Sympathy Between Humans Part 6

While I'd been on the phone with Fredericks, or perhaps Begans, two young men were knocking over a liquor store in Eden Prairie. I caught the call and drove down there to talk to the clerk and the sole customer who'd witnessed the holdup. The details were sketchy: the two guys were probably white, wearing nylon stockings that flattened and obfuscated facial features. I took notes, left my card, and asked the witnesses to call me if they remembered anything else. on the phone with Fredericks, or perhaps Begans, two young men were knocking over a liquor store in Eden Prairie. I caught the call and drove down there to talk to the clerk and the sole customer who'd witnessed the holdup. The details were sketchy: the two guys were probably white, wearing nylon stockings that flattened and obfuscated facial features. I took notes, left my card, and asked the witnesses to call me if they remembered anything else.

As I drove back to the city, the sun was playing hide-and-seek with us behind galleons of cloud, deep gray on the bottom, white at the edges. I was nearly at the parking ramp the detectives used, when a red light stopped me. Just then, two men emerged from the overhang of the Government Center. Normally, I would have ignored them: two men in suits, a common sight downtown. But one of them was familiar to me. At six-five, he stood out in a crowd, and his gait was distinct: long and confident strides, but not hurried ones, as if to say, I'm going to rule the world, but all in good time. I'm going to rule the world, but all in good time.

I knew Christian Kilander both as a county prosecutor and a regular player in pickup basketball games. We'd always been friendly but never close, and he'd surprised me when he'd broken ranks with the system we both served to warn me that I was the primary suspect in the Royce Stewart investigation. Immediately after Gen's warning phone call, I'd wanted to seek him out, ask if he'd heard anything. I hadn't done so because the last thing I needed was for anyone, even Kilander, to know that I was concerned about the Royce Stewart case.

Maybe I wasn't being honest with myself, either. I hadn't sought Kilander's help for another, simpler reason. Since our meeting beside the fountain last December, we hadn't spoken, except briefly as part of an investigation. When we crossed paths downtown, he only nodded where he would have greeted me before, and I had the uncomfortable feeling that he was avoiding a tainted colleague in the same way that a fastidious man would avoid a mud puddle on the sidewalk.

Now Kilander's companion turned slightly, looking west, and I realized I'd seen him before. He was six feet, with brown hair graying at the temples, somewhere in his mid-thirties. Then I knew: unless I was very mistaken, he was the man I'd seen watching me from behind the wheel of his car, when I was doing my prost.i.tution-decoy operation.

Then the light changed, and I was pushed ahead with the end-of-day traffic. In my rearview mirror, Kilander and his new colleague crossed their intersection, and I lost sight of them.

Back at my desk, I was writing up a quick report when the phone rang. desk, I was writing up a quick report when the phone rang.

"I have some news for you," Begans said.

"Okay," I told him. "Shoot."

"Well, Bob knew where Hugh Hennessy's cabin was, and then we had some business up there anyway, kids target-shooting where they're not supposed to. We drove up and knocked on the door."

"And?" Begans seemed to want to be asked.

"There's n.o.body there. n.o.body's been there for a while. Locked up tight. The water's shut off."

"No kidding?" But I'd been coming to suspect it: that Hugh Hennessy, not Aidan, was the real X in the equation.

"Yes. Is that what you needed to know?" Begans asked.

"It is," I told him, s.h.i.+fting the receiver to my other ear; my left was sore from having the phone pressed to it. "I appreciate how quickly you got to it. Wish Bob a happy retirement for me."

Begans chuckled. "Oh, he'll hate it. In three weeks he'll be so sick of fis.h.i.+ng he'll be here asking for his old job back."

After we'd hung up, I thought about what I'd learned. Aidan Hennessy, I'd reflected, wasn't Hennepin County's problem. But if Hugh Hennessy, a county resident, was missing, that sure as h.e.l.l was our business, wasn't it?

