Angel of Mercy

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Could be.”

  Nolan stared and then gave Frankie that corner-lip smile again.

  “All right. Go visit with the senoir citizens. See how retired people live. Get some pointers.” His smile faded. “But don’t so much as tug too hard on a stuck door, you hear. I don’t want you setting up this department for some kind of lawsuit.”

  “What?”

  “Go on. Tie up your loose ends.” Nolan waved at the door.

  Frankie rose slowly, his heart pounding, his blood pressure surely sky high. That shortness of breath came over him, but he turned quickly so Nolan wouldn’t see him gasp. He hurried out of the office and went directly to his desk, where he sat down, turned his back to Nolan’s office, and counted to ten. Gradually, his heartbeat slowed.

  When he felt relaxed enough so that his voice wouldn’t reveal the knots tied inside him, he dialed his home.

  “Just checking in, Mommy, like you told me,” he said when Jennie answered.

  “Very funny, Frankie. What happened?”

  “You’ll be happy to know Herr Nolan and I discussed my upcoming retirement,” he said. It wasn’t a lie.

  “Upcoming?”

  “Well, I can lollygag about and clean up my desk, gossip with the boys.”

  “You mean give some of the younger ones advice, ride along with them …”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “Frankie.”

  “I swear. I’m not going on any investigations with anyone. You’ve got my word on it, Jen. I can sit around here just as easily as sit around at home, right?”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “You just can’t get used to the new me,” he kidded.

  “Will you be coming home for lunch?” she asked in a dry voice.

  “Probably.”

  “But not absolutely. There’s nothing new about you yet, Frankie Samuels.”

  “I’ll be all right, Jen,” he said firmly.

  “Don’t forget Stevie and Laurel are driving down for dinner. They’ll be here early,” she warned.

  “Got the message,” he said.

  After he hung up, he took a deep breath. Then he got up quickly and left like a little boy who had been given too many lollipops and wanted to leave before the clerk discovered his mistake. When he got into his car, he drove off toward North Palm Springs and the Palm Court apartments.

  He smiled to himself as he drove. Somehow, he had pulled it off. He could be a policeman awhile longer. Of course, he wasn’t going to describe it exactly that way to Jennie. She’d be far worse on him than Nolan could ever be.

  8

  Corpsy Ratner drove up to the office of the pink stucco motel and parked his car. The property looked just run down enough to be one of the more inexpensive ones in Palm Springs, but not quite seedy enough to cause him to pass it by. There was no sense in investing a fortune in a place to stay. He didn’t intend to be in the room for much more than sleep. He expected to spend most of his time hunting down the Sullivan twins and then courting Susie. Once he was properly introduced, he was positive they would hit it off. From then on, he would practically camp on her doorstep until she accepted his proposal of marriage and he carted her back to Phoenix, where they would live.

  Corpsy began to consider how he would approach Susie when he did see her. He felt he should be serious, but not too serious.

  He had to find a successful middle ground. Suddenly, now that he was actually here and contemplating their initial meeting, he became very nervous. What if he made a total fool of himself? Would she give him a second chance? She had to; he would plead, beg if necessary. She would see how sincere he was and she would accept him.

  He wouldn’t go too fast, but he wouldn’t linger. He had to convince her that he wasn’t interested in a quick affair. She had to see he wasn’t that sort of fellow. He would sweep her off her feet quickly, completely, and then he would propose and take her home. How long should it take? he wondered: a week, two weeks? Two weeks seemed long, and besides, he didn’t want to live in this motel for two weeks, even though he would only spend a small part of his day here. She would understand. They had a life to start together. Why delay it more than they had to?

  But what about her sister? he wondered. Would Faye put obstacles in his way? Maybe she would be jealous that Susie had someone who loved her and she didn’t. Sisters could be mean and jealous of each other. Well, he wasn’t about to let that happen. If she got too nasty, he would simply whisper “Amyl nitrate.” After all, that had frightened her enough to send her packing, hadn’t it?

