The Perfect Game

by Leslie Dana Kirby

  Jake sighed. His inability to speak spoke volumes.

  Anxious to break the uncomfortable silence, Lauren said, “You pitched a great game yesterday. Roger Smithson looked shocked when that last pitch broke into the strike zone at the last moment.”

  Jake chuckled a bit and the awkward moment passed. “You saw the game? Did you see how much grief Smithie gave the umpire for calling it a strike?”

  “Yeah, but he knew it was a strike. When the reporters asked him about it after the game, he could barely conceal a smile.”

  Jake laughed again. “Who knew baseball required so many acting skills? Did you see Molten pretend to get hit by a pitch?”

  “No, I missed that part. What happened?”

  “He put on a huge show. Shaking his hand and cursing up a blue streak. The ump gave him a base. But on the slow-motion playback, the ball clearly hit the bat, not his hand.”

  “When you’re ready to retire from baseball, I guess you’ll be ready for primetime.”

  “So, how about you, Lauren?” Jake asked. “Didn’t you go back to work, too?”

  “Yesterday. The chief of staff offered to let me defer my residency by a year.”

  “That sounds good. You should take them up on it. Take some time off to…” Jake paused to find the right word, “…unwind.”

  “No way,” she said. “Sitting around waiting for the detectives to call would land me in the funny farm in no time. Work is a welcome relief. Sure, it is relentless and challenging, but it also keeps me so busy that I don’t have time to dwell on Liz until my shift ends. And the other interns have been amazing to me. I’ve only known them for a month, but they already have my back.”

  “I know what you mean.” Jake said. “Most of the time, I can’t stop thinking about Liz, but when I’m on the mound, it’s just me and the batter. And the other players are like my brothers. Something like this makes you appreciate your real friends, you know?”

  “Absolutely. Have you heard anything from the detectives?”

  “Nothing of interest,” he lamented. “I call those guys at least once a day. They tell me they’re making progress, but they don’t provide any specifics.”

  “Same here,” Lauren said. “They always take my call, but they never tell me anything. I know nothing more than I did on day one.”

  “Those yahoos don’t know what they’re doing. I’ve gone back in there to talk to them a couple more times and they keep repeating the same questions. They’re wasting their time on me instead of following up other leads.”

  “Wasting their time on us,” Lauren said. “They called me back in for a second interview, too.”

  “They did?”

  “And asked all the same questions again. Does that mean they don’t believe me?”

  Lauren was interrupted by Dr. Stone. “Med flight is en route. Child submerged in a backyard pool for three minutes. Sometimes young ones bounce back in surprising ways. Come up to the helipad with me?”

  Lauren nodded, and wrapped up the phone conversation as she followed Stone up the back staircase. “Jake, duty calls. Can I call you back later? Are you still in Houston?”

  “Yep, we play the Astros again tomorrow. We’ll be flying home tomorrow night. I have Sunday off, so I was hoping we might be able to get together then.”

  “I already promised Rose-ma I’d go to mass with her.”

  “Perfect. Why don’t we all go together and go eat afterwards? We have a great brunch at our country club.”

  Lauren was touched by Jake’s effort to look after her, recognizing the void that Liz’s death had created in her life. “Sounds like a deal, pickle.”

  “You Rose girls and your weird expressions,” Jake laughed. “Liz used to say that, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  (Sunday, July 31)

  Approaching her grandmother’s apartment on Sunday morning, Lauren could hear Jake’s infectious chuckle and Rose-ma’s giggle. When Rose-ma let her in, Jake was holding a delicate floral teacup in his huge hands. “Don’t forget to curl your pinky finger,” she teased. Jake curled his large pinky compliantly.

  “I was just telling Jake about the time Liz got stuck in the mud,” Rose-ma said.

  Lauren smiled at the image that came to mind. “She screamed so loud we thought she was being attacked by wild animals. My dad grabbed her and she came right out of her bright red boots.”

