The Perfect Crime Read Online Free PDF

the speed limit. Mississippi cops were a bitch, especially on these little lousy state highways out in the middle of nothing, with only miles of cotton fields and tarpaper shacks. Occasionally he saw a mansion sitting far back up a lane. Who the fuck wants to live in Mississippi, he thought, playing the CD over and over as he sped down the cracked ribbon of concrete, keeping his speed a safe five miles over the limit and an eye out for Smokey.
    ***
    Standing in front of the nurse’s desk station reminded Grady that he’d logged too much time in hospitals. The people who paint and furnish these places must all go to the same decorating school, he decided. He wondered if he walked into a paint store at random and asked for “Hospital White” or “Hospital Green” whether he’d see the clerk head for a particular shelf with no hesitation.
    “Are you injured too?”
    It was obviously a doctor who came walking up to Grady in the hospital waiting room. He was looking at Grady’s stained shirt and at his eye patch as if trying to make a connection between the two. They’d made him leave the operating room despite his protests. The nurse who’d escorted him out was all business, the kind that didn’t take shit from anyone.
    He looked down at his shirt, surprised to see dark crimson. “What? Oh. No. That’s not my blood. I’m the one who found Jack. This other thing...” He pointed in the direction of his patch, “...that happened a long time ago. How--”
    “Is he? Well, I think he’s going to make it. We shou know in a few hours. By morning we’ll know more. He’s lost a lot of blood, but his pulse is stronger and we’ve operated to repair as much of the damage as we could. He’s getting more plasma. His blood pressure’s better. It’s come up.” He gazed intently at Grady. “There’s something...” He paused. Grady noticed his eyes were bloodshot. The doctor massaged the back of his neck, and asked, “You’re family, I assume?”
    “Fogarty. Grady Fogarty. That’s my brother Jack.” He wondered if these people ever talked to each other. He’d given the desk nurse all that information earlier. Told her the main thing she wanted to know, which was Jack’s insurance carrier.
    The doctor nodded and extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Lyons, Mr. Fogarty. If your brother lives...and I’m optimistic that he will...there’s...well, there’s going to be a problem.”
    “Doc, there’s something I have to know upfront. Would Jack be in better shape if he’d gotten here earlier? Say, an hour earlier?”
    The doctor studied his face as if trying to figure out the reason for the question.
    “No,” he said, finally. “Even if he’d been brought in two hours sooner, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Most of the real damage was done at the time of the attack.”
    A nurse stuck her head around the corner and said, “Dr. Lyons? I need--”
    “Give me a moment,” he said, holding his hand up, irritation in his tone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The nurse stood with an exasperated expression on her face, shrugged and walked away.
    The doctor looked back at Grady, waited and when Grady didn’t say anything, he went on. “The thing is, he’s suffered serious brain damage. The head wound was the worst of the two. He won’t be the same man you knew. The weapon used on his head, whatever it was--”
    “A brick.” Grady recalled a brick lying on the floor a few feet from Jack.
    “Yes, well, the brick...whatever...damaged part of the brain tissue. We also don’t know how much feeling he’ll retain.”
    “What’s that mean? He’s paralyzed? Are you sure? There’s nothing you can do? An operation, a--”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Fogarty. I wish I could tell you more. It’s too early. Nurse!” The doctor turned and addressed a heavyset young man in green scrubs who stopped and raised his eyebrows. “Tell Donovan I need those reports on my desk. Yesterday .”
    He turned back to Grady.