I’ve been here for days now and they say I can go home tomorrow. My strength has gradually been coming back, I’ve started getting out of bed for longer and longer. Made it all the way down the corridor yesterday, dragging my IV stand along with me, hoping my knees didn’t give out. The nurses have been overwhelmingly concerned about the state of my farts, but evidently I satisfied them with the amount of gas I can pass and was allowed to actually eat a few days ago.
Drew has been staying at my place, since Mum and Da went back to Auckland yesterday. Still hurts like a bitch to move around much, but I just want to be home, in my own bed. They’ve tapered off the drugs but I have enough pills that I’ll be fine at home.
Karl has gone back to his house for one of his infrequent trips to shower and change clothes. The man has been here almost as much as I have. It is hard to see him here, so worried about me.
Drew comes back into the room, followed by a police constable. I knew this was coming eventually, but they’ve been good about leaving me alone till now.
“Eric, this is PC Hulme, wants to talk to you. Doctor said he could.” Drew’s way of warning me, but I don’t need it.
The constable nods to me. “Nice to see you looking so well. We were all quite worried about you.” He looks at Drew. “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to talk to your brother alone.”
I make a shooing motion to Drew and he leaves, but the set of his shoulders tells me he doesn’t like it.
PC Hulme pulls out a PDA and a stylus. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Parts of it, some of it is foggy.”
“Not too unusual with the amount of trauma you suffered, most people shut off the really bad parts. What do you remember?”
“I was locking up, there were still a couple of customers, and I was herding them to the door. One was a young guy . . . he let the others in.”
“Did you recognize him? Would you know him again?”
“I don’t think I’d ever seen him before and I really wasn’t looking at his face, so I don’t know. He had a weird tattoo around his neck, that’s what got my attention. I’d never seen anything like it.”
“Hmm.” The constable tapped the stylus against his teeth. “What happened next?”
“This is where I lose the plot. He let his mates in, I’m not sure how many and they started destroying my window and hitting me.”
“Did you know any of them?”
“No, but they all had tattoos as well, weird symbols and things. Oh! And brands of the same type of thing.”
“None of them related to Mr. Urban in any way?”
“Karl? You’ve got to be joking! No, he wasn’t involved . . . he wouldn’t.” He wouldn’t hurt me, not like this. “They were young, lot younger than him. You can’t seriously think he’s had anything to do with this!”
The constable shrugged. “Lot of times when people get hurt like this, it’s someone they know. He said he was your business partner . . . money makes people do strange things.”
I suppress the urge to scream at him. “I gave him some shares of my business for his birthday. Not enough to give him controlling interest.” I raise my hand to hold off his interjection. “And killing me wouldn’t get him the rest, my will says they go to my parents and brother. Besides that’s ludicrous, he’s a successful actor, he doesn’t need it.”
“All right. We’ll leave that for now. Did they say anything that you remember?”
I concentrate. “No . . . nothing that made any sense. Something about picking sides or the wrong side. I don’t know what they meant.”
That startles him. “The wrong side of what?”
“They didn’t say.”
He taps again. “Would you be able to recognize pictures of them, do you think?” At my negative head shake, he continues, “What about the tattoos? Would you know them again?”
“Yeah, those I remember. I’m not very good at sketching, but I could try to draw them.”
“We may have some pictures for you. What were they using for the damage?”
I sigh. This part really hurts to recall. “Chains . . . and bats . . . and a weapon like the other one.”
“What other one?”
“From the first time my store was attacked. Karl found it after you lot left.” I try to remember. “He said it looked like WETA Workshop make, he was going to ask them about it and then turn it over.” I can tell from his expression that Karl did no such thing.
“Seems we may have to talk to Mr. Urban after all. Vigilantism is as much of a crime as the original offense. I hope you’ll impress upon him that he should confide in us and keep himself out of trouble.”
I nod, not at all confident that Karl will cooperate. He shuts his PDA and gathers up his hat, and hands me his business card.
“If you remember anything at all, please call me.” He departs and Drew comes back in almost instantly.
“Were you listening at the door? Eavesdropping is a nasty trait.”
“I just wanted to make sure he didn’t upset you. Are you sure that Karl’s not involved?”
I glare at him and he holds up his hands. “Fine, you’re right. He’s been dedicated, and I’ve got no doubt about how he feels about you. Sometimes I just get this sense from him . . . . I don’t know exactly.” He trails off.
But I know what he means, and it just reminds me that Karl and I really have to talk about some things and it won’t wait much longer.
The nurse’s aide is clearing away my lunch things when Karl comes back. I motion to Drew with my head and he mumbles something about shopping, and nods at my glare. I don’t want him lurking this time.
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