by Shawn Grady
“Wait.”
The elongated tone continued.
Still flatline.
He clicked the blade in place. “Let’s start CPR.”
It beeped.
And again. In growing succession, like soldiers cresting a hilltop, they flicked on the screen.
Mrs. Straversky drew a deep breath.
Bones reached for her wrist. “I’ve got radials with that.”
I checked the monitor. Eighty beats a minute. Then ninety. One-ten. Slow down, slow down. One-forty. One-seventy. Back to one-ninety.
The fire crew walked in soot streaked and smelling like smoke. The captain said they’d just cleared from a house fire. I asked them for another blood pressure while Bones explained to Mrs. Straversky that he needed to stick the two large defibrillation patches to her chest.
Her eyebrows knitted, her face morbidly pale.
A firefighter reported back on the blood pressure. “Fifty-four over thirty.”
Her eyelids drooped and her jaw went slack. I shook her shoulder. “Mrs. Straversky? Mrs. Straversky?”
I switched the monitor settings for a shock that would synchronize with her rapid rhythm. “Charging to one hundred joules. I’m clear. Everyone clear?”
The firemen backed away with hands in the air. I put my thumb over the shock button, the red light passing through the nail bed. “Shocking at one hundred.”
Her body jerked and relaxed on the bed.
I listened to the long somber tone of asystole.
I would breathe when she did.
It beeped.
And again.
In regular, marched-out succession, leveling at a beautiful rate of eighty beats per minute.
Color returned to her cheeks. She opened her eyes. “What happened? I have got a horrible headache.”
Bones smiled. “We’ll take a headache any day, ma’am.”
On the ride to County Hospital she was talkative though tired. Her tennis friend rode in the front seat with Bones. I sat on the bench seat beside her, jostling with the motion of the rig, jotting down info on her chart.
She brought a hand to my forearm. “Thank you for coming to my house so quickly.”
Quickly? “Did it . . . seem fast to you?”
“Oh yes. Compared to the other times.”
“Other times were longer?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to call you handsome young men. Aprisa has been to my house before. Though I do live a ways up in the hills.”
“But the ambulances, they didn’t arrive faster the other times?”
She shook her head. “Oh no. I was fortunate that you boys were closer this time.”
I patted her hand, got up, and sat in the captain’s chair behind the gurney. “Mrs. Straversky, I’m going to call the hospital and let them know we’re coming in.”
“Thank you, dear.”
I lifted the black phone from the wall and requested a patch to County’s ER.
Mrs. Straversky would be all right. Our training, our tools – they did what they were designed to do. But had it taken us any longer to get there . . .
There was a reason the first ambulances looked like hearses.
CHAPTER 14
Bones swooned. “Has there ever been a sweeter voice to grace the VHF band?”
It was no secret that he was infatuated with the sultry-voiced new swing-shift dispatcher. She melted his butter like nothing else. If he were a Warner Brothers cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest, eyes star-crossed, with songbirds flitting about his head.
“Here she is, here she is.” He pointed at the radio console as if it held her very essence.
“Ten-four, Medic Two. Post Rock and Victorian.”
“Did you hear that?”
I looked at him sideways and dropped the transmission in gear. “Yeah. She said go to your post.”
“It’s not what she said.” Bones tilted his head back against the seat rest. “It’s how she said it.”
The radio chirped. “Medic Two, did you copy?”
Bones took a deep breath.
I turned east onto Mill Street. “You going to answer that?”
He stared at the radio.
“Medic Two. Do you copy?”
Bones picked up the mic and cleared his throat. He spoke in an unnaturally deep tone. “Affirmative, dispatch. Medic Two copies. Thank you.”
He held the mic over its dash clip. There was no response. His eyebrows angled and he said to me, “Maybe the thank-you was too over-the-top?”
The radio chirped. “Ten-four, Medic Two. My pleasure.”
Bones exhaled and smiled. “Did you hear that?”
I stopped at a light and scratched my head.
He hooked the mic on the center console. “Wow . . . ‘My pleasure.’ Man.” He pulled a foil-covered sandwich from the cooler at his feet.
“You are so gone for her.” My cell phone vibrated. “Hello?”
“Hi, Jonathan.” Dr. Eli’s voice.
“Hey, Doc.”
“I’ve been doing some background on our two deaths.”
“Yeah?”
“Simon Letell has no surviving relatives. And as far as I can tell, no friends either. It’s as though Dr. Martin was the last connection he had on the planet.”
“How convenient.”
“Exactly. It would seem, on the surface, that whatever secret Letell held has been effectively cast into the grave.”
Bones pointed, mouth full. “Light’s green.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s that?” Dr. Eli said.
“Oh, nothing. I’m in the ambulance right now.”
“Ah. Tell Thaddeus I said hello.”
“I’ll make sure to. Hey, Thaddeus.”
Bones glowered at me.
“Dr. Eli says hello.” I smiled and switched the phone to my other ear. “What about Martin? Was he married?”
“Yes. I was just about to get to that. His wife may be the best connection we have. She’s in old Sparks, off of Stanford Way.”
“Perfect. We’re headed that way right now. Can you text me the house number?”
