The Emerald Lie Read Online Free PDF Page B

had shouted. Now he bent over me, said,
    “The ambulance is on its way.”
    “The dog …”
    Was okay, if bruised, and his pride hurt that he hadn’t been more canine. Went for us both. I passed out then, thinking my toes were cold. I spent a day in the ICU but then was released to a ward. Ridge arrived with a surly guy in plain clothes. She stared at me with anything but sympathy. Said,
    “Don’t you ever get tired of this shite?”
    I managed to move my head, asked,
    “No grapes?”
    The guy with her put away his notebook, said to her,
    “Let’s go; he has nothing to tell us.”
    Ridge gave me a final disgusted look and I asked,
    “Don’t you want to know who did this?”
    Ridge said,
    “Before we get to that, are you aware that a company called Real Time Inc. took out a restraining order against you? Apparently there was an incident involving a window?”
    I had to hand it to Clear. He had snookered me and then had his goons beat the living shit out of me. Ridge said,
    “We’re waiting … for the people who did this to you.”
    I closed my eyes, said,
    “Person or persons unknown.”
    Ridge leaned over, right in my battered face, said,
    “No more screwing around. You crop up in my sights again, I will have you for obstruction, and just about anything else I can drum up.”
    After they left, a nurse came and did the fluff-up-the-pillows ritual they seem to do anytime you get comfortable. She said,
    “You must be an important fellah having all those Guards visit you.”
    “Trust me, importance has very little to do with it.”
    She stood back, hands on hips, asked,
    “Are you after getting yourself in a small bit of bother?”
    I nearly laughed but the broken ribs advised otherwise. I said,
    “Not sure small would quite cover it.”
    She gave that tolerant humph that Irishwomen are born with, asked,
    “How will your wife take this?”
    Now I did laugh, pain and all, said,
    “She shows up, that might be the biggest beating of all.”
    She considered that and just as I thought I might have won her over, she flourished,
    “Ah, you’d need to get over yourself.”
    I woke in the middle of the night, desperate for a pee. Managed to get out of bed and struggle down the ward. Outside the bathroom were two patients, trailing IVs and looking for all the world like …
    They were on sentry?
    I asked,
    “What’s up, guys?”
    One of them, a guy named Scanlon, former bus driver, now on permanent disability, like so many of the city’s civil servants, said,
    “Cig vigil.”
    What?
    “Like you’re mourning them?”
    He gave a small laugh, moved his IV line like a dancing partner, said,
    “See, you can’t smoke on the hospital grounds or on any of the businesses across the road, so, what? A guy is going to trail his line half a mile to grab a smoke?”
    I could see the logic, asked,
    “So can I like, you know, get in?”
    He moved aside, shouted,
    “Okay, guys, he checks out.”
    Inside, it was Dante’s Seventh Circle. Clouds of smoke. I did my biz, was heading out amid the throng of smokers, when Scanlon appeared out of the mists, asked,
    “Wanna drink, Jack?”
    I smiled, said,
    “Next you’ll have a card game going.”
    Without missing a beat, he said,
    “Booth three, five-card stud.”
    I declined and Scanlon said to me,
    “Before I came into hospital, I bought a scratch card.”
    I waited, this could be …
    “I won fifty thousand and gee, I’m a little short until I get the money so I was thinking …”
Or
    “I’m buying a villa in Portugal.”
    Nope.
    Like this:
    “I got three stars and sent it to the TV show.”
    This was supposed to make some sort of sense and true, I do try to keep up with … um …
popular culture
, but
The X Factor
had eroded any chance of ever making intelligence out of the abyss of stupidity we had reached. He continued,
    “Thing is, I got my name called and now I’m due on the show to win the big prize in two weeks.”
    He sighed, said,
    “But I’m on