The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1

by Clayton Conrad

  “So you’re awake.” The nurse said, “No don’t try to talk just yet. You need your strength. You’ve been banged around pretty bad. I’ll go get the doctor and let him know you are with us again.”

  A few minutes later a doctor came into the room while another nurse was taking his blood pressure. “Glad to see you are awake. You gave us quite a scare, I don’t mind telling you. No don’t try to talk. I know you must have 1000 questions, but please try to relax and I’ll fill you in as much as I can. You’re in the hospital are safe here and are in good capable hands. A motorist found you lying on the side of the road and called 911. An ambulance was dispatched and…”

  “Doctor,” the nurse said, “he’s out again.”

  He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a hospital room somewhere. He noticed an IV and his arm, and as he tried to move a pain shot through his whole body. He’d laid back as the pain calmed down somewhat. The nurse came in and took his blood pressure, then the lab tech drew some blood from his arm was somebody was adjusting this and that and in general just being a bother, but all he wanted to do was sleep.

  It was dark out. When he opened his eyes again for the lights had been turned on in the hall outside of his room. The pain was even stronger than it was before and it was more than likely the pain that woke him up. A nurse came to stand beside his bed.

  “You’re in pain. I can see it in your eyes. I have a shot for you that will help. I’m nurse hops, Karen hops and I’ll be your nurse for the next 12 hours. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. You will feel sleepy and in a little bit, so just go with it. Right now your rest is very important. Yes sir, just as good as medicine.”

  After some hours, he opened his eyes again. There was a lab tech drawing more blood again, Karen Hops was taking his blood pressure. “How long have I been here?” he asked in a voice heavy with pain killers.

  “You’ve been here three days, in an out of consciousness, more or less. The doctor will be in shortly to answer all your questions and go over everything with you. I’m sure he can answer everything much better than I could. Are you hungry? I can see about getting you a tray from the kitchen. You haven’t eaten anything solid for three days.”

  “I’m ravenous.”

  “Well, that’s a good sign, then isn’t it means you’re on the mend.”

  Clayton closed his eyes and he was fast asleep.

  When he woke up again, the doctor had just entered the room. “Hi Mr. Crawford, do you remember me? I’m Dr. Kramer.”

  “I don’t think so Doc.”

  “Well no wonder you were pretty much out of it. The last time we talked. We kept you heavily sedated for three days to keep you down. It was very important, as you have a concussion and you need a complete rest. There was a little swelling on your brain, but the swelling has gone down nicely. You also have two cracked ribs and they will be quite painful for some time yet.”

  The doctor paused here a moment as he looked over Clayton’s chart before continuing.

  “So that’s it then?”

  “Not quite Mr. Crawford, you’re right kidney was badly damaged and heavily bruised and we don’t know if you we can save it. We will know more in another day or two. There’s still a lot of blood in your urine. Someone really did a number on you.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. My face feels tight and drawn together,” he said as he touched his left cheek. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized his face had a large cut over his cheek that had been stitched together.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “Your cheek had been badly cut, and we had to stitch it up. It looks bad now, but it will heal and the scar will fade in time. Also, you have a broken nose and several other various cuts and bruises, both of your eyes are swollen almost shut so if your vision is somewhat impaired, don’t be alarmed that to will pass.”

  Clayton sat back stoned for a moment, trying to process all this at once. “Well, no one can say you pull any punches, can they?”

  “It’s good you heard it first before you looked in the mere got the shock of your life? So now you are prepared. Just try to remember all this will pass and you will recover from this, I’m sure. Time is a good healer and believe me, with the beating you took, it could be much, much worse. So you’re not too bad at all.”

  “You mean for the condition I’m in,” Clayton said, and had to laugh at that. But then winced from the pain it caused to his cracked ribs and split lips.

  “You have a Detective Richards, who’s been waiting to see you for two days. Also, a whole list of other people who have been camped out in our lobby, waiting for news of you. You up to seeing any of them?”

  “Yeah, I guess I better see Richards, though there isn’t much I’ll be able to tell him.”

  “Okay and there is a young lady who threatened me with great bodily harm if I tried to keep her out of your room any longer.”

  “That has to be Rachel. I’m really not crazy about the idea of her seeing her like this, but she doesn’t easily take no for an answer.”

  “What in the world happened to you, you look like you’ve been hit by a train,” Richard said as he stepped into the room a few minutes later. Rachel, who was not far behind him, stopped at the door, only for an instant her face pale with shock at the site of Clayton’s battered and beaten face.

  “You look like shit, Mr,” she said after regaining her composure. “I can’t leave you alone or a minute without you getting into some kind of trouble. You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

  “Hardly,” Clayton answered through swollen lips. “I wouldn’t dare risk the wrath of Dink.”

