The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

Valentino’s going down.” That damn note had been an omen, and my sorry self insisted on getting involved. What had I been thinking? The worry in Neil’s voice, the frantic edge on his very presence iced my pain with grief
    “I couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t leave the kids, leave you.” My vision clouded, and tunneled. “So sorry,” I whispered and lost consciousness.

    * * * *
    When I came to, I groaned, not from pain, but from the smells of the hospital. Gauze pads swathed my hands and head in a light, but continuous mummification. Someone was talking in the low, sepulchral tones used in rooms like this.
    “Appears to be second degree burns. We’ve started her on a course of intravenous antibiotics to prevent any infection, as well as low dose morphine for pain management.”
    My gaze cut to the I.V. stand that dripped clear fluid down into a tube connected to the needle in my arm. “Well this sucks,” I croaked.
    Neil was at my side in an instant. “Hey there, hot stuff. How’s it going?”
    “It’s going.”
    “Let’s check those bandages,” The woman I assumed to be the doctor smiled reassuringly as she unwrapped one arm. “Looking good.”
    I glanced at the puffy red skin covered with angry blisters and winced. “On what planet?”
    The doctor brought out a fresh roll of gauze and a stack of sterile pads. “The one where you don’t need skin grafts. You’re a very lucky woman. The burns don’t extend past the dermis. You’ll be back up to speed in about a month, with only minor scaring.”
    My mind’s eye envisioned something akin to the phantom of the opera. “Will I have to wear a mask and go lurching around underground sewers?”
    “Not unless you really want to.” She secured the wrap and smiled. I’ll be back in a few hours.
    Neil sighed and flopped into the chair beside my bed.
    “I’m so sorry…” I began but he held up a hand.
    “I think we should move.”
    “What?” I tried to sit up, a huge mistake as my battered body protested vehemently. “Why?”
    He patted the air, urging me to lie still. “No good has come from us being in Hudson. You hate the winter, and I hate seeing you like this.”
    Panic tightened my vocal cords. “Think this through, love. Winter’s almost over. We can’t sell the house in this economy and the boys, and Marty’s mess. And I promised Sylvia we’d make a go at the joint Shui Cleaning thing. And Leo’s going to be off his game for a while, after Richard. He’ll need us close by. It just isn’t the right time. It was one madman, Neil. One guy caused all this misery. And the police are gonna get him, right?”
    “We already have him in custody.” Detective Capri entered, her hard cop eyes assessing my conditions. “He’s in interrogation with the feds right now, spilling every detail, going over every nuance of his,” she made air quotes with her fingers “’grand master plan.’ It seems Candie was the linchpin, she agreed to stage the kidnapping in order to punish Valentino. She told him how to access the house security system, where to plant bugs after the FBI had swept for them, so he was always one step ahead.
    From what I could discern, he made a pass at Candie, but she announced she was through with men and he lost whatever cool reason he’d ever possessed, hacked her into pieces, and set up Sloan as a convenient scapegoat. So don’t worry about Garner. He’ll be locked away for the rest of his life, I guarantee it. Valentino’s closing down shop too, since his shoddy ethics have been put under a microscope. He’ll probably start over in some other state, but without the financial backing of Candie’s family.”
    She turned to Neil. “Don’t let him chase you away, don’t let him win.”
    Neil was on his feet before I could blink. “Maybe if you did your job, she wouldn’t be in this mess.” He stabbed a finger at the bed. “Maybe if you actually protected the people you’re sworn to serve, I might feel comfortable staying put.”
    Unfair. I opened my mouth to speak but coughed violently instead, returning my husband’s focus to me. He poured some water into a plastic cup and inserted a straw into my mouth. “Calm yourself, Uncle Scrooge. You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”
    The water was cool going down, soothing my parched throat. “Not her fault.” I croaked. The statement brought forth a new coughing jag.
    “I’ll leave. I just wanted to tell you that the City Council