“Of course I can.”
“How?”
Wally pressed his lips together. “We old WASPS are not completely without resources.”
E. Wallace Carver limped painfully up to the front door. His right leg had obviously been severely injured, and he held his right arm close to his side as though it too was damaged. He rang the doorbell. When there was no response he rang again. Nothing. With a stick from the yard, he pounded on the door. There was a scuttling of feet and the door opened.
“What do you want?” The woman’s eyes burned at him. “Why are you making all this racket?”
“Because I need the name of the owner of this property.” He sagged against the doorframe.
“Hey! What’s the matter with you?”
“I...need to sit down.” Pushing past the woman, he collapsed in a chair. Then he drew himself up as haughtily as his sitting position permitted. ”
“Madam, I need medical attention, but first, are you the owner? I have fallen on your ill-maintained front walk and may be permanently incapacitated. My attorney will require the name of the defendant. Is that you?”
“No! It isn’t my house! I live across...” Her eyes suddenly stopped their restless movement. “What do you mean, `defendant’? There’s nothing wrong with the front walk!”
“If you would care to examine it, in fact please do, you will find an automobile tire in the middle of it, or perhaps to one side since it may have moved when I fell over it. Again I ask the name of the owner please.”
“He isn’t here, and.what were you doing on his property anyway?”
“I was looking for the house number. I am unfamiliar with this street. You are undoubtedly aware that it is the responsibility of homeowners to keep their properties hazard free. Yours was not.” He coughed and clutched his chest, bending over in the chair.
“Hey! What’s wrong with you?”
“Your phone.” he gasped. “Need...an ambulance.”
“Well you’re not calling any...hey!” Carver slowly fell out of the chair onto the carpeted floor. “Shit!” The woman bent over and shook him. “Old man! Old man!” There was no response from Wally who’d stretched out on the floor with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. She stood undecided for a moment, then went to the telephone at the end of the room next to the stairs to the second floor. She dialed nervously.
“Frank, problem. Some old bastard tripped on a tire on the front walk and hurt himself...How do I know! It wasn’t there twenty minutes ago. He came in here wanting the owner’s name. And then an ambulance. Now he’s passed out on the floor...She’s okay. She’s in the kitchen and hasn’t heard any of this. Maybe you’d better come play doctor again...why, can’t it wait? Jesus, I can’t have him here that long!...That’s better. As quick as you can. Christ, he might die on me!” She hung up the phone and stood looking at Carver. He groaned and his eyes opened.
“What happened?” He sat up, wincing at the pain. “Did you call an ambulance?”
“Even better. I got a doctor. He’s busy on a call, but he’ll be over in twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes! While I’m lying here in agony?”
“An ambulance wouldn’t make it much sooner. We’re not downtown, you know...You want a glass of water, or some coffee?”
“No, no! Perhaps you’d help me over to the phone. My wife will worry about me.”
“Where’s your wife?” She got him to his feet, and he weaved his way unsteadily over to the instrument.
“At the hotel. We’re only here in Olympia overnight. I was trying to find some friends of ours. I spoke with them on the telephone a short while ago, but I’ve gotten lost locating their house.”
“And your wife didn’t come along?”
“They’re friends of mine, as a matter of fact a former lady friend of mine, before I met my wife.” He was interrupted by another siege of coughing. “She felt I should go alone,” he wheezed. He picked up the receiver and dialed a series of numbers.
“Hello, room 211 please...Marge? I’ve had a bit of a fall. I’m alright, but it will be a while...” The woman had turned to go to the kitchen. With a choking sound, Carver dropped the telephone on its rest and fell to the floor.
The woman stopped at the sound. “Again?” She ran back to him. Carver had both hands to his chest and was taking in short rasping breaths.
“My heart,” he gasped.
“You have pills for it?” Her look was not sympathetic.
“In my pocket.”
“Which one?” She knelt on the floor next to him.
“Left.”
She dug her hand into his overcoat pocket. “There’s nothing in here.”
“Must be the right then.”
He was lying on his right side, and it took some effort to get him rolled over on his left.
“There’re no pills in this one either.”
“Ohhh. They’re back at the hotel.”
“Then you’ll just have to lie there until the doctor comes.”
Carver said, “Maybe you could help me to a bed upstairs.”
“No!...the rooms aren’t insulated up there.”
“I don’t mind cold.”
“You’re in a weakened condition. I’m not going to have you catching pneumonia too.”
“Then a pillow? The floor is hard.”
With an exasperated snort, she got to her feet and went up the stairs, returning in a minute with two pillows, which she put under Carver’s head. “There!”
Wally wrapped his arms around his chest. “I need a blanket. It’s drafty here.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” But she went, and a few minutes later two light blue blankets were wrapped around him. She turned toward the kitchen. “And now you’ll just have to...”
Wally sat up. “I’ll be dead in twenty minutes. If you won’t call an ambulance I’m going to leave.” He started to his feet. “At least I’ll die in the open air.” He got on his knees, collapsed on the floor and tried again.
“Here!” The woman had been watching this scene with mixed feelings. If the old buzzard could make it out of the house, so much the better. But if he died first, his body would be a real nuisance. She squeezed her head under his shoulder to help him stand. He got on his feet weaving, and the two staggered around like a dance team trying new steps. She finally got him to the door; he was half way out it when he gave a cry and fell back on the floor with a crash.
“You stupid old...”
Carver was again struggling to get to his feet. “Make it...this time.”
“What’s going on?” Loni had a towel wrapped around her head and cold cream on her face.
“This...gentleman had a fall. Help me get him out.”
“But if he’s hurt, Dora, shouldn’t we...”
“He’s fine. Take his other arm. What are you doing with that towel?”
“I decided to wash my hair. Are you sure he’s okay?”
“I’m fine,” gasped Carver looking anything but. “Just get me down the steps.”
They reached the bottom with difficulty. There Wally grasped Dora’s hand. “You have been kind. Perhaps I won’t sue. One last request, I’d like to take you up on that offer of a glass of water.”
Dora could see the end of the problem and rushed back into the house.
Wally straightened up. “Any problem?”
“No. She’ll meet you at the car. Hudson’s here. He supposedly had an attack.”
“These people are definitely not FBI.”
“So Hudson’s probably drugged.”
“Upstairs. There’s no one else here. I’ll bang Dora on the head and get Hudson out. Her friend Frank is coming, probably within fifteen minutes.”
“No. The reason Hudson is here is to find out why we’re living with bodyguards. And that’s what we’re going to do.”