didn’t tell me her other name.”
The copper groaned.
“How is she?” I went on. “Is she badly hurt?”
“She’s all right,” the doctor said. “Don’t worry about her.”
“And her husband?” I asked.
“What husband?” the copper said, staring at me.
“The guy who was sitting at the back of the car. She said his name was Paul. Is he all
right?”
“You don’t have to worry about him, either,” the doctor said
The copper passed his hand over his face and shook his head. He seemed to be the one who
was worrying.
“How did it happen? Maybe you can tell me that,” he said but there was no hope in his
voice.
I couldn’t be bothered to explain about Petelli. That would have taken too long. I wanted to
close my eyes and forget about the car smash.
“Another car was coming towards us,” I said. “He was coming fast. He didn’t seem to see
us. She tried to get out of his way, but he caught us. What happened to him?”
The copper drew in a deep breath.
“I’ll say it this time,” he said, with heavy sarcasm. “You don’t have to worry about him.
Now look, pal, let’s get all this down the mat and work at it. If you were hitch-hiking how
come you were driving this Buick?”
It was my turn to stare at him now.
“It was a Bentley, and she was driving. I was sitting at her side, and her husband, Paul, was
at the back.”
47
“Well, smother my old father in a feather bed!” the copper exclaimed. He took off his hat
and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he put his hat on again and pulled
aggressively at the brim. “You were driving! She was at the back! And there was no goddamn
husband.” He leaned forward and wagged his finger at me as he bawled, “And the
sonofabitch of car was a Buick!”
I got excited.
“You’ve got it wrong!” I said, clutching hold of the sheet. I tell you she was driving. The
car was a black Bentley coupe. This other car hit us. Ask the driver. He’ll tell you.”
The copper waved his notebook in my face.
“There was no other car! What’s the matter with you? What have you got to lie about?”
“That’s enough,” the doctor said, his voice sharp. “He’s nor in a fit state to be shouted at.
You must leave him alone, sergeant.”
“I’m not lying!” I said, and tried to sit up. That finished me. A light exploded inside my
head, and I took a nosedive into darkness.
It was daylight when I opened my eyes again. The screen at the foot of the bed had been
removed, but the screens on either side were still there. I could see another bed facing me.
From the sounds going on around me I guessed I was in a ward.
I looked to see if the copper was there, but he wasn’t. I lay still, aware I was feeling a lot
better, that my head didn’t ache, although it was still sore, and when I moved my arms I could
do so without effort.
After a while I got around to thinking about what that copper had said. It began to worry
me. No other car, no husband, it was a Buick and not a Bentley, and I was driving. What did
he mean ?
Maybe I had dreamed the copper. Maybe he was part of the mists and the fog and the
darkness. He must be unless he was confusing me with someone else.
Then the doctor came around from behind the screen. He grinned cheerfully at me.
“You don’t have to tell me you’re better,” he said. “I can see that for myself.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “How long have I been here?”
He glanced at my papers at the foot of the bed.
“You were admitted at eleven-thirty on the night of September 6th. Today is September
12th. So you’ve been here six days.”
“September?”
48
“That’s right.”
“You mean July, don’t you? It can’t be September. We hit that car on July 29th: the night I
fought the Miami Kid.”
“I don’t know about that. You were admitted on September 6th.”
“That can’t be right. I couldn’t have remained unconscious for snore than a month before I
was found.”
The doctor smiled.
“Of course you couldn’t. As a matter of fact you were found almost at once. A speed-cop
heard the crash, although he didn’t see it happen. He arrived on the scene five minutes after
the smash. You were brought here an hour later.”
I licked my lips. My mouth had suddenly gone dry.
“You wouldn’t be fooling about the date, doc?”
He shook his head.
“No. I wouldn’t be fooling about the date.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Now, you
mustn’t worry about this. It’ll work out all right. At the moment you’re showing typical signs
of concussion. You’ve had a severe head injury. You’re lucky to be alive. For some time you
must expect to be confused. Dates, details of who was in the car and who wasn’t, even your
past may not make sense, but they will sort themselves out in a little while. At the moment
you are convinced the car crash happened on July 29th. You’ll find it impossible to believe it
happened on September 6th, but don’t let that worry you. In a week or so your memory will
function normally again. And another thing, don’t let the police rattle you. I’ve explained the
position to them, and they understand. They want you to help them if you can, bur they know
now that if you make mistakes you’re not doing it intentionally. All you have to do is to take
it easy and rest all you can. It’s just a matter of time.”
He was a nice guy, and he was doing his best for me, and I was grateful, but that didn’t stop
me worrying. I knew I had fought the Kid on July 29th, and the crash had happened on the
same night. Nothing he could say would alter that fact.
“I don’t want to argue about it, doc,” I said, “but do me a favour, will you?”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“Della - the girl I was with. She’s here, too, isn’t she? Ask her. She’ll tell you it was July
29th. Ask her husband. He’ll tell you the same thing.”
49
The cheerful, bedside manner slipped a little.
“Now, here is a case in point,” he said. “This business about a husband. You must expect it,
you know. Only she and you were found in the car. There was no husband.”
My heart began to pound.
“Well, all right, there was no husband,” I said, trying to control the shake in my voice.
“Then ask her. She’ll tell you. You’re not going to say she wasn’t there, are you? Go and ask
her!”
He ran his hand over his sleek, dark hair. The smile had gone for good.
“A couple of days ago you weren’t well enough to be told,” he said gently. “I can tell you
now. She broke her back. She was dead when they found you.”
II
In the afternoon Police Lieutenant Bill Riskin came to see me. If the nurse hadn’t told me
he was a police lieutenant I wouldn’t have believed it. He was a little guy, around fifty, with a
sad, wrinkled face and bright little eyes that peered at me through a pair of horn spectacles.
He carried his hat in his hand, and he walked on tiptoe, and when he spoke, his voice was soft
and gentle. By this time I was as jumpy as a nervous horse. I was ready to go into a flat spin
at the drop of a hat. Maybe that’s why they picked Riskin. If they had unleashed that fat
sergeant on me again I’d have flipped my lid.
He pulled up a chair beside me and crossed his short legs. I saw he was wearing boots and
white socks, and his ankles were as thin as match-sticks.
“Well, boy, how’s the head?” he asked.
I said the head was fine. I was clutching on to the sheet, and sweating, suspicious of him,
suspicious of everyone. At the back of my mind I was beginning to wonder if they weren’t