Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery

by Marcia Morgan

  Ana knew that having guests in one’s room was frowned upon in London hotels. Her face blushed red, and she made a mental note to leave a negative comment at checkout regarding the privacy of guests. She responded with surprising bravado. “Whether or not my friend stays is not your concern. Your main responsibility is the comfort of guests, and in aid of that, we will need ice, lots of it, as soon as possible.”

  The concierge seemed to shrink a few inches as a result of the reprimand, and injured or not, Ben could barely contain his laughter until they were on the lift. As the doors closed, he started to let it go, but the laugh quickly became a moan from the pain of jostling the shoulder. In spite of that, he couldn’t resist teasing her. “So much for your reputation!”

  “Who cares about what strangers think? … Not me.” She pushed the fourth floor button then neither said another word. Soon the lift jerked to a stop, the doors opened, and she led Ben down the hall to her room. She pulled the key card from her bag, and soon they were inside. Ana turned on all the lights, which Ben thought was an overstatement, and then she asked where he would be most comfortable. She immediately answered her own question and ordered him to the bed where she carefully helped him remove the heavy jacket. During the process he was vocal about the pain.

  He climbed onto the bed, and after Ana arranged the pillows he leaned back, supporting his arm with another pillow. A rapid knock on the door announced that the ice had arrived. A staff member carried in a tray holding two ice buckets, filled to the point of spilling. She asked him to put them in the bathroom, shoved a tip in his hand when he came out, and sent him on his way. She went to get the ice, wrapped half of it in a towel, and then wet the towel slightly before cupping it around Ben’s shoulder. When it first touched him he yelled a little at the shock, but settled back as the cold began to numb his pain.

  Ana scolded herself for thoughts she could not seem to banish. Just the fact that he was on her bed aroused her. After all, it was the place where she had slept, the place where she had enjoyed slipping naked into the clean white sheets. She felt guilty for thinking of being in that state, in that bed with Ben, especially considering his misery. However, remembering how long it had been since there had been a man in her bed, she understood the reason for such selfish thoughts.

  After thirty minutes, she removed the ice and asked how he felt. He answered, “The numbness is wearing off and it still hurts like hell.”

  “Well, then it’s decided. I’m either going to call the desk and have their on-call doctor contacted, or I’m going to call for a taxi and we’re taking you to the hospital. No back-talk.”

  “I give up. I have to do something. This pain goes beyond a sprain. See if you can get the on-call doctor. But since I’m not a guest here, you’d better say it’s for you.”

  “If the same guy is on duty, he’s going to know it’s not me. He had to have seen the blood on your face. But I think he may want to please me after the dressing down I gave him. Then I might forget my intention to leave that negative comment.”

  Ana contacted the desk and asked to have the doctor called due to her sudden attack of nausea, no doubt the result of a poor food choice. She commented to Ben in an aside that she was both surprised and glad that a hotel with so few stars even had a doctor on call. The concierge was cooperative and said that it would be at least an hour before he could get someone there. In spite of his conciliatory tone, Ana could tell he had his doubts.

  In less than three-quarters of an hour, the doctor arrived, dressed in jeans and a sport jacket over pajama tops, and introduced himself as Doctor Jonathon Harrow. He was tall and thin, slightly bald, and had a face that Ana could only describe as kind. She managed the confusion about who had the nausea, that being no one, and explained what had really happened.

  The doctor scrutinized them, his expression one of vague intolerance. He checked Ben’s facial injuries first, as well as his eyes, for signs of concussion. Then he approached the shoulder, feeling around the joint and carefully trying to manipulate it. Ben cried out in pain and the doctor sat back and uttered a gruff, “Uh-huh! No wonder that hurt.”

  “What is it, doc?” Ben asked, a look of concern crossing his handsome, blood stained face. In her haste to treat his shoulder, she had forgotten to wipe away the blood, now completely dried.

  “You have a subluxation— in laymen’s terms, a partial dislocation,” the doctor answered. “Quite simple to fix, if you know what you’re doing. And I do.” He stood and put his hands on his hips. “Get ready. I won’t lie to you. This is going to hurt!”

