“Relax,” Monty said nonchalantly. A bit too belligerently, too, Laura thought. But she had to stay in control and hear him out. “I had to knock her out. There was nothing I could do. She didn’t see me, but I had to put her down. I got the listening devices into Marino’s office, though. No one will be able to tell I was in there. So, like I said, make sure you turn on the receivers on your end.”
“What happened to the person you put down?” Laura asked, her throat dry, her palm slick and sweaty around the phone.
“I think she might be okay…I don’t know. The ambulance took her away. I don’t know, though. It’s probably gonna be on the evening news.”
“No one else saw you?”
“No one.”
“All right,” Laura said at length and noticed her hand shaking. “Get out of there.”
“I am getting out of there. So relax, okay? Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll talk to you later.”
Laura closed her phone, then closed her laptop. She knew she wouldn’t be able to pay attention to the rest of the contest production. She got up and paced her living room. Within the next half hour, she thought she had paced the kitchen, her den, and most of the rest of the house as well. Goddamn Brad Holt! she found herself thinking, when not muttering under her breath, over and over. This was spiraling completely out of control.
CHAPTER 48
The four of them drove to David Freeman Marina Hospital in three cars, with Gunnar taking the lead, followed by Amy in her Nissan Z Coupe and Joey taking up the rear in his Ford Bronco pickup. At the hospital, they found Mike Branigan pacing the understated waiting area of the MRI lab. His face kept lean by a year-round adherence to a very low-carb diet, looked especially drawn now. His jerky, reflex-like movements hinted at an overdose of adrenaline. The cup of coffee he protected in his hands probably didn’t help his condition.
“How is she, Mike?” Gunnar stepped ahead of Erika, Joey, and Amy upon spotting him.
Mike’s head shot up when he heard those words and reacted with a reflex yet again. He swept back a long lock of hair wandering across his face and said, “Gunnar!” Whether it was the adrenaline or the coffee, something made Mike’s massive frame, but mostly his head, quiver. “She, she….” He stammered and paused as if forgetting what he was about to say next. “She, uh…she had a concussion. Pretty bad one. That’s what the paramedics said. She was hit in the back of the head by an empty dumbbell handle.”
Joey, Erika, and Amy had arrived by now, and they let Mike go on.
“They think she might have been out pretty long, but the way her hair was tied back, it might have cushioned some of the impact. They said the longer she was out, the worse the problem might get.”
Gunnar remembered Sherry wearing her hair in a French braid that day. “But she came to, didn’t she?”
Erika stared at the bereaved husband with a blank calmness.
Mike’s face lightened, sort of. A lopsided grin twitched onto the right side of his face, then disappeared. “Yeah! She was talking and everything when they got her in here.”
“That’s good,” Gunnar nodded and tried to smile.
“She said she didn’t want anybody to worry about the gym, or her, or anything.” Mike paused and chuckled. “She even said the hit wasn’t bad enough to make her forget your rent was due this week.”
Gunnar laughed along and patted Mike’s shoulders.
“That means she’s gonna be okay, doesn’t it?” Amy demanded, rather than asked.
“Hopefully,” Erika said.
“Erika!” Mike then exclaimed. “I didn’t even notice you were here. You look good.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Mike.”
“She is gonna get better, isn’t she? Since she woke up?”
“I think they’re gonna take good care of her here.” It looked like Erika didn’t want to lie to Mike and give him an unrealistic outlook.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. His eyes looked distant again, but they didn’t seem panicky.
“They sure will.” Gunnar thought he should say something more to keep his friend’s spirits in shape. “And she’s strong. Don’t worry,” he added, although suspecting that strength and vitality often weren’t much of an equalizer against a brain injury.
But then he noticed someone close enough to the case to offer better commentary. A Hindi doctor exited the MRI lab. Upon approach, Gunnar saw a name tag identifying the mid-thirtyish man as Dr. R. Patel.
“What’s going on?” Mike asked.
