I leaned across the table. “Tommy, what firemen gave you the picture?”
“My friends, of course, silly. Good Dog Trey’s friends. I ride with them. Not now, I can’t because I live here. When I live with my mom, that’s when I ride with them.”
“Tommy. I’ll talk to the firemen. If they have another picture, I’ll bring it to you when I come next time. Ready for some more of these photographs?”
“No. I don’t like them, I want my own picture!” He took the fire trucks out of his pocket and started running them over the photos, making extra-loud siren noises.
“Of course, your own picture is best,” I agreed. “I’ll come visit you again soon, okay?”
“If you bring the jelly beans. Bring beans, beans, beans, beans, they make you fart, they’re good for the heart, fart fart fart.” He started laughing loudly and began pounding the table with his trucks.
Fred came into the room again. “Time’s up, huh, buddy?”
“I want to stay. My time’s not up, you can’t make me!” Tommy saw Fred eying the fire trucks and stuffed them into his pocket.
I stood. “Tommy, I’ll come back very soon. I’m your lawyer. I’ll come sometime this week, okay?”
“Don’t get him excited, Vic,” Fred said. “It’s bad for him and then we have to medicate him. And if we medicate him he won’t be able to talk to you.”
“And if you keep him medicated so that he can’t talk to me, then I’ll go to a judge and we’ll dance that dance.” I smiled, the kind of smile that is really a mask for anger.
“The pretty girl, she danced that dance, she danced with the boy,” Tommy said.
“Which boy was that, Tommy?” I knelt to pick up the pictures he’d flung about and spread them fanlike in front of him.
“That boy, they danced, they were in love.” He picked out the photo of Link, Maggie’s boyfriend. He started spinning slowly around on his heavy clumsy feet, dancing the dance.
“Why are you showing Tommy all these old photos?” Fred demanded.
“If I’m going to represent him in an appeal to the tribunal, I need to see how reliable his memory is.” I continued smiling. “He certainly knows a hawk from a handsaw.”
“What?” Fred scowled. “If you brought a saw in here, then you are in violation of the rules, and you could even be arrested yourself.”
We’d been pals when the afternoon started, but now he didn’t like me. “Relax, Fred—it’s just a figure of speech. And who knows, the wind may change tomorrow and it’ll be a different story.”
Tommy had been watching us, frowning with worry as he tried to follow our conversation. “I like Vic, Fred. Don’t be mad at her. Vic has curly hair, and it’s short like a boy, but she’s a girl and she’s very pretty.”
“I like you, too, Tommy,” I assured him. “And Fred and I were just joking. Nobody’s mad at anybody, are we, Fred?”
“No, I’m not mad. I just don’t think you should joke about saws in a place like this,” Fred growled. “Lot of unstable violent guys here. Some gals, too.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I agreed quickly. “Sorry.”
I lowered my voice. “Miles Wuchnik, the detective who was murdered two weeks ago—he got onto the patient floors, didn’t he, and went into Tommy’s bedroom.”
Fred shifted uncomfortably. “Xavier let him in, way against regulations. I didn’t say nothing at the time, but, man, if that had got out, we’d all be working extra shifts for a year.”
“Miles did some work for my husband’s law firm,” I said. “But he never told anyone about the picture in Tommy’s room. Did you ever see it?”
“Don’t go bringing that up—gets him all wound up!” Fred jerked his head in Tommy’s direction. “It was just an old photo of him with some firemen. He’s been carrying on like it was the Last Supper or some damned thing!”
“And you don’t have any idea who took it?”
“Why do you care so much?” Fred demanded.
I smiled blandly. “It’s all part of my presentation to the tribunal, whether he’s getting the kind of care here that’s best for him. If the staff have enough time to protect him or not—as you said, there are a lot of violent offenders passing through here.”
“We take damned good care of Tommy, as long as he behaves himself. Now why don’t you leave so I can protect Tommy from predatory lawyers.”
As I left, I saw Tommy uneasily holding his hands in his pockets, protecting his fire trucks.
46.
WHAT’S IN A PICTURE?
VERNON MULLINER, THE DIRECTOR OF SECURITY, WAS AT THE locked wing’s gate when I left. He recognized me at once and pulled me aside.
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting one of the patients. How about you?”
“I thought I told you to keep clear of this hospital.”
“Mr. Mulliner, I’m a lawyer, and I represent one of the patients here. You may not like it, and I’m not crazy about it, but so much of life is like that these days.”