  Confident, eager, and very buoyant, he stepped out of his vehicle and walked to the motel office. There was a short, plump woman behind the desk, who didn’t look more than twenty-eight or -nine. Her dull brown hair hung down listlessly along her ears. She was chewing something and reading the National Enquirer, so fascinated with whatever story she was on that she didn’t hear or see him enter. He stood at the desk a moment, and then she felt his presence and looked up with surprise.

  “Oh! I’m sorry,” she said, rising. Her one-piece faded blue dress hung over her chunky body like a sheet of drapery, but he could see the movement of her heavy, braless bosom against the cloth. To Corpsy, she had a face without much light. He liked to think of living people as bodies with a glow. It was almost measurable in watts. The dead on whom he worked had literally had their lights put out. Their eyes resembled blown bulbs.

  This woman’s eyes were dim. She didn’t know, but he did: she wasn’t long for this world. Only someone who dipped his hands into the bodies of the dead would be able to see and predict as well as he could. It made him feel … godlike.

  “I need a room, nothing special,” he said quickly.

  “Uh huh. You want a double bed or queen size or king size?”

  “I just need a single,” he said, annoyed with the implication.

  “A single? Well, do you like sleeping in queen size or king size? King size is ten dollars more a day.”

  “I’ll take queen.”

  “Uh huh. How long are you going to stay?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe … two weeks.”

  “Really? Okay. Please fill this out,” she said handing him a card. He read it first and then began to fill in the information. She stood watching him and chewing like a cow. It annoyed him, made his insides tumble and turn, but he swallowed and continued scribbling.

  “Credit card,” she said when he handed her the form. He dug into his wallet and produced it. She made the imprint and handed it back. “I’ve got a queen on the far end or one right near the office.”

  “Far end,” he said quickly. She handed him the key.

  “Unit 31. You just drive down to the end and park in front. If you need anything, just call.”

  “Where’s the hospital here?” he demanded.

  “Hospital? Oh. It’s not far. It’s … um … three streets over and then one, two, four streets up. You can’t miss it. Is there something wrong?”

  “What? Oh, no. I work in a hospital and I’m here to see some friends who work in this hospital,” he told her. “Thanks,” he said and left quickly before she asked any more of the questions he saw lingering in her dull eyes.

  His room looked worn, tired, but clean. The rug was faded and even torn in spots. The bathroom fixtures were a bit rusted, but it was tolerable. He didn’t envision bringing Susie here anyway. They weren’t going to have sex until after they had exchanged their vows. He was determined about that and he was sure that once she saw how he felt and what he believed, she would be even more impressed with him. Respect, he would tell her, must come first. Love follows on its heels.

  He liked that; it was almost poetic: love follows on its heels. It reconfirmed his faith in himself, his belief that he could be romantic enough to win the heart of the woman he loved. Full of renewed confidence, he brought all of his things into the motel room, then left to find the hospital.

  The fat girl’s directions weren’t right. In
stead of going north, he had to go south a few streets. At the hospital, the parking lots confused him. There was one near the emergency room and one near radiology and one on the other side. He cruised through each, searching for signs of Faye Sullivan’s black BMW convertible, but he didn’t see it. He pulled over across the street from the parking lot near the radiology building and waited.

  But it was hot in his car, hotter than he had anticipated. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and behind his head, trickling down his neck and under his shirt, making him feel very uncomfortable. His stomach churned, too, and he realized he hadn’t had any breakfast. He had been too excited about his arrival in Palm Springs and his proximity to Susie. He started his engine with the intention of driving toward the center of town to find a restaurant, when he realized he could eat in the hospital cafeteria. In fact, he could meld in real well, he thought, and maybe even learn about Faye and Susie quickly.

  He returned to the motel and dug out his hospital blues. After he dressed in them, he returned to the hospital and found the cafeteria. He smiled when the cashier charged him staff rates, and then he sat himself down near three nurses. For a few minutes, he ate and pretended little or no interest. When one looked his way, he smiled and she smiled back, encouraging him.

