by P. J. Tracy
He ducked down fast in the seat and covered his eyes. Oh, man, oh, man, this couldn’t be happening. Sure, he figured a couple of escaped loonies and an ex-con had made the news, but this was serious overkill. Cops made sense, the roadblocks and TV cameras made sense, but what were all the other people doing here? Waiting to lay him low for kidnapping two sick elderly women?
He put his head into his lap and squeezed his eyes shut tight, waiting for a billy club to rap on the window.
‘What’s the matter, Emil?’ Edith patted him on the back. ‘Do you have demophobia?’
‘I don’t know. What’s that?’
‘Fear of crowds, dear.’
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’ve got.’
‘Don’t you worry. Gloria and I will be right here beside you.’
Terrific. The whole town was looking for them. An ex-con and two old women dressed in magi costumes weren’t going to stand out a bit.
The cabbie turned around in his seat. ‘Here you go. You’ll have to hoof it from here. No access except for emergency vehicles tonight.’
Emil stretched his neck and peeked out of the window. This was really weird. It didn’t exactly seem like an angry mob on the lookout for fugitives. No torches, no pitchforks, just a bunch of ordinary people waiting patiently in line, smiling and chatting. There were also show girls, female impersonators, mob types, and several Elvis Presley lookalikes, which made Emil feel a little better. Maybe they wouldn’t stand out after all. ‘What’s really going on here?’ he asked.
‘He’s here,’ Edith and Gloria replied in unison.
‘It’s the kid, I told you,’ the cabbie said, as the sisters clambered out of the cab. Then he passed Emil’s ring back over the seat. ‘Here. Last thing I got time for is stopping at some pawn shop. Now get out of here. I’m losing fares.’
Emil met his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘Merry Christmas. Out.’ The cabbie jerked his thumb at the door and revved the engine. Emil scrambled out and watched him pull away as Gloria and Edith dragged him into line.
‘Look at them all, Emil!’ Edith exclaimed. ‘Isn’t it exciting? This time everyone seems to know.’
‘It is the information age,’ Gloria reminded her.
Emil tapped an Elvis impersonator on the shoulder. The man looked exactly like Presley in his later years, right down to the black pompadour and the spangled white suit. He eyed the three of them. ‘Who are you supposed to be?’
‘Forget about that, just tell me what everybody’s waiting for.’
‘You didn’t hear about the little boy?’
Edith rolled her eyes. ‘Of course we did.’
‘Oh, now, hold on.’ Emil was shaking his head. ‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘No joke. The child’s been all over the news. It’s kind of cool, isn’t it? All these people coming out on Christmas Eve. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen every day.’
‘It certainly doesn’t,’ Gloria agreed.
Emil flapped his arms against his sides in frustration. ‘Give me a break. Are you trying to tell me –’ He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Officer Sanchez and Officer Myers approaching, working the crowd into an orderly line. Of all the cops in Vegas, he had to run into these two again. He quickly turned his back and pushed his fez further down his forehead. ‘Oh, damn.’
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Edith asked.
‘Those cops up there,’ Emil whispered. ‘They’re the ones who arrested me the other day, and if they see me, I’m toast.’
Gloria and Edith put their arms around him and pulled him close. ‘We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,’ Gloria said, just as the news camera swept over the crowd.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Foster snored himself awake on the sofa, completely disoriented. It was pitch dark in his apartment except for the bluish glare of the television screen. The football game he’d dozed off to when it had still been daylight had morphed into the local newscast.
He pushed himself up to a sitting position and stared mindlessly at a couple of overly coiffed anchors yammering on about some kid. He reached for the remote to click to another channel, but then the newscast went to a live panning shot of a crowd in front of the hospital. That got his attention, because the first face he saw in the throng of people was none other than Emil Rice’s.
He glanced at the phone to call it in, then hesitated. The hospital was only a few blocks away and this was one bust he wanted to be in on.
‘You’re mine, Emil,’ he muttered, grabbing his keys.
