Near Miss

Chapter 12

Stone took longer to fully recover from his blow to the head than he had imagined he would. After three days of being dizzy and unsteady on his feet, he called the doctor, who told him to stay off his feet for the rest of the week, unless he used a cane or a walker. Stone flinched at the mention of those two implements. He was also told not to go out for dinner or any other reason.

“It’s this way, Stone,” the doctor said. “If you start strolling around too soon, you’ll fall down. And a fall could do more damage than the blackjack did. Just be a happy invalid until you’re steady again.”

Stone found that his libido suffered, too. Or, rather, Matilda discovered that fact. “You’ve gone off me,” she said, when he failed to salute on demand.

“No, no, no,” Stone said quickly. “I’ve gone off my rocker, but it is only temporarily. I had a talk with my doctor today, and he told me to stay off my feet.”

“What about your back? Are you to stay off that, too?”

“I’m not supposed to exert myself, and you are a walking, talking exertion.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “You see this? It’s not hot in here, but I’m sweating from the effort of just chatting.”

“You want me to leave you alone, then?”

“No. You could give me a back rub, though.”

“I was a masseuse in my extreme youth,” she said.

“There’s a table in my dressing room.” He pointed.

Soon she was kneading away.

“Not my neck,” he said. “That’s still too sore.”

“Turn over on your back,” she said, half an hour later.

Stone managed to get flipped, but he held a pillow over his crotch.

“What’s the matter, is it cold?” she asked.

“It’s cool, and I want it to stay that way. I’ll owe you.”

“You’re going to get so deeply in debt, you’ll never get out from under,” she said, pinching a nipple.

“You stay away from what a friend of mine used to call, ‘the erroneous zones.’ ”

She laughed. “Oh, all right. I’ll wait until you’re fully recovered, then look out!”

“I’ll look forward,” he said.

Dino called in the late afternoon. “Dinner at Clarke’s?”

“No, I’m under doctor’s orders not to go out. He’s afraid I’ll fall down and hurt myself.”

“That’s always a consideration when you drink that 100 proof bourbon you like so much.”

“Come over here for dinner, and bring Viv.”

“All right, see you then.”

Joe Rouche called Trench Molder.

“What have you got for me?” Trench asked.

“Nothing too alarming. Thomas David Bozeman, thirty-two years old, very physically fit — not unusual, given his work. A couple of arrests, one of them for clocking a woman in a restaurant, the other for winning a bar fight. He’s thought, by those who know him best, to be reliable and a pretty good guy. The athletic club promoted him to Huff’s job, and they wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t been okay. Their members don’t like trash working there. There’s been some grumbling about Huff’s use of the blackjack, and Bozo won’t have that. Generally speaking, he does what he says he’ll do, so he’s viewed as trustworthy by those who know him.”

“Okay,” Trench said, “good to know. My man will send you a check.” He hung up and looked at his calendar. Too soon for another shot at Barrington, he thought. He would wait until the memory of Huff’s blackjack faded.

Viv held Stone’s chin in her hands and looked into his eyes. “You’re not well,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Funny, that’s what the doctor says, too, and it’s why we’re dining in.”

He started to rise, but she pushed him back into the sofa. “I’ll get the drinks. You just sit there and look pretty.”

“Whatever you say,” Stone replied.

Dino looked at him closely, too. “She’s right,” he said.

“She usually is,” Stone agreed. “Look, I’m taking her advice.”

“That’s a smart move. Otherwise, she’ll beat you up.”