  “Excuse me,” he said, and they all stopped talking and looked. “I met a nurse here the other day. She was having a problem with her car radio and I told her I’d look at it for her, but she left before I could help. Electronics is kind of a hobby of mine,” he added.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Faye Sullivan. I just met her and …”

  “I don’t know her,” the first nurse said.

  “Faye Sullivan? Didn’t she do private duty for Dr. Stanley’s patients?” the nurse in the middle asked. They all thought a moment.

  “Now that you mention it, I think so. She doesn’t do a regular shift,” the first nurse explained. “She specials for the Palm Springs Nurses’ Registry.”

  “Oh. Well, she probably had the radio fixed by now anyway,” he added and shrugged. They went back to their own conversation.

  After he had his lunch, he found the nearest pay phone and called the Palm Springs Nurses’ Registry.

  “I’m trying to locate a Faye Sullivan,” he said. “She works through your agency, I understand.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I’d like to find out where she lives.”

  “We don’t give out that sort of information. Do you need some private-duty nursing care?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m … her cousin and I’ve just arrived in Palm Springs, but I don’t know her address.”

  “Why don’t you call her?”

  “I don’t have her phone number and she’s not in the book. She’s just recently come to Palm Springs.”

  “Well, why don’t you call information,” the receptionist suggested with a tone of annoyance.

  “I don’t think they give out addresses, do they?”

  “Well, we don’t for sure, but they might.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to bother you. I just wanted to surprise her. We haven’t seen each other since we were both about five,” he said, and he laughed. The receptionist softened.

  “I’m really not supposed to give out our nurses phone numbers and addresses.”

  “I understand. I’m sorry.”

  “Wait a minute. You’ll find it out anyway if you call information, I’m sure.” A few moments later, she gave him the phone number and address. “But remember, you didn’t get it from me.”

  “I will. Thank you. Boy, is she going to be surprised.”

  He cradled the receiver quickly and clenched the slip of paper tightly in his hand. It was as if he were clutching a thousand-dollar bill. To him the paper was far more valuable anyway. He hurried out to his car and started away. When he came to the first corner, he pulled over to ask a pedestrian for directions. The man was a tourist and knew even less than he did. Annoyed, he shot off and headed down Palm Canyon Boulevard into the heart of Palm Springs. As soon as he saw an open parking space, he pulled in and went into a photo shop to ask directions. These people were far more helpful. Minutes later, he was pulling into Faye and Susie Sullivan’s apartment complex. He found an empty space in guest parking and turned off his engine.

  Faye’s car was nowhere in sight. He folded his arms and sat back. She had to drive in the same way he’d entered, he thought. It wouldn’t be too much longer. Anticipating her arrival, he started to plan. Should he get right out and greet her? What if Susie was with her and Faye had a bad reaction to his sudden and unexpected appearance? That could get things off to a bad start. Even if Susie was alone, she wouldn’t appreciate being surprised like this.

  No, for now, he just wanted to know exactly where they lived. Later, he would let her set eyes on him in a casual manner. Then he would approach her politely and then … then she would be impressed with his determination and let him see Susie. That was how it all played out in his imagination. He nearly fell asleep dreaming about it, but he opened his eyes abruptly to the sound of a car passing and saw Faye drive in. She was alone. She parked in under the carport across the way and got out of her vehicle quickly. She was dressed in her nurse’s uniform and looked like she was returning from work.

  Must have done some private duty at someone’s home, he thought. He watched her go down a walkway and up a set of steps. Just as she reached the patio, the door of another apartment opened and an elderly woman stuck her head out. He watched Faye and the woman have a conversation and leaned forward when Faye opened her own apartment door, hoping he would catch sight of Susie.

  But he didn’t. He waited in his car for at least another hour or so before giving up because the elderly woman to whom Faye had spoken emerged from her apartment and gazed his way suspiciously. He had the impression she had been watching him from her front window.

