'Break that up!' Randolph roared.
Smiling, Big Jim held the phone away from his ear. He could hear perfectly well, just the same.
'Get those two... not those two, you idiot, the OTHER two... NO, I don't want em arrested! I want em the hell out of here! On their asses, if they won't go any other way!'
A moment later he was speaking to Big Jim again. 'Remind me why I wanted this job, because I'm starting to forget.'
'It'll sort itself out,'Big Jim soothed.'You'll have five new bodies by tomorrow - fresh young bucks - and another five by Thursday. Another five at least. Now send young Thibodeau up here. And make sure that cell at the far end downstairs is ready for a fresh occupant. Mr Barbara will be using it as of this afternoon.'
'On what charge?'
'How about four counts of murder, plus inciting a riot at the local supermarket? Will that do?'
He hung up before Randolph could reply.
'What do you want me and Carter to do?'Junior asked.
'This afternoon? First, a little reconnaissance and planning. I'll assist with the planning. Then you take part in arresting Barbara. You'll enjoy that, I think.'
'Yes I will.'
'Once Barbara's in the jug, you and Officer Thibodeau should eat a good supper, because your real job's tonight.'
'What?'
'Burning down the Democrat office - how does that sound?'
Junior's eyes widened. 'Why?'
That his son had to ask was a disappointment. 'Because, for the immediate future, having a newspaper is not in the town's best interest. Any objections?'
'Dad - has it ever occurred to you that you might be crazy?'
Big Jim nodded. 'Like a fox,' he said.
'All the times I've been in this room,' Ginny Tomlinson said in her new foggy voice, 'and I never once imagined myself on the table.'
'Even if you had, you probably wouldn't have imagined being workdd on by the guy who serves you your morning steak and eggs.' Barbie tried to keep it light, but he'd been patching and bandaging since arriving at Cathy Russell on the ambulance's first run, and he was tired. A lot of that, he suspected, was stress: he was scared to death of making someone worse instead of better. He could see the same worry on the faces of Gina Buffalino and Harriet Bigelow, and they didn't have the Jim Rennie clock ticking in their heads to make things worse.
T think it will be awhile before I'm capable of eating another steak,'! Ginny said.
Rusty had set her nose before seeing any of the other patients. Barbie had assisted, holding the sides of her head as gently as he could and murmuring encouragement. Rusty plugged her nostrils with gauze soaked in medicinal cocaine. He gave the anesthetic ten minutes to work (using the time to treat a badly sprained wrist and put an elastic bandage on an obese woman's swollen knee), then tweezed out the gauze strips and grabbed a scalpel. The PA was admirably quick. Before Barbie could tell Ginny to say wishbone, Rusty had slid the scalpel's handle up the clearer of her nostrils, braced it again$t her septum, and used it as a lever.
Like a man prying off a hubcap, Barbie had thought, listening to the small but perfectly audible crunch as Ginny's nose came back to something approximating its normal position. She didn't scream, but her fingernails tore holes in the paper covering the examination table, and tears poured down her cheeks.
She was calm now - Rusty had given her a couple of Perco-cets - but tears were still leaking from her less swollen eye. Her cheeks were i a puffy purple. Barbie thought she looked a little like Rocky Balboa after the Apollo Creed fight.
'Look on the bright side,' he said.
'Is there one?'
'Definitely. The Roux girl is looking at a month of soup and milkshakes.'
'Georgia? I heard she took a hit. How bad?'
'She'll live, but it's going to be a long time before she's pretty.'
'That one was never going to be Miss Apple Blossom.' And, in a lower voice: 'Was it her screaming?'
Barbie nodded. Georgia's yowls had filled the whole hospital, it seemed. 'Rusty gave her morphine, but she didn't go down for a long time. She must have the constitution of a horse.'
'And the conscience of an alligator,' Ginny added in her foggy voice. 'I wouldn't wish what happened to her on anybody, but it's still a damned good argument for karmic retribution. How long have I been here? My darn watch is broken.'
Barbie glanced at his own. 'It's now fourteen thirty. So I guess that puts you about five and a half hours on the road to recovery.' He twisted at the hips, heard his back crackle, and felt it loosen up a litde. He decided Tom Petty was right: the waiting was the hardest part. He reckoned he would feel easier once he was actually in a cell. Unless he was dead. It had crossed his mind that it might be convenient for him to be killed while resisting arrest.
'What are you smiling about?' she asked.
'Nothing.' He held up a set of tweezers. 'Now be quiet and let me do this. Soonest begun, soonest done.'
'I ought to get up and pitch in.'
'If you try it, the only pitching you'll do will be straight down to the floor.'
She looked at the tweezers. 'Do you know what; you're doing with those?'
'You bet. I won a gold medal in Olympic Glass Removal.'
'Your bullshit quotient is even higher than my ex-husband's.' She was smiling a little. Barbie guessed it hurt her, even with painkillers on board, and he liked her for it.
'You're not going to be one of those tiresome medical people who turns into a tyrant when it's her turn for treatment, are you?' he asked.
'That was Dr Haskell. He ran a big splinter under his thumbnail once, and when Rusty offered to take it out, The Wiz said he wanted a specialist.' She laughed, then winced, then groaned.
'If it makes you feel any better, the cop who punched you took a rock in the head.'
'More karma. Is he up and around?'
'Yep.' Mel Searles had walked out of the hospital two hours ago with a bandage wrapped around his head.