The Pain Nurse - [11]
“Oh, no.”
Lisa was the keeper of the FDN List, as in Funny Doctors’ Names List.
“Dr. Small! Get it?” She squealed with laughter. “He had a patient come into the ER with a hard-on he’d had for six hours. And the guy’s name was Dick Wood!”
“He did not.”
“Well, his name really is Dr. Small.”
The FDN List, lovingly maintained over the years, included Dr. Aikenhead, Dr. Dingfelter, Dr. Buderlicker, Dr. Hyman Pleasure, Dr. Pine-Coffin (a pathologist), and Dr. Cutter (a surgeon). There was Dr. Payne, of course, and Dr. Hurt.
“So back to Christine. My God! How much had she bled out?”
“Lisa, my head is about to explode right this minute.” The page from neuro-rehab rescued her. Everybody wanted to talk about the murder. Nobody else had been in that office, bloody and useless, as Christine lay dead.
“At least I may not have to go to any more of those goddamn SoftChartZ meetings,” Lisa went on.
“Lisa!”
“You know how they spell it? SoftChartZ all run together, with a capital Z on the end. Isn’t that cutting edge? Christine was really into it, but she could be such a pain in the ass. Well, she could! Gag, these endless meetings, and where’s the ‘totally digital work environment’? Lord knows how much we’re paying these smart young things from Silicon Valley to do it. They look at me like I’m an idiot. The lead guy, Josh, he’s twenty-six and rich-can you believe it? I think Christine’s slept with him.”
“I’m leaving…”
“You know how she was. And he’s cute. Anyway, young and strong, go all night. Change your life, Cheryl Beth. You ought to get one of those.”
Cheryl Beth heard the yelling, a man’s voice spewing profanities. A cluster of nurses stood outside a door. As she approached, a compact young Indian doctor came into the hall, handing Cheryl Beth a patient chart.
“Maybe you can deal with him,” she said. “He was in a motorcycle accident.”
“Quad?” Cheryl Beth asked.
“His legs are probably lost to him,” the doctor said.
She quickly scanned the chart amid the verbal barrage coming from the room. Then she carefully stepped inside.
“What the fuck do you want?” The first thing she noticed was the swastika tattoo that snaked around the man’s neck. Involuntarily, she thought of the wound on Christine’s neck. “Bitch!” His scream brought her back to reality. It came from a florid-faced young man encased in bushy red hair and beard.
“I’m hurting here, and nobody will help me.”
“We’re going to help you,” Cheryl Beth said softly.
“I want it now!”
“Take it easy. My name is Cheryl Beth Wilson, and I’m a pain management nurse. Your doctor wanted me to see if we could control your pain better.” She read the chart but already knew she was dealing with an addict. Even before his accident, he had likely been on high levels of OxyContin. So his body wasn’t responding to the level of painkillers he was now receiving.
“Tell me what kinds of pain drugs you were on before the accident.”
“Nothin’!” His eyes bulged.
“I’m not the cops. I’m the pain nurse. I need to see what kind of dosage…”
“Fuck you!”
She sighed. “Mr. Baker, tell me about your pain. Tell me how much it hurts, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the…”
“Fuck you!” His head rocked violently around the pillows, his arms waving, tossing IV lines around like so much fishing tackle. The rest of his body lay like concrete.
“Stop!” Cheryl Beth yelled, dropping the chart on the bed and clenching her hands. The man was suddenly silent.
“You want to help us help you? Or you want trouble?” She waved her arm, beckoning him out of the bed. “You think you’re such a bad-ass! Get out of that bed. I’m not afraid of you!”
The man looked at her with wide eyes.
“Come on. Let’s get it on.”
“I… I…”
“Get out of that bed. I’ll fight you.”
“It’s okay, lady,” he said. “Just take it easy.”
The doctor was smiling when Cheryl Beth left, but just beyond the smile stood the black detective, Dodds. He intercepted her and they walked together toward the elevators.
“That’s quite a bedside manner, Cheryl.”
“Cheryl Beth,” she corrected. “That was an exception. I prefer to make people laugh.”
“Mmmm. So why do they call you the pain nurse, Cheryl Beth?”
“I’m the pain in the butt nurse, probably.” She tried a smile, feeling so uncomfortable around him. His face was hard. “It’s pain management nurse. That’s my specialty.”
“So you have easy access to drugs for yourself.”
Cheryl Beth laughed at him. “Alcohol is my drug of choice.”
He steered her into an empty section of the large waiting room. He sat heavily and she followed. “I want to go over your timetable Friday night again.”
“We’ve done this twice before.”
“Humor me,” Dodds said, opening a notebook. “We have a killer at large.” Again Cheryl Beth told how she had returned to the hospital for a patient and had then been summoned to Christine’s office.
“And she called you?”
“She left a message at the nurses’ station.”
“Why do that? Why not page you?”
Cheryl Beth shrugged and shook her head.
“Did you keep the message?”
A flustered sigh escaped her mouth. “No.”
She watched him closely but he said nothing. He regarded her with large brown eyes. Finally, “Why would you go into pain management? Do you have a drug problem? Does this make it easier to score?”
