Bad Doctor

25

The biggest surprise is the Dayton cops buy our story, even the bogus part, with few questions asked.

A quick call to the Cincinnati police tells them what kind of person Bobby was.

They totally believe I tried to leave two thousand dollars at the Firefly Lounge for the girls in hopes of getting in their pants tonight, after getting lap dances last night, and totally believe Bobby caught me there, beat me up, tossed me in the trunk, and stole my car.

They believe Bobby’s friend, Mark Boner, met him at the club and drove his motorcycle home. Mark confirmed it, though he denied knowledge of my being in the trunk.

They believe Bobby bought heroin, cocaine, and Black Stone powder from Chuckie the dealer, who’s well-known to both police departments.

They believe Bobby drove to Cameron’s house and forced his way into Willow’s car, and expect that to be corroborated by neighborhood witnesses.

They believe Bobby forced Willow and Cameron to go to Maggie’s Farm with him, and have no problem with our story of how he shot Cameron when she tried to get away to avoid being raped.

They believe Bobby accidentally shot himself and tried to stop the bleeding by pressing nutmeg into his wounds.

And they believe after Bobby died, Willow opened the trunk of the Mercedes and let me out so I could save Cameron’s life. Side note: hospital surgery personnel tell police they’ve never seen such a remarkable surgery performed under field conditions at dusk, not even counting the fact my eyes were so swollen I could barely see.

After getting my broken nose set and bandaged and my cuts cleaned and stitched, I camp out in Cameron’s hospital room to ensure her safety. She’s groggy, mumbling incoherently. Thinks she’s going to die.

“You’ll be fine,” I say.

“Need to…change my life around,” she says.

“That’s probably true.”

“God’s punishing me…for what I did. Need to…confess…before I die.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Cameron. And you’re not going to die as long as you don’t eat anything here, and make sure everyone washes their hands before touching you.”

Dayton police take a quick trip with Willow to Maggie’s farm, recover Bobby’s gun, ask a few more questions, and shoot some photos, including two of the gun in the grass, two of Bobby’s face, four of his leg wound, and a hundred forty-seven photos of his penis. Then they bring Willow back to the hospital, where she spends the night with Cameron and me.

Cameron’s pissed because I won’t allow her to eat anything. She’s lucid enough to ask me to step out of the room so she and Willow can talk in private. I oblige them, but when I return I ask, “Did you eat anything?”

“You’re so paranoid!” Willow says.

“I work in a hospital, remember?”

“You’re a nut!” Cameron says.

“Just don’t eat anything.”

“Do I look like I eat much?”

No, she doesn’t.

By noon the next day the cops say we’re free from suspicion. The swelling around my eyes has reduced enough to permit limited vision, so I take the opportunity to drive Willow back to Ream’s Park in Cincinnati to get her car. When I try to hug her goodbye she slaps my face.

I don’t blame her. If I hadn’t come into her life Thursday night none of this would have happened.

I drive to the nearest phone store, buy a new cell phone, drop my rental car off at the airport, and fly back to New York City.

The next morning our hospital administrator, Bruce Luce, tells me what a joy it was to hear from the Dayton police that I paid for lap dances at a night club and attempted to solicit two strippers for prostitution.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” I ask

“Can you even operate with those eyes?” he says.

“It doesn’t matter. The kid’s a goner either way.”

“Have I told you lately how uplifting it is to talk to you?”

“Many times. Are we on for tomorrow?”

“Eight a.m., subject to Lilly being cleared for surgery.”

“What you mean is, subject to our doctors giving up all hope by midnight.”

“You’re an arrogant prick,” Bruce says. “And you want to know something? You’re not half as good as you think you are.”

“If that’s true, Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux can save a ton of money.”

“Why’s that?”

“Caskets are cheaper than hospital wings.”

“You’re a disgrace to your profession,” he says.

“Except when I’m saving the kids you gave up on.”

“Even then.”

“Thank you. May I go now?”

“After you meet the nurses who’ll assist you.”

“My regulars refused?”

“They not only refused, we had to pay them a settlement to keep them from suing you in open court.”

“They were bluffing.”

“Listen up, doctor. I wouldn’t say this to anyone else on earth, but one of the new nurses is a rare beauty.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?”

“You’re supposed to behave. We can’t afford a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

“Whatever you think of me, I’ve never touched a nurse in this hospital, and never will.”

“You can no longer speak to them the way you have in the past.”

“I’m trying to save lives here, not spare feelings.”

“You’re on the verge of losing your career.”

“Not if I keep winning.”

“Winning?” he says.

He gives me a long look. “You’re one dead patient away from losing your job.”

“What if it’s the nurses’ fault? I’ve never worked with them before. What if they suck?”

“That’s pretty much on you, isn’t it?”

“I’m telling you right now, I don’t trust a pretty nurse.”

“This nurse isn’t pretty, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, and has stronger credentials than anyone we’ve ever employed. You will not insult her.”