***
Emil’s heart was pounding like a kettle drum as he and the sisters made their way through the line at the hospital, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. No way he could make a move now. First off, Myers and Sanchez kept doing the rounds, plus there were other cops all over the place, keeping sharp eyes on the crowd. Any sudden movement by three cats dressed as magi would be Doomsday for him.
He risked an upward glance – they were almost at the hospital entrance where two security guards were posted. He figured if they could get past them, he was golden. He’d find a nurse, plead a case for the sisters, then disappear.
Elvis turned out to be a great distraction. He was big enough to block Emil from view, and so deep into his impersonator role, he chatted up the security guards in his fake Tennessee accent long enough for the three of them to slide right past him into the lobby and over to the reception desk.
A harried nurse pushed three pieces of paper across the counter. ‘Fill these out, please, then have a seat in the waiting area.’
Gloria’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘I never dreamed we’d have to fill out an application to see the child. That certainly wasn’t in the book.’
Edith patted her shoulder. ‘Emil explained it to me while you were resting in the cab. It’s called red tape. Things are more complicated now.’
‘Yep, that’s right, Gloria. Just fill out that form and we’re all good.’
While the sisters were busy filling out their forms, Emil leaned across the counter and whispered to the intake nurse, ‘These two ladies I’m with? They’re going to need some special attention.’
‘One of the nurses will take care of any special needs once you get into the processing area. Just let them know when you get there.’
Emil took his paperwork, sat down next to Edith and Gloria, but was immediately distracted by a wall-mounted television where a newscaster was blathering: ‘Those who doubt that a heart of gold beats beneath the neon glitz of Las Vegas have only to look at the line of potential donors spilling out of this hospital into the street. But time is running out for eight-year-old Bobby Montgomery. Tonight he lies near death, waiting for the bone-marrow match that will give him another chance to fight off the leukemia that is ravaging his frail body. So far over two thousand people have submitted to the blood test …’
‘Oh, man, that’s what this is all about.’
Edith stuck a pen in his hand. ‘Emil, you have to fill that out or they won’t let you see the Christ child.’
Emil pointed at the television. ‘Haven’t you been watching that? He’s not the Christ child, he’s a little kid with leukemia.’ He fluttered the application form. ‘And this isn’t going to get you in to see him. This is to find out if you’ve got … Forget it.’
‘Now you fill that out, Emil,’ Gloria admonished him. ‘You’ve brought us all this way. No one deserves to see the child more than you.’
‘Listen, this is dumb.’
Gloria gave him a wounded look.
‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed, is all. This kid, he’s not who you think he is.’
‘Maybe he’s not who you think he is, dear.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Outside the hospital, Sanchez and Myers took another pass up the line toward the entrance. It was a surprisingly orderly group for so many people. No real need for crowd control, Sanchez was thinking, and then he heard raised voices up ahead and sa
w a man shoving his way to the front of the line. He and Myers moved up fast behind him because that was how trouble started.
‘Hey, buddy, take it easy, wait your turn.’ Sanchez grabbed the man’s shoulder, spun him around, then did a double-take. ‘Whoa. Foster. What are you doing here?’
‘Sanchez. Thank God. You’ve got to get me in there.’
Myers chuckled. ‘Damn, Foster. We all thought you were such a hard ass and look at you now, rushing down here on Christmas Eve, trying to save some kid. I’m touched, Foster, I really am.’
‘It’s a miracle is what it is,’ Sanchez said.
Foster was out of breath and desperate. ‘You want to quit flapping your jaw for a minute and listen? Emil Rice is in there. You owe me twenty bucks, Sanchez.’
***
Emil kept a wary eye on the lobby doors, his right leg pumping up and down like a piston while he waited for Edith and Gloria to finish their applications. He didn’t think Sanchez and Myers had seen him outside, thanks to the sisters, but the worst could still happen if he sat around here too much longer. It was time to get away from this lobby and out of sight. All the people in line before them had disappeared down a hall into what he assumed was Processing, and that would be a perfect staging area to split.