“Ooh . . . umm. Okay. Yeah, I think I can do that. Let me know if it doesn’t come over.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“No problem. And I have that autopsy on Martin coming up too. Perhaps that will shed some light on the situation. Take care, Jonathan.”
Bones radioed dispatch to put us in the area of Rock and Victorian. Dr. Eli’s text came through. The address was a bit outside of the one-mile radius of our post area.
I winced and looked at Bones. “Think you can ask dispatch for another favor?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Come on now. Just because Jessica Rabbit is at the console – ”
“We don’t really have a good excuse this time. Besides, it would look like I’m just making up a reason to talk to her.”
I sat back. It was too much for me to accept Martin’s death as a coincidence. Something was going on, and I couldn’t shake the sense that time was of the utmost.
“We need to get over there.”
“No way. Our GPS signal will rat us out.”
“This can’t wait.” I glanced out the window. “So what, then? How’re we going to do it?”
Bones stared at the foil wrap around his sandwich. “There is one thing.” He stripped off the aluminum and grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
I stood guard by the back of the ambulance. We sat parked on Prater Boulevard. Two cars zipped by. “Okay, you’re clear.”
I gave Bones a boost and he clambered atop the box, aluminum foil in hand.
“How do you know which antenna to cover?”
He crawled forward. “I think the GPS is the big one in the middle.”
“You think?” The light changed at the intersection two blocks away. “Hurry up. Here comes another round of cars.”
“How long?”
&n
bsp; “Ten seconds.”
“That’s not enough time.”
“Hit the deck.”
Bones dropped to his belly. I stood on the sidewalk with a hand on the ambulance, trying to look casual. The last car passed.
“You’re clear.”
“You think anyone saw me?”
“I think everyone saw you.”
“Anyone of consequence?”
I thought about it. “Hopefully not. Hurry up.”
“Okay. That should do it.” He dangled his legs off the back of the ambulance.
I threaded my fingers and placed them under his boot. “I can’t believe I’m touching the soles of your shoes with my bare hands.”
“If you only knew where these feet have trod.”
“I do know. That’s the worst part.”
He dropped to the street, the entire front of his uniform covered in dust.
I nodded. “Guess the roofs don’t get washed much.”
He brushed off. “We’ve probably got fifteen or twenty minutes before dispatch realizes there isn’t really a problem with the GPS system.”
I opened the back door and pumped disinfectant gel on my hands. “All right, then. Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 15
I parked curbside in front of a single-story stucco home, a sprinkler moved streams in a slow arc over a small lawn. I clipped my radio on my belt and walked up the front path. Bones trailed behind, hands in pockets. Standing to the side of the door, I gave a couple raps with my knuckles. A long-haired gray cat appeared on the windowsill beside the door.
I tapped the window. “Hey, kitty.”
It hissed and let loose a high-pitched growl.
A bolt shifted inside, and an older woman opened the door and slid off a chain. She wore a long black dress that matched the color of the dark streaks interspersed through her silver hair. “Can I help you?”
The purpose of the black and the realization that she had only recently learned of her husband’s death hit me. I’d been so focused on finding answers that I hadn’t even taken her circumstances and feelings into consideration.
“Is there an emergency, gentlemen?”
“So sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Martin?”
“Yes, I am.”
“We . . .” How did I put a professional spin on the real reason we were there?
I knew it was a stretch, but I went with, “We’re here to offer our sincerest regrets and to follow up with you about your recently departed husband. We were the paramedics who responded to the 9-1-1 call for him.”
She glanced back at Bones. He gave an acknowledging smile. She lifted her chin. I was sure she would send us on our way.
“Come in, gentlemen, please.”
Sunlight pouring through a large front window lit her living room. Brass lamps with dangling crystals sat on coffee tables bordered by fine-quality cream-colored couches. She sat in a chair perched on ornate wooden feet.
She waved at the couch. “Have a seat, please.” The tabby trotted over and hopped on her lap. She stroked the fur between its ears as it glared at me.
Bones stood behind the couch. I unclipped the radio from my belt and leaned forward. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“So you said, young man.”
I swallowed. “Mr. Martin, he was – ”
“Dr. Martin.”
“Yes. My bad. Dr. Martin.”
“Your what?”
“My . . . mistake.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
“Dr. Martin . . . did he know a man named Simon Letell?”
Her face lightened. “Oh yes. Simon. We had him over for dinner a couple months ago.”
“So he and Dr. Martin were friends.”
“Oh yes. Old friends. I still need to contact him about Richard’s passing. But I can’t find his number. Is he . . . I hope everything is okay.”
“I’m so sorry to tell you this, but Simon Letell is dead too. He died the day before your husband.”
Mrs. Martin turned her head, touching fingers to her lips.
I unfolded Letell’s note. “Before he died, he handed me this paper. He said, ‘Give this to Martin.’ ” I stood and offered it to her. “Do these markings make any sense to you?”
A perplexed look came across her brow. “No. I . . . Are you sure it was him? Did he still live in that house off of Apollyon Way?”
