New friends. Old friends

Sundown in zion

Chapter thirty-nine

 

            The weekend came, promising a break in both the weather and, for Nelson, dealing with crime. There remained, however, the problem of beatings. After breakfast and a workout Saturday morning, Nelson showered, dressed, and drove to the hospital to check on Clifton. When he arrived, he found the room empty. Turning to head back to the information desk, he almost collided with nurse Christina Lopez. Both looked at one another, neither speaking. Nelson broke the silence.

            “Did something happen to Clifton?” He tensed.

            “Yes,” Lopez said, “but not what you think.” She smiled. “He’s been moved to the ICU, the Intensive Care Unit.”

            “I know what ICU stands for,” Nelson said. “I know all about them.” He drew in his breath. “Why?”

            “Internal bleeding,” she said. “Apparently something broke loose.”

            Nelson steeled himself for the answer before even asking the question. “How serious.?

            “I’m not allowed to make a diagnosis,” she said. “But serious. He’s in the best hands, though. We have an excellent staff.” She studied Nelson’s face. “What’s wrong?”

            He snapped his gaze back to hers. “Nothing,” he said, as much to himself as to her, “just thinking that I might have acted differently if I had known this would happen.”

            She nodded in understanding. “And that would have fixed everything, right?”

            Nelson didn’t answer for a moment. “How do I get there?” He said.

            “Forget it lad.,” she said. “They won’t let you in to see him. They could think you might be the one who put him there, or worse still, a homosexual lover.”

            A coldness spread from Nelson. His blue eyes seemed to turn steel-gray. His breathing slowed to an imperceptible slowness while his entire being tensed like a spring. Lopez moved back. “I’m not the enemy,” she said. “I like him too.”

            The coldness retreated a step. “I just want to know,” Nelson said, “how he is doing.”

            “The last time I checked, he was doing as well as could be expected,” Lopez said. “They had stopped the bleeding but were afraid to move him.”

            “They let you in to see him?”

            “Sailor,” she said, “I’m an old Hispanic broad with a lot of experience and a bad attitude.” She smiled, saw Nelson continue to relax, and smiled again. “And because I have always fought off the men here, they think I may be gay myself. So …” she looked around to see that no one was listening, and said, “they stay the fuck out of my way. Comprendes?”

            This had completely disarmed Nelson and extinguished his anger. He nodded and said, “Good for you. So you are still attending him?”

            “I didn’t say that,” she said. “I just go over when I get a chance and check on him.” She looked around again. “I’ve already told you, I sort of like the old fool.”

            By now, she had Nelson smiling, “Could you …,” he began.

            “Tell you what,” she said, interrupting him, “if you trust me enough, give me your cell number and I’ll text you reports when I check on him.”

            “You really do like him,” don’t you? Nelson said, retrieving a pen and note pad from his pocket.

            As he wrote, Lopez said, “Hon, any man who loves his dead wife so much that, even though he’s in the worst kind of pain you can imagine, his main worry is that somehow she might be concerned about how he looked after nearly being beaten to death, should make any woman like him.”

            Nelson handed her his number. “Thanks for everything,” he said, He nodded toward the paper. “Any time, night or day.”

            Lopez studied his number. “You keep your powder dry and your temper in check,” she said. “Clifton will need a friend while he recovers.”

            “I think he already has two good ones,” Nelson said. “Three if you count his late wife.” With that, he turned and left. Christina Lopez watched him until he exited into another hallway. Then she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

            Two hours later, Nelson was leaving the martial arts studio. His teacher walked him to the door smiling. “Much better today,” she said. “Only a little too aggressive. A skillful opponent will use that against you.” She patted his arm. “As I did. Still sore?”

            “A little,” he said. “But isn’t that how we learn?”

            “True,” she said. “That’s what I tell my other star.”

            “The one who comes on weekends?”

            “Yes,” she said. “A special one, a faster learner than you but less experienced in the ways of the world.”

            “A ‘her’ or a ‘him,’ or can you say?”

            “I’m sworn to secrecy,” she said. “No one must know and …,” she opened the door for him, “I know you are most skilled in surveillance, but remember one thing.”

            “What’s that?”

            “So far, I could still kill you if you get too nosey.” She laughed and pushed him out. “Now go in peace,” she said. “I’m going to do some needlework. You should try it. It’s a great way to relax.”

            His next stop was Tina’s house. He arrived, and before he could exit his truck, she came out carrying a blanket and small ice chest. She placed it in the truck’s bed, but held the blanket clasped in her arms as she turned a complete circle, holding her head high with her chin thrust forward. “That,” she said, “should keep the sons-of-bitches around here provided with gossip for a week.” She climbed into the cab, pulled Nelson to her, and kissed him with emotion and movement in equal measure. “That will add some spice to their speculations.” She stopped talking as she looked into his eyes and blinked. “Oh shit,” she said. “Do we have time for a quick …?”

            “No,” Nelson. “Believe me I wish we did, but I promised them we’d be there by mid-afternoon.”

            “The Navy’s loss,” she said, placing her hand between his legs. “Oh,” she said, “and the sails are filling in hope of a fine voyage.”

            “Will you stop?” Nelson said. He laughed. “And Homer thought his sirens provided temptation.” He moved her hand away, but slowly.

            “Homer’s sirens promised knowledge,” she said. “I could show you how to use the knowledge you already have.”

            “I can’t hear you,” he said. “I’ve mentally placed wax in my ears. It’s a trick they taught us at Coronado Island.”