Dr. Patel appeared to do a controlled, yet visible, double-take at the sight of the newcomers before responding. Between them, Gunnar, Mike, Joey, and Erika looked like they would overburden a freight elevator. Although dwarfed by her companions, Amy looked like a fashion model who had gone through Marine Corps boot camp.
“I believe she was lucky she didn’t stay unconscious any longer,” Dr. Patel informed in a sing-songy Indian accent.
“But—,” Mike mumbled.
“However, there was enough to cause a subarachnoid hemorrhage just below the point of impact. That’s bleeding inside the head, I’m afraid—”
“My God!” Mike recoiled.
Gunnar caught sight of Joey flushing and turning a revolting shade of pale.
“However!” Dr. Patel tried to keep a handle on the situation. “In this case, it is not as bad as it sounds.”
“Not as bad as it sounds?” Mike protested. “But what’s gonna happen to her? Are you going to operate?”
“That is what I must advise. Now, the damage is not bleeding inside the brain but next to the dura or the lining of the brain. That is what you should keep in mind. The way she was hit, I would have expected multiple such bleedings. Like another impact against the brain in front. Where the brain struck the front of the cranial cavity. But that is not the case.”
“Well, it won’t take a radical procedure, will it?” Erika asked.
Dr. Patel looked at her.
“I’m Dr. Erika Lindstad. I’m an acquaintance of the patient.”
“Doctor,” Patel nodded. “In this case, I feel surgery will be the safest option. We can estimate that she might have been unconscious between eight, maybe as much as ten minutes.”
“Yeah, then just kind of teetered on the edge when I got there,” Mike said. “When we got here, she said she had trouble remembering what was going on when they picked her up and what went on during the ride over.”
“Confusion, mild amnesia,” Patel said. “Those are troubling signs.”
“But her spirits picked up so quickly after that,” Mike recalled.
“Well, that can have its downside as well,” Erika said and looked at Patel.
“Yes. Euphoria, sudden giddiness. They can be signs of trouble themselves.”
“Damn it!” Mike exclaimed in confusion. “If she’s unconscious and confused, it’s a bad sign, and if she’s happy, it’s a bad sign. I don’t get it.”
“Trauma to the head is like that,” Erika said, careful to add enough empathy.
“It is hard to predict how the brain will react,” Dr. Patel seconded. “The MRI scans show it is not a large hemorrhage, however.”
“Yeah?” Mike’s eyebrows lifted, his face showing he was trying his best to keep calm and optimistic.
“Good sign,” Patel said with emphasis. “Because the unconsciousness is troubling me, I think it is the safest choice to go ahead and operate. Stop the bleeding and not risk an unpredictable, recurring complication later on.”
“Right,” Mike said. “Let’s do whatever we can right away.”
“I will go and get your wife prepared, Mr. Branigan, but I have some advice for you as well.”
“What?”
“Please rest. Try and lay down, and no more coffee for a while.”
“Like she said,” Gunnar told Mike
. “Sherry is in good hands, and she’ll be okay.”
Mike looked at Gunnar, then at Patel. “I’ll try, Doc.”
“It was a frightening injury, but your wife should come through just fine,” the doctor said and retreated back through the same doors he had come from.
“You’re going to listen to the man?” Gunnar asked Mike upon seeing him sip the coffee that had lost its rising wisp of steam.
“What?”
“Rest. Get rid of that thing.”
Mike studied his coffee as if not sure if he was capable of parting with it.
“We can stay with you. Me and Joey and Amy just have to go over some business.”
Mike shook his head. “Naw, naw. I know he has to go and sit with that guy, and you’ve been working all day.”
“We mean it, Mike.” Amy seconded Gunnar’s offer. “If you need someone to talk to.”
“That’s okay,” Mike said. “Maybe I’ll just lie down on one of those couches for a while.”
After seeing Mike set aside his coffee, Gunnar, Erika, Joey, and Amy headed back to their cars. As he moved, Gunnar’s mind focused ever more on the weight of the Sig Sauer on his hip. Despite his full caseload, he knew someone had to pay for this.
