OVERCOMING NOSOCOMEPHOBIA
Reception directed her to the second floor—room 2213. She sprinted up the stairwell only to find an Escher hallway, doors and doors and doors but never 2213. The snowfield whiteness only compounded her discombobulation. It felt like she walked through an Arthur C. Clarke spaceship, flying toward doom.
Lost in the white space of her head, Alex failed to notice Hardcastle. The Chief leaned against a doorjamb, looking alien in his jeans and a flannel, cuffs rolled past his elbows.
"Dalkowski." He called as Alex strode past. "Dalkowski."
Alex turned. Like two images slowly dialed to convergence, Alex stared a long moment before the man with tree-trunk arms became her boss.
"Chief Hardcastle." Alex drawled through the sick sloshing her guts. "What are you doing here?"
Hardcastle stepped aside and indicated a placard beside the door: 2213. "Visiting the patient… Thought it'd be a good idea to establish… police relations…"
Alex nodded. "Can I go in?"
Hardcastle stepped aside and pushed open the door. Miss Leslie sat upright in her bed, a web of tubes and wires connecting her to various machines. Alex smiled. It looked like Miss Leslie was the battery powering these machines, instead of the other way around. An old broad as spry as her? Barbara Ann could light Bakersville for a month. Though pale, she watched C-SPAN with clear, fiery eyes. Take away the bandages and tubes and she could have been a visitor enjoying the hospital's cable TV package.
"Miss Leslie?" Alex slid the sunglass up over her head and peeked around the hanging curtain.
Barbara Ann turned to the voice. Up close, ordeal etched her face. Blood loss and the exertion of survival hollowed her cheeks. A red ribbon glistened around her neck. Leslie's eyes, though, gave clear window to the indefatigable spirit burning within her.
"Sergeant Detective," she spoke slowly, quietly, each breath sharp in her throat.
"You look amazing, all things considered." Alex sat in the squeaky visitors' chair beside Leslie's bed.
"It will. Take more than a. Stiff-armed goon. To do me in." Leslie turned back to the politics on her television.
In the corner behind Miss Leslie's bed, obscured by the rack of dangling IVs and monitors, hung a blue skirt suit. The 'Library Director' badge glinted from its lapel. It reminded Alex of the bold S on Superman's chest.
"Is something. Amusing?" Even Leslie's indirect stare, mirrored from the TV, shriveled Alex.
Alex adjusted in her seat. The chair squeaked. "Apologies. I've just come to collect your statement, ask a few questions."
Barbara Ann sighed—the first hint of emotion she'd shown. "I was at home alone," she said, staring through the TV. "I was. Getting ready for bed. The upstairs bathroom. When I heard. Something downstairs."
"What did you hear?" Alex asked.
"Like thunder. Thought it was. A storm blowing in. Then I heard footfalls. On the stairs. I assumed it was..." Leslie paused, not from exertion, but to stem the flush rising in her cheeks. "Someone making a. Late-night call."
"Does that happen often? Late night visitors?"
Barbara Ann turned to Alex. A smirk twitched the corners of her lips. "Not nearly enough. These days."
"What," Alex's voice cracked, "ahem… Ah, what happened next?"
"Not sure." Barbara Ann shook her head as much as the pain would allow. "I heard footsteps. I said 'hello.' Then..."
Alex scooted to the edge of the chair. "Then?"
Miss Leslie sighed; her shoulders shrugged. "Something hit. Back of my head. I don't know. Didn't see. Sounded like a man. If that helps. I swam through consciousness. And pain. Like something. Trying to pull my head. Free of my neck. When I opened my eyes. I saw Kavia Adnan-Byrne."
"Kavi attacked you?"
"Not what I said." Miss Leslie took a breath. "I was attacked from behind."
Alex looked down to her notes, a pit growing in her stomach. "I'm sorry," she spoke without force, air drifting from her lips, "to ask questions at a time like this, Miss—"
"Ask."
"Harris Kagan tried to point the finger at you for the jewelry heist. I did some digging…you have a felony conviction on your record, but I can't seem to find out what for. The police department in your hometown wasn't exactly cooperative."
Miss Leslie's thin lips spread into a smile. She closed her eyes, looked like a sleeper trying to hold on to the last threads of a lovely dream. "Even all these years."
"It's true? You were convicted of a felony?"
"Goddamn right I was."
The force of Leslie's words pushed Alex back in her seat. "Would you mind…?"
"Did Mr. Kagan. Tell you about. My relationship with Lemuel?"
"Lemuel?"
"Police Chief Hardcastle."
Again, Alex could only nod. "The Chief, of course…"
Honestly, Alex had assumed the Chief's name was Harry. Or Hank. Like Bloody Mary, or Voldemort, no one seemed to speak Hardcastle's Christian name aloud. "You and the Chief…Lemuel…are romantically engaged?"
"'Romantically engaged.'" Leslie flashed a grin. "Well that's a. Euphemism for fucking if I. Ever heard one. But that's beside the point. When we were young. That kind of relationship. In the heart of Dixie. It wasn't well looked upon."
"How long have you been seeing Hardcastle?"
"Off and on. Since we were young."
Alex's head swam. "Why not get married?"
"That's adorable. To think. It could be so easy. It was. Against the law back then. Blacks and whites. Do you know what it feels like? To be in love with someone. Your family sees. As less than human? A criminal?"
Alex swallowed the lump in her throat. "I can see how that would be difficult."
"Difficult isn't the half. A lifetime ago. Lemuel and I were at dinner. Our waiter refused service. The police came. Handcuffs. Guns. I wasn't about to let. Some bigoted assholes. Hiding hate behind a badge…”
Miss Leslie adjusted herself in the bed. Biting her lip against the pain, she sat up, held her head higher. Even struggling for each breath, Barbara practically shouted her words.
"I bloodied the pig's nose. Broke the bones under his eye. Felonious assault. Daddy bargained me out of jail. But the compromise. Was that the charge. Would stay on my record. I'd do it a hundred times out of a hundred. And if you want my honest opinion. Kavi Adnan-Byrne didn't do this. I can't speak to her idiot friends. But Kavi is a good woman. We don't often see eye to eye. But. She's too kind, timid… She wouldn't attack me."
To Alex, it felt like falling through the earth. She'd envisioned walking out of the hospital, a bulletproof conviction in her hand. She imagined shoving the truth in Harris' smug face. Instead, her case crumbled like cheap pottery. Kagan could still be telling the truth. Or was it just her strange feelings for him poisoning her mind? Alex took a breath, chest rising and falling in time with Miss Leslie's machinery. She bit her lip, trying to reignite her hatred for Harris. Occam's Razor said he had to be guilty, leading her on, using her. But now...?
The lights in Miss Leslie's room blinded Alex. Her head ached. Nothing made sense.
"Now, if you will…" Miss Leslie lifted a hand, her flesh looking insubstantial, and pointed to the door.
Alex backed from the room. Chief Hardcastle—Lemuel—had left his post. The white hallway stretched unimpeached to infinity. Alex paused, looking both ways, trying to remember which path led to the elevator bank
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