  Jake smiled, “Liz had a flair for the dramatic.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Lauren said. “During a genealogy project in fourth grade, Liz told her teacher she was half-vampire on her mother’s side.”

  Rose-ma hooted, “Well, that would explain why you girls never got enough sleep. Liz did have a tendency to embellish things.”

  “One of the things I loved most about Liz was her ability to tell a good story,” Jake said. “She could turn a routine trip to the grocery store into an epic comic adventure.”

  “Everybody used to think I was so quiet,” Lauren said. “What they didn’t realize was growing up with Liz made it hard to get a word in edgewise.” They all laughed.

  “Sit down and have a bite of breakfast with us before mass, dear?” Rose-ma said.

  “I thought we were going to brunch afterwards,” Lauren said.

  “Yes, but you shouldn’t go to church on an empty stomach. You’ll be so weary, you’ll fall on your face,” Rose-ma persisted. If Liz had been here, she and Lauren would have shared knowing glances. Her grandmother had a reputation for force-feeding people.

  Jake caught Lauren’s eye and flashed a perceptive grin. “Yeah, come have breakfast with us.” Jake had a grapefruit on a dish in front of him.

  “I’d love some toast,” Lauren said.

  “Are you sure you don’t want the other half of my grapefruit?” Jake’s smile was sly.

  “I couldn’t take food out of your mouth.”

  After placating Rose-ma by eating a few bites, they headed off to church. Jake’s convertible was a two-seater, so he had brought Liz’s sedan. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat when she saw the champagne-colored Lexus. The car was so inexorably linked in her mind with Liz that Lauren half-expected to see Liz behind the wheel. As they climbed in, Lauren caught a fleeting whiff of Liz’s favorite perfume. Grief smothered her like a heavy blanket.

  Jake dropped Rose-ma and Lauren off near the church door so Rose-ma would not have to walk in the heat. Several of the other parishioners stopped to offer condolences, well-intentioned expressions of sympathy that served as painful reminders of their loss. Rose-ma and Lauren slipped into a pew and took their seats. Several minutes later, Jake entered, surrounded by a huddle of buzzing people. He signed autographs, took pictures with strangers, and even held somebody’s baby for a photograph. The crowd finally diminished as the services started and Jake slid into the seat next to Lauren.

  Their return to the car after the service was similarly impeded by a crush of people anxious to meet the famous baseball pitcher. It took almost thirty-five minutes to make the short trek to the car in the parking lot. Jake cheerfully accommodated every autograph request.

  Brunch at Jake’s upscale country club was subdued by comparison.

  “People here don’t pester you for autographs?” Lauren asked.

  “Nah. This is my parents’ club, so most these folks have known me since I was a snotty-nosed little boy. Besides, this crowd considers it beneath them to ask for a common autograph. They’d rather pay extravagant prices for an autographed ball from some charity auction so they can write it off on their taxes.”

  The brunch menu offered tempting choices such as crepes, Bourbon-dipped French toast, and truffled Kennebec potatoes.

  “Order whatever your heart’s desire,” Jake offered. “My treat.”

  “I’m going to have eggs Benedict,” Lauren decided. “I’m sure my heart does
n’t desire that, but my stomach sure does.”

  Lauren and Jake exchanged knowing smiles when Rose-ma ordered an egg-white omelet with a side of grapefruit.

  “I’m going to bust my training diet for this meal,” Jake announced before ordering the breakfast sampler of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. The waiter served complimentary mimosas.

  “Have you seen all of the crazy tabloid stories about me and Liz?” Jake asked after the waiter was out of earshot.

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “The stories get more far-fetched every day. Apparently Liz had a stalker, you’re gay, Liz was really a man. Should I go on?”

  “Don’t forget that I supposedly have ’roid rage. And my personal favorite is that Liz and I were swingers,” he laughed. “I don’t seem to remember any of it.”

  “Your amnesia will probably be tomorrow’s headline.”

  Jake looked around the room. “Shhhh,” he said theatrically, “the walls have ears.”

