I got to the doorway before they got to me and tried to open the door. Locked. I had a key, and I fumbled for it. Before I could get it out, they were on me.
One of them spun me around and pinned my arms behind me. The other one faced me. They were both bigger, stronger, and younger. Other than for that, I was okay.
“Stanley Bentworth, I presume,” he said. “Phony cop. Likes to beat up on our Captain.”
The other one said, “The Captain checked up on you, Stanley. Found out you aren’t a cop. Found out what you are, asshole. Now we’re going to show you what happens to someone who fucks with our people.”
“You guys got no beef with me,” I said. I struggled to get free. The last thing I wanted was to be kicked around by two healthy soldiers. “Your boss likes to beat up on women and kids. Guys like that give the Army a bad name.”
“Won’t work, pal.”
I kept struggling but it didn’t help. “Then tell the son-of-a-bitch this,” I said. “The next time I see him will be the worst day in his miserable fucking life.”
I didn’t think the bluff would deter them from their mission, but it was worth a try.
I could see it now, them saying, “You know, you’re right. We never thought of that. You’re free to go. Have a nice evening.”
I was right. The bluff didn’t work.
The one in front hit me in the solar plexus. I bent over and almost puked. The one in back yanked me upright and held me in place for more punishment. The guy in front caught me with a haymaker across the cheekbone. Things began to go dim. He hit me in the face several more times, but it didn’t hurt anymore.
Three or four rib shots from the front, and the guy in back let go. I slumped to the ground. The parts of me that still had feeling hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. They kicked me in the ribs and head. Then several heavy hits in the arms and legs. There was pain at first with each blow, then numbness, then they walked away, their footsteps echoing down the alley.
“We’ll be back if you insist,” one of them called back to me. “You fuck with the Captain again, next time we finish it.”
I tried to yell back to remember to tell Jeremy what I said, but my speaking mechanism was out of order.
As was almost everything else. I could barely move. And I couldn’t see. My eyes were swelling shut, and blood flowed out from everywhere. I lay there in dirt and grease from the road mixed with my blood into a sickening paste, caked all over my face and in my hair.
And I had just had my trench coat cleaned.
I could lie there all night without being found. People rarely used this alley. Or worse, winos and junkies would find me and steal my wallet and trench coat. And maybe my shoes. They’d probably leave the Mickey Mouse watch.
I felt in my pocket for my cell phone. Just bending my shoulder and elbow shot an excruciating pain up my arm. I thought I would pass out. Maybe I did a couple times.
After a few tries I was able to get the phone out. I held it with one hand and speed dialed the office with my thumb. The other arm and hand wouldn’t move and had no feeling. I had to do it by feel. Both eyes were closed. Willa answered.
“Willa,” I squeaked. I could barely make a sound. “It’s Stan. I’m out here in the alley. Call nine-one-one.”
“Stan? In the alley? What happened?”
Then everything went dark.
Chapter 12
When I woke up, I was on a hospital gurney somewhere in a hallway. People in hospital uniforms bustled up and down the hallway, ignoring me. I could feel the bandages on my face and around my torso. One of my arms was wrapped and suspended by a cable from an overhead steel frame. One leg was similarly elevated. One eye was closed, the other one barely open. It seemed like one of everything was broken. I hoped my balls had made it through the meltdown. At least one, anyway.
I ran my tongue around inside my mouth feeling for missing teeth. A couple of them were loose, but they were all there. At least the ones I had before the fight started.
An IV was dripping something into my arm through a tube. Everything hurt. I passed out again.
When I came to, I was in a hospital room. Willa was sitting in a chair at the end of my bed reading a book. Amanda was in another chair pulled up close to the bed. I scanned the room with my good eye, which could hardly see anything. A shadow of a man stood with his back to me looking out the window into what I assumed was a parking lot.
Amanda said, “He’s awake.”
I tried to speak, but my lips were swollen from the beating. I tried to say, “Who’s minding the store?” It came out like, “Whosh ninig da shore?”
Willa said, “Rodney’s manning the phone. Not much store to mind without you there.”
“Oh, great,” I mumbled. “Rodney.”
“Yeah, he’s taken over your office. Maybe he can book some more work for us.”
She laughed. I groaned. Then she said, “Your only client sent his man here.”
The shadow turned around. It was Sanford.
“What the fuck happened, Bentworth?” Sandford said.
“Don’t say ‘fuck’ in front of the ladies,” I said through the bandages in my new Rocky Balboa tenth round dialect.
“Mr. Overbee wants to know. Does this have anything to do with the case?”
“No. Family fight.”
“What were you doing working on something else? Mr. Overbee has you on full retainer.”
“Like I said. It was a family matter. Off the clock.”
That seemed to satisfy him. “Mr. Overbee wants to help,” he said. “Who did it?”
“Two Army guys. Don’t know them. Amanda’s boyfriend set them on me.”
“Stanley,” Amanda said, “Captain Pugh is not my boyfriend.”
“He doesn’t know that. Anybody got a mirror?” I wanted to see how bad it was.
“No mirrors,” Willa said. “We can’t stand looking at you, so you sure couldn’t. No point in you being more miserable and depressed.”
“I look that bad?”
“No. It’s an improvement,” she said.
“What’s happening with Buford?” I asked Sanford.
“At home. Ankle bracelet. House arrest.”
“You still his lawyer?”
“No. Just his driver. He said you told him he needed a better-looking lawyer.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. He needs a better-looking detective now.”
Turnabout is fair play.
“Tell Buford I’ll see him when I’m discharged. How long have I been here?”
“Three days,” Willa said. “The doctor said once you woke up you’d be able to go home soon if there’s somebody there to look after you for a while.”
“My house,” Amanda said. “I’ll look after him.”
Oh great, I thought.
“And when you’re at work,” Willa said to Amanda, “I can move the office into your house if that’s okay.”
Just then the doctor came in. He brought my chart with him and sat on the edge of my bed.
“Mr. Bentworth, I’m Dr. Goldenberg. You came through this pretty good.” He looked at the chart. “A dislocated shoulder, which we reset. A thin fracture in your shin. Another on your arm. You’ll need casts for a few weeks.”
He pulled my nightgown up and pressed on my belly.
“No internal injuries, although I don’t know how. A couple of fractured ribs and some facial bone fractures, all of which should heal up okay. Watch those loose teeth. They should set themselves. You might have a bit of a bent nose too.”
“Might help with my undercover Mafia work.” Now for the part that had me worried. “How about my eyes?”
“They should be okay. We’ll know better when we take the bandages off, probably tomorrow. You’ll have a couple of shiners.”