In this "prequel" to the popular David Mapstone mysteries, author Jon Talton takes us back to 1999, when everything dot-com was making money, the Y2K bug was the greatest danger facing the world, and the good times seemed as if they would never end.It was a time before David and Lindsey were together, before Mike Peralta was sherriff, and before David had rid himself of the sexy and mysterious Gretchen.In Phoenix, it's the sweet season and Christmas and the new millennium are only weeks away. But history professor David Mapstone, just hired by the Sheriff's Office, still finds trouble, chasing a robber into an abandoned warehouse and discovering a gruesome crime from six decades ago.Mapstone begins an investigation into a Depression-era kidnapping that transfixed Arizona and the nation: the disappearance of a cattle baron's grandsons, their bodies never found.
The private-detective business starts out badly for former Phoenix Deputy David Mapstone, who has teamed up with his old friend and boss, Sheriff Mike Peralta. Their first client is gunned down just after hiring them. The case: A suspicious death investigation involving a young Arizona woman who fell from a condo tower in San Diego. The police call Grace Hunter's death a suicide, but the client doesn't buy it. He's her brother. Or is he? After his murder, police find multiple driver's licenses and his real identity is a mystery.
A cache of diamonds is stolen in Phoenix. The prime suspect is former Maricopa County Sheriff Mike Peralta, now a private investigator. Disappearing into Arizona's mountainous High Country, Peralta leaves his business partner and longtime friend David Mapstone with a stark choice. He can cooperate with the FBI, or strike out on his own to find Peralta and what really happened. Mapstone knows he can count on his wife Lindsey, one of the top "good hackers" in law enforcement. But what if they've both been betrayed? Mapstone is tested further when the new sheriff wants him back as a deputy, putting to use his historian's expertise to solve a very special cold case.
A handsome young New York professor comes to Phoenix to research his new book. But when he's brutally murdered, police connect him to one of the world's most deadly drug cartels. This shouldn't be a case for historian-turned-deputy David Mapstone – except the victim has been dating David's sister-in-law Robin and now she's a target, too. David's wife Lindsey is in Washington with an elite anti-cyber terror unit and she makes one demand of him: protect Robin.This won't be an easy job with the city police suspicious of Robin and trying to pressure her.
Cincinnati homicide Detective Will Borders now walks with a cane and lives alone with constant discomfort. He's lucky to be alive. He's lucky to have a job, as public information officer for the department. But when a star cop is brutally murdered, he's assigned to find her killer. The crime bears a chilling similarity to killings on the peaceful college campus nearby, where his friend Cheryl Beth Wilson is teaching nursing. The two young victims were her students. Most homicides are routine, the suspects readily apparent.
Во время служебной командировки в Австрию пропал без вести российский гражданин, чеченец по национальности, владелец небольшой компьютерной фирмы Асланбек Русланов. В Вену вылетел сотрудник Российского национального бюро Интерпола майор Гольцов.Найти исчезнувшего российского бизнесмена нужно было как можно быстрее, так как на его счету в австрийском банке аккумулировались десятки миллионов долларов, предназначенных для закупки чеченскими боевиками новейших систем вооружения.
Два предприимчивых и храбрых друга живут случайными заработками. То в их руки попадает лучший экземпляр коллекции часов («Говорящие часы»), то на чужой жетон они выигрывают кучу денег («Честная игра»), а то вдруг становятся владельцами прав на песню и заодно свидетелями убийства ее автора («Бей ниже пояса, бей наповал»). А это делает их существование интересным, но порой небезопасным.
Два предприимчивых и храбрых друга живут случайными заработками. То в их руки попадает лучший экземпляр коллекции часов («Говорящие часы»), то на чужой жетон они выигрывают кучу денег («Честная игра»), а то вдруг становятся владельцами прав на песню и заодно свидетелями убийства ее автора («Бей ниже пояса, бей наповал»). А это делает их существование интересным, но порой небезопасным.
Этот остросюжетный детектив рассказывает о преступлениях международной мафии — ее самого «интеллектуального» крыла, занимающегося похищением, сбытом и фальсификацией художественных ценностей, а затем пускающие «отмытые» деньги на оружие, наркотики, подкуп политиков, террористические акты.Противостояние организованной, щедро финансируемой преступности и следователей-одиночек, рядовых сотрудников Интерпола создает напряженное силовое поле этого захватывающего романа. В книге есть все, чем привлекателен детективный жанр: хитроумные преступления, таинственные убийства, тонкие расследования, неожиданные разоблачения.
Джорджо де Кирико – основоположник метафизической школы живописи, вестником которой в России был Михаил Врубель. Его известное кредо «иллюзионировать душу», его влюбленность в странное, обращение к образам Библии – все это явилось своего рода предтечей Кирико.В литературе итальянский художник проявил себя как незаурядный последователь «отцов модернизма» Франца Кафки и Джеймса Джойса. Эта книга – автобиография, но автобиография, не имеющая общего с жизнеописанием и временной последовательностью. Чтобы окунуться в атмосферу повествования, читателю с самого начала необходимо ощутить себя странником и по доброй воле отправиться по лабиринтам памяти таинственного Гебдомероса.
На этот раз у Александра Турецкого особенно трудная и опасная работа. Похищают сына Президента кавказской республики, который является козырной картой в широкомасштабной международной игре. Сулящая бешеные прибыли акция привлекает внимание крупнейших концернов, мафии и кое-кого еще…