Murder and Mayhem by B L Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

well-traveled woman. However, I
call her my ex-best friend.
    An audible gasp could be heard from a couple of
elderly women at the back of the room. This was a Catholic hospital so they may
have been nuns who lived in cloisters and had never seen a male body up close−marble
statues aside.
    I figured it was time they got a public school
education. 
    I’d received mine at the back of the shelter sheds in
the park – aged five, when Billy Simpson flashed his willy at me and Julie, who
was my best friend at the time. Little itty-bitty thing it was too–hardly worth
the effort. And from what I heard from his wife, my old childhood friend,
Julie, it hasn’t changed much since then.
    I’ve always said there’s nothing more complete than a
public school education.
    “Channel-Five–C.B.S. I enunciated loudly.
    The man bobbed his head up and down, changed the
channel then turned and looked down at me, his hand still hovering above the
dial awaiting further instructions.
    I moved my hand in a twisting motion and spoke slowly.
“Could-you-turn-the-volume-up?”
    He looked at me strangely, and tried to imitate my
action.
    I could see that was not going to work. I put my hands
to my ears, opened and closed them and said, “Turn up sound.”
    He gave me a wide gap-toothed
grin put his hands under his armpits and gave a fascinating rendition of the
chicken dance, while humming the tune. At least, I think that was what it was.
But I don’t speak Japanese.
    I found the sight of the man’s dangly bits bobbing up
and down a tiny bit disconcerting. And from the gasps that emanated from the
back of the room, I figured the nuns were getting an advanced course in human
anatomy. Good thing the gown was secured by a couple of frayed ties at the neck
or they’d be passed out on the floor by now.
    “Very nice,” I said. “But, no.”
    I put my hand in front of my mouth, opened and closed
it, to indicate speech, then rolled my hands in a circle near my ears.
    The man scrunched up his eyes.
    Suddenly recognition bloomed across his face.
    “Me, no deaf,” he said happily, pointing to his chest.
    I smiled–and pointed to my chest. “Me happy.”
    “Sound… good, no good?” he asked in barely discernible
broken English.
    I laughed. “Sound definitely no good.”
    “Me fix!” When he stood on his toes and reached for
the volume control situated on the top of the set, there was a shuffling of
seats in the back of the room and I figured the nuns must be going for their
Masters.
    The subject of their thesis turned and looked down at
me, his hand still hovering up near the dial–dangly bits swaying in the breeze,
awaiting approval before vacating his roost.
    I grinned and gave him the okay, thumbs-up sign.
“Perfect,” I said. 
    Just as the dear man settled back on the chair, Judge
Judy’s face filled the screen ready to dole out justice–as only Judge Judy
could.
    The door to the treatment room opened and a figure in
white, backlit by bright lights entered the room; like an alien emerging from a
spaceship. The flickering light from the television reflected off glass lenses
as the lone figure looked around the room.
    “Mr. Takamura!” a deep voice called, loudly.
    The Japanese man jumped to his
feet, bowed twice, grabbed his briefcase, and hurried across the room. When he
reached the large door, he turned and smiled and nodded in my direction. A look
of surprise flashed across his face as he was bumped inside by the powerful
hydraulic door closer that waits for no man.
    Rosie looked up at the screen, and smiled. “It’s
almost like being at home with friends.”
    “Next time I’ll bring popcorn.”

 
     
     
     
     
    SEVEN
     
     
     
    Moonlight streamed in through the open bay window as
we lay on the bed with the light off, our bodies rippled with moving shadows
from the large oak tree outside, my laptop balanced against my knees while I
read aloud to my sister.
     
    *****
     
    “Would you like to go for a drive into the