by Lyle Howard
Gabe glanced over at Bennett Chase who was eavesdropping intently. “So all this is good news, right Doc? When do you plan on dropping the other shoe?”
Sanborn reached for the curtain that would surround the bed, but Gabe stopped him from pulling it shut. “Leave it, Doc. There’s nothing that you can’t say in front of my friend.”
Bennett Chase waved his hands as if to say, Don’t worry about it, let him do his job.
“Are you sure?” the doctor asked.
Gabe looked over at his roommate and received a reassuring smile in return. “So, how long do I have?” he kidded.
Sanborn didn’t return his attempt at dark humor. “I’m really sorry, Gabe.”
Gabe’s eyes widened. “Wh-what are you telling me? I’m dying? You can’t be serious.”
Bennett Chase squirmed in his bed.
The doctor fretted nervously with his chin as he studied Gabe’s chart. “Is your son your only surviving relative?”
Gabe took a double-take. “Surviving?”
Sanborn looked down at his shoes and then his head rose. “This part of my job is never easy.”
Gabe turned to Bennett Chase in the adjacent bed whose eyebrows shot up, punctuating his craggy face like a pair of exclamation points.
“This can’t be … I just get a little dizzy sometimes,” Gabe protested.
The doctor patted Gabe’s shoulder. “We’ve run the tests twice, Gabe.”
The detective tried to lift his head off the pillow. “What tests? What the hell is going on here?”
Sanborn shrugged. “I’m afraid your prognosis isn’t good. In layman’s terms, we’ve found an inoperable brain tumor. It’s this cancerous mass that’s been causing you to pass out and lose your motor functions. What’s worse, the cancer is metastasizing.”
Gabe winced. “What does that mean? Come on, speak English.”
The doctor looked over at Bennett Chase. “Are you sure you want to discuss this in front of a stranger?”
The detective pulled himself up on his elbows. “He’s not a stranger! Tell me!”
“Well, Gabe, without getting too technical, I’m afraid we’ve caught the mass too late. There’s nothing we can do but try to make you comfortable in what time you have left.”
What will Casey do? Gabe whispered under his breath.
Gabe looked over at Chase, whose eyes were moist with empathy and anger. Reaching up, Gabe grabbed the doctor by his one of his lapels. “Something’s gotta be wrong here, Doc. You’ve gotta take more blood … run more tests!”
“We already have, Gabe,” he said, prying loose the detective’s fist from his coat. “Your tests were confirmed and certified by one of the most reliable testing facilities in the state. These laboratories are run by very conscientious people. It is common procedure to run these kinds of tests twice. I’m truly sorry.” Sanborn eased Gabe’s head back onto the pillow.
“So, that’s it?” Gabe asked. “How do I come down with something like this … this cancer, or tumor, or whatever you say it is? What makes this happen?”
The doctor reached over to the nightstand for a washcloth that still felt damp. “I really can’t tell you something I don’t know, Gabe. Sometimes it’s genetic,” he said, blotting Gabe’s forehead, “but your chart said you didn’t know your biological parents, right?”
Gabe closed his eyes with resignation. “No. I have no idea where or who my parents are.”
“At this late stage, I don’t think it would matter anyway,” the doctor said, gently squeezing Gabe’s arm and slipping his eyeglasses into the pocket of his lab coat. “It could’ve been brought on by anything, over-exertion, stress, even a blow to the head; who can say? The symptoms are not always cut and dry. Cancer can manifest itself in different people many different ways. We could treat you with chemicals and radiation, but with a mass as large as yours, the inevitable outcome is always the same. I see no need to put you through that ordeal when your prognosis is so … terminal. Again, I’m very, very sorry.”
The scene played out behind Gabe’s closed eyelids like some horrible B movie. In the darkness of his own fear, he visualized this nebulous monster squeezing the life out of his brain. How will Casey survive? They were best buddies! He was working on getting him back from his grandparents. Casey deserved a real home … with his real father! He would have turned things around … he would have managed to pull it all together … somehow.
