The next day Sam greeted me before I even made it to my cubicle.
“Hey Duff,” he said. “Didya hear about the Polack who wore a condom on each ear?”
“Mornin’, Sam.”
“He didn’t want to get hearing aids.”
Sam moved on, and I sat at my desk to go through my mail, e-mail, and interoffice stuff. Monique poked her head into my cubicle on her way back from getting coffee.
“Did you read the paper this morning?” she said.
“Nah.”
“Sherrie’s boyfriend was busted on stolen merchandise, but not before he took a pretty good beating.”
“No shit?” I said.
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, huh?”
“Ain’t that the truth.” I tried not to give it my full concentration.
“When are you seeing her again?” Monique asked. “It will be interesting to see how she handles it.”
“I’m supposed to see her this afternoon.”
“Sometimes women in abusive relationships have bizarre reactions to this sort of thing.”
Monique knew a lot about the dynamics of abuse. I wasn’t 100 percent sure, but I believe she had some personal experience with it. I knew she tended to get most of the clients with that kind of background on her caseload. She was comfortable with their issues, and I don’t think she got drunk and drove around town looking to beat up their boyfriends.
I got the office paper and went through the local section. On the second page there was a story about Calabreso’s arrest.
Off-Duty Cop Comes Across Stolen Merchandise
Off-duty Crawford Police Officer Michael Kelley came across a suspicious vehicle last night and made an arrest for stolen property estimated at over $20,000. Charged with possession of stolen property was 24-year-old Michael Calabreso. Calabreso is likely to face additional charges. It appeared as if a deal for the stolen property had gone wrong as Calabreso had been found unconscious and taped to his own steering wheel.
“The alert actions of Officer Kelley have resulted in the recovery of stolen property and the apprehension of one of the city’s kingpins in contraband and stolen merchandise,” said Crawford’s Police department spokesperson, Randy Weiser.
Calabreso is recovering and is listed in stable condition at Good Samaritan Hospital.
That was a relief. I was glad Calabreso wasn’t going to be crippled or brain dead. I was also relieved to read that it didn’t look like Kelley was going to be in any trouble. The fact that he was being made out as a hero wouldn’t please him, and he’d still be plenty pissed, but at least he wasn’t facing any problems on the job.
I headed to the medical center to see Eli and Mikey and to talk to Rudy. The Michelin Woman wouldn’t approve, but I could say I was doing a session within the hospital or I was providing support or some shit. In reality, I wanted to get a handle on what to expect in terms of a prognosis for each of the guys and visit with them. Neither of them had any family and the people they hung out with were the type of friends whose lives centered around drugs and tricking. Those peer groups had a silent code that when you’re gone-gone being in jail, in the hospital, or dead-you’re gone. Taking into consideration the dangers of that type of lifestyle, it was a necessary mindset.
I got Mikey’s and Eli’s room numbers and they were both on the seventh floor, which I figured was the cancer floor. Like most people, I felt squirrelly in hospitals, but I tried not to let it get to me. Mikey’s room was all the way at the end of the wing, and when I got there, the door was closed. There was a warning on the door.
WARNING! No visitors-Radioactive treatment in process.
I definitely needed to talk to Rudy.
I checked the number for Eli’s room and it was right across the hall from Mikey’s. It had the same sign.
I skipped the elevator and ran down the steps to Rudy’s office. As always, he was sweating in front of his monitor and he had jelly-donut stains on the front of his lab coat.
“Rude-what the fuck is up with this radioactive shit?”
“What happened to ‘Good morning’?” He didn’t look at me and kept typing. “Hang on, just a second.”
He finished up typing with his two fat index fingers and looked up.
“That’s how you treat cancer aggressively. They’re being treated with something called cesium. It’s very powerful,” Rudy said.
“How come no visitors?” I asked.
“This shit is no joke-if you’re around someone who’s radioactive, you can be exposed to harmful levels.”
“So they’re in there alone?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Of course they get their cheery visits from Dr. DAT and a few of his international med students,” Rudy said.
“Gee whiz, now I feel a whole lot better.”
“Yeah, I know, they’re all kind of a Hindu candy striper detail.”
I was back to the office around lunchtime. It seemed bizarre to me that two guys would get beat up in the same park at roughly the same time, require pretty similar medical treatment, and then both be diagnosed with advanced cancer even though they hadn’t complained about anything before. I never quite made it to medical school but, just the same, my instincts told me something wasn’t the way it should be.
Trina buzzed me to let me know that my twelve thirty was here. That was Sherrie, and I could feel the nervousness spread throughout my body as I hung up the phone. I went out to the lobby to greet her.
“Good afternoon, Sherrie.”
“Hi Duffy.”
Sherrie still carried the bruises but her head wasn’t buried under a hat, nor was she trying to hide. We went back to the conference room.
“Did you see the paper?” Sherrie asked.
“Yup-how are you doing with all of that?”
“I’m okay. I’m a little worried about him, but between jail and what we talked about yesterday, I think it may give me the chance I’ve been looking for.”
“How’s that?”
“Look, I wouldn’t have wished him to go to prison or to get hurt, but if that’s the way it’s going to be, then I can make the best of it. I have family in Brooklyn and I think I’m going to head down there.”
“And do what?”
“My Aunt Lena teaches at a business school,” she said. “You know, where you can learn to be a paralegal or something. She’s wanted me to go down there for a while, and she said I could stay with her.”
“That sounds like a decent plan,” I said.
“Duffy, can I ask you something?” She looked at me and smirked.
“Sure.”
“Maybe not, forget it.”
“You sure?” I said.
“Did I tell you that my cousin Rafael is a barback at Cinderella’s?” she said.
“No.”
“He used to be an amateur fighter.” She sat back in the chair and smiled. “He said he saw you there last night. Doesn’t seem to be your kind of hangout.”
It wasn’t really a question so I let it hang.
“Look, if it’s okay with you, I’m not going to waste any time moving to Brooklyn,” she leaned forward in her chair. “I guess that means I won’t be on your caseload.”
“No, we’ll transfer your case to the appropriate place in Brooklyn. I’ll take care of that.”
I hesitated to ask her something because it had nothing to do with her case or her treatment, but I had to know.
“Sherrie, let me ask you something. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want,” I said.
“Go ahead,” she said.
“When you were in jail, did you hear anything about what happened to Walanda?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I don’t trust those three from Forrest Point. I heard them laughing about her being dead. Sick shit like about her brains spilling out and stuff… it was awful,” she said.
“That’s all you know?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Walanda was on my caseload for a long time and I feel bad.”
“Sorry, Duff.”
“Hey-that day in the group I noticed something. You don’t know what those three had tattooed on their hands, do you?”