Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) by Monique Domovitch Page A

knew what she would say. “Will I be able to walk once I get the cast?”
    “The doctor will answer all your questions. He’ll be by to see you in a few minutes.”
    She no sooner said this than the surgeon, a tall thin man with graying hair and kind eyes, appeared at her side. “So,” he said jovially. “How are we doing here?”
    “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a bit queasy.”
    He chuckled. “Normal after anesthesia. You’ll feel better in about an hour.” He grew serious. “You have nothing to worry about. The surgery went very well. Your soft tissues were in excellent condition. You’ll have to wear a cast for six to eight weeks. During this time you’ll have to stay off that foot entirely. But the good news is that you’ll be like new when it’s healed.” He grinned. “Pardon the pun.” At my lack of response, he added, “Okay, so I’m not very good at comedy. But I’m an excellent surgeon.”
    This did elicit a smile from me. “When can I go back to work?”
    “You’ll be discharged tomorrow. We’ll put you in a cast, give you a pair of crutches, and as long as you don’t put any weight on that foot, you can go back to work whenever you feel up to it. What kind of work do you do?”
    I told him.
    He grimaced. “So you’re on your feet all day.” He thought for a second. “If you got yourself a stool and promised to never, ever put so much as your foot on the floor. But before you run off to buy a stool, I suggest you take a couple of days off. You might want to get comfortable walking around with crutches. We wouldn’t want you stumbling and coming down on the wrong foot, now would we?”
    I shuddered. The very idea was painful.
    *

    A few hours later I was back in my room, my leg held high on a stack of pillows. The whining woman in the next bed had been replaced by an old woman. Judging by her almost skeletal appearance and her shrunken-apple of a face, she must have been ancient. She snored with her mouth open and let out loud farts every few seconds. But even that was preferable to the ongoing litany of complaints from my previous neighbor.
    By midafternoon, I was feeling better. The queasiness and grogginess had passed, and I was famished and dying to hear Mitchell’s voice.
    “Good morning, sunshine.” Toni sauntered in, bearing—joy of joys—a restaurant doggie bag. “I figured you’d have had enough of hospital food by now.” She noticed my wrapped-up ankle and her eyebrows jumped. “Well, that should keep me safe from bears.”
    “What in the world are you talking about?”
    “If I ever come across a bear, I don’t have to outrun it. As long as I can outrun you, I’ll be safe.”
    Trust Toni to turn even the worst of times into a joke. I chuckled. “Gee, thanks. I’ll remember never to go hiking with you.”
    She stopped and took a whiff. “Oh phe-ew, it stinks in here.” She waved in a vain attempt to shoo the odor away.
    I put a finger to my mouth and pointed at the curtain behind which was my elderly roommate. “She’s an old woman,” I whispered. As if on cue, the old woman let out a ripper.
    Toni rolled her eyes. “Can’t you ask the nurse to cork her?”
    “Toni, shhh. She might hear you.”
    “I wish she would. If I ever get so old I can’t even hold back from farting in public, just shoot me.” She threw her coat on the nearby chair, tossed her hair and perched herself on the edge of the bed. She dangled the doggie bag before me. “Did you have lunch yet?”
    “They brought me soggy vegetables, some kind of grayish meat and a bowl of green gelatin. Yuck.” I struggled to sit up. “Can you hand me that gadget?”
    She placed the bag on the bedside table, picked up the control button and pressed it until the bed squeaked to a sitting position. “There, is that better?”
    “Much. Thanks.” And then I asked her what was really on my mind. “Did you call Mitchell?”
    She squirmed, avoiding my eyes. “I tried to reach him but