Twelve Angry Librarians

NINE

I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes to find a face close to mine.

“Hey, man, go sleep it off somewhere else. If you don’t get movin’ soon, I’m going to have to call Athena PD. You don’t wanna spend the night in a cell, do you?”

I realized I was lying on the ground, and I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I glared at the man in a security guard’s uniform.

“I’m not drunk. Someone hit me and knocked me down.”

He stood there gaping at me. “I didn’t see no one.”

I got myself upright and stood looking down at him. “I don’t care whether you saw anyone. I was attacked.” I rubbed the back of my head. I remembered footsteps hurrying away right after I hit the ground. I must have blacked out, but only for a few seconds, I thought.

“If you say so,” the security guard said.

My tone was curt to the point of offensiveness when I replied. “I do say so. You can move along. I don’t need your help.” Not that you helped much, I added silently.

He shrugged. “Well, if you ain’t hurt, then I guess I’ll let you be.” He turned and walked away.

Thankful to be rid of him, I dusted off my suit the best I could. I realized my hands had scrapes and a couple of small cuts, probably from putting them out to break the fall onto the surface of the parking lot.

I winced when I turned my head. My right shoulder was going to be stiff by morning. I think it must have taken the brunt of the impact and saved me from getting an even worse blow to the head. My head was pretty clear, and I didn’t feel nauseated. No urge to vomit, either. No concussion, then, I hoped.

Mostly what I felt was anger. I felt sure I knew who was responsible for this. Gavin Fong had followed me when I left Helen Louise’s place, and he saw his chance at revenge when I turned down the dark alley rather than making my way through the hotel.

I debated whether to go to the ER at the Athena Medical Center but decided against it. I was a little shaken up, but otherwise I was okay. When I got home I would tell Stewart and Haskell about the incident, and I knew Stewart would keep an eye on me, bless him, and make sure I was all right. He had come to be like the younger brother my parents never gave me.

As soon as I reached home, I would put an ice pack on the place where Gavin struck me. I needed to keep any swelling to a minimum. I made it to my car and drove home.

When I walked into the kitchen I found Stewart and Haskell at the table playing canasta. Diesel came to me immediately for attention. He told me, in indignant meows and warbles, how unhappy he was at being left behind. I bent slightly to rub his head, and I groaned. My shoulder was not happy.

“Charlie, what the heck happened to you? Have you been in another fight?” Stewart laid his cards on the table and jumped up to examine me. “Look at you. Your hands are scraped, and you’ve got dirt on one side of your face.”

“Not a fight.” I grimaced. “Well, a one-sided one. I was attacked a little while ago in the parking lot at the Farrington House.”

“Did you see who did it?” Haskell went immediately into cop mode while Stewart led me to the sink to wash my hands with antibacterial soap. Diesel followed, still complaining, though in more muted tones. Dante danced around, barking occasionally.

“No.” I winced as the soap made contact with the cuts in my hands. “But I’m pretty sure I know who was responsible.” I explained about seeing Gavin Fong peering in the window at Helen Louise’s bistro. “It was shortly after that when I left to go to my car. I’m sure it was him.”

“Do you still have your wallet? Cell phone?”

I felt like an idiot. I hadn’t thought about that. I remembered feeling my wallet in my pocket, however, when I fished my keys out. “I have my wallet. I’ll have to check for my phone when Stewart finishes with my hands.”

“In a moment.” Stewart rinsed my hands under the warm water, then dried them with paper towels. He patted my jacket pocket where he knew I usually kept my phone. “It’s there.”

“So not robbery,” Haskell said. “Then I reckon it probably was that guy, trying to get back at you. How are you feeling? Any symptoms of concussion?”

“No, I feel all right, only bruised on my right shoulder, and my hands of course. Oh, and I’ve got a bump on the head.” I smiled at Stewart. “Would you mind making me an ice pack for it?”

“I’m on it,” Stewart said. “You sit right down there and take it easy.”

