places: leaving the premises

I had a good sleep.  It felt healing.  Nurse green-eyes brought in a hot meal and told me that I had been given the okay by the doc to leave.  I was still feeling a little doped, but my mind was clearer.

I put my clothes on.  Clayton’s notebook and parcels were still in my pocket.  The .45 was missing.  I couldn’t remember if I had put it my pocket or left in on the car seat.   I could have sworn it was in my pocket.  I am just going to have to cross my fingers and hope that it didn’t raise any eyebrows.

I walked into the bathroom for some privacy.  I locked the door so I could open the parcels without anyone barging in.  I noticed that one of them was missing too.  I folded the false identities back into the brown paper wrapping and stuck them back into my pocket.  I needed the cash.

The nurse came to say good-bye.  She told me that some of my personal effects were in the bedside table.  In it were my keys and the late Sam Finch’s wallet.

I walked down to the hospital bookkeeping department and paid my bill with some of the commie cash.

I walked out the front door.  It was late in the afternoon. Camille by this time had to be really worried about me.

There were a couple of pay phones outside the hospital gate.  I needed another ride.  I called the first cab service in the book.

I waited for my ride underneath an old elm tree.  It was nice. I had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes when I was approached by a couple of guys.  I watched them walk toward me.  I was a little unnerved, but played it cool.

They drew their badges as they neared me. 

“How can I help you boys?” I asked as I lit a new cheroot.

“Mr. Fitch, Mr. Sam Fitch.”

I drew and puffed to get it going.

“My name is Lieutenant Burns.  We have some questions to ask of you.”

“I don’t know what you’d be wanting from me, but go ahead and shoot.” 

You were in a car accident last night. There were a good many firearms in your vehicle. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about mister.” 

The second guy butted in. “You better work with us.  We don’t have to have this conversation here bub.  We can take this downtown and let you enjoy our facilities.” 

Lt. Burns shook his head. “Now Francis, I’m sure Fitch wants to cooperate with us.”  The intense looking dick crossed his arms and gave me his ‘if looks could kill’ look.

We had inspected the site of your accident and found guns scattered all over the place.

Frances said with a smirk on his face.“It was like an Easter egg hunt - only the eggs were guns.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That knock on your head must have really made you loopy,” said Frances. 

“Well yes, it did knock me pretty hard, but I would remember any guns.” 

Burns looked at his partner with his if looks could kill look. “Let me do the talking Francis!”

“Then stop calling me Francis. You know I don’t like it when people call me Francis.  Only my mother calls me that.  I don’t like the way the boys at the station say it - not even you!  I likes to be called by my middle name, you know that!

“Okay O’Keith, can we get on with this?” Mike replied.

While Burns and Francis were going back and forth, I noticed my taxi had arrived.  The cabbie had gotten out of his car and I waved at him to catch his eye.  He tipped his hat in my direction and waited.

Lieutenant Burns attention turned back on me. 

“Mr. Fitch.  The car you were driving last night did not belong to you.  It was registered to a Mr. Tyler Clayton.  We’ve tried calling him, but haven’t heard from him.  If you can’t give us some answers, we are going to have to take you in until we get to the bottom of this.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Don’t give us any of that guff, start squawking!” barked Francis. 

“Officers, I lied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I had an accident last night, but it was in my wife’s car.  I didn’t have any guns, just a box of flowers in the baseboard.

The officers glanced at each other and then back down at me.

Francis barked again, “You better not be jerking us around Fitch!” 

I tossed in a little indignant attitude. “...and why is everyone calling me Fitch? 

They looked at each other again while the cabby checked his watch.

“My name is Hale, John Hale!  I want to get back to my wife.  It was our anniversary and I’ve got to go buy some more flowers.”

“We’re going to need to see some identification mister.” 

I reached into my trench-coat for my billfold.

Francis held out his hand impatiently.

I put my driver’s license in his hand.  He handed it to Burns who then handed it back to me.

Francis mumbled something incoherently and then said, “Why didn’t you say so in the first place.  It could have saved us both the trouble.”

“Sorry officer, but I had a bad night last night, still a little shook-up from the accident.  You understand don’t you?”

”Of course.” replied the detective, “...Mr. Fitc...I mean...Mr.Hale. Thank you for your time.”

“No problem.” 

We all shook hands, kissed and made up.  They headed toward the front door of the hospital as I casually walked toward the cab.

The cabby asked me “Where to?”

“North Terrace area, do you know where that is?”

“Sure thing mister.” 

It wasn’t until we left the premises and drove down the road about a piece that I requested that he ‘step on it’.