  Ben nodded his head that yes he was ready. The doctor went around to the other side of the bed and climbed up, steadying himself on both knees. He asked Ben to shift onto the opposite hip, and arranged himself into position for the manipulation, his body supported by the headboard. He straightened Ben’s arm, producing a groan. He then steadied Ben’s elbow and did a twist and pull motion so fast that Ana was startled. Ben yelled several expletives loudly enough to cause the guests in the next room to bang on the wall. She was sure they were wondering what was going on in the bed.

  “I can’t believe it,” Ben said, gently rotating his arm. “It’s a little sore, but that intense pain is gone. Good job, doc.”

  The doctor edged his way off the bed and stood up. He crossed his arms and looked down at Ben before saying, “You should have that arm in a sling. Use a towel for now, but keep it as immobile as you can for a few days. There’s always some soft tissue injury when a joint is dislocated.”

  Ana said, “I’ll sort out something for tonight and then do my best to see that he gets a proper sling tomorrow.”

  “Remember, Mr. McKinnon, if it doesn’t heal properly, you may end up with scar tissue and surgery to repair that.” His tone and expression were paternal. He picked up his medical bag and made his way toward the door, talking as he walked. “So, no one is nauseated? Are you through with me then?” The doctor gave them both a sideways glance and snickered. “Ice it for fifteen minutes every four hours until morning and the soreness should subside. I would give you a prescription for the pain, but you’d have trouble getting it filled at this hour. All I have is a morphine syringe, and that’s more than you need.”

  “I have Ibuprofen. That might help some,” Ana said. The doctor concurred with a nod. She wasn’t sure about the protocol of a nighttime call such as this. Was it appropriate to tip a well-respected professional? Would there be a significant charge on her bill? She opted out of a tip and decided not to worry about the charge. Her publisher was picking up the tab anyway, and she could explain that taking care of Ben was in aid of the interview. But that wasn’t her motive. She cared, seemingly more than she could have expected.

  Dr. Harrow said good night and to have the concierge call if there was any problem. As he opened the door to leave, he turned back and remarked, “I hope the other guy looked worse than you.” They called out another thank you, and he closed the door behind him.

  Ben immediately swung his legs to the floor and prepared to stand. He said, “Well, I’ll get out of your way now.” Ana saw a grimace of pain on his face as he slowly got to his feet. Once he had his balance he said, “I’ll be able to get a taxi up the street, right?”

  “You’re not going anywhere yet. Remember, the doctor said to ice it again.”

  “Are you always this bossy?”

  “Only when I confront disobedience.” She tried not to smile and turned away, taking the ice pack into the bathroom to refresh it.

  Ben settled back on the bed and kicked off his shoes, obviously too tired to argue. Ana fed him the Ibuprofen and re-applied the ice, then sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Now that he wasn’t in such pain, her thoughts drifted back to what it would be like to have him there under different circumstances. Her body was responding to these thoughts, and she hoped it didn’t show in her expression. The blood on his face was disturbing, so she went to get a wet cloth and proceeded to dab gently at his lip and chin. Onc
e again Ben saw the sweet expression that had comforted him in the taxi. There was no denying that now he wanted her even more. He also wanted to know who this woman was below the surface, what made her ‘tick.’ Considering his history with women, this was unprecedented.

  Ana finished treating his lip and backed into a chair adjacent to the bed. She crossed her arms over her chest and began to stare at him. He was quite sure she was considering how he should be handled. Eventually she said, “So, can I get you to rest now? I think you need to be under my watchful eye for a while longer.”

