Couldn’t even hit his brakes until my ass had already imprinted itself on his hood.
The cop believed him. I’m not sure I do. It was the way he slapped me. Called me buddy.
SEVENTEEN
Kelly’s half-wearing a green nurse’s uniform. I don’t know where she swiped the outfit, or how she got hold of the hospital I.D. badge previously pinned above her now bare right breast, nor do I give a rat’s ass.
Not now anyway. The redhead’s nestled in beside me on the hospital bed, the weight of her on the mattress pulling me close, her back blocking the hallway’s view of her exposed chest and my naked mid-section. She could have pulled the floor-to-ceiling curtain around us but said the risk of getting caught would provide extra excitement. Hard to argue with that, or anything else right this moment. See, Kelly’s giving me the sponge bath of my life, and slowly, lovingly, and finally, Kelly has brought me to the Big Finish.
“I think you’re ready,” she says.
I can only groan.
“Yes…see? Oh, my…what a load. I’m no doctor, Austin, but I’d say the accident failed to damage your doodad.”
Doodad? “Are you sure you’re not a doctor?”
Ten minutes later Kelly’s cleaned up and changed clothes in my hospital room’s lavatory. She’s wearing stone-washed jeans now and a lemon yellow sweater that makes her candy red hair and green eyes glow with that girl-next-door innocence it takes studio make-up artists whole careers to perfect.
“Want to know what I found in the safe?” she says.
The bed sheets rub against my skin like canvas. The pillow smells of cheap soap and starch. Outside in the hall, a gurney goes by, its wheels clickity-clacking like a tiny train. And though I’m interested in Kelly’s safe-cracking tale, I can’t get over the fact Rags tried to kill me. I didn’t know the son-of-a-bitch was that crazy.
“Sure,” I say. “Tell me what you found.”
“I can do better than that,” she says.
Kelly digs into her straw beach bag. She rummages through a cell phone, tissues, and a red wallet, finally pulls out an eight-by-eleven-inch manila envelope stuffed with…what? Papers?
She tosses the package on my chest. Ouch. It crashes onto my sternum with the force of a space shuttle returning from orbit.
I undo the clasp. The metal imprints white marks on my fingertips. Don’t know whether it’s the thick texture of the parchment, or my stockbroker’s well-trained sense of smell for money, but I know without looking exactly what Kelly has dumped on me.
I pull out the three-pound wad of papers from the manila envelope. What I expected. Registered securities, mostly blue chip stocks and municipal bonds. A big chunk of Gerry’s portfolio I knew nothing about.
“Using face value on the bonds, and the stock prices printed in the paper Saturday, it’s about two and a half million,” Kelly says.
I take a deep breath. I’m feeling better after a good night’s sleep. The doctors say I’m lucky to have no broken bones, no internal injuries.
“I have to ask you something, Kelly.”
She grins, a smile that covers her entire face. Like Julia Roberts, her happy mouth seems bigger than humanly possible. Guess Kelly got some kicks playing nurse. “Ask away,” she says. “But I bet I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?”
“Uh, huh.”
“What?”
“You’re going to ask, if Gerry’s about to die, why am I hiding money from him. And why, if I’m going to inherit his money, am I acting now like I want to steal his stocks and bonds?”
This woman is not only pretty, she’s almost smart. “Well…yeah …why? If you’re going to inherit his money anyway…”
Kelly adjusts the bathroom door and admires herself in the full-length mirror. She tugs on her sweater, stretching the yellow material tight over her chest. “Well, here’s the thing, Austin…I’m not going to inherit much of anything.”
I feel my neck stiffen. “But that day in
The cop believed him. I’m not sure I do. It was the way he slapped me. Called me buddy.
SEVENTEEN
Kelly’s half-wearing a green nurse’s uniform. I don’t know where she swiped the outfit, or how she got hold of the hospital I.D. badge previously pinned above her now bare right breast, nor do I give a rat’s ass.
Not now anyway. The redhead’s nestled in beside me on the hospital bed, the weight of her on the mattress pulling me close, her back blocking the hallway’s view of her exposed chest and my naked mid-section. She could have pulled the floor-to-ceiling curtain around us but said the risk of getting caught would provide extra excitement. Hard to argue with that, or anything else right this moment. See, Kelly’s giving me the sponge bath of my life, and slowly, lovingly, and finally, Kelly has brought me to the Big Finish.
“I think you’re ready,” she says.
I can only groan.
“Yes…see? Oh, my…what a load. I’m no doctor, Austin, but I’d say the accident failed to damage your doodad.”
Doodad? “Are you sure you’re not a doctor?”
Ten minutes later Kelly’s cleaned up and changed clothes in my hospital room’s lavatory. She’s wearing stone-washed jeans now and a lemon yellow sweater that makes her candy red hair and green eyes glow with that girl-next-door innocence it takes studio make-up artists whole careers to perfect.
“Want to know what I found in the safe?” she says.
The bed sheets rub against my skin like canvas. The pillow smells of cheap soap and starch. Outside in the hall, a gurney goes by, its wheels clickity-clacking like a tiny train. And though I’m interested in Kelly’s safe-cracking tale, I can’t get over the fact Rags tried to kill me. I didn’t know the son-of-a-bitch was that crazy.
“Sure,” I say. “Tell me what you found.”
“I can do better than that,” she says.
Kelly digs into her straw beach bag. She rummages through a cell phone, tissues, and a red wallet, finally pulls out an eight-by-eleven-inch manila envelope stuffed with…what? Papers?
She tosses the package on my chest. Ouch. It crashes onto my sternum with the force of a space shuttle returning from orbit.
I undo the clasp. The metal imprints white marks on my fingertips. Don’t know whether it’s the thick texture of the parchment, or my stockbroker’s well-trained sense of smell for money, but I know without looking exactly what Kelly has dumped on me.
I pull out the three-pound wad of papers from the manila envelope. What I expected. Registered securities, mostly blue chip stocks and municipal bonds. A big chunk of Gerry’s portfolio I knew nothing about.
“Using face value on the bonds, and the stock prices printed in the paper Saturday, it’s about two and a half million,” Kelly says.
I take a deep breath. I’m feeling better after a good night’s sleep. The doctors say I’m lucky to have no broken bones, no internal injuries.
“I have to ask you something, Kelly.”
She grins, a smile that covers her entire face. Like Julia Roberts, her happy mouth seems bigger than humanly possible. Guess Kelly got some kicks playing nurse. “Ask away,” she says. “But I bet I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do?”
“Uh, huh.”
“What?”
“You’re going to ask, if Gerry’s about to die, why am I hiding money from him. And why, if I’m going to inherit his money, am I acting now like I want to steal his stocks and bonds?”
This woman is not only pretty, she’s almost smart. “Well…yeah …why? If you’re going to inherit his money anyway…”
Kelly adjusts the bathroom door and admires herself in the full-length mirror. She tugs on her sweater, stretching the yellow material tight over her chest. “Well, here’s the thing, Austin…I’m not going to inherit much of anything.”
I feel my neck stiffen. “But that day in
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