I could easily get the Hennessys' address, but going to the house wouldn't be productive. I didn't believe that Hugh was there, simply refusing to be a part of the search for his missing son. The boy, Liam, had told me that Hugh wasn't there, and he'd done so without me identifying myself, which meant that He's out of town He's out of town was the answer the Hennessy children were giving all callers. was the answer the Hennessy children were giving all callers.

Did the kids really believe Hugh was at his cabin? Or were they lying?

The key person here was Marlinchen. She was the only person in the equation who'd sought help. For that very reason, paradoxically, I wasn't going to call Marlinchen Hennessy again today, nor visit the house. Lawyers, at least in the courtroom, never ask a question they don't know the answer to. It was a useful tenet in interview situations overall. I needed to know at least some of the answers before I confronted Marlinchen. If not, she could feed me any story she liked, and I wouldn't know the difference.

Then I realized something else. My left ear was still hurting, and it wasn't the outer sh.e.l.l, sore from having a receiver pressed against it. This was more of a throb, deeper, in the ear ca.n.a.l itself. It was actually fairly painful.

I'm not real happy with the way your left ear looks, Cisco had said. Oh, great. Who'd have predicted this guy would be a real, competent physician? Cisco had said. Oh, great. Who'd have predicted this guy would be a real, competent physician?

I'd have to write my report on Cisco soon. I wasn't going to feel sorry for him. I didn't know how he'd gotten into whatever desperate situation made him see patients in a public high-rise, but he was clearly a highly intelligent person. He was smart enough to know that if he wanted to break the law, he'd go to jail like anyone else.

Still, I wondered how long a sentence he'd get.

Two days later, the pain in my ear was worse, but I kept it in abeyance with aspirin. The cold had pa.s.sed, I told myself, so this would pa.s.s too. I tried to ignore the fact that Cisco had suggested otherwise, warning that I might need an antibiotic prescription. the pain in my ear was worse, but I kept it in abeyance with aspirin. The cold had pa.s.sed, I told myself, so this would pa.s.s too. I tried to ignore the fact that Cisco had suggested otherwise, warning that I might need an antibiotic prescription.

Stop worrying about his G.o.dd.a.m.ned advice, I thought. I thought. This will go away on its own, most things do. Doctors can't admit that, because if they did, they'd be out of a job. This will go away on its own, most things do. Doctors can't admit that, because if they did, they'd be out of a job.

But the day after that, my ear was refusing to be ignored. The aspirin I'd taken had worn off in the night, and when I woke, my eardrum pulsed like a second, painful heartbeat. I lifted myself to a sitting position very slowly. I didn't want to cause even the smallest rise in blood pressure that might make the throbbing worse.

When I was ready, I went to the bathroom. My face was a study in contrast, pale with spots of high, febrile color. I swallowed the last three aspirin and pitched the bottle into the trash. Come on, this is probably the worst of it. One more day and you'll turn a corner, Come on, this is probably the worst of it. One more day and you'll turn a corner, I told myself. I told myself.

I took a fifteen-minute shower with the door and window tightly closed, inhaling steam. After that, and a cup of tea and two slices of toast, the aspirin started to kick in. I felt marginally better, good enough to get dressed and go out.

I suppose some people would think it strange that someone with a blistering earache and a fever wouldn't call in sick, but in fact, I went in early. I didn't want to sit around the house with nothing to think about but how much my ear hurt and how long it might take to heal if I kept refusing to see a doctor. I wanted the distraction of work, and if my s.h.i.+ft was still hours away, then Hugh Hennessy could easily fill those hours. some people would think it strange that someone with a blistering earache and a fever wouldn't call in sick, but in fact, I went in early. I didn't want to sit around the house with nothing to think about but how much my ear hurt and how long it might take to heal if I kept refusing to see a doctor. I wanted the distraction of work, and if my s.h.i.+ft was still hours away, then Hugh Hennessy could easily fill those hours.