CHAPTER 49
With enough confidence in Sherry’s recovery, the trio agreed to regroup at the Cat In The Bag Bar And Grill on the Venice Beach Boardwalk so Gunnar, Amy, and Joey could exchange information.
“Tropical Passion Protein Shakes! Awesome!” Joey exclaimed, sounding as happy as if he had just found a banknote of a large denomination on the floor as he stared at the day’s specials in food and drink chalked onto a board next to the door, as the hues of the immediate surroundings kept alternating back and forth.
Both Gunnar’s and Erika’s eyebrows twitched upward as they met Joey and Amy in front of the bar. Geza Nagy was not content with letting the boardwalk just see his business’s neon sign—he preferred it to flash on and off in dizzying intervals.
Cat in the Bag was a Hungarian colloquialism meaning a sudden surprise. It often meant an unpleasant surprise. It was a kind of equivalent of Murphy’s Law. Just what it was supposed to mean in this Venice Beach context, Gunnar was still unsure.
Inside, the foursome ambled through the customers who were all muscle crowd tonight. The low-fat, low-carb, high nutrient health food on the menu often attracted the tech professionals or the New Age hippies. But there were only the garish gym logo outfits of the men in sight right now, along with the tawny shapes of the fitness contest gym bunnies and the powerful female bodybuilders in summer dresses with ruffles downplaying the bulk while their faces were marked by harsh mascara trying to accentuate femininity. Along with the bar, the dance floor, and the music, booths—slightly enlarged—completed the set design of a typical Southern California seaside eatery. Gunnar and his friends took their seats in a booth where they weren’t flanked by anyone on either side.
“All right, we’re all in one place at last,” Erika said. “So what’s been going on?”
The laminated menu on the table was Joey’s top priority for the moment, though. Gunnar noticed how Amy eyed Joey with a passing shade of annoyance.
“All right, Amy, so let’s hear what’s turned up,” Gunnar said.
But before Amy could say anything, Gunnar heard his name called out from the side, spoken with its correct German pronunciation.
“Gunnar!” someone yelled again.
When Gunnar looked to see who it was, he found the bar’s proprietor coming toward their table in a swift, precision military march. Not only did Geza Nagy own the Cat In The Bag, but he was perhaps the largest man on the premises. This lumbering behemoth, too, was an active amateur contestant but making solid gains for a pro card in the near future. Gunnar sized him up as having perhaps a bit less dimension on his frame than Joey, but with more refined cuts. Geza usually got a chuckle out of remarking that in Hungarian, “Nagy” meant “big.”
“Hey, G-man!” Gunnar replied while not being able to keep from rolling his eyes at the interruption.
“So, Gunnar, vat’s up?” Geza demanded in his hard-bitten accent. “Tell to me vat’s happening to Sherry. All this whole night, I hear from peoples coming by that the Foundry iz robbed or somesing and they take Sherry to di hospital.”
“It’s true, G-man. Somebody’s hit her pretty hard,” Gunnar said. Scuttlebutt got around quickly tonight.
“How iz she?”
“She’s in surgery.”
“Unbelievable!”
Joey said, “The doctor said she’ll pull through okay.”
“You know, I hope so,” Geza said, shaking his head in dismay and more than a bit of agitation. “I tell you this, I don’t believe it that the neighborhood improves anytime soon. These guys I see coming to the boardwalk all this days, they look like gathering volfs or somesing. Garbage! Valking garbage. They don’t look like they hesitate to kill you for five dollars.”
“Yeah, man,” Joey lamented. “Gangbangers and everything. Junkies! Pushers!”
“You know that vhat happened at the bar they rob the other day?”
“Huh?” Gunnar asked.
“I told it to the Tommy vhen I see him. They hit the man who iz di oh-ner vhen he surprise da thieves, then steal everysing, and they try to shoot him.”
“Shoot him?” Gunnar was stunned.
“My God!” So was Erika.
“So there was a bit of luck tonight after all, huh?” Amy gasped.
“What?” Gunnar asked. “You mean to get rid of a witness, huh?”
