Lisbet edged forward another inch in her chair, and looked that much closer to taking off. Embarrassed, she said, “I guess it wasn’t the best choice.”
“No, it’s my lame sense of humor that wasn’t the best choice,” I said, and then I reached out and lightly touched her hand.
She relaxed enough to take up a little more of the chair’s real estate, and I thought of something that might keep her there a few more minutes.
“Do you have a sweet tooth?”
“I have thirty-two of them.”
“Do me a favor and get that bag over there.”
Lisbet followed the direction of my finger and then brought me the bag I’d been holding when I was attacked. The cops on the scene had gathered my goodies and brought them to the hospital. Now I saw a use for them. Dottie from the gift shop had suggested I might get lucky with their chocolates. I hoped she was right.
I pulled out the box. “Here’s a token of my esteem for saving my life.”
Lisbet smiled and said, “If I had known saving lives involved chocolate, I might have made it my full-time vocation.”
In a Forrest Gump voice I said, “Momma always said life was like a box of chocolates.”
“Hand-dipped chocolates,” Lisbet said, reading the box. What she read next surprised her: “‘Monastery Candies-better than the best.’”
“You know the nuns wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t true.”
“Nuns made these?”
I nodded. She studied the box once more, ran her fingernail under the slogan, and said, “I suppose we owe it to science to find out if these chocolates really are better than the best.”
“Apparently, the nuns didn’t have to take a vow of humility.”
“It’s not bragging if you can back it up,” Lisbet said, opening the box and passing a chocolate my way.
As I stuffed it into my mouth, I said, “I am sure this violates the hospital’s Jell-O dessert laws.”
Lisbet had already bitten into her chocolate, and her rapturous sounds reminded me of how the cartoon character Snuffles reacts after eating doggy treats. She didn’t quite levitate like Snuffles, but I think I saw one foot leave the ground.
“The nuns didn’t lie,” she said.
“There is a commandment or two that frowns upon that.”
“Another?” Lisbet said, holding the box out to me.
“The rest are for you.”
“You’re the one that’s a patient in the hospital.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret. If they don’t release me in the next few minutes, there’s going to be a prison break.”
“But I thought they were holding your underwear and cell phone as ransom.”
“They are, but extreme circumstances call for extreme measures.”
“Doesn’t knowing about your prison break make me an accessory to the crime?”
“It does. And let’s not forget that you’re already complicit in the receipt of a bribe.”
“You led me down that slippery slope.”
“I was helped by the nuns.”
“I can resist everything but temptation,” she said and started chewing on a second chocolate.
“It’s good to know you’re human.”
“And not a saint?”
Lisbet’s tone was playful, but there was an edge to it. The look she gave me also suggested she had some issues with her nickname.
“People respect you,” I said. “That’s why they call you that.”
“I’m no saint. I take in abandoned newborns and see to their burials because I think it’s the right thing to do. It’s not as if I believe that God spoke to me and told me what to do. I know a lot of people think that what I do is strange, and that the only possible explanation is that I’m a bit touched.”
“I am glad you’re not a saint. I can deal with strange just fine, but I’m not very good with sanctity.”
“What about you?” she said. “I’ve given up my halo, but you still have your pedestal.”
“What pedestal is that?”
“You’re a hero, a modern-day knight-errant that braved dragon fire to bring a notorious villain to justice.”
“Now that you saved my life, I’ll let you be the hero.”
“I dialed three digits. That’s all.”
“And all I did was my job. The news of my heroism was greatly exaggerated. But there are perks. Did you know that this is Go to Lunch with a Hero Week?”
“That somehow escaped my notice.”
“Well, it’s true. That means your civic duty requires you to have lunch with me, and me with you.”
“I’m not one that usually shirks her civic duty.”
“Nor am I. You mind if my partner joins us? Sirius pouts a lot if he thinks he’s being excluded.”
“I am all for Sirius joining us, but I’m wondering if the restaurant will be as welcoming.”
“We know all the restaurants in the city that are dog friendly. My partner’s favorite watering hole is this microbrewery with a nice outdoor patio. I always order a burger and brew, and he has a burger along with a water bowl, and we’re both happy.”
“They ever mix up your orders?”
“That happens all the time.”
“I think I’ll order a salad to alleviate the confusion.”
Suddenly I was feeling a whole lot better.
An hour after Lisbet took her leave, I announced that I was leaving the hospital and demanded my cell phone and underwear. The powers-that-be didn’t think my leaving was a good idea and decided that I should have the exercise of jumping through hoops before departing. My final act of contrition was waiting on my release papers. As I watched the billing clerk work on my file, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her long, rainbow-colored, painted fingernails. Her talons rivaled those of Manchu royalty, but somehow she was still able to clack away on the computer keyboard.
“Dr. Fish wanted you to sign this,” she said.
Her index fingernail, about as long as a letter opener, tapped imperiously on the signature line. I glanced at the paper and saw the acronym AMA in several places.
“American Medical Association?” I asked.
With curt emphasis she said, “Against medical advice.”
I signed where she told me, but not in my usual scrawl. With very neat handwriting, I penned in the name Mary Baker Eddy.
“You’ll also need to sign this,” the clerk said.
The last time I’d had that much fine print thrust under my nose was when Jenny and I bought our house. “Am I promising my firstborn?”
Bored, she said, “You’re agreeing to be liable for payment if for any reason your health insurance doesn’t cover treatment received during your stay.”
“It’s been my experience that only two professions wear masks: bank robbers and doctors.”
She was not amused. I doubt whether an MRI could have found her smile. It had to be an oversight, but for some reason I wasn’t offered a wheelchair ride to the curb.
I sprang Sirius ten minutes later. The clerk at the animal clinic was considerably friendlier than her counterpart at the hospital. Most kids grow up wanting to work with animals. There’s a good reason for that. The alternative is to work with humans. When I signed Sirius’s paperwork, there were no notations of AMA.
When Sirius was brought out for me, I took a knee, and then I went nose to nose with my friend, giving him a hug and getting in return a tongue on my face and a whipping from his tail. His eyes were shining; mine were a little wet. They’d had to shave a few patches and sew him up where he’d sustained cuts, but he didn’t look too bad.
We weren’t more than a dozen steps out the door when Sirius paused at a fence post and lifted his leg for a long pit stop. “Save some,” I told him. “I was thinking we could do a drive-by at the hospital where I was staying.”
It was an unnecessary request, of course. I have never seen my partner run out of ammunition.
I drove in the freeway’s slow lane. My only goal was to get home in one piece. Earlier I’d taken some codeine with Tylenol, but the meds felt as if they’d worn off already. Any movement of my neck hurt and my ribs ached like hell. It didn’t help knowing my injuries would stiffen up and get worse overnight, but I wasn’t about to cancel my next day’s appointments, especially after what had happened.