Fitting street name. “No. No, I don’t believe so. He’d been living in a motel downtown. It was Simon Letell, though.”
She stroked the tabby harder between the ears. It lowered its little pentagonal demon head in rhythm, squinting at me and flipping its tail. “They were working on something.”
I caught Bones’s glance. He raised his eyebrows.
“They had this game,” she said. “It started when they were in graduate school together. Little math games. Puzzles. They’d look for patterns in chemical formulas and create ways of encoding them. One was always trying to outdo the other, see if he could make a code the other couldn’t break. It stopped a little after Richard started his doctorate.”
“Letell couldn’t keep up anymore?”
“Yes, I suppose. Simon is, was, very bright, though. I thought they’d just grown out of it.”
“Had they started working on something new?”
“Yes. It reminded me of their little puzzles. But they worked together on this.”
A grandfather clock gonged in the hallway. Bones checked his watch.
“Do you know why Letell – why Simon didn’t go on to get his doctorate?”
“Oh, that was his plan. But his poor mother. She became ill and suffered a stroke. It left her weak on her whole left side.”
“Did he go to care for her?”
“Simon brought her to live with him. He worked nights in a lab and cared for her during the day. He tried for years to take doctoral classes, one at a time.” Her eyes trailed off. “He became reclusive. Never married. We lost contact. Stopped seeing him for years. Then about a year ago he and Richard reconnected. His mother had suffered some sort of heart failure and passed away. ”
Bones cleared his throat.
I glanced at the clock. “What exactly were they working on?”
She looked at the floor and shook her head. “We’d have him over for dinner. I think he liked the companionship. They’d go down to the basement, play pool, and . . .”
“And?”
“And talk.”
“About . . . ?”
“That’s it. I didn’t really pay attention. I thought it was just two old friends meeting up again.”
“They had to have said something. What led you to believe they were working on something?”
“I don’t know. . . .” She took a deep breath. “I do remember Richard being distressed and speaking with a cynical tone about some kind of corruption.” She studied the carpet. “Something that they couldn’t yet pinpoint, that needed to be ferreted out.”
A male dispatcher’s voice came over the radio. “Medic Two, Aprisa.”
“Corruption where?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. They were very cryptic. Whatever they’d found, they were being very careful that no one knew they had come upon it. I should have paid closer attention. I just . . . Like I said, I just chalked it up – ”
“That’s okay. It’s all right. You don’t need to blame yourself for anything.”
“Medic Two, do you copy?”
Bones walked out the front door. “Aprisa, this is Medic Two. Go ahead.”
I stood. “Thank you so much. We can only imagine how difficult this time must be for you.”
“Medic Two, are you currently in your rig?”
I heard Bones’s voice over the radio. “That’s negative, Aprisa.”
Mrs. Martin released the cat and rose from her chair with effort.
I clipped the radio back on my belt.
“Copy, Medic Two. We’re having trouble with your GPS signal. What’
s your location?”
I turned to leave.
Mrs. Martin caught my hand. “Thank you, boys, for trying to save my Richard.”
Her fingers were cold but smooth. I looked into her hazel eyes. “Take care, Mrs. Martin.”
“Let me walk you to the door.”
“Of course.”
My radio again. “Medic Two? Aprisa.”
At the entryway she waved and smiled.
I waved and jogged down the walkway to meet up with Bones. He climbed in the passenger side of the ambulance, holding up his radio. “Aprisa, we’re in the area of Rock and Victorian post.”
“Copy,” dispatch said. “I’m sending out a supervisor with a mechanic to take a look at your rig.”
I jumped behind the wheel and turned the ignition.
“Medic Two copy.” Bones glanced at me. “ ’Bout what time would you say we should expect them?”
I swung the box around.
The sultry-voiced dispatcher came on. “Medic Two, stand by for a landline.”
“Copy.”
I plodded through the residential neighborhood, eager to turn onto Prater and speed up. The rig cell phone rang.
Bones flipped it open. “Medic Two.” He listened. His eyebrows relaxed and his face took on the appearance of a little boy gazing at his favorite toy through a window display. “Okay. Okay. Yes . . . Yeah. Okay, thanks. You too.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling.
“What’s going on?” I said.
No response.
“Hey, Danny Zuko. What’d she say?”
“What? Oh. She said they left ten minutes ago.”
Ten minutes.
“Bones, we’ve got to be there now.”
CHAPTER 16
The supervisor would be at Rock and Victorian post any moment. We’d be fired for tampering with the GPS. Not to mention for traveling out of our post area.
I traced my finger over the emergency light-bar switch.
No, no, Jonathan.
I made the turn onto Prater and laid into the accelerator. Bones stared out the window in reverie.
I shook my head. “You are so of no use to me right now.”
I hung a left at Rock and barreled toward Victorian. In the distance I could see our post building. Still no supervisor vehicle. I let out a relieved breath.
We stopped at the light at the intersection of Rock and Victorian. The Aprisa supervisor’s SUV approached on Rock from the south. From the angle we were at, they likely wouldn’t see us. But I didn’t have time to park in front of the post. The light changed and I made a quick right into the gas station on the corner and parked along the curb by the air pumps.