  “And don’t you forget it Mr.” she replied.

  “Okay, okay.” Richards broke in. Then, turning to Rachel, “look Miss Downing, I am trying to get a statement from this guy and I promise you can have him the minute I finish, okay.”

  “That’s peachy keen with me detective. I’ll just sit over here in the corner and won’t say a word, you go right ahead and make believe I’m not even here.”

  “Good,” Richards said as he turned back to Clayton. “Now, maybe you can tell me what happened.”

  “What happened, I would think that was most obvious, I went and got the shit not kicked out of me.”

  “Well, are you going to tell me who did this to you? I already know that you have a way about you, pissing off the most even-tempered, but this is way over the top.”

  “I don’t know who did it. I really don’t. One of them was really big, 6 foot four, or 6 foot five. Built like a linebacker for the Rams. Black hair, 220 or 230. Big and burley, you know, but I never saw him before. The other one, I never got a good look at him.”

  Clayton related how the attack was made, and all he could remember, which wasn’t much. About that time nurse Hopps came into the room and ushered both visitors out. Her patient was tired and needed more rest. Rachel gave him a quick peck on his good cheek, said something gooey in his ear, and left with the detective.

  The pain meds were working fine, making him a little drowsy and he dozed off. But his sleep was troubled. He saw the burly man again, his features as clear as a bell. He saw the car that was blocking the road, he saw the make and model the color and everything but the plate number. He was bending over the man on the ground when all the sudden wham…. He woke with a start, cold sweat ran down his forehead. Someone was there with him, standing at the foot of the bed. At first he thought it was Rachel, but when she came into focus. After a drug-induced sleep, no! It was Barbara Wells, God.

  “What are you doing here?” He shouted.

  “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you.”

  “You said you had friends who could hurt me. Did you do this to me? You crazy bitch, you poisoned my dog and then had your friends pay me a little visit. Look at me. They almost killed me.” He was screaming at her now and she backed away, uncertain of what to do next.

  Hearing the commotion from Clayton’s room, the duty nurse came running and ran
smack dab into Barbara.

  “I didn’t do this, I swear I didn’t,” Barbara shouted over her shoulder as a Nurse took her by the arm and hurried her from the room.

  Clayton tried to get up, but the pain from his ribs was too great, and he fell back on his pillows, exhausted. Damn, he thought if I could only get my hands on her. I’d wring her scrawny neck. His ribs ached with an almost crippling pain. His back ached from being kicked repeatedly, and his head throbbed from a massive blinding headache. Despite the pain, he had to smile. He couldn’t even get out of bed to pace. So, how was he going to wring someone’s neck? The nurse returned shortly and gave him a shot for the pain and soon he was able to relax. He closed his eyes and he was out, fast asleep in Never-Neverland.

  Again came that same dream, just as clear as day. The man standing in the road waving his arms and shouting for him to stop. He saw himself getting out of his rental car and running over to aid the other man lying prostrate on the ground. Then nothing, only blackness and maybe faraway voices shouting at him. In bits and pieces of words coming through the blackness, “you jumped out, fool… the boss,” but they made no sense. Clayton tried to wake up as panic seemed to grip him, but the drugs kept him under. It seems someone was shaking him and far away came repeated blows to his face, his head, his sides and back then, more blackness. Was he dead? No! He woke with a start.

  Rachel was there, sitting by the side of his bed. At first he thought it was Barbara again, but then he recognized that crooked little smile and those sparkling eyes of hers. He reached out and took her hand.

  “Hi Dink. I guess you will just have to excuse the way I look. I promise it will get better.”

  She said nothing only leaned over and gently kissed this stitch cut on his swollen cheek, then a very light kiss on his cracked and split lips. She tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “I know,” he said, “I must look a mess.”

  She reached out and cupped both his hands in hers and the two just sat silent, saying nothing for a long time as no words were needed.

  “Barbara Wells was just here,” he finally managed.

  “No, that was hours ago early this morning. It’s now 7 PM.”

  “Time sure flies when you are having fun, huh Dink?”

  The nurse came through the door to take his vitals and adjust his IV. “The doctor ordered a morphine pump for you. I’m surprised it hadn’t been done sooner. But anyway, when you’re having pain, just press this little button on the end of the pump and a measured amount of morphine will go directly into your bloodstream. That will spare my shoes and my legs.” She joked.

  The next day, day number six spent in the hospital, Henry tapped lightly on the door frame and cleared his throat. When he saw Clayton for the first time, he was taken aback. “Jesus dude, you look like shit! What the hell happened to you?”

  “I got the shit kicked out of me good and proper. What does it look like, anyway?”

  “I’m really sorry dude. I didn’t mean anything by that, just I didn’t know what else to say. It’s quite a shock. You know.”