The detective turned his disheartened gaze at the doctor, and then over to his newfound friend in the next bed. Bennett Chase’s crestfallen expression said it all. There had simply been no words that could have conveyed the sheer hopelessness of the moment for Gabe Mitchell.
13
Normal visiting hours in the hospital didn’t begin until 9 A.M., but at 8:50 when the elevator doors opened and Captain Leon Williams stepped out, he found the entire sixth floor congested beyond its approved capacity. Despite the best efforts of the overwhelmed nursing staff, the floor had been transformed into a carnival sideshow. The media contingent had set up camps lining the corridor outside of room 683 on the slightest chance that Gabe Mitchell would find the strength to grant them an interview. Television reporters primped over themselves in any reflective surfaces they could find, while inquisitive patients, who didn’t know quite what to make of the hoopla, peered out of their rooms in fascinated curiosity.
Williams frowned at the fawning press and muscled his way through the crowd. A black man of immense proportions, a tackle for the North Carolina Tar Heels back in his college days, it would take all of his football acumen to clear a path through the snapping cameras, bright lights, and microphones being shoved in his face.
“Captain Williams,” a disembodied voice yelled out, “what sanctions, if any, will your department be imposing on Detective Gabe?”
Williams snarled at the question like a pit bull backed into a corner.
Everyone was shouting at him, but a few voices carried louder than the rest…
“Captain Williams,” a male voice shouted, “Is there any truth to the rumor that the department is investigating the shooting, and that Detective Gabe might be found responsible for his partner’s death?”
Just keep moving … no use even trying to dignify that question with a response.
“Captain Williams,” why did it always have to be the last room at the end of the hallway, the last gate at the airport, nothing but red lights, when you needed to get somewhere in a hurry? “…is it his illness, or their animosity over Detective Hansen’s death, that’s kept Detective Gabe’s fellow officers from visiting him?”
Now this was really starting to get out of hand. If I don’t make some kind of statement, the press will just continue to crucify Gabe with their half-truths and innuendos. Bad press won’t be good for anyone.
Halfway down the hallway, Williams abruptly stopped and turned. The slow, dynamic movement of his massive form was enough to silence the throng. Shutters clicked like locusts in a corn field, but one deliberate glance in their direction brought the camera bugs to a standstill. A flood of high intensity lights flashed to life, bathing the remaining half of the corridor in a surreal, stark white glow. Williams had to shield his eyes with the back of his hand. “You people aren’t going away until you get some kind of statement, are you?”
The shouting started all over again, the questions coming faster than he could respond to them. “Captain Williams, how long has Detective Gabe known that he has an inoperable brain tumor?”
How were these people getting this information? Someone on the hospital staff had to be talking. Sound sympathetic, but stay neutral. “No one knew until a few hours ago.”
“What was his reaction when he found out?”
“I wasn’t there. You’ll have to ask his doctor,” he said, pointing to his left to field a question from that direction.
“What is the official position of the Police Department, Captain? Is it true that the detective is facing an internal investigation,
or worse, the loss of his job and pension?”
Williams rubbed at his nose, annoyed. Damn, how he hated the antiseptic smell of this place! “I’m not at liberty to discuss the Department’s official position in this matter, and, obviously, I haven’t spoken to the detective yet, but I can tell you that knowing Gabe Mitchell as well as I do, the loss of his job right now is the least of his worries.”
“So you’re saying that the detective will be relieved of duty?”
They’re like fleas, burrowing relentlessly until they’ve tapped blood. What good am I doing? They’re going to write whatever they want anyway. “I don’t know how, but you all obviously know the extent of the detective’s medical condition. So, do you really think the future of his career is foremost on his mind? Come on, people!”
“Have you spoken with Detective Hansen’s husband?”
