Page 48 of Shield
We both nodded at the good doctor. He seemed less than pleased to be allowing two frumpy detectives into his world. We were given a long look before he left us to go help the next person on his long list of people in need.
“Okay, so technically, you’re no longer on the case, so why don’t you reach out to Timothy and see if he and his team have gotten a good match on the prints they lifted from the scene?”
“I promise I won’t say a word,” I wheedled as we made our way into the heart and soul of the ER. Since the wound was in the upper arm and had been clean—not hitting any bones or nerves—he’d been X-rayed, stitched up, and given some antibiotics and, probably, a tetanus shot. We saw a lot of shootings every year, and he’d probably not be admitted and would be released within a few hours. “I just want to hear what the man has to say.”
“You just don’t want to deal with Timothy,” Mack countered, to which I shrugged. Yeah, I was a coward when it came to emotional anything. “Fine, but you just take notes and try to look like you didn’t go twenty rounds with a demonic vacuum cleaner last night.”
My fingers rose of their own accord to brush a tender spot on my neck. “You could have told me sooner. I’d have buttoned up and found a damn tie.”
I tugged the neckline of my shirt up over my collarbone as my partner sniggered like a fool. “Asshole,” I added just for flavor. We approached a nurses’ station, asked about Lazlo, and were directed to a small room among about twenty. Moans filled the air. The smell of cleaner and iron were thick back here as doctors and nurses hustled from room to room purposefully.
Mack entered first. I followed, my sight touching on Lazlo as he sat on a gurney, his biceps bandaged, his face pale as snow. His gaze flickered to Mack, then to me, but he seemed reluctant to open the dialogue.
“We’re glad to see that you’re going to be okay, Mr. Richter,” Mack opened, and I nodded silently, easing my phone out of the back pocket of my wrinkled trousers. “I know you’re in a lot of pain, so we’re going to make this brief so you can rest before you’re discharged.”
Lazlo glanced from Mack to me. “Detective Winwood is here to take notes.”
“Can you tell Oliver that I’m okay? And tell him to tell Joe. I don’t think I can work tomorrow, but maybe the day after?”
“I’ll let Mr. Cowan know that you’re going to be fine. And I am relatively sure that Dr. Baxter is not going to call you out over a missed shift or two when he’s only just out of a hospital bed himself.”
“He’s out now?”
“Yep. Now you rest and recuperate. Being shot hurts.”
“Yeah, seriously.” Lazlo sighed as he cradled his wounded arm to his chest, a dark blue sling keeping the arm stationary. “I think I might know who the shooter was.”
Mack glanced at me. I held up my phone. “Are you agreeable with us recording this conversation, Mr. Richter?” I asked and got a nod from Lazlo. If only every victim/witness were this cooperative, our work would be so much easier. The call for some doctor to report to a certain room floated by. I placed my cell on the rolling tray that held some ice chips in a cup, and a box of tissues. “Thank you. So, can you tell us why you were at the clinic so late at night? According to what the responding officers have in their report, you were working?”
“Yeah, it’s the end of the month, and since we’re so short-staffed, I was trying to get the billing done and sent to Heloise before she chewed my ass again.”
Mack and I exchanged a look. Heloise. We might know what she was doing, but the rest of the staff at the clinic didn’t have a clue. That aspect of the investigation was still under tight wraps, as we wanted to get our ducks in neat little rows before making more arrests. Every damnIhad to be dotted, and everyTcrossed before we could hand things over to the district attorney, where things would be handled by the prosecutors. Sure, they would be in contact with us throughout, and we would be called to testify when the case went to court, but officially, we considered the case closed once the DA had it. And our present DA was a stickler. She didnotwant one criminal getting off on a technicality or due to sloppy police procedure. We didn’t either, but Monique Mason was a whole new level of detail-oriented. Given that we were working numerous cases at the same time—and were fried like eggs from being overworked on the daily—we had to double down on ensuring no mistakes were made on our end.
“You work closely with Heloise?” I asked.
I sensed Mack stiffening next to me. Was this kid connected to her? Was he part of this scheme? Had he crossed a line?
“God no, she kinda scares me a little, and she’s super territorial over billing… I mostly avoid her.”
“Please, go on,” Mack said as I lingered in the corner, arms crossed, belly rumbling softly. Too much coffee and no food. The story of my life.
“So yeah, I’m gathering up the billings for Medicare to send to Heloise when I hear something at the front door. I thought it was maybe Dilbert, so I got up to go let him in.”
Mack shot me a questioning look. I shook my head. That was a name that I had not heard in our previous discussions with the clinic staff.
“Dilbert?” Mack asked.
Lazlo blushed. “He’s an alley cat that I feed every day. Heloise says she’s allergic and isn’t really keen on the cat hanging around, so I do it on the sly. He’s a really nice cat. He digs on the front or back door, then I take him whatever kind of cat food I buy at the dollar store. It stinks really bad, the tuna food, but Dilbert loves it.”
“Cats are cool,” Mack said with a patient smile. “So, the sound at the door. Was it the cat?”
“No, it was some dude trying to jimmy the lock open. I yelled at him to stop. That was when he pulled out the gun and fired through the glass. The alarm went off, and he had like this second of not knowing what to do, so he froze, and that was when I saw his face. When our eyes locked, he freaked out and shot like a dozen times.” There had been only three shots fired through the glass, but I was sure it seemed like hundreds to poor Lazlo. “One of them hit me as I was trying to run back to the reception desk. It really hurt.”
The door to his cubby hole of a room opened, and the doctor entered. “My patient needs to rest. Tie this up.”
This time, the man in white stayed in the room. Our time was over, it seemed.
“You said you recognized the man? Can you give us more information?” Mack asked as I reached for my phone.
