Quick & Dirty

37

Stone rode with Dino, in silence; his head wasn’t too clear, and he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Can you believe they took him all the way downtown to Bellevue?” Dino complained from the front seat.

Stone still said nothing.

“Are you all right back there?” Dino asked.

“Sure,” Stone muttered. Using the siren, they got downtown remarkably fast and pulled up at the ER entrance.

Stone got out of the backseat, leaned against a wall, and vomited, then he sagged to his knees.

Dino snagged a gurney from just inside the door and he and his driver got Stone aboard.

Stone stirred and opened his eyes a little, then wider. The blinds in the room were drawn, and only thin rays of daylight penetrated. He quickly discovered that he was wearing an oxygen mask and a hospital gown, and an IV was plugged into his arm. He felt around for the buzzer and couldn’t find it; he tried to reach for the phone and failed, nearly falling out of bed, then he passed out again. The only sound he heard was a faint beeping, which seemed to be in rhythm with his heart.

The next time he stirred, a nurse was wiping his face with a damp cloth, and Dino was sitting in a chair in the corner.

“Is he alive?” Dino asked.

“More or less,” the nurse replied, “but I don’t think he’s enjoying it very much.”

Dino got up, walked to the bedside, and peered closely into Stone’s eyes.

“Kiss me, darling,” Stone managed to say.

The nurse broke up.

“In your dreams,” Dino said.

“Is Sam Spain talking?”

“He’s barely breathing, but he looks better than you.”

Stone drew a deep breath and let it out. “There, is that better?”

“Only compared to how you were before you passed out.”

“Make this thing sit up,” Stone said, and the nurse came and put his finger on the button. “That feels better,” Stone said from a half-sitting position. “What happened?”

“You came within an ace of puking in my car,” Dino said, “in which case I would have shot you.”

Stone looked around the room; his was one of four beds, and one of the other three contained a lump. “Who’s that?”

“The presidential suite was unavailable, so you have to share.” Dino pointed. “That’s Sam Spain.”

“You both have the same concussion,” the nurse said, “and apparently, from the same weapon. You must have hit Mr. Spain pretty hard.”

“I did the best I could,” Stone replied. “I’m thirsty.”

“Water or orange juice?”

“Orange juice. I think my blood sugar is low.”

She put a glass straw in his mouth and he sucked up most of the juice. “Better,” he said.

“I’ve got to see some other patients,” the nurse said. “Don’t die on me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Dino pulled his chair up to the bedside. “The guy who coshed you is Sol Fineman,” he said, “a well-seasoned gangster.”

“Where is he?”

“God only knows.”

“Where’s my briefcase?”

“In my car, I think.”

“There’s an eight-by-ten transparency of the picture in there. Scan it and circulate it in the art world as fast as you can. Let’s make it as hard as possible for him to move it.”

“Hang on,” Dino said. He went to the door and let Art Masi in.

“Circulate the transparency in my briefcase, Art.”

“That was done when the painting first disappeared.”

“Then do it again,” Dino said. “Memories fade. The transparency is in Stone’s briefcase in the backseat of my car. Don’t steal the money.”

“You got my money back?” Stone asked.

“Thirty-five thousand of it. Sam hadn’t spent it all yet.”

“That’s all there was. Thanks.”

“I’ll have it brought up,” Dino said. “Well, I’ve got to get back to solving crimes.”

“One other thing,” Stone said.

“What?”

“Ask the nurse to restrain Sam Spain. I don’t want him coming to while I’m dozing.”

“I’ll get my guy to cuff him to the bed,” Dino said.

“That ought to do it.”

Dino left the room, and in a minute a uniform came in and anchored Spain to his bed.

Stone felt like a nap.

He woke up later to a shuffling, clanging noise. Across the room, Sam Spain was on his feet, dragging his bed around by his cuffed hand. Stone rang for the nurse, and she came in and looked at Spain in horror. “What the hell?”

“Don’t touch him,” Stone said. “Get two cops in here right away.”

A moment later two uniforms entered the room, got Spain back into bed, and cuffed his other hand to the frame.

“That ought to hold him,” Stone said. “Call the commissioner and tell him Sam Spain is conscious.” They left.

“So, Sam,” Stone said, “how are you feeling?”

“What did they do to me?” Sam asked weakly.

“They didn’t, I did. I hit you with Sol’s cosh while you were trying to shoot me.”

“Sol? What Sol? I don’t know any Sol.”

“Sol Fineman, your guy, the one who’s delivering the picture?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said. “I feel like shit.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, I’ve always said that if people would just take my advice, their lives would be so much richer and fuller and happier. Look at you, for instance. If you had taken my advice, you’d be a million dollars richer and on a free ride out of the deep, deep trouble you’re in.”

“I told you to shut up.”

“And you wouldn’t have to be listening to me saying I told you so.”

“I’m not listening,” Sam said. “Shut up.”

“No, I’m not going to shut up, I’m having too much fun.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to come over there and strangle you,” Sam said.

“Don’t forget to bring your bed,” Stone said.