A haze had drifted up against the mountains as Steve pulled out of the parking lot. Made things fuzzy. He thought about Oderkirk’s death. A thin layer of uncertainty shrouded that too.
Maybe it was all coincidence. Or maybe Johnny’s God had planned it out.
Some planner. If he was so all-powerful, why’d he make everything such a mess? You don’t do it that way if you’re God.
Time for a little clearing of the air. Steve had the autopsy report in his briefcase in the car. It was four fifteen. He’d come this far and spent this much time. Maybe one more stop.
Traynor Memorial Hospital.
Steve got directions at an ARCO station. The hospital was tucked up against the foothills. A three-story, sage-green structure with tinted windows. Just inside the front doors, two elderly women sat at a reception desk. They were dressed in blue smocks with yellow tags identifying them as volunteers. One of them had sleet-colored hair done up in curls. The other had dyed hers a shade of red that did not exist in nature.
They looked surprised and delighted when Steve came in, as if he were the Pony Express riding into the fort.
They fought for the first word. Curls said, “May I help — ” at the same time Red said, “Who are you here to — ”
They stopped and looked at each other, half-annoyed, half-amused, then back at Steve.
And spoke over each other again.
“Let me help you out,” Steve said. “I’m looking for a doctor, a certain — ”
“Are you hurt?” Curls said.
“Our emergency entrance is around to the side,” Red said.
“No, I — ”
“Oh, but we just had a shooting,” Curls said.
“A colored man,” Red added.
“Black, Liv. They don’t like to be called colored.”
“I always forget.” Red shook her head.
Steve said, “I’m trying to locate a certain doctor — ”
“We don’t do referrals here,” Curls said. “But if you — ”
Red jumped in. “We have a medical building just down the block if you’ll — ”
“He didn’t ask for a medical building,” Curls snapped.
“I know that, but if he’s looking for a doctor that would be the place to start.”
“Not any doctor,” Steve said. “A specific doctor, named Walker C. Phillips.”
A silence fell upon the volunteers. Neither seemed eager to tackle that one.
“Is he still practicing?” Steve said.
Red leaned forward and whispered, “Lost his license to practice.”
“Terrible tragedy,” Curls said, shaking her head.
“He drank,” Red added, and gave a tippling motion with her hand.
“When was this?” Steve asked.
“Oh, it’s been, what, ten years, at least,” Curls said. “His wife left him, you know.”
“Ah, no, I did not know that.”
The two women nodded.
“Can you tell me, is he still around?”
“Oh, he moved,” Red said. “To Tehachapi.”
“I thought it was Temecula,” Curls said.
“No, Tehachapi.”
“He moved where the prison is.”
“That’s Tehachapi.”
“No, it’s Temecula.”
“Oh, no. I have a granddaughter in Temecula.”
“That doesn’t mean — ”
“I would have remembered.”
“Excuse me,” Steve said. “Maybe there’s someone here at the hospital who would know for sure?”
That seemed like a delightful suggestion to the ladies, who fought over the phone. Curls won and punched in a number and took about five minutes to formulate the question, and finally listened. She started to frown. Then seemed almost angry.
She replaced the phone. “Apparently he moved to Tehachapi.”
Red smiled without saying a word.
Curls quickly added, “But he may have moved from Temecula.”
“Thank you, ladies,” Steve said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“That’s our job,” Curls said.
“It’s not really a job,” Red said.
Steve walked quickly for the doors, hearing Curls as he did. “I think you’d do much better if you did consider it a job.”
As he was driving back to LA, Steve got a call from Ashley.
“This is a surprise,” he said. He noted, with consternation, that his heart was kicking up. With longing. He wanted to be over that reaction. Now.
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m driving and everything.”
“Steve — ”
“Sorry.”
She paused. “You have some things in the garage. I was just wondering what you planned to do with all of it.”
“Is it in the way?”
“Well, sort of.”
“Is it a health hazard?”
“Steve, I’m not a storage service.”
“No, you’re the one who filed for divorce and forced me out of the — ”
“I didn’t force anything.”
“And now you’re ragging my face about a few things in the garage? Come on, I live in an apartment.”
“We can’t just leave it like this. I own the house now — ”
“You will, when I get my share.”