"Sarah." Tyesha looked up in mild surprise from her desk. "I was just about to call you. Prewitt wanted you to come in a little early today. Not this this early, though. Around three-thirty, he said." early, though. Around three-thirty, he said."

"That's fine." I tucked a strand of hair behind my good ear. "Did he say why?"

Tyesha shook her head. "Sorry, he didn't."

No one else commented on my presence downtown at midday. I didn't socialize, just drank tea and looked at the official data on Hugh Hennessy. He had never been arrested locally, nor sued. He did have a moving violation from two years ago, an illegal U-turn, and had mailed in the fine without incident. Nothing there.

911 Recap, where they can look up calls dating back for years, was my last stop, and required an in-person visit.

The Hennessys lived in the western reaches of Hennepin County, on the sh.o.r.e of the big lake, Minnetonka. Nice work if you can get it, Nice work if you can get it, as Deputy Begans would have said. Much of outlying Hennepin County had become built up and suburban, but there was still quiet, privacy, land, and history to be bought on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Minnetonka. Some of the county's richest citizens lived on its inlets and bays. as Deputy Begans would have said. Much of outlying Hennepin County had become built up and suburban, but there was still quiet, privacy, land, and history to be bought on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Minnetonka. Some of the county's richest citizens lived on its inlets and bays.

Even as I gave the clerk the Hennessys' address, I was thinking it wouldn't yield anything. I believed there was probably something wrong at the Hennessy home, but I doubted it was the kind of wrong wrong that sent the police out to their quiet lakeside address. It would be, instead, a quiet, simmering distress that even the neighbors didn't know about. that sent the police out to their quiet lakeside address. It would be, instead, a quiet, simmering distress that even the neighbors didn't know about.

"We sent an ambulance out there three weeks ago," the young clerk told me.

"You did?" I said, startled. It never pays to a.s.sume. "What for?"

He read from the brief narrative. "Possible brain attack, male 43 years old, collapsed and nonresponsive," he read. "He went to HCMC."

"And then what?" I asked.

"That's all I know," he said.

"Did you find any other calls to that address?"

"No," he said. "Just the one."

"Thanks for your help," I said. Then I added, "Brain attack?" The terminology wasn't familiar.

"In other words, stroke."

At Hennepin County Medical Center, a white-haired man was at the patient-information desk. I gave him Hugh Hennessy's name, and he tapped at his computer keyboard. County Medical Center, a white-haired man was at the patient-information desk. I gave him Hugh Hennessy's name, and he tapped at his computer keyboard.

"Not here," the man said.

"Was he discharged, or..." I didn't want to use the word died. died. "What was the resolution of his treatment here?" "What was the resolution of his treatment here?"

"I don't have that information," he said. "You'd need to go to Medical Records."

The elevator I rode down in was outsized, made to handle wheelchairs and stretchers. At the records office, a young red-haired woman was behind the computer. I laid my s.h.i.+eld on the counter for her to see. "I need to know where a patient named Hugh Hennessy went from here," I said.

"Sorry," she said. "Badge or no badge, I can't give out patient information without a subpoena."

"They brought him in on a stroke," I said. "If he died here, I need to know that."

She shook her head, wordlessly apologizing.

I sighed, or tried to. My lungs felt as though they'd shrunk to a child's size, and I couldn't get a full breath.

Maybe I sounded more exasperated than I realized, or looked more pathetic. The clerk's hands tapped against her keyboard. I took it for a dismissal- she was getting back to work, from what I could see- but she said, "You know, Park Christian is an excellent rehab facility for stroke patients." Her smile was guileless.

"Is it?" I said, realizing what she was really telling me. "Thank you very much."

Park Christian Hospital was outside Minneapolis proper, in a pleasantly verdant setting that must have been comforting to the relatives of the frail and stricken. Behind a set of automatic double doors, a rush of cold, conditioned air greeted me. Instantly, after the heat of the summer day and a long ride out there, I felt chills begin. But the pain in my ear was under control, held down by aspirin, and that was what mattered.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist said.

