“It’s Hartsfield I’m interested in, but based on what you’re saying, I wouldn’t be surprised if Babineau turned out to be collateral damage.”
“Then hooray for collateral damage.” It comes out clatteral dammish, and Hodges deduces she’s not on her first drink. He is, after all, a trained investigator.
When the waitress brings his Coke, Norma drains her glass and holds it up. “I’ll have another, and since the gentleman’s paying, you might as well make it a double.” The waitress takes her glass and leaves. Norma turns her attention back to Hodges. “You said you have questions. Go ahead and ask while I can still answer. My mouth is a trifle numb, and will soon be number.”
“Who is on Brady Hartsfield’s visitors list?”
Norma frowns at him. “Visitors list? Are you kidding? Who told you he had a visitors list?”
“The late Ruth Scapelli. This was just after she replaced Becky as head nurse. I offered her fifty bucks for any rumors she heard about him—which was the going rate with Becky—and she acted like I’d just pissed on her shoes. Then she said, ‘You’re not even on his visitors list.’”
“Huh.”
“Then, just today, Babineau said—”
“Some bullshit about the DA’s office. I heard it, Bill, I was there.”
The waitress sets Norma’s new drink in front of her, and Hodges knows he’d better finish up fast, before Norma starts to bend his ear about everything from being underappreciated at work to her sad and loveless love life. When nurses drink, they have a tendency to go all in. They’re like cops that way.
“You’ve been working the Bucket for as long as I’ve been coming there—”
“A lot longer. Twelve years.” Yearsh. She raises her glass in a toast and swallows half of her drink. “And now I have been promoted to head nurse, at least temporarily. Twice the responsibility at the same old salary, no doubt.”
“Seen anybody from the DA’s office lately?”
“Nope. There was a whole briefcase brigade at first, along with pet doctors just itching to declare the son of a bitch competent, but they went away discouraged once they saw him drooling and trying to pick up a spoon. Came back a few times just to double-check, fewer briefcase boys every time, but nothing lately. ’S’far’s they’re concerned, he’s a total gork. Badda-boop, badda-bang, over and out.”
“So they don’t care.” And why would they? Except for the occasional retrospective on slow news days, interest in Brady Hartsfield has died down. There’s always fresh roadkill to pick over.
“You know they don’t.” A lock of hair has fallen in her eyes. She blows it back. “Did anyone try to stop you, all the times you were in to visit him?”
No, Hodges thinks, but it’s been a year and a half since I dropped by. “If there is a visitors list—”
“It’d be Babineau’s, not the DA’s. When it comes to the Mercedes Killer, DA is like honeybadger, Bill. He don’t give a shit.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“Could you check and see if there is such a list? Now that you’ve been promoted to head nurse?”
She considers, then says, “It wouldn’t be on the computer, that would be too easy to check, but Scapelli kept a couple of file folders in a locked drawer at the duty desk. She was a great one for keeping track of who’s naughty and who’s nice. If I found something, would it be worth twenty to you?”
“Fifty, if you could call me tomorrow.” Hodges isn’t sure she’ll even remember this conversation tomorrow. “Time is of the essence.”
“If such a list exists, it’s probably just power-tripping bullshit, you know. Babineau likes to keep Hartsfield to his little old self.”
“But you’ll check?”
“Yeah, why not? I know where she hides the key to her locked drawer. Shit, most of the nurses on the floor know. Hard to get used to the idea old Nurse Ratched’s dead.”
Hodges nods.
“He can move things, you know. Without touching them.” Norma’s not looking at him; she’s making rings on the table with the bottom of her glass. It looks like she’s trying to replicate the Olympic logo.
“Hartsfield?”
“Who are we talking about? Yeah. He does it to freak out the nurses.” She raises her head. “I’m drunk, so I’ll tell you something I’d never say sober. I wish Babineau would kill him. Just give him a hot shot of something really toxic and boot him out the door. Because he scares me.” She pauses, then adds, “He scares all of us.”
21
Holly reaches Todd Schneider’s personal assistant just as he’s getting ready to shut up shop and leave for the day. The PA says Mr. Schneider should be available between eight thirty and nine tomorrow. After that he has meetings all day.
Holly hangs up, washes her face in the tiny lavatory, reapplies deodorant, locks the office, and gets rolling toward Kiner Memorial just in time to catch the worst of the evening rush hour. It’s six o’clock and full dark by the time she arrives. The woman at the information desk checks her computer and tells her that Barbara Robinson is in Room 528 of Wing B.