a matter of seconds, and she directs her menacing gaze at Irene. “This is all your fault. You’re always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. And now look what you’ve done!”
“Be quiet!” Hurley says to Connie, who looks put out but says nothing more. “Go get me Bernard Chase’s address.” Connie scurries off and Hurley shifts his attention back to Irene. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”
Irene looks at me, then at Lucien.
Lucien says, “It seems Bjorn might have been the last person to see Bernard Chase alive.”
“Really?” Hurley says. “And when were you going to tell me this?”
“We just did,” Lucien says with dead calm.
“Where is Bjorn now?”
“In the dayroom,” Irene says.
“Fine. Go get him and bring him here, please.”
Lucien nods and starts to steer Irene toward the front entrance to the hallway, but Connie has just returned with a slip of paper in hand—Bernard Chase’s address I presume—so Irene does a quick about-face and heads for the outside exit, instead.
Hurley takes the paper from Connie and watches Irene and Lucien leave. As soon as they are out the door he turns to me with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong with Lucien? He looks like hell and he’s behaving like a normal person, all polite and crap. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. I just found out he and Desi are separated, so maybe that’s playing into things.”
“Ouch. That’s rough,” Hurley says in a low voice. “It’s no fun when you can’t be with the one you love.” An awkward silence fills the space between us until Hurley says, “We really need to talk later.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. Instead, I open the door to the men’s room and ask Izzy if he needs my help.
“I’m ready to bag Bernard,” he says, and I go in to help him while Hurley gets out his cell phone and starts making calls.
Junior stands by the door, propping it open, while Izzy and I tuck Bernard away inside the body bag. We are zipping it up when Lucien and Irene return with Bjorn in tow. They walk up to Hurley and Lucien says, “We need to show you something.”
“Go ahead,” Irene says to Bjorn.
Bjorn bends over and rolls up first one pant leg, then the other. On both of his lower legs are lines of fresh, red scratches. Next, he undoes his pants at the waist and pulls them down over his right hip, revealing more scratches.
Hurley looks at the marks. “Did you scratch yourself, Bjorn?”
Irene answers for him. “Bjorn didn’t make those scratches, Bernie Chase did. He did it to him here in the men’s room.”
“Is that true, Bjorn?” Hurley asks.
He nods, looking frightened.
I start to get up from my kneeling position on the floor with the intent of walking over to Bjorn to offer him a friendly touch, but my muscles have other ideas. When I try to stand, my leg starts trembling and a stabbing pain shoots up my back. It’s severe enough to make me suck in a breath and cuss to myself, and I even experience a brief wave of nausea. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep my bile and my profane utterances where they belong. Izzy has picked up on my distress and I sense his eyes on me. Eager to appear shipshape for the job, I swallow down my pain and talk to Bjorn from where I am on the floor. “Bjorn, can you remember what happened? Irene said you have trouble remembering things sometimes.”
“I do. I couldn’t remember what happened before when she asked me, but I think I can now,” he says.
“He does this,” Irene explains. “His mind wanders a lot and sometimes it comes back and sometimes it doesn’t. Stress makes it worse. The other day he was supposed to pick me up at one o’clock and he forgot. He took himself out for lunch to Dairy Airs instead. When I finally caught up to him and reminded him that he was supposed to pick me up, he had no recollection of us ever discussing the matter. But the next day he not only remembered the entire
“Be quiet!” Hurley says to Connie, who looks put out but says nothing more. “Go get me Bernard Chase’s address.” Connie scurries off and Hurley shifts his attention back to Irene. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”
Irene looks at me, then at Lucien.
Lucien says, “It seems Bjorn might have been the last person to see Bernard Chase alive.”
“Really?” Hurley says. “And when were you going to tell me this?”
“We just did,” Lucien says with dead calm.
“Where is Bjorn now?”
“In the dayroom,” Irene says.
“Fine. Go get him and bring him here, please.”
Lucien nods and starts to steer Irene toward the front entrance to the hallway, but Connie has just returned with a slip of paper in hand—Bernard Chase’s address I presume—so Irene does a quick about-face and heads for the outside exit, instead.
Hurley takes the paper from Connie and watches Irene and Lucien leave. As soon as they are out the door he turns to me with a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong with Lucien? He looks like hell and he’s behaving like a normal person, all polite and crap. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. I just found out he and Desi are separated, so maybe that’s playing into things.”
“Ouch. That’s rough,” Hurley says in a low voice. “It’s no fun when you can’t be with the one you love.” An awkward silence fills the space between us until Hurley says, “We really need to talk later.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. Instead, I open the door to the men’s room and ask Izzy if he needs my help.
“I’m ready to bag Bernard,” he says, and I go in to help him while Hurley gets out his cell phone and starts making calls.
Junior stands by the door, propping it open, while Izzy and I tuck Bernard away inside the body bag. We are zipping it up when Lucien and Irene return with Bjorn in tow. They walk up to Hurley and Lucien says, “We need to show you something.”
“Go ahead,” Irene says to Bjorn.
Bjorn bends over and rolls up first one pant leg, then the other. On both of his lower legs are lines of fresh, red scratches. Next, he undoes his pants at the waist and pulls them down over his right hip, revealing more scratches.
Hurley looks at the marks. “Did you scratch yourself, Bjorn?”
Irene answers for him. “Bjorn didn’t make those scratches, Bernie Chase did. He did it to him here in the men’s room.”
“Is that true, Bjorn?” Hurley asks.
He nods, looking frightened.
I start to get up from my kneeling position on the floor with the intent of walking over to Bjorn to offer him a friendly touch, but my muscles have other ideas. When I try to stand, my leg starts trembling and a stabbing pain shoots up my back. It’s severe enough to make me suck in a breath and cuss to myself, and I even experience a brief wave of nausea. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep my bile and my profane utterances where they belong. Izzy has picked up on my distress and I sense his eyes on me. Eager to appear shipshape for the job, I swallow down my pain and talk to Bjorn from where I am on the floor. “Bjorn, can you remember what happened? Irene said you have trouble remembering things sometimes.”
“I do. I couldn’t remember what happened before when she asked me, but I think I can now,” he says.
“He does this,” Irene explains. “His mind wanders a lot and sometimes it comes back and sometimes it doesn’t. Stress makes it worse. The other day he was supposed to pick me up at one o’clock and he forgot. He took himself out for lunch to Dairy Airs instead. When I finally caught up to him and reminded him that he was supposed to pick me up, he had no recollection of us ever discussing the matter. But the next day he not only remembered the entire
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