"I'd like to see Hugh Hennessy," I said. Too late I realized I should have brought some sort of prop with me: flowers, a card. "I'm a friend of the family."

I expected a runaround. You're not on the visitors' list, You're not on the visitors' list, or some similar refusal. Instead the woman said, "I'll have Freddy take you back." or some similar refusal. Instead the woman said, "I'll have Freddy take you back."

I almost said, You will? You will? I'd just wanted to confirm where Hugh Hennessy was; now I actually had to face the man, with no excuse for being there. "Are you sure I won't be disrupting a routine, or anything? I could come later," I offered. I'd just wanted to confirm where Hugh Hennessy was; now I actually had to face the man, with no excuse for being there. "Are you sure I won't be disrupting a routine, or anything? I could come later," I offered.

A door beside the desk swung open and a man appeared.

He was young, but with an older man's mien. His face was soft and pouchy, his blond hair cut in a short, square style that few guys in their twenties would have chosen. His name tag read, Freddy. Freddy. He looked at me. "Are you here to see Hugh Hennessy?" He looked at me. "Are you here to see Hugh Hennessy?"

"That'd be me," I admitted.

He gestured to the door, for me to follow him.

"It's too bad you didn't get here a little earlier," Freddy said. "You just missed his daughter."

"Marlinchen was here?"

"A very pretty girl," he commented, and I heard no lechery in it. "She's been here quite often."

We walked back through a hallway, then through a gla.s.sed-in breezeway to another wing. Outside the gla.s.s I could see open s.p.a.ce, lawn and pathways, and beyond that a deep pond.

"Is Mr. Hennessy alert?" I asked. "Is he verbal?"

"Alert? I think he's aware," Freddy said. "Verbal, no. He has expressive aphasia. That means that we think he understands a lot of what's going on around him, but when he tries to speak, it doesn't make much sense."

"Is that the extent of the damage?" I asked.

Freddy shook his head. "He's in a wheelchair right now, for weakness on the right side of his body, but we're working on that. And some neglect."

"Neglect?"

"Where someone loses awareness of one side of the body, and one side of their surroundings."

"I see." For a moment I'd thought Freddy was telling me Hugh had been improperly cared for, elsewhere.

We stopped outside a door. "This is his room," Freddy said.

Inside, the air was still and quiet. The room held two low beds, but Hugh Hennessy wasn't in either of them. He sat in a wheelchair by the window, chin on chest, eyes closed.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, worried.

Freddy smiled at my alarm. "It's all right. He's just fallen asleep."

He was slender of build, his hair light brown, cut sharply across the forehead in the style of a man who doesn't put much stock in his looks. I wasn't prepared for him to look so young, even in the ravages of poor health. The air-conditioning gave me another chill, and I wondered why they kept it so cold where old and infirm people were.

Freddy tipped his head to one side. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

"Sure," I said. "Why?"

"You look a little off-color," he said.

"It was hot outside," I said, as if that explained everything.

Hugh Hennessy's eyelids fluttered, and his pale eyes half opened. I couldn't tell if he was awake, or saw me, but guilt stabbed me, as though he'd caught me in his room under false pretenses.

"Actually," I told Freddy, "I'm not feeling so great. I'm going to get some air."

"That's fine," he said gently. "Come back when you're feeling better."

The hospital's parking lot had an parking lot had an Entry Only Entry Only arrow at one end and an arrow at one end and an Exit Only Exit Only arrow at the other. Following the prescribed direction, I had to make a right turn onto a side street to get back to the road I'd taken to the hospital. That's why I saw the slight form of Marlinchen Hennessy, waiting on a bus bench. arrow at the other. Following the prescribed direction, I had to make a right turn onto a side street to get back to the road I'd taken to the hospital. That's why I saw the slight form of Marlinchen Hennessy, waiting on a bus bench.

I stopped the Nova and called from the window.

"Remember me?" I said.

She looked up, startled.

"I was just driving by and I recognized you," I said. "Where are you going?"