waiting room, I approached the main desk. The same nurse that was on duty when I was here yesterday had just finished registering a patient.
“Is Dr. Robinson, Terrel Robinson, on this shift?” I asked him. The nurse had tattoos running up and down his arms.
“I’m a close friend,” I said, since I could tell he was about to ask for every piece of ID that I was carrying. “Just wanted to say “Hi.”
“Sorry. He’s not. Want to leave a message?”
“No thanks, he’s my sister’s boyfriend. I’ll see him in the next few days.”
I was on my way out when I turned around. I had almost blown one chance in a million. “Weren’t you here yesterday when Jackie Gibson was brought in?”
“Oh, yeah. Crash victim. Drove off a cliff somewhere south of Pacifica. Lucky she’s alive.”
“Remember me? I came in about forty-five minutes later and talked to Dr. Robinson then.”
He shrugged. “This is a busy place. People are in and out all the time.”
“Anyone know what happened to her? Was it a major car malfunction? Brakes failed?” I was pushing my luck here. The nurse wasn’t supposed to talk about a case with anyone except the family.
“Could be drugs from what the preliminary tox screen showed.”
“Really? Like what kind of drugs? From Terrel’s conversation yesterday with the lab tech, I knew they were testing for something in particular.”
“Maybe you’d better talk to him,” the nurse said, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. He nodded at me, then turned to the woman standing behind me. “Can I help you?” he said.
.
13
The hospital was on the same side of town as AT&T Park. It wouldn’t take me too long to get there and meet up with Justin. A few innings of baseball should keep my mind off my car. There was nothing random about what happened. The message was clearer each time I thought about it. Cease and desist. My inquisitiveness into the Waddell death and Jackie’s accident was considered ugly meddling by someone.
I walked past the Giants Dugout store toward McCovey Cove. The game against the LA Dodgers was already in the third inning. I didn’t see Justin so I inched my way forward into the crowd until I was standing against the fence.
The big hot-headed right fielder, Eddie Martinez, was only 25 yards in front of me. If the Giants are in the field, and Eddie misses a ball, the crowd at the Port Walk can be vocal. At the beginning of his career with the Giants, Martinez was known to end an inning with his face pressed against the fence, shouting insults right back. But that ‘I’m going to kick your ass’ attitude had mellowed with time on the field. Today, the Port Walk crowd applauded him after he made a dive to catch a fly ball.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. “You made it.”
I turned around. There was Justin.
“Have you been standing there long?” I asked.
“Just walked over. Glad you could spare some time.”
I reluctantly moved away from the front of the crowd and the game. I followed Justin over to the railing overlooking McCovey Cove. There were at least 15 kayakers and paddleboarders drifting around in the cove, waiting patiently for a ball to be launched out of the ballpark into the water.
“Party in the Cove,” said Justin, staring at the enthusiastic fans on the Bay.
“Well, I needed a little R&R.” Then I told him about my car.
“That’s too bad. Any idea who did it?”
“Not a clue. But I think it’s a way of telling me to back off.”
“Back off from what?” Justin asked.
“I don’t know if you heard. Remember the woman that was hanging on Mike Menton’s arm after the pier swim?”
“Jackie? Yeah. Why?”
“Well, she had an automobile accident on the way home. She drove off a cliff on Highway 1.”
“No. Really? I didn’t know. How is she doing?”
“Not so good. I just stopped by to visit her and drop off some flowers from the office. She’s connected to all sorts of tubes and machines. She
“Is Dr. Robinson, Terrel Robinson, on this shift?” I asked him. The nurse had tattoos running up and down his arms.
“I’m a close friend,” I said, since I could tell he was about to ask for every piece of ID that I was carrying. “Just wanted to say “Hi.”
“Sorry. He’s not. Want to leave a message?”
“No thanks, he’s my sister’s boyfriend. I’ll see him in the next few days.”
I was on my way out when I turned around. I had almost blown one chance in a million. “Weren’t you here yesterday when Jackie Gibson was brought in?”
“Oh, yeah. Crash victim. Drove off a cliff somewhere south of Pacifica. Lucky she’s alive.”
“Remember me? I came in about forty-five minutes later and talked to Dr. Robinson then.”
He shrugged. “This is a busy place. People are in and out all the time.”
“Anyone know what happened to her? Was it a major car malfunction? Brakes failed?” I was pushing my luck here. The nurse wasn’t supposed to talk about a case with anyone except the family.
“Could be drugs from what the preliminary tox screen showed.”
“Really? Like what kind of drugs? From Terrel’s conversation yesterday with the lab tech, I knew they were testing for something in particular.”
“Maybe you’d better talk to him,” the nurse said, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. He nodded at me, then turned to the woman standing behind me. “Can I help you?” he said.
.
13
The hospital was on the same side of town as AT&T Park. It wouldn’t take me too long to get there and meet up with Justin. A few innings of baseball should keep my mind off my car. There was nothing random about what happened. The message was clearer each time I thought about it. Cease and desist. My inquisitiveness into the Waddell death and Jackie’s accident was considered ugly meddling by someone.
I walked past the Giants Dugout store toward McCovey Cove. The game against the LA Dodgers was already in the third inning. I didn’t see Justin so I inched my way forward into the crowd until I was standing against the fence.
The big hot-headed right fielder, Eddie Martinez, was only 25 yards in front of me. If the Giants are in the field, and Eddie misses a ball, the crowd at the Port Walk can be vocal. At the beginning of his career with the Giants, Martinez was known to end an inning with his face pressed against the fence, shouting insults right back. But that ‘I’m going to kick your ass’ attitude had mellowed with time on the field. Today, the Port Walk crowd applauded him after he made a dive to catch a fly ball.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. “You made it.”
I turned around. There was Justin.
“Have you been standing there long?” I asked.
“Just walked over. Glad you could spare some time.”
I reluctantly moved away from the front of the crowd and the game. I followed Justin over to the railing overlooking McCovey Cove. There were at least 15 kayakers and paddleboarders drifting around in the cove, waiting patiently for a ball to be launched out of the ballpark into the water.
“Party in the Cove,” said Justin, staring at the enthusiastic fans on the Bay.
“Well, I needed a little R&R.” Then I told him about my car.
“That’s too bad. Any idea who did it?”
“Not a clue. But I think it’s a way of telling me to back off.”
“Back off from what?” Justin asked.
“I don’t know if you heard. Remember the woman that was hanging on Mike Menton’s arm after the pier swim?”
“Jackie? Yeah. Why?”
“Well, she had an automobile accident on the way home. She drove off a cliff on Highway 1.”
“No. Really? I didn’t know. How is she doing?”
“Not so good. I just stopped by to visit her and drop off some flowers from the office. She’s connected to all sorts of tubes and machines. She
Similar Books
