed to him in some way, and so be wasn’t anticipating a nurse he couldn’t stomach. Women were very funny that way. If they had ugly phizzes, they generally had good bodies and vice versa. Claire had been exceptional in that she was pretty and also owned a body like a brick— Well, there was no sense thinking about her any more. Besides, even if he did draw a dog, he could die for Old Glory. The punch line amused him. He sat in bed, smiling, anticipating his first encounter with whatever nurse they gave him.
He had to admit that he was very clever.
Oh, sure, there were sluts in Norfolk, Christ knew there were a million sluts in Norfolk, but the day he had to pay for it, that was the day he’d hand in his jock. And there were Waves on the base, too, but the Waves were always surrounded by enlisted men, and you had to fight off ten guys before you got near one.
Nurses were the ticket, all right. Sure, nurses were officers, and as such were strictly reserved for other officers. That was a stupid rule, all right, that nonfraternization thing. That’s a rule against human nature, by Jesus! What is a man supposed to do? Can a man help it if he’s got a normal human appetite? Hell, no, of course he can’t. But try to tell that to the brass, just try to explain that to them.
Well, he was very clever about it all. And he was sure enough of his charm to know that once he got to meet a girl, the rest was in the bag. Sometimes he figured his being an enlisted man was in his favor. There was something pretty exciting about doing something that was forbidden. Like a stolen apple tasting better, that kind of thing. The nurses could get all the officers they wanted, but he guessed there was something dull about that. This way, there was an element of danger involved, and any girl liked that element of danger.