Quick Be Jack: A Jack Nolan Novel (The Cap's Place Series Book 3)

by Robert Tarrant

  Even in the low light of the balcony I could see the sparkle come into her eyes, "Oh, you'll pay dearly Darling, you'll pay dearly."

  "What if I don't want to? What if I think it's too expensive?"

  Elena looked down as she gently swirled the wine in her glass, "Then you'll face Marge. She has her heart set on it, you know."

  I held up my hands in surrender, "Oh no, not the wrath of Marge." Then I felt guilty for forgetting that Marge is quite possibly sick. The truth be known, if I thought this project would distract Marge in a difficult time I'd take it on for that reason alone.

  I noticed Elena's wine glass was empty, and surprisingly, my scotch was all gone. Maybe I am acquiring a taste for scotch. I asked, "Can I get you another glass of wine?"

  She handed me her glass and said, "One more and then let's call it a night. This is a sleepover you know."

  I leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, "Oh yes, I do know. It's the one bright spot in an otherwise dark day."

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  My foggy mind couldn't identify the sound that was pulling me toward consciousness. Eventually, I realized it was my cell phone vibrating on the night stand next to the bed. I looked at the clock as I picked up the phone. 6:00 a.m., who would call me at this time of the day? Then I saw the readout and I was instantly awake, Sissy. It couldn't be good if Sissy was calling me at this time of the day. I slid out of bed and walked out into the hallway. Elena was still sleeping soundly. As I reached the dining area I said, "Hello, Sissy. Is everything all right?"

  Her voice was strong and excited, "PJ's conscious. She's going to be all right. Well, it's going to be awhile, but it sounds like she'll be fine."

  "How did you learn all of this?"

  "Angela, I had texted Angela last night asking her if there was anything I could do for her. I didn't hear anything back until a few minutes ago when she called me. She said PJ regained consciousness about three this morning. Angela is staying at the hospital with her grandparents. PJ woke up and the doctors gave her some tests and then told Angela that her mother should be fine. Well, I guess she's got several injuries, but none that won't heal with a little time. It's wonderful Jack. I just had to call and tell you."

  I said, "Of course you had to tell me. I'd have wrung that pretty little neck of yours if you hadn't called me. Any idea how long PJ's going to be in the hospital? Can she have visitors?"

  Sissy answered, "I don't know any of that. Angela said there is a meeting with the doctors at 10:00 this morning and she'll know more after that. She promised she'd call me and tell me everything."

  "You're still with Marge?"

  "Yeah, Marge is in the shower right now. After we get dressed we're going out for breakfast. We'll probably be there around eight or so."

  "You two don't have to come in here that early."

  Sissy said, "We're both too excited to just sit around here. We're coming in and Marge is going to go over the ideas she talked to Elena about last night. She wants to hear my opinion before I leave for Atlanta."

  I thought, she hasn't asked me for my opinion, I said, "That's great. Speaking of Marge, have you learned anything about her health? What's wrong with her?"

  Sissy didn't say anything for so long that I started to think our call had dropped. Finally, she said, "Jack, you need to talk to Marge about that yourself. I did talk to her some. She told me some things, but I don't feel right telling anyone else. Maybe now that she's told me she'll be more likely to tell you. I told her that you were really concerned. I think she's just afraid of it becoming the subject of gossip around Cap's. She's more private than that."

  I thought about what Sissy said and then asked, "Can you tell me this much, should I be worried?"

  Another long pause and then, "Let me put it this way, I don't think her doctors know enough yet for us not to worry. It could be something relatively simple or something serious. I don't think they really know, yet."

  "Poor Marge, no wonder she seems so stressed out."

  "Actually Jack, I think she's being pretty pragmatic about it. She told me that there's no sense in worrying until the doctors give her something to worry about. It's just not knowing, one way or the other, that's driving her crazy."

  I said, "Okay, I'll try once more to get her to share with me. I just want her to know I'm here for her."

  "Oh, I think she know's that and for what it's worth I think this expansion project is a good distraction. It gives her something else to think about." Sissy hesitated and then hurriedly said, "Marge is out of the shower Jack, so I gotta run. I'll see you when we get there." With that, the call ended.

  I put on a pot of coffee and sat down in a chair at the table to wait for it to brew. I soaked in the wave of relief over PJ, but couldn't help thinking the whole thing with Marge wasn't going to turn out as well. I knew that Marge was taking the right approach, no sense in worrying until you have something to worry about. Unfortunately, I've always found that easier said than done.

  Just as the coffee finished brewing, Elena came out of the bedroom. She was wearing an old Detroit Tigers tee shirt of mine. I must say that it looked better on her than it ever had on me in the ten years I'd owned it. She had a serious case of bedhead and wasn't wearing any makeup, but she was still stunning. She smiled, then yawned and said, "I thought I smelled coffee."

  I poured two cups and said, "Perfect timing."

  Elena took a sip of her coffee and asked, "Was I dreaming, or did I hear you on the phone?" Then she gasped and put her hand over her mouth before saying, "Oh, I'm sorry Jack. It's none of my business if you're on the phone. I didn't intend to pry, really."