  But knowing his intention to leave eventually, she needed a plan, and knew he would be better off with someone for the night. He agreed to rest, and with less discomfort he was able to recline slightly and lay his head back on the pillow, his arm resting across his body. With Ben settled, Ana excused herself and went into the bathroom. She had been chilled for hours and wanted to get out of her damp slacks and boots and slip into something cozy, like a robe and warm socks, but she was at a loss as to what would be appropriate. Somehow, changing into sleepwear didn’t seem the thing to do, considering their short acquaintance. Then she returned to the consideration of how she could keep him from leaving, care for him properly in the short term. Ana was an independent no nonsense woman, and therefore, her concern for this man stymied her.

  Quite a bit of time had passed since she closed the bathroom door, and she wondered what Ben was doing. It was quiet, although she had given him the television remote. She opened the door a crack and saw that he was asleep, head back, mouth slightly open, and looking quite peaceful. The scenario pleased her, but she then began to wonder what to do about a place to sleep. Ana was exhausted by the night’s events. Without further contemplation she stripped down to her bra and panties and reached for the fluffy white robe on the hook behind the door. Wrapped in its warm comfort she tiptoed through the room to the bed. She carefully removed the ice pack from Ben’s shoulder and then slipped under the comforter. Ben was on top of it, and she wondered if he would become cold enough to wake, yet she couldn’t chance covering him or he would surely wake immediately. While pondering that situation, fatigue took charge and she was quickly asleep.

  In the wee hours a howling wind accompanied by rain hitting the window startled Ana from sleep. She slid from beneath the comforter and went to the drapes, pulled one aside and stared out at the reflection of moving headlights on the wet street. A ceiling of charcoal gray clouds had formed, sporadic downpours obscuring the starlight. They roiled slowly through the night sky, allowing only faint glimpses of the waxing moon. Ben remained in the arms of Morpheus, no doubt in a very deep sleep due to the trauma of the night’s events. Ana closed the drape quietly and returned to bed. She checked the clock and saw that it was after three. Ben would be there until morning, and she found that fact to be both calming and strangely provocative.

  She lay awake, listening to the rain and thinking about her life. In some ways it was empty, a fact that was all too evident as she glanced at the handsome, charming and injured man sleeping on her bed. There had been a few men, filling the role of lover more than potential mate. Her free-lance profession required great flexibility and few ties. Ana had said over and over again that it was just for now, that she would have plenty of time for a relationship later. But later hadn’t come, and she often found the nomadic life of a journalist to be tedious and in many ways incomplete. She turned to face Ben and focused on his breathing, enjoying little snorts and gasps that made him seem vulnerable, real and approachable. Lying there, very still, her thoughts raced. Ben wasn’t the only one with imagined scenarios, but in hers, he was the star.

  * * *

  Ben was the first to wake. The storm front had dissipated before dawn, and a beam of sunlight streaked through a gap in the drapery panels, creating a path across the carpet. He was disoriented and for a moment only half remembered what had transpired the previous evening. However, he did remember the vivid dream he was having as he awoke. He was an invisible observer of the two men who had attacked him. They were speaking in hushed tones to a woman whose face was turned away from him. The three seemed to be conspirators, and when the woman turned to face him, it was the kind and beautiful woman with whom he had just spent the night. The outlandish nature of the dream made him want to splash his face repeatedly with a good amount of cold water. He began to ease out of bed, but his first movement quickly reminded him of the injured shoulder. Having been still all night, it was stiff and sore, as was his body in general due to the beating. He turned slightly and saw Ana, still sleeping peacefully. He had no idea that she had been awake until just before dawn.

  Wisps of dark hair were lying across her tranquil face, some remaining lipstick slightly smeared below her lip. Her breathing was deep and relaxed, and the lips he still desired were slightly parted. With the fluffy robe pulled up around her neck and every other bit of her drawn up under the comforter, Ben thought she looked as if nicely tucked into a comfy nest. He laughed to himself, surprised by the tenderness he felt as he watched her sleep. Not wanting to wake her, he gritted his teeth, managed to stand, and walked quietly to the bathroom. He didn’t shut the door, only eased it closed for privacy.

