“They were here,” I finally said. “At least one of them was.”
“Who, the guys who are following you?”
“I think so,” I said. “I can’t say for sure. I was pretty delirious.”
“When?” he said. “Where?”
“He was out in the hallway,” I said “I think it was last night.”
Leon sprang out of his chair as if he could still catch up to him. “Those bastards. We’ve got to find out who they are.”
“You know where they’re staying now,” I said. “Go check ’em out.”
He looked at me and smiled. “You know, Alex, I’ve been thinking. Remember how I was saying that we could call ourselves McKnight-Prudell? You know, with your name first?”
“What about it?”
“Well, the more I think about it, I think Prudell-McKnight sounds better. What do you think?”
“I think you’re pushing your luck, Leon.”
He raised his hands. “Just think about it.” He picked up a brown paper bag and put it on the table. “Here, I brought you some stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Some books and magazines. Private investigator stuff. You might as well make good use of your down time.”
“Get out of here,” I said. “Go do your thing.”
“You got it, partner,” he said. “Leon Prudell is on the case.”
I watched him leave, a two-hundred-forty-pound whirlwind of flannel and snowboots.
Look out, world.
I spent the rest of the day lying in bed, drifting in and out of a codeine haze. I couldn’t get up because of the machine. I couldn’t even roll over. The nurses came in to check on me or to give me more drags or to empty my bedpan. It was not a fun day.
I could see just enough of the window to know that it was snowing again outside, then it was dark and I tried to sleep. I kept waking up every hour as a new pain announced itself. The stitches over my eye started to hurt, then my right hip, then my right shoulder. All the while the ache in my ribs was a constant background.
In the morning I saw the doctor again. He unhooked me from the machine just long enough to do another set of X rays, then had me wheeled back to my room. Bill Brandow was there waiting for me.
“How ya feeling?” he said when I was back in bed.
“Never better,” I said. “You got my note?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m working on it”
“What have you got?” I said. “I gave you the description of the two guys who’ve been following me. I gave you the license plate number. Although now they’re driving a different vehicle, sounds like. A Jeep Grand Cherokee. I can even tell you where they’re staying now. They’re at the Brass Anchor in Paradise. Leon tailed them.”
He sat down next to me. “Leon Prudell? That clown who used to be Uttley’s investigator?”
“If that clown hadn’t showed up yesterday,” I said, “Bruckman would still be dragging my ass behind his snowmobile.”
“About that,” he said. “What can you tell me? Start at the beginning.”
“You know the beginning,” I said. “I thought he had taken Dorothy. But now, I’m not so sure. He wanted me to tell him where she was. And he wanted to know where the bag was.”
“What bag?”
“A white bag she had with her.”
“You don’t know where it is?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Bill, are you going to tell me what’s going on or not? Are you still looking for Bruckman? And what about those two other guys? Did you run the plate?”
“Alex, I told you I’m working on it. On both of those things. I’m not going to sit here and talk about what I know and what I don’t know.”
I looked him in the eye. “You’re starting to sound like Maven,” I said.
“Thanks a lot.”
“I mean it. What are you doing to me here?”
“I want you to promise me something, Alex. I want you to promise me that you’ll let me take care of this, okay? Just relax and get better. Let me do my job, all right?”
“Will you call me when you find out who they are?”
“Promise me, Alex.”
“All right, all right. I promise.”
When he was gone, I had nothing to do but lie there and think about it. I took more drags. I used the bedpan. I can’t take much more of this, I thought. I am going to lose my fucking mind.
Vinnie came by around dinnertime. They had just rolled in a tray with some sort of meat in some sort of sauce with some sort of vegetable and a separate compartment of green jello. “That looks almost good enough to eat,” he said.
“You’re welcome to it,” I said.
“No thanks,” he said. “I had a steak at the Glasgow. You know, with that brandy sauce that Jackie makes?”
“You’re a cruel man,” I said.
“I’m keeping the road clear,” he said. “I’ve been using your truck. And I’ve been taking care of the cabins, although a few guys left already. I don’t know if they paid you in advance or not.”
“They never do,” I said. “But don’t worry about it. Thanks for helping me out.”
“No problem,” he said. He stood there looking at the floor for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Alex.”
“For what?”
“For the way I was talking to you the other night. After we went to see Dorothy’s parents.”
“Forget it,” I said. “I should have been a little more understanding.”
He looked at the machine. “Is this thing really pumping air into you? What happens if I turn this dial up all the way?” He made a fake for it. I flinched.
“Ow! Goddamn it. Vinnie, I’m so glad you came by.”
“I had him, Alex,” he said. “I had him right here.” He held his hands up and looked at the space between them.
“Who, Bruckman?”
“I wasn’t going to let go,” he said. “But then Prudell started shooting. I was afraid he was going to hit me.”
“He wouldn’t hit you,” I said. “Don’t forget, he’s holding a ten-thousand-dollar bond on you. I don’t know the rules exactly, but I’m pretty sure he loses the bond if he kills you.”
“The bond,” he said, like he was sorry I brought it up.
“When’s the trial?” I said.
“Next week.”
“Now that they know more about Bruckman, they’ll have to go easy on you, right?”
“I don’t know. They still don’t like it when an Indian attacks a cop. No matter what.”
“The tribe will represent you, right?”
“Yes,” he said, looking at the floor again. “They will.”
“Dorothy is still one of you, isn’t she?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s still a member of the tribe, even though she’s been gone so long?”
“Of course she is.”
“So what’s the tribe doing about her? Aren’t they trying to find her?”
“I think they are, yes. I can tell you one thing. If I ever have my hands on him again, I’ll kill him. I’ll choke him to death, Alex. He’s evil. I could see it in his eyes.”
“I know,” I said. “I saw it too.”
“Well,” he said. He seemed to pull himself back from somewhere far away. “I got a shift at the casino. I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, all things considered.”
“I’m glad you came by,” I said. “It means a lot to me.” The drags had me talking mushy again.
When he was gone, I tried to read for a while, but it made my head start to throb. Trying to watch television was even worse. The drags again, or the concussion, or God knows what. I lay in the bed and thought about baseball, for some reason. I replayed a couple games in my head. How long ago was my last game? It was a triple-A game in Columbus, September 1972. I remembered my very last at-bat, a well-hit ball to left field. It settled into the outfielder’s glove, five feet away from a home run. My whole career in a nutshell. It seemed like forever ago, and yet as I looked at my hands I could still see the protrusions from playing four years behind the plate, all the fastballs and foul tips.
And below those old scars, the new wounds on my wrists. The ropes were so tight. In my mind I was there again, sliding through the snow. My heart pounded. I was breathing hard. I could feel the balloon in my chest, this alien thing inside me.
Easy, Alex. This is exactly what you don’t need right now. Just take it easy.