  "Relax, I don't think you're prying. In fact, I was on the phone with Sissy." Elena sat upright and a look of concern swept across her face like a sudden slap. I rushed on, "No, no, it's good news. PJ's conscious. Sounds like she's going to be okay after her wounds heal. There's a meeting with the doctors at ten and we should know more after that. So far it sounds very good."

  The tension left Elena's face and she asked, "How did Sissy learn all this?"

  "She had texted PJ's daughter, Angela, earlier offering to do anything she could to help. Angela called Sissy this morning and told her PJ had regained consciousness about three."

  "Wow, that's wonderful."

  I said, "It really is, it sounds much better than I ever expected."

  Elena asked, "Should you call Moe, or was Sissy going to do that?"

  I thought for a second and then said, "She didn't mention calling Moe. Sounded like she and Marge were getting ready to go out for breakfast and then coming here. You're right, I should call Moe."

  I knew it was early, but I also knew that Moe would be mad as hell if he came in around ten and no one had called to tell him the news. I hit his number on my speed dial. He answered on the third ring. I gave him the good news. I could hear the relief growing in his voice as the conversation went on. He thanked me over and over for calling him. I told him I'd see him when he came into Cap's this morning and ended the conversation. I couldn't help but think how Moe's attitude toward the police had changed over the past months.

  Elena and I seemed to move in slow motion drinking our coffee, probably just soaking in the relief and good news. We had just finished the pot when Elena said that she needed to start getting ready to go to work. She had a mid-morning meeting back up in Boca Raton and the morning traffic is always a crap shoot. She left to get in the shower and I rummaged around in the kitchen to see what I could offer her for breakfast without going down to raid Juan's kitchen. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the remaining bacon, eggs, and bread from my Sunday morning raid was still there. I don't know where I thought it would have gone. I certainly wouldn't have cooked it up and no one else has been here.

  I heard the hair dryer and thought about going in to the bathroom to ask Elena what she would like me to fix her for breakfast, but knew she would see that for the hollow offer it was. I decided to wait until she again eme
rged and tell her what was in stock with the hopes that she would offer to cook something for both of us.

  My strategy worked and Elena prepared a repeat of Sunday morning with the exception that we both had poached eggs on toast this morning. Evidently, her plans for improving my diet were already in motion. After breakfast, Elena dressed and headed for Boca Raton. She told me she'd call me later in the day to see what additional information I had regarding PJ's condition. Unfortunately, she also told me that she had an afternoon meeting back at her office in Miami Beech, so she would be staying at her apartment tonight.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  I'd just gotten downstairs when Marge and Sissy came in the back door. Sissy was wearing the same clothes she'd worn yesterday, but that made sense because she'd gone home with Marge. Even with her weight loss, Marge's clothes would hang on Sissy, except on top where they'd be undeniably too tight. They were talking about the expansion project when they came in the back door, and other than saying hi to me as they passed, they were still talking about it when they disappeared into the office. The quick glimpse I got of them as they passed confirmed that they were both much more relaxed than they'd been yesterday.

  I went outside and retrieved the newspaper. We actually have the Sun Sentinel delivered now. Moe likes to read the sports and some of the locals peruse it when they come in for lunch. The challenge is to find it each morning. I swear, whoever delivers it, throws it out as they drive by at fifty miles per hour. It's never in the same place twice. Of course, I seldom need to go out to get it because usually Moe, or someone else, has come in before I get downstairs and they track it down. After a short five minute hunt, I found it wedged between a large planter and the corner of the building. Nice shot, dude.

  The front page, most of the front section for that matter, was devoted to the shootout. The only pictures were still shots of the video taken from the news helicopters, but some type of briefing must have been held for reporters before the paper went to bed, because there were details about the timeline of the entire incident and statements, attributed to the police chief and Lieutenant Hassinger, describing the approximate number of shots fired by both sides. There was also a large article detailing the careers of both PJ and Tim. The articles all stated that PJ remained unconscious, so obviously that information had not been released when the stories were written. Tough for the print media to stay up to pace with broadcast media on evolving stories.

  While reading the paper, I remembered that the police chief said last night that a news conference would be held at 9:00 a.m. this morning. It was 8:45 a.m., so I turned on the television behind the bar. Just as I was sitting back down on my stool, Moe came in the back door. He went behind the bar and poured a cup of coffee from the pot I'd brewed when I came downstairs, before joining me. "Hi Boss, how you doing this morning?"

  "Good Moe, much better than last night. Great news about PJ, huh?"

  "Yeah, sure is. Wonder how bad the injuries she's got are?"

  I pointed at the television, "I hope they may tell us when the news conference starts."

  Moe took the sports section and we read the paper and drank our coffee in silence the remaining few minutes until the press conference started. The lineup for this press conference differed dramatically from the two on the evening before. The police chief was there, but he was the only one identifiable as a cop in the entire picture. Everyone else wore the white coat and thoughtful expression of a doctor.