‘Come on, ladies, we need to get moving. Are you finished yet?’
‘I think we’re ready,’ Edith said, scrutinizing her application.
‘Great! Follow me!’ Emil shot out of his seat, snatched the sisters’ paperwork, and hustled over to the nurse at the reception counter. ‘Here’s our stuff. Where do we go?’
‘Down that hall, second door on your right. A volunteer will direct you from there.’
Emil spun in place, linked arms with Edith and Gloria, and started marching them down the hallway. ‘Okay, here we go, off to see the child.’ He took one last look over his shoulder, and let out a relieved sigh. The lobby was now out of sight, and maybe, by God, things were going to work out after all.
A cheery blond volunteer wearing a Christmas sweater with a fuzzy angora reindeer leaping across her chest greeted them in front of a large treatment room, where nurses and lab techs wielding syringes drew blood from dozens of potential donors.
‘Good evening,’ she said sweetly, but her eyes were warily assessing their magi costumes and probably their general state of dishevelment. ‘If you’ll just take a seat at the back of the room, a nurse will be right with you.’
Emil put on his best winning smile. ‘Thank you, ma’am. Do you know how long this is going to take?’
‘Not long at all.’
‘Terrific. So, is there a back exit to this place, maybe down the hall?’
The volunteer gave him a befuddled look. ‘I’m not really sure …’
‘I’ve got a place I need to be in a hurry, so I want to avoid all the traffic.’
She scrutinized his costume again and smiled in sudden understanding. ‘Oh. You have a performance, don’t you?’
‘Yep, we’re all due on stage pretty soon, so I’d like to make tracks as fast as possible.’
‘Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t really know where the exits are, except for the main one, but I suppose there’s one somewhere down this hall. I’m sorry, sir, we need to keep the line moving, but we certainly appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to be here. Just step into the treatment room and somebody will be right with you.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
‘Good luck tonight. Break a leg.’
‘Thanks. We’re gonna need all the luck we can get.’
Emil found three empty chairs closest to the exit. ‘Have a seat, ladies.’
Gloria and Edith were looking around, puzzled. ‘We have to get our blood drawn before we see the child?’ Edith asked.
‘Uh … well, sure. They want to make sure we’re not sick or anything.’
Gloria brightened. ‘Oh. What a good idea. It would be just horrible if we were carrying a virus and passed it to the child. We’ll have to remember to put that in our sequel to the book, Edith.’
After a few minutes a formidably sized nurse with permanent scowl lines etched into her forehead approached them. She assessed them with the languorous expression of a long-time Vegas citizen who’d seen it all a million times before. ‘You three look like you’re on your way to a play.’
Emil bobbed his head. ‘Yep, that’s right, so can you make this quick? We’ve gotta be on stage soon.’
‘Roll up your sleeves. Ladies first.’
Emil hated needles, so he stared down at the floor until he saw the nurse’s shoes in front of him.
‘Ready?’
‘Uh … on second thought, I don’t think this is a good idea …’
‘You’re black.’
Emil glowered up at her. ‘Yeah? You got a problem with that?’
The nurse rolled her eyes. ‘Not personally. As far as I know, trouble comes in all colors. But do you know the odds against an interracial marrow match?’
Emil blinked at her. ‘I don’t even know what you just said.’
Her expression softened. ‘Never mind. You’ll go in the registry, and we’re real low on minorities. Roll up your sleeve, honey.’
Emil complied, then looked away and pinched his eyes shut.
‘Don’t worry, Emil. It doesn’t hurt. And we’ll be right here,’ Edith reassured him.
‘Merry Christmas, Emil. Nice outfit.’
‘Agh!’ Emil jumped in his seat and gaped up at Foster.
The nurse pushed him back down. ‘Hold still or you’re going to look like a pin cushion.’
Emil started squirming in his chair. ‘Foster! Jeez, this is kind of a coincidence, you and me both here getting tested for that poor sick kid …’
Foster folded his arms across his chest. ‘Don’t push me, Emil.’