  “Yeah, I know, Henry, and it’s okay. I understand perfectly. So how have you been anyway, what’s happening?”

  “Oh, this and that. Not much of anything really. Just same old same old. You know. Went up to Detroit, took Buck with me and we had a real good time. Buck is always good company.”

  “Yeah, I miss him all the time. How is he anyway?”

  “Fat and sassy. He’s eating good and getting plenty of exercise and sleeping anywhere he pleases, including my bed. If you can imagine.”

  Clayton couldn’t help but laugh. But then winced from the pain it caused.

  In the days that followed Clayton’s room filled with cards and flowers, so much so that Clayton had the nurse start taking them to other rooms, just leaving the cards. Frank was there almost every day, Mark Downing stop by from time to time to make sure Clayton had everything he needed that he was being well cared for. A private room and the best the hospital could provide.

  Mama Rhodes stopped by to tell him how her struggle with Downing Land Development Company was progressing.

  “I called major newspapers and told them what was going on and they jumped at the story. They came out and took pictures and everything. They interviewed several people and ran a complete story on the third page of their papers. That was two days ago and they’re trying to get an interview with Mr. Downing, but so far all he says is no comment.”

  Michael Lansing called from California and told him that he was handling the audit, which is now in its second day that everything was looking good. “It looks like Holt just disappeared, leaving everything like it should be. That’s the good news,” Michael continued. “Now the bad news is that everybody is suddenly smoozing all the board of trustees to see who they will pick to take his place.”

  He woke the next morning with the lab tech drawing more blood. Then they took him for more x-rays been back to his room and breakfast. His parents had been on a trip to Europe and Africa. They come rushing back as soon as they heard. His sister Megan was in California, a single mom who was trying to raise two girls alone and couldn’t get away. His brother Bradley was in drug rehab somewhere in Arizona.

  Clayton was glad to see his folks, but didn’t tell them much, just that he was beaten and robbed. He didn’t go into any details about his own investigation into Michelle’s death and told them that they may as well return to California. He was on the mend, but it would still be some time before he was released from the hospital and there was nothing further to be accomplished by them being there. Besides Megan and the girls could use them more than he could.

  Richards visited that afternoon to see if there was anything else he could remember about the assault.

  “Did you talk to Barbara Wells?” Clayton asked.

  “Yeah, she claims she knows nothing about it and has an ironclad alibi for the time of the assault.”

  “Well, I know there were two men, but hell, she could have hired them. Oh yes, now that I think of it and before I forget to mention it. They were driving a late model Ford Taurus, dark blue, I think dark blue or black.”

  “Well that’s something. Anyway, better than nothing. I suppose. Like I said, I spoke to Barbara Wells, though she is more than a little strange. I doubt she has the connections to be behind this thing. She is as clean as a newborn babe. Not so much as a parking ticket. She’s been in and out of mental hospitals, but I couldn’t find out what for. That information is stored like Fort Knox. Patient-doctor privaledge, then you know. I did find out that she was adopted. Both her parents were killed in a house fire when she was five or so. Adopted the next year to Mr. and Mrs. Justin Wells. But like I say, she’s as clean as a newborn baby, nothing on her at all.”

  “Okay I guess. But I still think she has a loose screw somewhere. I mean you should have seen her at that restaurant. A real wild one. And there’s something else that has been bothering me, but I haven’t worked it out yet.”

  “What’s that,” Richards asked as he paused at the door.

  “Well it’s more than likely nothing.”

  “All right, enough with the games. What are you talking about? I mean it’s not like I got all day, you know.”

  “It’s just that, well, I’ve been making some phone calls and talking to people about Michelle. You know, from that party list and suddenly I end up in the hospital.”

  “There’s that damn list again. I think your imagination is working overtime. To think that a highly respected United States Senator would be mixed up in anything as sordid as this. You must have taken one blow to the head too many kid, get over it will you.”

  After Richards lab that thought kept nagging at Clayton. He was sure Howard knew something and was keeping something away from him, but for the life of him. He couldn’t figure out what. But it was enough to speak his interest. He got on the phone and called Henry.

  “I need a good priva
te detective, Henry. One that can keep his mouth shut and isn’t afraid to take a chance. One that can think and chew gum at the same time. Someone who isn’t afraid to step on a few toes.”

  “Funny you should ask. I know just the man. His name is Ralph Short, yada. Everyone calls him Shorty or Shortstop. He’s an ex-con and some kind of trouble on the force, or he resigned. I forget which. Anyway, he’s your man. I’ll let him know you want to see him okay?”

  “Yeah, and thanks a bundle, send him by the first chance.”

  “You got it dude. Say, when are you going to bust out of that place anyway?”