Williams nodded solemnly. “Of course I have—it’s been nearly a week! I called him right after I received the news.”
“Did he say if he harbored any malice against Detective Gabe for his wife’s death?”
The captain’s eyes glazed over with anger. “Let me make this as clear as glass for you people; I’ll tell you the same thing that I told Detective Hansen’s husband: Gabe Mitchell did not kill Joanne Hansen! She gave her life in the line of duty apprehending a dangerous serial murderer. Her killer, Billy Ray Silva, is dead on a slab in the morgue because of Detective Gabe and her own selfless service to the people of this city! Why are you making Detective Gabe out to be the bad guy here? Why aren’t you focusing your attention on the real criminal in this case?”
“But isn’t it true that the majority of Detective Gabe’s fellow officers feel betrayed by him, and believe he should never have been on active duty the night of his partner’s death?”
Aren’t these vultures listening to anything I say? They’re not letting up! “As I stated before, Detective Gabe did not know how seriously ill he was until a few hours ago!”
There was a voice from the back of the crowd, barely discernable. “But this wasn’t the first time he had passed out in the past few weeks, was it, Captain?”
Williams shook his head. “From what I’ve been told, no, it wasn’t.”
“But the detective never had himself checked out, even though he knew this could affect his performance on the job?”
The captain adjusted the knot on his tie. Suddenly, the lights were making him feel much too warm. “With the exception of random drug testing, and a thorough yearly physical, the Department is not responsible for the health of each individual on the force. It was left up to Detective Gabe’s discretion to see a doctor about his condition.”
“Are you saying that the Department was aware of the detective’s blackouts, but chose to overlook them?”
Don’t let them know you were aware of the problem … they’ll drag you into this for sure! “You’re putting words in my mouth. That’s not what I said!”
“Well, what exactly is the position…”
The hallway fell under stunned silence as though some omnipotent watcher had suddenly hit the mute button on a remote control. There was no sound but for the familiar clicking of shutters and whirring of auto-winders. Leon Williams looked over the crowd with a perplexed expression on his face as though he had suddenly gone deaf. He quickly realized that he was no longer the center of attention. All eyes were looking past him. He turned to see a frail, solitary figure poised outside of a doorway, dressed in only a pale blue hospital gown, a mobile I.V. stand flanking his side. “Maybe I should take it from here, Captain…”
The reporters rushed past Williams like they were commuters trying to catch an express train and he was a turnstile, trampling each other with no regard for their own well-being.
“Detective Gabe,” they screamed in unison. “Please Detective, one question…”
Gabe held up his hands in an effort to keep them at a distance. There were more flashbulbs popping than at a Hollywood movie premiere, as Williams shouldered his way through the crowd to stand next to his man. “We have to talk, Gabe,” Williams whispered with his back to the crowd.
“I know Captain, but they’re not gonna leave us alone until I say something.”
Williams’ enormous frame eclipsed most of the light, casting an ominous shadow on the far wall of the corridor. “Okay, just keep it short and sweet,” he grumbled. “And for God’s sake, don’t go into any details!”
Gabe nodded. “I understand, Captain.”
“Detective Gabe,” a perpetually perky female reporter from Channel 6 blurted out, “what is your prognosis?”
Williams leaned over and whispered in Gabe’s ear. “Don’t answer this one, Gabe. You’re not a doctor.”
“Maybe you should speak with my doctor.”
“We already have. He told us to speak to you!”
Gabe looked at his boss for help, but there was none forthcoming. “Uh, I’m feeling alright for now, I guess. Isn’t that what’s really important?”
“Why didn’t you ever visit a doctor before this most recent blackout?”
Gabe rubbed the back of his hand where the feeding tube extended from. “To be honest, this whole thing just kinda snuck up on me…”
Someone from the Herald blurted out. “Didn’t you realize you could be putting your fellow officers and public at risk from these fainting spells?”
“I think that’s enough … we should end this now,” Williams announced.