  Spooked, he started his engine and backed out of the spot. He drove off without looking back and returned to his motel. He was disappointed he had not seen his beloved, but he was happy he had found where she and her sister lived so quickly. That had to be a good omen. It was all going to go well; it was promising.

  The fat receptionist was standing outside the door of her office when he pulled into the motel lot. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He had forgotten for the moment that he was dressed in hospital blues. The moment he stepped out of his car, however, she started toward him.

  “You working in the hospital?” she asked.

  “No, I’m … well, I did help a friend who works there,” he said quickly.

  “Oh. I got a friend working there, too. Her name’s Samantha Logan. We all call her Sam for short. She’s a black girl, about twenty-four.”

  “I didn’t meet anyone like that,” he said edging toward his room.

  “What’s your friend’s name? Maybe Sam knows him.”

  “Charlie Goodwin,” he said, holding in his smile. Dr. Charles Goodwin was the head of pathology back at his hospital in Phoenix.

  “Goodwin. I’ll ask her if she knows him.”

  “Fine. Oh, where’s an inexpensive but good place to eat dinner?”

  “What kind of food?”

  “Just a hot turkey sandwich or something.”

  She thought a moment.

  “Try the Village Deli of New York in the Sun Center, corner of Palm Canyon and Indian. Ain’t you eating with your friend Charlie?”

  “No. He’s got to work. Thanks,” he said quickly, afraid she might suggest he eat with her.

  He stepped into his room before she could reply and waited by the door to be sure she returned to her office. He heard her footsteps over the gravel drive and then he turned away and began to undress.

  Faye looked tired, he thought. She must have had a difficult patient and a hard night. When he was naked, he sat by the telephone and played with the numbers, punching out the Sullivans’ number without lifting the receiver. Then he lifted it and pretended Su
sie had answered.

  “Hi. Susie?” he said. He imagined her saying yes. “I’m Arnold Ratner. I work in the hospital in Phoenix in which your sister used to special for patients. Maybe she mentioned me to you. She did? What did she say about me? Well, that’s true. I was very interested in meeting you. I still am. Very interested and I happen to be in Palm Springs right now. Do you think I can come by and see you, say tomorrow sometime? Anytime. Two o’clock in the afternoon? Fine. I tell you what, though. I would rather take you to lunch. Why don’t I come by at twelve? Is that all right? It is? Great. See you then. Bye, Susie.”

  He cradled the receiver and sat back with a smile on his face as if he had actually made the call. When he gazed down at himself, he was surprised to see he had a thick erection. His penis reminded him of a small rodent sniffing the air. He gazed around helplessly for a moment. Then he got up quickly and went to his bag of toiletries and took out his electric razor. He plugged it in beside the sofa and sat down. He kept his eyes closed until he turned on the razor, placing the rear side of it against his throbbing penis. The vibrations reverberated up and down the stem, making him quiver until he had an orgasm that he thought would never end. His hands and his wrist were soaked, as was the electric razor.

  He quickly wiped it dry and put it away and then he took a hot shower and lay down.

  When Susie and he were married, this sort of thing would stop, he thought. He would have sex just the way he was supposed to and he would make babies in Susie’s body just the way he was supposed to.

  He fell asleep dreaming of her beside him, her bad leg draped over his hip.

  9

  Faye had parked her car in her designated space under the carport and had hurriedly stepped out and up the blue-and-white tile steps bordered in bright red bougainvillea to the front door of their two-bedroom apartment without spotting Corpsy Ratner. Her attention was on their daily newspaper, stuffed awkwardly in the newspaper pouch on the side of her door. The lid to her mailbox was up because there was so much mail shoved into it, mostly junk mail. Just as she paused to gather everything, the front door of the neighboring apartment opened and Tillie Kaufman peered out. The seventy-one-year-old woman with short blue-gray hair clicked her tongue and shook her head. She was tall and plump, with a remarkably cherry-white complexion for a woman of her age. Faye paused, anticipating.