I was home minutes later, safely tucked away for the night. 5:56 on a Friday evening and I had no plans. I made an olive-and-pimento-cheese sandwich on whole-wheat bread, which I cut into quarters. I poured myself a glass of wine and settled on the couch where I took up the Jane Doe file and started back at page one. Sometimes you work because there’s nothing else to do.

8

At 1:35 that morning, I was awakened from a sound sleep: Dolan on the phone, calling from the ER at St. Terry’s.

“Stacey’s back got worse after I dropped him off. He called me at midnight and asked me to bring him in. They took one look at him and rounded up the doc on call. I’m waiting to hear what the fellow has to say.”

“You want me to come over?”

“Hang on a second.” He put a hand over the mouthpiece and conducted a muffled conversation with someone else, then returned to the line. “I’ll call you back in a bit. Soon as I find out what’s going on.”

I replaced the handset, now wide awake. If Dolan intended to phone again, there was really no point in going back to sleep. I flipped on the light and fumbled for my running shoes. Given my new efficiency measures, I was fully suited up in sweats and crew socks. I needed only brush my teeth and run wet hands through my mop and I was ready to go.

I parked on a side street across from the hospital emergency entrance. I love the town at that hour. Traffic is sparse, the streets are empty, most businesses are shut down. The temperature had dropped into the forties and the lights in the emergency room looked inviting. Apparently, the usual weekend traumafest hadn’t gotten under way as yet, because the front desk was deserted and all was quiet. I found Dolan reading a magazine in the reception area. He rose when he saw me.

Without even thinking, I gave his cheek a buss. “How’s he doing?”

“They’re in the process of admitting him. I could have saved you a trip. I tried calling you back, but I guess you’d already left by then.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was up anyway. What now? Will they let you see him again?”

“They gave him something for the pain and he’s out of it. He probably won’t know the difference, but I’ll feel better if I do. After that, I thought I’d make a run over to his place and pick up some of his things. Toothbrush and comb, stuff like that.”

“Why don’t I find us a cup of coffee? There’s bound to be a vending machine on the premises somewhere.”

We sat together for half an hour, sipping treacherous-smelling lukewarm coffee from thick paper cups with handles like flat-folded butterfly wings. He said, “What were you doing home? I was all set to leave a message. I figured you’d be out on a date.”

“People don’t date anymore; at least I don’t,” I said.

“Why not? What’s wrong with it? How else are you going to meet someone?”

“I don’t want to meet anyone. I’m fine, thanks so much. What about you? You’re single. Are you dating these days?”

“I’m too old.”

“Me, too,” I said, peering over at him. “How long ago did your wife die?”

“Ten months today.” He was silent for a moment. “I’ll tell you what’s been hard. She bugged me for years to go on a cruise. I hated the whole idea. Tahiti. Alaska. She’d bring me color brochures full of these pictures of happy couples, all of ’em thirty years old, standing on the deck, holding champagne flutes. Sunset. Romance. Inside’d be a picture of this mountain of food you could stuff yourself with twenty-four hours a day. Just the sight of it’s enough to make your ulcers perforate. I hate being cooped up, and I was worried I’d be stranded with a bunch of fools. Does that sound unreasonable?”

“You think it was a cruise she wanted or just a trip someplace?”

Dolan turned and gave me a look. “I never thought to ask.”

I got back to my place at 2:45 A.M. and then slept restlessly until 10:00. The Santa Teresa County Jail is housed in a 25,000-square-foot building, two-stories, 120 beds, designed to be staffed by only two corrections officers, one of whom monitors the state-of-the-art security panel with its bank of television screens.

Still feeling half-dead from lack of sleep, I pulled the VW into one of the slots out front and went through the main entrance doors, where I picked up a copy of the visitation request form. I filled in my name and gave it to the clerk at the counter, then hung out in the lobby area while the word went down to Pudgie that he had a visitor. I could picture his puzzlement, as I was reasonably certain he’d never heard of me. Curiosity (or boredom) must have gotten the better of him because the clerk returned and said he’d agreed to see me. She gave me the booth number where I could meet him.