Gabe Mitchell looked contrite as the cameras continued to snap away. These were the photos that would grace tomorrow’s front page and the evening newscasts. “If I ever thought that I was putting anyone at risk…”
“A little too late for that, isn’t it, Detective?” someone yelled from the middle of the crowd.
“Are you surprised that none of your colleagues appear to sympathize with your plight, Detective?” a reporter from one of the Latin stations asked. “The ones that we’ve interviewed think you acted irresponsibly for your lack of honesty with them. What do you have to say to these fellow officers?”
Williams shook his head for Gabe not to answer.
Gabe entire body seemed to sag. “They’re probably right…”
A rumble of stunned disbelief rolled through the audience. Williams, granite-eyed, tried to get Gabe to stop, while not wanting to appear like he was trying to hush up some kind of secret complicity.
“So you agree that you knowingly put your partner at risk?”
Gabe held on to the I.V. stand for support. “I should have had myself checked. It never crossed my mind…”
Williams stepped in front of his detective and waved his arms. “That’s all for now. Detective Gabe was considerate enough to come out here and answer your questions to the best of his ability. He needs his rest.”
As they turned to leave, the questions came at them like automatic gunfire.
“Are you planning on contacting Joanne Hansen’s husband? If so, what will you say to him?”
“What about your family, Detective?”
“Have you told your son yet? How is he handling all of this?”
“Does Detective Gabe know you’re relieving him of duty, Captain Williams?”
“What’s your opinion on Mayor Waxman’s acquittal, Captain?”
Williams guided Gabe back into room 683 and let the door slowly close behind them. “You shouldn’t have gone out there, Gabe.”
Bennett Chase pointed up at the television that was broadcasting a live picture from out in the hallway. “Well, I think that went just peachy,” he said, sarcastically.
Gabe sat down on the edge of his bed and let his slippers fall to the floor. “Yeah, I’m very charismatic, aren’t I?”
The old man lowered the volume from his bedside control. “Especially in the nifty gown with the slit up the ass! Rumor has it they want you for the cover of next month’s G.Q.!”
Standing at the foot of Gabe’s bed, Williams gestured over at the old man. “Who is this?”<
br />
Gabe obliged with a quick introduction. “Captain Williams—Bennett Chase. Bennett—my boss, Captain Leon Williams.”
Chase held up his hand, but Williams didn’t reciprocate. “We need to talk, Gabe … alone!”
Gabe arduously lifted his legs up onto the bed and propped himself up against the headboard. “There’s nothing that you can’t say in front of Bennett.”
Chase flipped off the television. “Nope. This is important stuff. I’ll just make myself scarce for a little while. Maybe those reporters will want to talk to the first person who spoke to you when you woke up!”
Gabe watched as the old man struggled to rise to his feet.
“Don’t say anything bad about me!”
Williams blocked Chase’s path to the door. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t speak to anyone out there, Mr. Chase.”
The old man shuffled forward in obvious discomfort. “Now, don’t get your knickers in a knot, Captain. I was only trying to lighten the mood. Gabe knows I wouldn’t say anything. You want all those reporters out of here? Just leave it to me!”
Gabe winked at his newfound friend. “You can trust him, Captain.”
Chase opened the door and stepped boldly out into the corridor. This was his shot at fifteen minutes of fame and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by. Through the doorway, Williams looked on as the old man was engulfed by the frenzied mob. Amazingly, though, as the door crept closed on all the tumult, the only voice he could differentiate was that of Bennett Chase yelling at the crowd…
“Hey, any of you people know where the supply room is? We’re out of T.P. in there, and I’ve got one helluva case of the trots…”
14
“Well, that was fun!” Williams sniped, pulling up a chair alongside Gabe’s bed and straddling it backward.
“I’m afraid this is only the beginning, Captain,” Gabe apologized, sighing as his shoulders sank in resignation. “I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”
