THIRTY-EIGHT
He had been an unruly patient, inattentive and less than eager to please anyone. The doctors noted that there was something tragic about him even in his movements. A kick to the groin of the doctor as he tried to inject serum into his post surgery bullet riddled body. He tussled with the orderlies trying to restrain him to the bed with the use of handcuffs. Lil’ Long threw threatening gestures at the armed police guarding him. He grimaced when he felt the needle in his vein. His eyes rolled back and he nodded off to sleep wrapped in his blood soaked bandages.
The detectives got off the elevator and hurried to the room. The commotion had just about dwindled down to snores coming from the sleeping patient. A sweating doctor, still breathing hard from the ordeal, greeted the detectives.
“How ya doing, doc?” Kowalski asked.
“Annoyed by your patient’s antics,” the doctor answered as he signed off on a medical chart. “Doesn’t seem like he wants to live, detective,” the doctor continued as the detectives observed Lil’ Long lying in the hospital bed.
“He may not wanna live but he’s mine. He owes me his life and after all the fuss to get him here, he’s gonna live. Right, doc?” Kowalski asked moving closer to Lil’ Long.
“Well, luckily the bullets passed right through the chest cavity barely grazing his spine on exit. Ah...there is one round caught under his chest next to his spinal column that may require additional surgery...ah...he can live with this for awhile but eventually...”
“Doc, doc,” Detective Kowalski said and raised his hand. “Doc, you can go ahead and explain and discuss all that medical possibilities with my superiors. The only thing I wanna know is, is he gonna be able to talk to me anytime soon?”
“All right, even though further surgery will be required to repair the bullet damages, the patient will be able to talk to you as soon as he wakes up,” the doctor said, his voice becoming terse. He viewed his charts before continuing. “At the moment, all things being equal, Michael Lowe should be able to regain all normal functions.” The doctor looked up to see that both detectives were busy leaving the room.
Outside the door, Kowalski spoke with the uniform on duty. “I want that prisoner transferred to the prison infirmary as soon as possible. Where’s the other guy?” He asked gruffly.
“Ah, he took a smoke-break, detective,” the uniformed officer answered.
“When he gets back, have the prisoner escorted and let me know immediately as soon as it’s done.”
“Gotcha, detective. That’s a ten-four.” The detectives walked away. “Asshole,” whispered the uniform under his breath.
Neither said anything as they waited on the elevator. When it arrived, they got on and rode to the main floor. They walked to the end of the corridor of the hospital. The door parted and medical technicians rushed by pushing a gurney with a teen dripping blood from holes in his body. The detectives took a deep breath and casually walked on.
Dusk had drawn closer as they stood outside for a moment. Kowalski lit a cigarette and exhaled directing smoke at the sky. Hall stood next to the car and stared at the city’s darkening skyline thwarted by the smog from the high rises. He could barely see the stars. Kowalski leaned closer to him. “Hall, I know you’re my partner but you’re lacking enthusiasm. We could bust this case wide open if you do certain things.”
“Really?” Hall replied. “And just what are you suggesting I do?”
Kowalski thought about it as he puffed heavy on the cigarette. He subsequently exhaled and all the smoke temporarily hid his facial expression from Hall’s curious glance.
“All you have to do is show your kid brother all the evidence gathered.”
“Huh?” Hall was befuddled.
“I took the liberty of looking at the forensic report. It showed...”
“You went on my desk and pilfered those reports?”
“Yes,” Kowalski said and got inside the driver’s side of the car. He was nodding his head when Hall jumped on the passenger side. “Yes, you may say that. I guess you learned all them fancy words in those classes of yours, uh, Hall? Pilfer? Yeah, I looked at the report.”
“Listen, I don’t know how you used to conduct yourself around other partners but as the senior detective here, I’m saying to you stay off my fucking desk. Anything you need to know about the case will be supplied to you by me. Do you have that straight, Detective Kowalski?”
“Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. Now forensic tests proved negative on our man, Eric Ascot. There was no bullet residue on his clothes according to the reports which proves what we’ve been saying all along. He’s covering up something. Also...”
“Can I see the damn report myself?” Hall asked in a tone suggesting annoyance.
“Sure, I took the liberty of making a copy and bringing it with me just in case.”
“Where is the copy?”
“Here,” Kowalski said as he reached under the sun visor and tossing the papers at Hall.
“You got coffee stains all over my damn paperwork.”
“I didn’t say I was perfect, detective,” Kowalski mocked. “Those bullets that killed the young lady from our man’s apartment came from the same gun and are identical to the rounds that were used to kill our mob connect, Busta, and the two police officers they found by the roadside. They’re not through searching.”
“I can read, dammit!”
“That’s right. What do you say we go to a funeral? I heard all kinds of celebrities will be there.”