‘Sit still!’ The nurse turned on Foster. ‘Sir, do you mind?’
‘Really,’ Gloria said crossly. ‘You’re making him nervous.’
‘He should be nervous. He’s under arrest.’
‘Do you know who this is?’ Edith asked incredulously. ‘You can’t arrest him.’
‘Technically, I can’t.’ Foster pointed to Officer Myers and Officer Sanchez, who were posted at the door. ‘But they can.’
The nurse went nose to nose with Foster. ‘Nobody’s arresting anybody until I get some blood!’ She plunged the syringe into Emil’s arm, then turned back to Foster. ‘Are you next?’
‘Me? Hell, no …’
‘You’ve been tested already?’
‘No.’
‘Then sit down.’
Foster glared at her. ‘Hey, listen. I’m a Clark County probation officer. I’m not here to give blood. I’m here to arrest this man.’
‘So arrest him after you give blood. Would it kill you to try to save a dying eight-year-old child, Mr Clark County Probation Officer?’
Foster sat down grudgingly. ‘Emil, you run, you’re a dead man. I’ll have Sanchez and Myers shoot you in the back, you got it?’
‘You leave him alone!’ Gloria said shrilly. ‘This is a holy night and you are a very unholy man!’
Emil reached over and patted her hand. ‘It’s okay, Gloria.’
Foster gave her a once-over. ‘Who the hell are you? His fairy godmother?’
‘Hey, lay off them, Foster. They’re the wise men and they’re okay.’
‘I don’t care if they’re the – OUCH!’
Edith clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Well done, Nurse! Was that lithium?’
The nurse smiled at her. ‘I wish. So where’s your application, Mr Clark County?’
‘What application?’
She jerked the needle out of his arm more sharply than necessary, then shoved a form into his hand. ‘Fill this out.’
Foster started scrawling his details, keeping one eye on the old ladies, the other on Emil. ‘I knew you were stupid, but this really kills it. What the hell were you thinking? That kidnapping two
lunatics and dressing up in a skirt was going to be good cover?’
Emil sank down in his chair sullenly. ‘That is not how it went down.’
Edith postured herself indignantly and faced Foster. ‘What a preposterous notion. Emil most certainly did not kidnap us. If anything, we coerced him.’
Emil looked at Foster hopefully. ‘Yeah. I was coerced. That’s exactly what happened.’
‘Absolutely,’ Gloria said. ‘He didn’t know what his purpose was, but we showed him, and now look.’ She beamed at Emil. ‘He’s here, just where he’s supposed to be.’
Foster’s last thread of patience was fraying thin. ‘Listen, Loony Tunes, there’s room for three in the squad, so unless you want to get hauled in for obstructing justice, I suggest you just shut up.’
Emil stood up and put himself between Foster and the sisters. ‘I told you, lay off them, Foster. I mean it. You can disrespect me all you want, but leave them out of it.’
Foster folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head. ‘So what are they to you?’
Emil looked at Gloria and Edith. ‘They’re my friends.’
The sisters closed in on Emil, presenting a united front. ‘He’s our family.’
Foster signed his application and slammed his pen down. ‘Man, Emil, you really screwed up this time. I can hardly wait to call Judge Addison and tell him how well his little pet project worked out.’ He stood up and grabbed Emil’s elbow just as the nurse passed by with a tray of blood samples.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she said to Foster.
‘To jail, if it’s any of your business, which it isn’t.’
She snatched Foster’s application out of his hand. ‘You’re a real pain, you know that? You remind me of my first husband.’
‘Oh, yeah? And I’ll bet he left you for a woman with a personality. Am I right?’
The nurse leveled a look of disgust at him, and passed the tray to a lab tech. ‘The pathetic retort of a pathetic man. Sit down. If you’re a flat-out reject, we’ll know in five minutes. Then you can go wherever you want, and good riddance.’
Emil watched her stalk away, then felt the cold steel of a cuff on his right hand. ‘Oh, man, Foster …’