“Thanks.” I did as he told me. Now that I was home, and my immediate needs were being addressed so efficiently, I felt able to relax. “It was a cowardly thing to do, to hit me from behind so that I couldn’t defend myself, but I almost can’t blame the jerk. I never should have punched him today.”

“Maybe so.” Haskell frowned. “But he shouldn’t get away with it. If only you had seen him, you could press charges.”

I shrugged, and my shoulder twinged. “I didn’t see him, so there’s nothing more I can do. I will do my best to avoid him the rest of the conference, I promise you.” Lisa Krause would have to find someone to take my place for the panel discussion on Saturday. The less contact I had with Gavin the better.

Stewart handed me a plastic bag with ice wrapped in a towel. I held it to the bump on my head. The coolness soon began to soothe the ache.

“There were no witnesses?” Haskell seemed determined not to let it go.

“No, I don’t think so. A security guard found me on the ground, but he thought I was drunk. When I told him what happened, he said he hadn’t seen anyone besides me.”

“I guess that’s that, then,” Haskell said. “The main thing is you weren’t badly hurt.”

“As far as we can tell,” Stewart said. “I’m going to keep an eye on you, Charlie, to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” He grinned and batted his eyelashes at me. “Just a warning, so that when I creep into your bedroom at two a.m. and wake you up, you know why.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. I didn’t relish the idea of being awakened during the night, but I knew arguing with him would not achieve anything.

“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “Not a word about this to anyone else yet, if you please. I will tell the family, but when I’m ready to. Are we clear on this?”

Both men nodded, Dante barked, and Diesel meowed loudly. “I guess that covers everyone.” I shared a laugh with Stewart and Haskell before getting slowly out of my chair, keeping the bag of ice in place at the back of my head. “I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine, but I’m coming with you to make sure you get up the stairs all right.” Stewart’s tone brooked no argument.

He kept a hand on my free arm as we moved out into the hall and up the stairs. Diesel ran ahead. Haskell held Dante back in the kitchen. The last thing I needed was to take a tumble because the poodle got under my feet.

In my bedroom, Stewart helped me ease my jacket off and then my dress shirt. He pulled down the neck of my tee shirt to examine the sore shoulder. “Looks like it will be nicely colored by the morning. Let me get you another ice pack for it. I’ll be right back.”

He was out the door before I could say anything. I managed to get my shoes off by pushing them off my feet and letting them fall where they might. I went into the bathroom to take some aspirin, then came back to sit on the side of the bed, ice pack against my head, until Stewart returned. In the meantime, Diesel watched me anxiously, head-butting my free arm a few times. I spoke to him and assured him I would be okay.

When Stewart returned with the second ice pack, he hovered nearby while I took off my pants, then helped me position myself in bed with the two ice packs. Diesel stretched out on the bed next to me and continued to watch.

“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, maybe refresh those ice packs if you need me to.” Stewart turned off the overhead light and switched on the reading lamp by the window. He came back to stand by the bed.

“Thank you. You’re an excellent nurse.” On impulse I added, “I’m really thankful you are part of my family.”

Stewart smiled down at me. He squeezed my unhurt shoulder for a moment. “I’m thankful, too. Any time you need me, I will always be here for you,” he said softly. Then he slipped out of the room.

Diesel yawned beside me, and he soon fell asleep. I felt a little drowsy, thanks to the aspirin, but the cold spots at my head and my shoulder reminded me that I still ached. My hands hurt a bit as well.

It could have been a lot worse, I told myself. I wondered what Gavin had used to hit me. I didn’t think it was his hand, or hands. He wasn’t the martial arts type, as far as I knew. Whatever he used, he hit hard, but not hard enough to kill.

Had he meant to do more than knock me out? I didn’t know why that thought hadn’t occurred to me before. I felt a little sick to my stomach as I considered the possibility.

Had he been trying to kill me? Did he really hate me that much?

Or did he want my job badly enough to commit murder for it?