  “I love how the articles always reference anonymous sources close to the Wakefields. Who are these sources with their outrageous theories?”

  “A bunch of money-grubbing, attention-seeking crazies,” Jake said.

  “You think they get paid for those stories?” Lauren asked.

  “I know they do. Most of those trashy rags will pay anything for some good dirt, even if it’s not true. And you’d be surprised how many people feel like they know me because I took a quick photo with them. I love my fans, but they can get pretty scary.”

  “Speaking of fans, how about those Dodgers?” Lauren teased Jake.

  The conversation turned to baseball. Lauren had been a die-hard fan of professional baseball since she was young, when her father used to take her to games at Dodger stadium. Ironically, Liz had never shown any interest in baseball.

  “I think Mikelski’s a better shortstop than Barlow was,” Lauren commented on the Diamondbacks’ recent mid-season change.

  Jake paused to consider this, “Just between you and me, I agree. But if Barlow ever asked me, I’d deny it to my death.”

  Lauren was disappointed to see the bill arrive. She had never realized how much she enjoyed Jake’s company.

  Chapter Nine

  (Friday, August 5)

  Lauren was removing a piece of metal from a patient’s eye. The sliver looked like a toothpick under the magnification of the scope she was using, but to the naked eye, it was the size of an eyelash.

  “There’s your suspect,” Lauren told the relieved man after removing it.

  “That’s it? It felt like barbed wire,”

  “Things in your eye always do,” Lauren said. “Next time you decide to do home improvement with a power tool, I recommend…”

  “That I keep my eyes closed?”

  “That you wear safety goggles.” The patient thanked her and she headed out, looking forward to getting some food. She ran into Stone in the hallway.

  “Jake Wakefield is here to see you,” Stone told her excitedly. Stone must follow baseball.

  Lauren rushed out to the waiting area, which was nearly empty for once. “Jake, is there news about the investigation?”

  “Unfortunately no. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check in on you. I haven’t seen you in awhile. Do you have a minute?”

  “Your timing is good. I was just going to grab some lunch. Are you hungry? The hospital cafeteria offers five-star fine dining.”

  He laughed. “I can’t pass up an offer like that.”

  They made small talk as they proceeded down the cafeteria line and picked out their food: pizza and Diet Coke for her, grilled chicken and apple juice for him. They took seats at a small table in the back corner.

  “Have you heard anything from the detectives?” she asked.

  “Crickets.”

  “I should’ve guessed,” she said. “I call every day. Whenever I get Wallace, he says, ‘These things take time.’ If it’s Boyd, I get ‘we’re making excellent progress.’ Are those guys even on the same team?”

  “No kidding. Are they even in the same league?”

  “Do they even play the same sport?” They both laughed, Jake attracting admiring glances from other diners.

  “How’s your job going?” Jake asked.

  “Frustrating. Rewarding. Crazy. The usual. We had a guy come in yesterday complaining of breathing problems. We ran some scans and discovered a growth in his lung.”

  “Cancer?”

  “That’s what I thought, too, but get this…it was a strawberry plant.”

  Jake choked on his juice. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. He somehow had inhaled a strawberry seed. It got embedded in his lung lining, which was moist and warm enough for it to sprout.”

  “Did you have to operate with pruning shears?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Wakefield.” A young boy was approaching their table. “May I have your autograph?” He held out a paper napkin and a blue crayon.

  “Of course you can, but not in Dodger colors,” Jake smiled. He pulled out a wallet-sized photograph of himself in uniform and a red pen. “What’s your name?”

  Jake personalized the photo and chatted with the boy about his Little League team where young Mitchell played shortstop. He sprinted back to a nearby table to show the signed photo to his beaming mother.

  “Wow. You always travel with photos?”

  “I’ve learned to. It saves me from having to sign disgusting napkins or, worse, body parts. Always be prepared. I was a Boy Scout, you know.” He held up two fingers in the scout pledge.

