Inside the entrance of Baptist Manor was a large aquarium that stretched a good ten feet down the hall. Swimming inside the tank were dozens of goldfish, each its own spectacular color. Brilliant orange. Deep red. Shimmering blue. I’d been to Baptist Manor several times before, but this—the aquarium, the fish—was new. It was both mesmerizing and depressing. Like most of the residents, the fish wouldn’t leave this place until they were belly-up.
“Can I help you, sir?”
The secretary at the registration desk was waving to me. Her face lit up when she recognized me. I’d seen that look before. She was starstruck.
If only women looked at me like that sixty years ago.
She gave me a visitor’s badge and directed me to the third-floor medical ward.
I passed a room where twenty or so residents were lounging in front of a big-screen TV tuned to Fox News. Half were snoring. The other half, I assume, had advanced dementia—it was their only possible excuse for not changing the channel.
When I reached Darlene Donnelly’s room, the door was open.
I rapped lightly and, hearing no voices, stepped inside.
There was a sheer curtain dividing the room. Darlene’s bed was closest to the door. A much older woman was in the bed near the window. Both were asleep. This wasn’t a nursing facility—it was a departure room. Neither person was hooked up to any heavy equipment, so I guess that was a positive sign. Still, I was reminded of my visit last summer to the National Zoo with my grandkids. Two hours, and not a single animal awake. By the time we’d reached the exit, I’d been half asleep too.
On a nightstand beside Darlene’s bed were dried flowers and sympathy cards. I pulled a chair to the bedside. I didn’t try to wake her. There was no point. I’d learned more about her condition from a doctor who’d seen her back in January. He wasn’t supposed to discuss it with me—HIPAA regulations and all that—but we went way back. Not only had Darlene’s stroke left her partially paralyzed, but she was also catatonic. She could open her eyes, but her thoughts were anybody’s guess.
But I had hope.
Finn had had hope.
“He talked about you all the time,” I told her. I wanted to believe Darlene could process what I was saying. The odds, of course, were slim. “I’ve never known someone so in love with his own wife. I can only imagine you felt the same way about him. It breaks my heart, what’s happened. It breaks my heart. Your husband was a good man.”
Behind me, a toilet flushed. I turned to see a middle-aged man exiting the restroom. His long black hair was slicked back into a ponytail. It took him a moment to notice me, and then he froze.
“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here,” I said.
“No worries,” he said, striding past me to the other patient’s bedside. He had great long legs and stood a good six inches taller than me. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up, revealing a tattoo of a grinning skull with diamonds in its eyes. Back in my day, the only people who got tattoos were sailors. I had to remind myself that we weren’t back in my day anymore.
The man lifted a red leather-bound book off the woman’s bedside table.
I rose from my chair. “If you want to be alone for a few minutes, I can leave and come back. These curtains aren’t much, are they?”
He looked me up and down. He was either trying to place me or size me up.
“Sorry to hear about her husband,” he said finally. “Read about the accident in the paper.”
“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say, so that’s all I said.
I lingered at the edge of the curtain for a moment, watching this man and the sleeping woman. I examined the book in his hand more closely. It was a Bible, the kind you find in hotel rooms. A Gideon Bible. The way it was beaten and worn told me it was well-used.
“Is that your mother?”
He looked at me, then at the woman in the bed. He shook his head. “I minister to the patients here. The forgotten ones. Their families may forget, but God never does.” He checked his watch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time. If you’ll excuse me.”
I put a hand on his shoulder on his way out. “It’s Joe, by the way.”
“Reggie.”
We shook hands, and he left.
It was also time for me to say goodbye to Darlene. I told her I’d pray for her. I was also planning to donate what I could to make sure she got the care she deserved—a room of her own would be nice—but there wasn’t any way I could magically make her better. Once the doctors are done with you, it’s between you and God.
I was turning to leave when I spied the red leather Bible on the bedside table. The minister had accidentally left it behind.
I picked it up and started after him. The long-legged man wasn’t in the hallway, so I stopped by the receptionist’s desk near the elevators. She was busy tapping on her phone.
“There was a man here, ministering to the patients. Did you see which way he went?”
“A minister?” she said, without looking up. She had fair skin with freckles and strawberry-blonde hair. “We have a minister, but he’s only here Sundays.”
“This was a tall guy, with long hair.”
“On this floor? I think I’d have noticed.”
Her head was still buried in her phone.
“I didn’t just dream him up. He was real.” I waved the Bible. “This is real.”
She looked up with a little half frown that highlighted her dimples. “You might try the front desk downstairs. Everyone that comes in the building has to check in.”
The front desk was empty. I poked my head outside, but didn’t see the man. I returned to the desk. While I was waiting for the receptionist to return, I glanced at the visitor’s log. Nobody by the name of Reggie had signed in all day.
After a few minutes, the receptionist exited the women’s restroom. When she saw me waiting at the desk, she hustled over and took her seat. “Sorry about that, Mr. Biden.”
I handed her the Bible. “A man left this upstairs. Can you make sure it gets to the lost and found?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Anything for you, Joe. Can I call you Joe?”
“Everybody does,” I said, flashing my trademark grin. “Do you have security around here, by any chance?”
“There’s a camera up there,” she said, pointing to a black half sphere mounted on the ceiling. “But it’s not hooked up. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
As soon as I thanked her and turned for the door, I dropped my smile. I didn’t know who the long-legged man was, but he wasn’t there ministering to the patients. I doubted that he’d be back for the Bible. It was just a prop.
The man had mentioned Darlene’s husband’s accident, so he wasn’t in the room at random. If Finn had been on drugs—and that was a big if—the man could have been a fellow hophead. Maybe he’d been there to toss the room, looking for something to sell so that he could score.
I’d spooked him, though.
Chances are he wouldn’t risk a return visit.
I called Dan and left a message, telling him what had happened. “You’ll want to get in touch with their daughter, see if anything was stolen. My guess is no, but Grace would be the one to ask. The security at this place has more holes than a pound of Swiss cheese. Let me know if I can help.”
Dan didn’t call back that night, so I went to bed thinking he didn’t need me. Nobody seemed to want my help anymore. I got the impression that some people just thought I was too old. That I’d retired from public office and joined the Geezer Squad over at Earl’s. I might have had an enlarged prostate, but I wasn’t ready to sit around all day in a diner bitching about it. There were still a few miles left in this old clunker.