Once a Widow by Lee Roberts Page B

chin, decided that he would go to his office and use the electric shaver he kept there, and then get some breakfast. By then it would be time for Lew Sprang’s operation, and he also wanted to talk with Dr. Carlyle about the x-rays, even though he was certain that surgery was indicated.
    “I’m tough,” Miss James said. “I can take it. Do you have any spare no-sleep caffeine tablets?”
    “Sorry. Who’s on pre-surgery this morning?”
    “Me, pal.” Miss James yawned. “What is your desire?”
    “Tell Lew Sprang I’ll see him pretty soon, and not to worry.”
    “Routine,” Miss James said carelessly and handed him a clip-board. “There’s your patients, Doctor. All still breathing.” She stood up. “I’ll just go in and check on Mr. Sprang right now, while I’m still awake. He’s a nice old man.” She moved away, tugging her tight uniform down over her hips.
    Shannon lingered at the desk, looking over the charts of his patients in the hospital. Two doctors came in from the rear entrance. Both of them spoke to Shannon and one said, “I’ll be on deck at seven-thirty, Clint.” He was Dr. John Kovici, who was to assist Shannon with the surgery on Lewis Sprang.
    “Thanks, John.” Shannon placed the clip-board on the desk and started for the rear exit. He was almost to the stairs when he stopped abruptly, frozen by a shrill scream echoing down the corridors. He turned and stared at the empty south wing. At the far end, in the main corridor, a white-uniformed nurse ran past his vision. The scream came again, echoing against the tile walls, hoarse at first and then rising to an obscene shriek, and there was an excited mumble of voices. Shannon sprinted along the south wing. When he swung into the main corridor he saw that patients were standing outside their rooms or peering from open doors, all staring toward the north wing, toward a small knot of people outside a room. Shannon saw that Dr. Kovici was there, along with several nurses. Miss James was nowhere in sight. As he approached he saw that the room number was 102. There were no more screams, and suddenly the hospital was unnaturally quiet. Shannon stopped, panting a little. “What’s wrong?”
    Dr. John Kovici nodded at the door of 102. “Sounded like it came from in there, Clint.”
    Shannon started for the door, but Dr. Kovici was ahead of him. Shannon followed him into the room. As soon as he saw what was on the bed he closed the door quickly and stood against it.
    Miss Martha James, R.N., stood pressed against the far wall staring at the bed, her eyes dull with shock. Shannon watched Kovici bend over the bed, the latter’s gaze intent as his hand moved over Lewis Sprang feeling for a pulse that Shannon knew would not be there. The old lawyer lay on his right side, covered by a sheet, as Shannon had seen him the evening before. But now the upper part of the sheet was splotched with blood, most of it dried now to a dirty brown, and there was blood on the pillow and in the thick, gray-tinged tawny hair. Shannon took a deep trembling breath and moved to the bed.
    Dr. Kovici, a small dark man with stiff short black hair, looked up at Shannon and spoke in a bleak, tired voice. “He’s gone, Clint.”
    “I know.” Shannon fought to keep his voice steady. “I can see that.”
    Somebody knocked on the door.
    Shannon looked at Miss James. “You all right?”
    “I—I don’t know.”
    “You’ve seen blood before,” Shannon snapped. “Go to the door and stay there. Don’t let anyone in.”
    The harshness of his voice steadied the nurse. She jerked her gaze from the bed and moved quickly to the door. The knocking came again, impatiently, and Shannon shouted, “Stop that!” The knocking ceased abruptly.
    Dr. Kovici sighed and said softly, “You’re the coroner, Clint.”
    Shannon bent over the body on the bed. “A blow on the head,” he said. “Something fairly small and heavy.” He leaned closer. “Above and behind the left ear,