Lousiana Hotshot

know. Audrey’s with him. We’re waiting.”
    The emergency waiting room at Charity was grim and depressed; most people there were in pain of one kind or another. Those who weren’t worked there and lived with pain on a minute-to-minute basis. They knew far more than people should about life and death, and it had made them slightly brittle. What was worse, though, was that the room itself seemed alive, the air writhing with the spirits of people in pain or dying or grieving or half-worried to death. It sounds frightening in the telling, and could be, but in the end, it was oppressive instead. Entering, Talba felt as if someone had dropped a cement apron over her.
    There was no sign of any member of the Valentino family. Panicked, she approached one of the guards outside the accident room, noticing that another was in a near-comical encounter with a man holding a handkerchief over his bleeding hand, jerking his head periodically, swearing under his breath, and trying to explain that what he had was Tourette’s, not a rotten attitude.
    “I’m looking for Eddie Valentino. Accident victim, came in about half an hour ago?”
    “You’re a family member?”
    She shook her head. “Employee.”
    “Let me see what I can find out.”
    Figuring she was in for the usual interminable wait, she settled down to chew her nails, only to be interrupted almost immediately by a smart-looking woman in a burgundy smock announcing on the left chest that she was an “Emergency Department Patient liaison.” Once again, Talba explained who she wanted and was left to her own devices. And once again, she got action almost immediately.
    “He’s in surgery,” reported the patient liaison. “May I escort you to the family waiting room?”
    Dazed at the contrast in what she expected— good service versus bureaucratic attitude and sloth— she followed the woman to the elevator.
    She found Eileen and Angie and Audrey sitting in a triangle of grief and worry, Angie looking like a mourner in her usual black. Audrey had on a gray sweat suit, something Talba felt sure she’d never be seen in, given the choice. She looked at Talba with dull, shocked eyes.
    Talba said, “How is he?”
    Audrey merely shrugged. Angie said, “If they know, they won’t tell us. They’re operating. That’s all we know.”
    “Does anybody know what happened?”
    This time, Audrey answered. Her elaborate coiffeur was flat in the back, wild in the front. She must have been napping when she got the news. “Some bastard ran him down. One of those idiots who barrel through the Quarter, think they own the town.”
    Talba wouldn’t have believed she even knew the word “bastard,” half expected her to excuse her French. Audrey’s shocked eyes were suddenly snapping.
    “Some Texan.”
    Talba realized she’d been holding her breath. “A Texan. So they got the guy. It wasn’t a hit-and-run.”
    “It was a hit-and-run. People saw it— ran him down like a dog. Left him to die in the street.” She was shaking with anger.
    Talba said, “They got his plate number?”
    Angie came to the rescue. “Mom, we don’t really know it was a Texan.” She turned to Talba. “We don’t know anything.”
    “But we do know Eddie was on foot and somebody mowed him down?”
    Angie nodded. “Bastards,” said Audrey. Talba noticed how thin she was, and that she looked old, her skin gray and cracked.
    “They didn’t give you any idea what his injuries are?”
    “His face looked terrible. They broke his nose.” She turned to Angie and started crying. “They broke ya poor father’s nose.”
    That was probably all she knew right then. Talba sat down to wait for news, her mind working. “What about the car? Did the witnesses say what it looked like?”
    Angela shook her head. Audrey was already back in her own world. Eileen sat like a stone, withdrawn and miserable.
    Toes could have followed him from the office. He could have watched him park and waited for him to come out of the restaurant. If he already knew where he’d parked, he didn’t have to follow him from the restaurant. All he had to do was lurk near the parking lot.
    She fidgeted for a while and then she could stand it no longer. “Angie, can I talk to you a minute?”
    “Sure. Let’s go get some coffee.” She seemed glad of the chance to flee her mother’s fear.
    Talba hadn’t the patience to go for coffee and then drink it. As soon as she had Angie in the hall, she said, “Has he talked to you