  As he came out, he noticed Ana’s purse on the small table near the door. It had obviously been tossed aside with haste because the contents were strewn across the table, or half inside the purse. He noticed her press pass, displaying her name and photo, and it dawned on him that if the occasion had arisen, he couldn’t have called her by name. Surely by now she had noticed his reticence at engaging her by name. He was thankful for two things: the opportunity to avoid embarrassment, and that she was legitimate. She was Ana C. Doherty and he knew he would never forget it, not only due to the close call, but because she had made an unforgettable impression on him in a little more than twelve hours. He returned to the bed, looked down at Ana, and tried to decide whether to slip out and grab a taxi home, or to wake her and say goodbye.

  Perhaps sensing his eyes on her, Ana began to move. She rolled onto her back, drew her arms from under the comforter and stretched with feline grace. It took her a moment to register that Ben was standing by the bed. Watching her wake up, stretching and brushing the hair from her face, served to intensify the magnetic attraction he was experiencing. And as yet they had scarcely touched.

  Ana glanced up and saw him staring down at her, smiling. His overnight growth of beard seemed to render him even more attractive. Both his expression and her reaction to the simple fact of some stubble made her self-conscious. “Was I drooling, snoring, or both?” she asked, trying to make light of what she hoped had not happened.

  Ben laughed and said, “Neither. You looked so peaceful that I debated about whether or not to wake you before I left. I sure didn’t want to slip out of here without a word and have you think I was ungrateful for your good deed. For everything you did last night.” Ben paused, walked over to the opposite side of the bed and sat down to put on his shoes. Finding them slightly out of reach, he sat up and turned toward her. “You know I appreciate it, right?” Then he reached instead for the leather jacket that had been thrown hastily on the nearby chair the previous night. He ruffled around in the pockets to see if his phone was there, hoping it had survived the attack. On first look he didn’t find it and turned his attention back to how Ana would answer his question.

  “Of course I know you appreciate it. You’d do the same for me … I think.” She waited for a positive response then tested his indulgence with her persistence. “Right?”

  His shoulder ached and patience for the subject had run out. “That question is too silly to answer, and you know what the answer would be anyway.” He stood and dropped the jacket back onto the chair.

  Ana had no idea why she had pushed him to answer a redundant question. She hurried the conversation in another direction. “Well, I hope never to get myself into a situation like the one last night. You really should take it seriously because I think it was an abduction gone w
rong. I guess such a thing could even happen to me. Anyone can be abducted.”

  “But there has to be a reason to abduct someone. I still think they must have been given some faulty information. They’d have no reason to want me … for anything. It was just a one-time thing, wrong time wrong place. Nothing to be worried about.” Ben paused, then shook his head and continued. “I just wonder who the poor devil is who does have something to worry about.”

  “I don’t think it’s a smart idea just to forget about it. You should report it to the police and give them whatever information you have, what you remember, what I remember. It could even help the potential victim—the intended one.”

  “Well, there’s a day at least half gone … if I report it,” he said. “Plus, that will delay the interview. I’m just saying … I have to leave in 48 hours to visit my parents, and you have a deadline.” Ben walked to the window and pulled one of the drapes aside, intending to let the morning sun warm the room.

  “Forget the deadline. It’s not imminent. Alerting the police to what happened is the only task that matters right now.” Ana pondered his expression, wondering if she had reached his sense of conscience. After a short pause she asked, “How would you feel if someone else ended up hurt … or even dead?”

  “Like I said last night, you’re a stubborn lady … but the prettiest one who’s ever tried to boss me around.” There was a certain twinkle in Ben’s eye and a restrained smile on his face that Ana found disarming. She looked down, not knowing why. He had meant to compliment, not embarrass her, so he added a footnote to his remark. “Well, to be honest, my mother is quite attractive.”

  There was an awkward moment before she rallied and said, “Don’t try to distract me with compliments. I want to get up and dressed. You’ll need to look out the window or something while I dash to the bathroom.” After Ben obliged, Ana threw back the comforter and took hurried steps to reach the privacy of a closed door. She called out from inside, “I know you’ll wait for me because you can’t reach your shoes, let alone get them on.”