“Probably. I sink he vas vaking up or somesing, so that guy takes his gun and tries to shoot him to det.”
“To what?” Joey misunderstood.
“To death!” Gunnar clarified.
“So he don’t say nosing,” Geza exclaimed. “But the cops, they drive by on the street, and da thief runs.”
“Yeah,” Gunnar said. “Well, from what little I heard, I think he only got nickels and dimes. Damn, if he wouldn’t have been surprised, he probably would have shot the sorry son of a bitch on the spot.”
“Yeah!” Geza nodded.
“Good thing tonight,” Joey mused.
“There are a lot of good things after all, huh?” Gunnar said. “That he didn’t take a gun? That he didn’t come into my office?”
“I’d look for some guns at least in a PI’s office,” Amy said.
“Maybe he was surprised again,” Erika theorized.
“Maybe he was inept,” Gunnar said. “Or maybe Sherry’ll be able to tell us for sure.”
“The sooner, the better,” Erika said.
“Don’t vorry,” Geza said. “She’s strong. So, Erika! Vhat’s going on?”
“I thought you were going to ignore me all night long,” Erika kidded.
“Looking nice,” the Hungarian complimented. “So you and the Gunnar are back together, eh?” There was an approving smile on his face.
“Me and the Gunnar might be.” Erika mimicked his speech and grinned.
“What do you mean, might be?” Gunnar said.
Erika’s smile was both mischievous and enigmatic at the same time.
“And we gotta talk some business with Amy,” Gunnar said quickly enough.
“All right!” Geza said with a quick nod. “I leave you, but vood you like somesing to eat first, or drink?”
“Oh yeah! Bring it on right here!” Joey replied.
“Joey gets famished when he gets optimistic,” Gunnar said.
“I get famished before going to that tight-wad client of yours. Selfish bastard doesn’t like me in his kitchen. A-right, G-man! How about we see some rations!” Joey went back to perusing the menu again. “Oh, let’s get some a that passion fruit shake to start things off. Uh, the steamed chicken bowl, the vegetables…. Oh yeah! Two baked p
otatoes—”
“No salt,” Geza cut in.
“Are you kidding me? You keep the salt shaker out of the kitchen when you prepare my food! Oh, and how ‘bout that fruit salad to go?”
“You got it!”
The moment Geza turned to leave, Gunnar turned to Amy. She, too, appeared to be glad that Joey’s need for nutritional replenishment was about to be satiated, and they could get back to business.
“All right,” Gunnar said to her, “what’s a good word?”
“So!” Amy began with a heavy breath. “I did get ahold of that special events company the hotel told you about, and I got to talk to frat brother Bo Sullivan.” She paused and reached into the breast pocket of the flower-patterned silk vest she wore, withdrawing a small notepad.
Very professional, Gunnar thought.
“He was a doorman at the event,” Amy read off her notes. “As you might have guessed, the Santa Monica Palace Hotel does not have a regular doorman. The WBBC wanted to spruce things up a little bit.”
“Aha,” Gunnar said, urging her to go on and get to the meaty part of the story.
“Anyway, he’s a film major at UCLA. Moved here from Noo Yawk. Wants to start by directing music videos and commercials, then move up to feature films. For now, he’s working as a hired hand on special shindigs like this—company parties, you know. But he can swear to the fact that Laura Preston left the contest at seven-twenty.”
That made Gunnar suspicious. “How can he be so sure?”
“Because he’s sure Laura made him an offer that can get his film career to first base.”
“Oh really?” Erika said, surprised.
“He said Laura came out, asked for her car, made small talk, and when Sullivan said he majored in film, she invited him to go to Jeanie O’Shaughnessy’s production company office because they were looking for paid interns on her show.”
“They have interns for a YouTube channel?” Joey asked.
“Yeah,” Amy said. “That’s where they film her workout tips. You know, serious stuff, not the pillow-fight sessions with schmoes.”
Joey chuckled.
“Don’t worry, there’s probably more money coming in from the schmoes,” Amy said.
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