  “I’m sure you were.” Sitting in the cafeteria, she was reminded of something. “Jake, I don’t mean to pry, but was Liz pregnant?”

  “What? No. Where’d you get that? The National Enquirer?”

  She shook her head. “Just another rumor.” As she polished off her pizza, she said, “I guess I should get back to work. And we better get you out of here so I don’t have to spend the rest of the afternoon treating multiple victims trampled in a quest for your autograph.”

  The hospital corridors resembled a maze so she showed him back to the ER waiting room. “Thank you so much for checking on me.”

  He hugged her tight. “Liz worried about you being alone if anything ever happened to her and I swore I wouldn’t let that happen. It was a promise that I hoped never to have to act on, but now I plan to keep it. Call me if you need anything. I’ll see you soon.”

  Lauren did feel less alone in the world as she watched him walk away.

  Chapter Ten

  (Friday, August 12)

  Nearly three weeks after Liz’s murder, Lauren finally received a call from the police.

  “Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?” Detective Wallace asked.

  All of the frustration that had been simmering below the surface boiled over. “Why are you wasting your time investigating me? You have some crazed murderer running around the streets, waiting to strike again. And your grand plan after three weeks of ‘tireless investigation’ is to give me a lie detector test? Me, who was waist-deep in ER cases that night at a hospital fifteen miles away, with a dozen witnesses to account for my whereabouts? Me, whose only friend in this entire city was Liz? Me, who had no motive whatsoever to kill her? A polygraph test, which any Psych 101 student could tell you is not even admissible in court? If I’m your best suspect and a polygraph is your best investigative tool, you have a fucking problem!”

  “Okay, I’ll note that you refused the polygraph,” Wallace said coldly.

  “Wait a minute. I didn’t say I wouldn’t take…” but Lauren was talking to dead air. Wallace had already hung up.

  Lauren was dialing Wallace back to inform him that she would take the lie detector test when she received an urgent page. I’ll let him cool d
own and call him back later, she decided as she sprinted to trauma Bay Three.

  Lauren spent the next hour pumping a fifth of vodka out of the stomach of a teenager. Afterward, Ritesh caught up with her in the hallway. “Your order has arrived.”

  “What order?”

  “Tall, dark, and handsome.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. I wouldn’t get between me and the Diet Coke machine if I were you,” she said.

  “You must secretly find me attractive,” Ritesh said, “because you immediately assume I am referring to myself, but there’s a cop here to see you. He’s down by the nurses’ station.”

  Lauren recognized Detective Boyd from a distance. She invited him into the doctors’ lounge, which was empty. Despite all the jokes about golfing, ER doctors didn’t have much time to lounge.

  “Lauren, did you really refuse to take the polygraph?”

  Feeling defensive and guilty at the same time, Lauren responded, “No, that’s not what I said. Or at least that’s not what I meant. Of course I’ll take the polygraph, even though I don’t believe in them. They’re based on physiological measurements that can be affected by so many extraneous variables, like anxiety or medications or feeling guilty about something else. But I’ll happily take it if it will help get the investigation going.”

  Detective Boyd let out a long sigh. His aqua eyes focused on her green ones. “I know this must be frustrating for you, especially since we can’t tell you much. But you have to believe me when I tell you that this investigation remains in full-gear. One great thing about all the media coverage is that the brass responds to that type of pressure. We will solve this case. It’s only a matter of time. Don’t overthink this polygraph request. It just allows us to check you off the suspect list.”

  “But why me? Any more time you spend looking at me is time wasted.”

  Detective Boyd paused for a moment. “So, did you really take Wallace to task about the reliability of polygraphs?”

  “I didn’t mean to. He caught me off guard and—”

  Lauren was interrupted by Detective Boyd’s laughter. He began shaking at the waist and his eyes teared up, accentuating their vivid color. He was laughing so hard that she was having trouble understanding what was saying. “What I wouldn’t have given to see the expression on his face when you told him that even intro psych students know that lie detector tests aren’t admissible. Classic!”