            “Didn’t know they had sirens there,” she said. She moved away and fastened herself in place. “Now who is it we’re supposed to meet?”

            “Charlie and his new friend, Angela,” he said.

            “Angela who? Is she homeless as well? She bringing her shopping cart with her?”

            “Angela something or other,” he said. “I can’t remember her last name. And no, she isn’t homeless, nor is Charlie anymore, remember?”

            “That’s the last time I hoist your mainsail,” she said. “It seems to make you edgy.”

            The cheerful banter continued until they reached the park near Nelson’s home. They parked, found a quiet spot, and spread the blanket. Nelson went back to the truck and returned with the ice chest and a large bag. They were soon enjoying snacks and wine, quietly watching joggers, dreamers, and happy families enjoying an early spring day. The park was dominated by two structures, one an old building that had been a part of a federal arsenal before the Civil War. The other was a modern art center, the two forming a complimentary tableau. At the eastern         edge stood a building that had been started its existence as a medical school but now served the teaching of law. Tina talked of the site’s history.

            “They hanged a young man here once,” she said, “just a boy—for being a spy. The Yankees, your people, did.”

            “My people?”

            “Your people. Who else would hang a 17-year old boy for having information that was pretty much useless?”

            “They hanged him for that?”

            “And the fact that he wouldn’t give the name of his accomplice.”

            “Who was?”

            “One legend has it that she was his girlfriend, a comely and well-connected young belle.”

            “So he became a spy for her? Died for her?”

            “Gideon,” Tina said, “in case they didn’t teach you this at Coronado Island, men will do anything for the chance of getting a little ‘in and out’ off a beautiful woman, anything at all.” She paused then, “Although when they get older, they get a smarter about it. They don’t take as many chances.”

            This caught Nelson by surprise. His face grew serious and dark. He started to speak, but before he could, Tina yelled, “Oh my god.” With that, she rose, nearly upsetting the wine, and ran toward a couple, a man and woman, approaching on foot, but pushing two bicycles. When the woman saw Tina, she handed her bike to her companion and ran to meet the other. The two met in a long and excited embrace. Nelson had walked to where they all stood by now, and the two men looked at one another, astonished.

            “What the …?” Charlie said.

            Nelson shook his head.

            The two women parted and stood back step to look at one another. “Girl,” the stranger said, “where the hell have you been and why are you here?”

            Tina pointed at Nelson. “Trying to civilize this warmonger,” she said. Then understanding landed. “Oh Jesus,” she said, “are you the Angela?”

            “Fuck yeah,” the other replied. “Are you the Tina?”

            They both cried, “Yes,” again and resumed their embrace. Charlie pointed at one, then the other, then at Nelson and shrugged a question. Nelson nodded.

            When the women had parted for the second time, Angela pointed at the two men. “Did neither of these assholes mention just who their buddy’s girlfriend was?”

            “Hell no,” Tina said. “I thought you were a homeless person.”

            “And I thought you were just some bar-hog,” Angela said.

            “Oh, I am,” Tina said. “First class.” She grabbed Angela’s hand and said, “How have you been?”

            “Fat, sassy, and raring to go,” Angela said. “And you?”

            “Still working on becoming a legend.” They turned to stare menacingly at Charlie and Gideon.

            “You two know one another?” Charlie said.

            Angela shook her head sadly and said, “He ain’t much on the uptake but, given his health, can be damn good in bed when conditions are right. Yours?” She looked at Nelson.

            “Dumb as a bucket of paint at times. Bed? I don’t know. Both times I’ve nearly gotten him there, he fell to his knees and started praying for deliverance from temptation and forgiveness for evil thoughts.”

            Both women laughed. The men stared. After an uncomfortable silence, Nelson said, “How?”

            “She took a class I taught a few years back. We became friends and bummed around together awhile until she took and assignment out of state and we sort of lost touch. I’ve been meaning to look her up, but you know how awful I am.” She turned to Angela and then to Nelson. “Hon, this is Gideon Nelson, scourge of the evil-minded.”

            “And,” said Angela, “this is Charlie Winters, hope for America’s future.”

            The four were soon seated on Tina’s blanket enjoying wine. They filled in gaps, supplied background information, and hinted at future plans. Angela detailed Charlie’s progress in bicycling and in his general health. She prophesied that, “Before long, he’ll perform any time I slip a folded twenty into his jock strap.”

            Tina assured the others that before long, Nelson would get over his fear of strong women and seek a welcome port from life’s storms. The men took this in with mock resignation. The conversation led from levity to a more serious recounting of Nelson’s progress in finding Abbey Stubblefield’s killer, or killers. He outlined his recent interviews, including the one with Tricia Davenport.

            “You mean,” said Angela, “that’s she’s just finishing high school, and has the courage to be openly gay?’

            “She didn’t just come out of the closet,” Nelson said, “she broke the door down and stormed out like a soldier seeking vengeance.”

            “Bless her sweet heart,” Tina said. “But it took a trip to the Ransom Center to accomplish it?”

            “I’m not sure,” Nelson said, “but I think that trip to the Ransom Center was more for her parents than for her.”

            “And she didn’t try to run away?” Charlie said.

            “No. She served her time and came home.”

            “Well where else would a plain-looking lesbian with a goth-hairdo go?” Angela said.

            For the second time that day, Nelson abruptly sank into deep-thought mode while the party atmosphere continued to swirl about him. Tina snapped him from it.

            “Hey Boats,” she said. “Wake up. Somebody wants your full attention, and is quite willing to take it by force, if necessary. You do understand taking things by force, don’t you?” The others laughed.