The Pallbearers

Chapter 40

I managed to drive myself to the nearby Torrance Medical Center and went inside. There was a doctor there whose son was on Harvard Westlake's football team, and he'd set Chooch s finger after he broke it on a blitzing linebacker's helmet while throwing a pass during the last game of his junior year.

Dr. Raymond George was listed as on duty. Kveryone from school called him Dr. Ray.

I spoke to the admitting nurse and told her I wanted to see him and that I needed to get my arm set. I was directed to the waiting room of the ER and was given patient insurance forms to fill out, which was a severe challenge using only my left hand.

I needed help on some of the more involved written stuff and kept pestering the nurse for assistance.

While I waited, a woman who looked like she'd been in a bar fight helped me dial my phone. I cradled my swelling right arm in my lap, held the cell in my left hand, then put it gingerly to my ear.

Alexa answered a few seconds later by saying, "Whats going on, babe?"

I filled her in on what had happened with O'Shea and told her where I was. When I finished, she said, "He broke your arm?"

"Don't make me say it again. I already feel like a total pussy. T he guy has taken me out twice in two days and hasn't even broken a sweat."

"I'm on my way."

"Not necessary. I'm okay, sorta. I'll meet you at home. How are you doing with Chief Filosiani?"

"I haven't even been in to see him yet. Maria's trying to fit me in between appointments."

"Stay there. I'm okay. I'll call you when I get out of here."

Dr. Ray met me in one of the ER exam rooms. He was a tall, skeletal guy with an infectious smile. I showed him my arm and told him I missed a step and fell down some stairs.

"Let's see what you did," he said. "Gonna have to take a picture."

He numbed the arm and took X rays. Once he got them back, he showed me the results.

"You have a hairline fracture," he said, pointing to a slight crack in the bone visible on the X ray. "It's gonna need a cast."

He opened a cabinet and pulled out some fiberglass casting tapes and put them in a bowl of water to moisten. Then he began to wrap the waterproof cast liner, starting down by my first knuckle.

"I need to be able to use my hand," I told him.

"Shane, to keep this stable I should immobilize the entire arm, wrist to shoulder," he said, holding the dripping tape in his hand.

"Yeah, but I need to be able to fill out my police reports. I'll be careful. I'll keep it in a sling."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Come on, you immobilize my whole arm and my boss will pull me outta the field and stick me on a desk answering phones. Don't do that to me. I'll die of boredom."

Reluctantly, Dr. Ray acquiesced.

When he was done, the cast went from just above my wrist, almost up to the elbow.

"You have to leave this in a sling. The arm needs the support."

"No problem," I said.

Then he checked my swollen left wrist and declared it a sprain.

"This is gonna be sore. I'm going to prescribe something for the pain."

"I don't want it," I said. "I deserve the pain."

He left the room to get the sling. As soon as he was gone, I got off the table, limped to the medical supply cabinet, and stole a fiberglass tape roll, jamming it down into my pocket. I had a devious notion of how to use it.

Dr. Ray came back with the sling. He fitted it around my neck and put my broken right arm inside, adjusting the straps.

"Pay the front desk," he instructed.

I went out and gave them my card. The computer hummed and blipped. My broken arm ached like a bitch.