Near Miss

Chapter 8

Stone approached the Bentley with Matilda on his arm and motioned for Fred to get back in the car. He put Matilda into the back seat and walked around the car to enter from the other side. He opened the car door and lifted a foot to enter. As he did, he saw a blur of motion in the corner of his left eye, and something solid struck him across the back of his neck. As he descended into unconsciousness, he heard what he thought was a single gunshot, which echoed in his head.

The echo was the first thing Stone heard when he opened his eyes. He took a moment to orient himself, then it became clear that he was in a hospital room, and a rather nice one. There was an IV running in one arm, and a vase of beautiful flowers on a table by the door.

“His eyes are open,” a woman’s voice said.

Stone focused on the face hovering above him, and as her features became sharp, her name did, too. “Matilda?” he said. “Mom?”

“He’s awake, and he thinks I’m his mother,” she said to someone.

“Only joking,” Stone replied. “Forgive me for asking the obvious question, but: Where am I? Is this a hospital or a mortuary?”

“It’s Lenox Hill Hospital,” Dino’s voice said. “And stop being a wiseass.”

“But it’s so much fun,” Stone said, “and it helps with the headache. You got any aspirin on you?”

“Oh, shut up. I liked you better unconscious. Here’s the nurse.”

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes, but you can call me Stone.”

“What do you need?”

“Something for my headache and my sore neck.”

She produced a syringe and injected the contents into his IV bag, near the bottom. “You’ll feel better in a few seconds.”

She was right. He was flooded with warmth, and the pain flew away. “Okay, Dino, what the fuck happened?”

“Somebody used a blackjack on you, and he was an expert.”

“Anybody we know?”

“Remember Huff?”

“Oh, yeah. Where is he?”

“Last time I saw him, he was lying dead on Park Avenue.”

“How’d he get that way?”

“Fred put a bullet into his chest — dead center, one shot.”

“And where is Fred?”

“Downstairs with the Bentley. I cleaned up after him, and he hasn’t been and won’t be charged with anything. You’ll have to give him another gun, though. His old one is in police custody.”

“How many times did he have to shoot Huff before it worked?”

“It worked the first time. Huff is now a part of your storied history.”

“Matilda, are you all right?”

“That’s the right question,” she said. “I am.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Did Huff hit you with a blackjack?”

“No, I was too busy dealing with the unconscious man in my lap.”

“How long have I been out?”

“About three hours,” a male voice said, stepping up from behind the group. “I’m Dr. Herbert. How do you feel?”

“Just fine, and I will be so until you run out of morphine.”

“You’ve got yourself a concussion,” Dr. Herbert said. “And you’re going to have to stay in bed another day, until we decide you’re not going to die. Leave the morphine to me.”

“Okay,” Dino said. “I guess I can cancel the appointment with the undertaker. He’s going to be terribly disappointed. He wanted to give you an inspector’s funeral.”

“Tell him I’m not very disappointed. Next time, maybe. Can somebody crank this bed up to a sitting position, so I’ll feel less like a fresh corpse?”

Somebody found a button and held it down until Stone was satisfied with his position.

Stone looked around. “Everybody’s here,” he said, “except Bob. Where’s my dog?”

“We had to restrain him from visiting,” Joan said from across the room. “He’ll be waiting when you come home.”

“Tell him ‘woof’ for me.”

“Done.”

“If I promise not to die, will you let me out of here now?” he asked the doctor.

“You’re in no condition not to die. If you stood up now, you’d fall down.”

“Oh.”

“You know, you are the first blackjack victim I’ve had for years. I’d forgotten how effective those things can be.”

“I would arrest Huff for assault with a deadly weapon, if he weren’t already dead,” Dino said. He tossed a blackjack into Stone’s lap. “There’s a souvenir for you. Huff’s is in an evidence bag, but it’s the same kind as this one.”

“And you just happened to have it lying around?” Stone asked.

“A good cop never reveals his sources.”

“May I?” the doctor asked, picking up the thing and slapping it into his palm. “Oh, to be a cop.”

“Cops aren’t allowed to carry blackjacks anymore,” Dino said. “It was too easy to kill somebody with one.”

Dr. Herbert set the blackjack down, said, “See you later,” and walked out of the room.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Stone said, and then he was unconscious again.