“ — and I can’t have a portion of my garage filled with your things.”
“At least give me a chance to get a house of my own.”
“How likely is that?”
“Thank you.”
“I mean, are you going to rent?”
“No, I had my eye on the Getty Villa overlooking the ocean.”
“Steve, I’m serious. I’m going to be working at home tomorrow, so if you’d like — ”
“What great timing you have.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know, today was a great day. I haven’t told you, have I?”
“Told me what?”
Steve started and stopped a couple of times. His eyes felt hot.
“Steve?”
“I’m here. Listen. Robert. He’s not dead.”
There was a long pause. “Your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“How could it be?”
“I can’t go into the whole thing. But it was a whole scheme, and the boy who died was misidentified as Robert. He’s alive. He’s been in prison, but he contacted me. I’ve just been out to see him. It’s — ” He fought back tears. “I don’t know, it’s been a lot.”
“I’m sorry, Steve. I didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“That’s just so . . . unbelievable. How did he find you?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I’ll move my stuff. Just give me time.”
“Sure, sure. I’m really — ”
He snapped the phone shut. It was almost dark now and the city was still an hour away. Move his stuff. It reminded him of that scene in Moonstruck when the college professor gets water thrown at him by one of his young female students. He tells the waiter to clear the table and remove all evidence of her and bring him a tall glass of vodka.
Ashley sure wanted all evidence of Steve removed. He knew they were finished, but as long as he had some things in the garage, well, maybe he had a shot. Yeah, and maybe there were barbequed ribs on the moon.
But then there was Sienna. Why had she come into his life at this particular time? Maybe getting his brother back and a new woman in his life was a twist of the old wheel of fortune. Coming up his way for a change.
That was something to cling to. They call that hope , he guessed. Or maybe delusion.
He stopped at The Cue and ran a couple of racks. Drank a pitcher but kept it to one and got back to the apartment without incident.
That would be a fine thing to show his new clients, a DUI charge. What an idiot, what a stupid idiot he was.
As he approached the apartment building he saw the telltale flash of red light and spotty gatherings of people on the street. The urban distress code. And the ambulance was right in front of his place.
Which kept him from getting into the driveway. So he double-parked and got out, blinking to try to clear his beer goggles.
He was sufficiently successful to spot the manager, Mr. Jong Choi, standing on the front grass with his arms across his chest and a cigarette smoldering in one hand.
“Who?” Steve asked.
“Six,” he said.
Six was Mrs. Stanky. “What happened?”
Choi shrugged. He was slight of build and smoked incessantly. “She trouble, alway trouble.”
“You’re a fount of information.”
“Huh?”
Steve turned away and looked to the ambulance. It was clear the paramedics were inside the complex. He made a beeline for number six.
The door was open. The white gangsta wannabe kid from number seven was standing outside with a couple of his wannabe friends. A little something happening in their pointless world.
Two paramedics were standing over Mrs. Stanky, who was on the sofa.
“She okay?” Steve said.
One of the medics turned around. “You are?”
“Neighbor. Upstairs.”
“Who is that?” Mrs. Stanky’s voice chimed.
“It’s me, Mrs. Stanky. Steve from upstairs.”
“Steve?”
“Right here.”
“Don’t go.”
To the medic he said, “Can you tell me what happened here?”
“We think she kinked her hose,” he said. “No oxygen. Passed out.”
“How’d you get the call?”
The medic shrugged. “I think somebody called it in.”
“I did.” Mr. Wannabe was in the doorway. “She wasn’t complaining about the music. I looked in and saw her on the floor.”
So Mrs. Stanky’s disposition had saved her, by its very absence.
Steve thought there was a certain poeticism in that.
“Good work, dude,” Steve said.
Wannabe looked disgusted at being called dude. But a little proud too.
The medics finished their business and decided Mrs. Stanky could stay as is, provided someone sat with her for a while.
So Steve watched another episode of Law & Order, this time all the way through. By the time the jury got the case handed to them, Mrs. Stanky seemed her old self. Which meant lodging some complaints with Steve.
Satisfied she was good as new — or at least as good as she’d been — Steve went outside, where he was met by Nick Nolte, looking for a dish.
The routine seemed like a good thing. Verner, California, was starting to feel a bit strange.