The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries)

The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries) by Mark Schweizer Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: The Organist Wore Pumps (The Liturgical Mysteries) by Mark Schweizer Read Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Schweizer
but couldn’t say anything. The ambulance was long gone by the time I’d told Nancy and Dave and two Boone cops what had happened. Then I climbed into Nancy’s car, rode to the hospital, and walked myself into the emergency room.
    “ Better call Meg,” I said.
    “ She’s on her way,” said Nancy.
    Gaylen had been wheeled into surgery before we’d arrived at the hospital. I was luckier. I wouldn’t need any surgery—just a fiberglass cast on a broken left arm, a couple of months getting over a broken left collarbone, and some stitches in my scalp. No sign of a concussion, presumably what the doctor was looking for when I was so rudely awakened.
    “ We’re going to keep you overnight,” he said. “Just in case.”
    I blinked and looked around the small examining cubicle walled off from the others in the area by sheets of hospital-green linen. I’d just dragged myself into a sitting position on the table when Meg arrived. She pulled the dividing sheet to one side and peeked in; then, seeing I was sitting up, came in and touched me lightly on the side of the head where my hair had been shorn and several stitches were angrily visible against the pale scalp.
    “ Ouch,” I said. “Don’t touch.”
    “ I didn’t, you baby,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’m certainly relieved you’re okay. Luckily, Nancy told me you were fine before she said anything else. She said, ‘He’s fine and Gaylen’s okay, but there’s been a wreck.’”
    “ Well, fine is a bit of a stretch.”
    “ You’re not dead,” said Meg. “You need to get your arm set, but they can’t do anything about your collarbone.”
    I nodded. “The doctor filled me in. Simple fracture. Six weeks in a cast and a sling for the clavicle. How’s Gaylen?”
    “ She’s out of surgery and she’ll be good as new in a couple months. I didn’t get a report on the extent of her injuries. She’ll be here a few days, though. You guys want to share a room?”
    “ Absolutely not.”

    •••

    Pete Moss and Cynthia Johnsson came into my room at about nine o’clock in the evening, breaking all the rules, including the ones about visiting hours and smuggling cigars and beer in to patients. I declined the cigar, but was more than happy to have the beer and the company. Meg, who had been at the hospital all day, had gone out to get a cup of coffee.
    “ A visit from the mayor?” I said. “Now that’s something. How come you didn’t wear your belly-dancing outfit? That would have cheered me up more than Pete here.”
    “ Last time I wore it, I caused quite a commotion in the cardiac ward,” said Cynthia. “I promised not to do it again.”
    “ Going home tomorrow?” asked Pete.
    “ Yeah. There wasn’t really any reason to stay except I got conked on the noggin. That, plus they wanted to watch me run around the halls in one of these open-in-the-back hospital gowns.”
    “ I’m sure that’s it,” said Cynthia with a smirk. “Those nurses are lusting in their hearts.”
    “ How’s your priest friend?” asked Pete.
    “ I saw her a couple of hours ago. She’ll be okay, but she’s pretty banged up. Her right hand is fractured in several places. The surgeon had to put a few pins in. She has a separated shoulder, a couple of broken ribs, a busted nose and two black eyes.” I thought for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Her jaw was broken, too. It’s wired shut. I think that’s it.”
    “ What about her spleen?” said Pete. “Whenever someone gets in a car wreck on TV, they lose a spleen.”
    “ Spleen’s okay,” I answered.
    “ Well, there’s a relief,” said Cynthia rather sarcastically, then looked puzzled. “I’m not even sure where my spleen is.”
    “ Right around your liver somewhere,” Pete said, poking around at his midsection. “It’s all right there together. Spleen, liver, sweetbreads, kidneys, chitlins...all the major food organs. Hey! How’s she going to preach if her jaw’s wired shut?”
    “ That’s a good

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