  The chief opened up the press conference with the announcement that Detective Johnson had regained consciousness and that she was expected to make a full recovery from her injuries. He then turned the wall of microphones over to a short, gray haired, man who he introduced as the head of Emergency Medicine at Memorial. The doctor gave a general description of PJ's injuries, which sounded to me like numerous flesh wounds from either bullets or flying debris from ricocheting bullets. He didn't specify a number, and I wasn't counting as he spoke, but there were a bunch. He ended his presentation by saying that he expected PJ to be released in four or five days.

  The reporters immediately began shouting questions, but like the chief, the doctor was no amateur at handling the press. He quickly deflected anything he didn't want to comment on by basically restating everything he'd already said. After fifteen minutes, the whole show was over. As the talking heads were starting to tell us what we'd just heard, Sissy and Marge came out into the bar. Marge looked at the television and said, "Thanks for calling us for the press conference, guys."

  Moe and I looked at each other, but knew we had no valid excuse. We just hadn't thought of it. I shrugged and said, "Sorry about that. You didn't miss much though. Only new information is they predict PJ's hospital stay will be four to five days."

  My news seemed to mitigate their scowls a little. Sissy asked, "Can she have visitors?"

  "I don't know. That wasn't mentioned, but I wouldn't expect that they would make that public knowledge. If anything, they will probably discourage visitors publicly, even if they are allowing some. When Angela calls you after the 10:00 a.m. meeting with the doctors, she'll probably be able to tell you if visitors are allowed."

  "Yeah, probably so." With that, Sissy and Marge walked over to the alcove area that houses several booths and the pool table. I'm going to miss that old pool table, but I'd bet my life that it's not included in the plans for the new and improved Cap's Place. Moe and I went back to reading our paper. I kept one eye on the television. The usual morning show, whatever that is, had been preempted by the talking heads. It took about five minutes to learn everything new, mostly coverage of the movement of Tim's body from the hospital to the Office of the Broward County Medical Examiner last night and the emerging funeral plans. Everything else said was a rehash of a rehash.

  I would expect a very large turnout for Tim's funeral. It's an interesting phenomenon that occurs when a police officer is killed in the line of duty. A society, influenced by the fourth estate and the talking heads, constantly critical of the actions of its police, suddenly finds itself face to face with the stark reality these same police officers are what stands between them and true evil. The collective outpouring of compassion and sympathy resonates until the fallen officer is laid to rest. Then, the public's memory being short, the chorus of criticism begins to steadily, once again, increase in volume. Only the officer's family, comrades, and friends remember the sacrifice made.

  Moe left me to attend to some task related to the operation of this place and I turned the television off and picked up the newspaper we had strewn across the bar. I was looking for something to do when Marge and Sissy returned. I was going to ask about the fate of the pool table, but decided it would sound like I was already meddling in their plans, even before they were completed. Sissy told Marge and I that she was going home for a few hours before working later in the day. She promised she would call one of us as soon as she heard from Angela.

  Marge headed back for the office and I decided this would be a good opportunity to see if she would tell me anything about her health. I followed her and slumped down on the small couch across from the desk. Marge sat down behind the desk and said, "What's up Jack? Something you want to talk about?"

  No point in beating around the bush. "Actually Marge, I was hoping we could talk about whatever health issues you're facing. I'm not trying to pry, but I want to be able to help you. I'd like to think we're friends and that's what friends do, they care about each other and they help each other."

  Marge leaned back in her chair seemingly weighing my words. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut at this point. Finally, she said, "Jack, I will tell you what I told Sissy last night when she pressed me for more information. You are a friend and I appreciate the fact that you're concerned about me." She paused and then continued, "Actually, I'm happy to see you focused enough on the people here to be interested and concerned. There was a time when I don't think that would have been the case."

  I wanted to defend myself at this point, but
knew it would divert the conversation from my intended purpose, so I remained quiet. Besides, why argue when I knew she was speaking the truth?

  Marge took a deep breath and said, "The problem is Jack, I don't want my health to be the latest topic of casual gossip about here. That's my concern. So, if I tell you, where do I draw the line? Do I tell Moe? Do I tell Dana? What about Juan or Renee? Once that number of people know, how long before half of our customers know? So, every time I walk through Cap's I have to think people are talking about poor sick Marge." She leaned forward, held me firmly in her gaze and said, "I sure as hell don't want that."

  I nodded, "Of course you don't. I sure wouldn't. I wouldn't want that for you either, but there must be a way you can share with those close to you, those who care about you, without it being shared with others."

  Our eyes were welded. Then it hit me, and I said, "Of course, I could promise not to share what you tell me with anyone. That's what you're looking for." I paused and then added, "You must know I wouldn't tell anyone if you asked me not to. I wouldn't betray your confidence."

  Now Marge nodded, "I know that Jack, I just wanted for you to hear yourself say it. I've wanted to tell you, Sissy, Moe, and Dana. I need some people I can talk to about it, I just don't want it to be casual gossip around Cap's Place."

  I could see the pain in her face, she did need people to share with. I reached across the desk and squeezed her hand, "Marge, you can talk to me about anything and it will stay between us, I promise. I won't tell anyone, not even Sissy."

  A faint smile crept across her face brushing some of the pain away, "Not a concern, Sissy already knows."