“Of course. That’s what we do around here, right? Bury our heads, keep our mouths shut, and cover up for the big boys.”
“You got it, and the part about shutting your mouth can begin right now,” the Chief said. Lyman began opening drawers.
–
Michael tapped on Lacy’s door with some trepidation, and as he opened it his worst fears were confirmed. Gunther was still there! He was sitting on the edge of her bed, a small backgammon board between them. He reluctantly folded it and placed it on the sofa in his office. Michael and Lacy chatted for a few minutes, then Michael delicately inquired, “Could we have a few moments in private?”
“For what?” Gunther demanded.
“Some sensitive matters.”
“If it’s about her job, I think the conversation can wait until tomorrow. It is, after all, Sunday evening and she’s in no condition to deal with issues related to work. If it’s about the car wreck and the investigation and all that crap, then I’m not leaving the room. Lacy needs a second set of ears and she needs my advice.”
Lacy did not intervene. Michael raised his hands, surrendered, and said, “Okay. I’ll not discuss the office.” He eased into a chair beside her bed and looked at the side of her face. The swelling was almost gone and the bruises were changing colors.
Gunther asked, “Have you had dinner? The cafeteria has some frozen sandwiches that were made at least two years ago and taste like roofing shingles. They’re hard to recommend but I’ve eaten three and I’m still alive.”
“Gee, I’ll pass.”
“Some coffee perhaps. It’s bad but drinkable.”
Michael said, “A great idea. Thanks.” Anything to get him out of the room. Gunther found his shoes and took off. Michael wasted no time. “I stopped by Verna’s this afternoon, and, as you can expect, it’s still a gloomy place.”
“I’ve e-mailed twice but got nothing. I’ve called twice and talked to whoever was answering her cell. I need to see her.”
“Well, that’s what I want to talk about, and I’ll shut up the moment he walks in the door. I’d rather keep this between us. Verna is still sleepwalking through this nightmare, as anyone would be, and she’s still in shock. But she’s coming around and I’m not sure I like what I’m hearing. There is a group of Hugo’s friends, including a couple of pals from law school, and they are full of advice. They have big ideas about lawsuits, with the big target being the Tappacola. That’s where the gold mine is located and they’re dreaming of ways to get it. Frankly, and I’m no tort lawyer, I can’t connect the liability. Just because the accident happened on the reservation doesn’t mean the Indians are at fault. The accident is also subject to tribal law, which is not your average brand of tort law. Because he was a state employee, Verna will get half his salary for the rest of her life. As we know, that’s not much. Hugo had a private life policy for $100,000 and it will be easy to collect. Next is the auto policy on the stolen truck. According to the guy who appears to be the main spokesman, and he’s a real windbag, the truck was covered by Southern Mutual and had a liability limit of $250,000. Even though it was stolen, it was still covered. It might take a lawsuit, but he seems to like their chances. I’m not so sure. Now things might get complicated. There was a lot of talk about suing Toyota for the defective seat belt and air bag. That would necessarily involve you, and your insurance company, and that’s what I didn’t like about their tone.”
“You’re kidding, Michael. Verna is blaming me?”
“Right now Verna is blaming everyone. She’s broken, she’s terrified, and she’s not rational. And, I’m not sure she’s getting good advice. I got the impression these guys are sitting around the table, her table, scheming ways to sue anyone who’s remotely connected to Hugo’s death. Your name got kicked around, and I heard no objection from Verna.”
“They discussed this in front of you?”
“Oh, they don’t care. The house is packed with people, food is still arriving. Aunts, uncles, cousins, anybody with an opinion can grab a cupcake and pull up a chair. I left with a bad feeling.”
“I don’t believe this, Michael. Verna and I have been close for years.”
“It will take time, Lacy. Time for you to heal, time for her to heal. Verna is a good person, and when she gets over the shock she’ll come around. For now, though, I’d cool it.”
“I don’t believe this,” she mumbled again.
Gunther barged in with a tray and three cups of steaming coffee. “This stuff even smells bad,” he said. He passed out the coffee and excused himself while he stepped into the bathroom.
Michael leaned over and whispered, “When is he leaving?”
“Tomorrow. I promise.”
“Not a moment too soon.”
19
Ann Stoltz arrived late Monday morning to spend a day or two with her daughter. Fortunately, her son was not in the room, though it was apparent he had not yet closed down his office and moved out. Lacy explained that Gunther was running errands. The good news was that he would be leaving around noon, because, of course, Atlanta was collapsing in his absence and the city had to be saved. The even better news was that her doctor planned to release her on the following day. She had convinced him her hair would grow just as fast at home.
A nurse removed stitches as Ann prattled on about the gossip down in Clearwater. A physical therapist arrived for half an hour of stretching and he gave Lacy a chart of exercises to work on every day at home. When Gunther returned, he had a sackful of deli sandwiches and the urgent news that he must get home. After an hour with his mother, he couldn’t wait to leave the hospital. After four days with him, Lacy needed a break.
He was wiping tears as he said good-bye. He begged Lacy to call him for anything, especially if slimeballs like insurance adjusters and ambulance-chasing lawyers came slithering around. He knew exactly how to handle such people. On the way out, he gave his mother a perfunctory peck on the cheek, and he was gone. Lacy closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence for a long time.
–
The following day, Tuesday, an orderly rolled her out of the hospital and helped her into Ann’s car. She was perfectly capable of making the walk herself, but the hospital had its rules. Fifteen minutes later, Ann parked in the lot beside Lacy’s building. Lacy looked at it and said, “Only eight days ago, but it seems like a month.”
Ann said, “I’ll get the crutches.”
“I don’t need crutches, Mom, and I’m not using them.”
“But the physical therapist said-”
“Please. He’s not here, and I know what I can do.”
She walked without a limp into her apartment. Simon, her British neighbor, was waiting. He had been caring for Frankie, the Frenchie, and when Lacy saw her dog she slowly bent to her knees and grabbed him.
“How do I look?” Lacy asked Simon.
“Well, pretty good, I’d say, in spite of it all. I suppose things could be worse.”
“You should’ve seen me a week ago.”
“It’s good seeing you now, Lacy. We’ve been quite worried.”
“Let’s have some tea.”
It was exhilarating to be out of the hospital, and Lacy chattered away as Simon and Ann listened and laughed. The conversation stayed clear of Hugo and the accident. There would be enough of that later. Lacy hit her stride telling Gunther stories, all of which seemed even funnier now that he was gone.
Ann kept saying, “His father raised him, not me.”
Throughout the afternoon, Lacy called friends, napped off and on, stretched and exercised precisely as told, laid off the painkillers, nibbled on nuts and fruit bars, and looked at a few of her work files.
At 4:00 p.m., Michael arrived for a meeting and Ann went to the nearest mall. Claiming to have a stiff back, Michael said he needed to stay on his feet. So he paced, back and forth along the wide front window of her apartment, walking and talking, a man troubled by his thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a leave of absence?” he asked. “We can cover your salary for thirty days.”