As far as I was concerned, it was my duty to see that he at least made it out of the hospital okay. Plus, I had a feeling that where he was headed next, kindness would not be in full supply.
When I rounded the corner to his room, I was surprised to find an armed guard sitting in a chair just outside the door. I should probably have expected that. Baldy was a criminal with probably a very high flight risk. My shoes squeaked on the shiny linoleum floor as I came to a stop. I considered turning right around and heading back for the elevator.
The guard stood up out of his chair and eyed me down the bridge of his nose. He wore black pants with white stripes down the outside seam, with a cop-blue, short-sleeved shirt with pockets on the chest. There was a black leather holster strapped to his waist, with the shiny black handle of a pistol poking out the top. He was big and muscular, the type of man you might find escorting a busty movie star through a crowd of frenzied paparazzi or standing next to a presidential candidate on the campaign trail.
His voice as deep as a bullfrog’s, he said, “Sorry, miss. No visitors.”
I said, “Oh, I’m Dixie Hemingway. Baldy … I mean, Mr. Vladim knows me.”
He held his hand up like a guard directing children at a school crossing. “I’m under strict orders. No one is allowed in this room unless authorized by hospital staff.”
I said, “No, you have to let me in. It’s important. Tell him Dixie Hemingway is here. I’m the one that—”
He interrupted. “I don’t have to do anything. If you want access to this room you’ll have to talk to the doctors.”
Just then I heard a voice over my shoulder. “What’s the problem?”
I turned to see a burly man with short-cropped black hair coming down the hall toward us. He was wearing green surgeon’s scrubs under a white lab coat, and when he saw my face his dour expression brightened.
He stopped in his tracks and held his arms open. “Hey, look! It’s Super Woman.”
I would never have recognized him in his surgeon’s clothes. It was the man from the head-on collision, the doctor who had helped me get Baldy out of his car.
The guard said, “This woman wants to visit Mr. Vladim, but I explained to her there’s no one allowed in this room but medical personnel. She’s leaving now.”
He nodded and then turned to me. From the pained expression on my face, he must have known right away that I wasn’t just there to shoot the breeze, because without missing a beat he thrust his open hand toward mine and said, “Dr. Hemingway, I’m Dr. Dunlop. I believe we’ve met before?”
As we shook hands he gestured toward Mr. Vladim’s door and said, “Shall we?”
The guard stepped back a little as Dr. Dunlop reached past him and opened the door to Baldy’s room. I met the bewildered guard’s suspicious frown with a solemn, doctorly nod. It took every ounce of self-control in my body to keep from sticking my tongue out at him, but I figured I would never have made it through medical school and become an important, world-renowned physician at the Sarasota Memorial Hospital by acting like a spoiled, immature brat, so instead I closed the door behind me with a polite smile and kept my tongue, quite literally, to myself.
Mr. Vladim was asleep on the hospital bed. His breathing was a little raspy, but slow and steady, and his complexion had improved since I’d first visited—it was rosier, and the bruises around his neck and face were almost gone. I was relieved to see that all the wires and IV lines had been taken away. Just a single tube remained, strapped to his left arm and leading to a clear bag of liquid on a hook behind his bed. I assumed it was probably a morphine drip.
I turned to Dr. Dunlop and whispered, “Thank you so much for that. I just wanted to see how he’s doing.”
He smiled and whispered back, “My pleasure. The guard is just a precaution. This guy’s not gonna hurt anybody. He might steal your wallet, but he’s on enough drugs to put an elephant to sleep. Anyway, he probably wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you.”
“Well, thanks. I can’t believe you recognized me.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “How could I forget the woman that made me feel like a complete horse’s ass?”
As innocently as possible, I whispered, “Who, me?”
“Yeah, you. I’m a doctor. After that car accident, I was more worried about my BMW and my next appointment than this poor guy, especially the way he was weaving in and out of traffic. I don’t know what you do for a living, supermodel or something…?”
I smiled. “Ha. I’m a cat sitter.”
“Right, you’re a cat sitter. Of course. The cat sitter jumps out of her car and saves a man’s life. The doctor sits on his ass and checks his voice mail.”
I shook my head. “No, you showed up just at the right time. I don’t think I could have gotten him out of that car if you hadn’t helped me. You did the right thing.”
He smiled. “Thank you for that. I’ll go ahead and pretend I believe you.”
He stepped over to the side of Baldy’s bed. “Mr. Vladim, you have a visitor.”
Baldy opened his eyes and looked around the room. When he saw Dr. Dunlop, he smiled slightly. “Hello, Doc.”
“How’s the pain, buddy? Okay?”
He thought for a moment. “Level three.”
“Alright. I’ll leave you alone, then. Miss Hemingway is here to see you.”
Baldy’s eyes flashed at me, and immediately a look of fear spread across his face. He turned back to the doctor and said firmly, “I talk to her now.”
“Okay, then, I can take a hint. I was just leaving. I’ll be back to check on you later.” Before he closed the door he gave me a look and winked. “Let me know if he gives you any more trouble.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant Baldy or the guard or both. I pulled a chair up next to the bed, and Baldy rolled his head to the side and looked me up and down.
“I know you are not wife.”
I nodded. “No, I’m not. I tried to tell you.”
“Yes. But drugs, they make me dream bad things.”
“That’s okay. You got banged up pretty good, so they have you on a lot of painkillers.”
“You safe me from car, yes?”
“I did, and Dr. Dunlop was in one of the cars behind you. He helped me carry you out. Your car was crushed in on one side and there was a lot of smoke, so we lifted you out and I stayed with you until the ambulance came. You’re in a lot of trouble apparently. If it weren’t for Mr. Dunlop, they wouldn’t have let me in this room.”
He nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
I leaned a little closer. “Mr. Vladim. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“Yes, I know.”
“It’s about your wife.”
His eyes widened. I could tell he hadn’t been expecting that. He looked around the room and then shook his head, nervously running his fingers over the edge of his blanket. “I don’t know where she go. She leave me. We are not couple now.”
“No … you see, I’m a professional cat sitter. I got a call from—”
He eyed me warily. “Cat sitter? I don’t know this.”
“I look after people’s pets when they’re away on business or vacation. I got a call earlier this week from a woman who wanted me to help her find a friend’s missing cat.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You look at cats, for money.”
I nodded.
“Why you tell me this?”
“This woman, the one that called me, her name is Alice Ann Silverthorn.”
His expression didn’t change; he just turned and stared up at the ceiling. In a couple of moments his eyelids fluttered slightly and his eyes welled with tears.