Book Three: Part 7 - Varied Evil - Chapter 8

Madison Motor Inn – 1:30 a.m.

DeWayne walked back inside the room after a thirty-minute walk from dumping the car. Walking back, he cased several cars he thought might be doable when it was time to hit the road. The lights were off and one of the bed had two lumps under the sheets.

DeWayne grinned.

Tomorrow night, it would be him and Jasmine.

She was smart and sexy, and she can really move that ass of hers and tire any man out. He liked that about her, but what he liked even more, was her ability to find the right places for them to hit.

Yeah, the bitch was sexy, beautiful, but above all, she has brains. That part of her, he would never fuck with.

Thursday – April 5th – 11:56 a.m.

Oak Hills Strip Mall – Johnny P’s

A call came in on the car radio for Prescott and Andrews that a robbery was taking place at Johnny P’s, a twenty-four-hour check-cashing place. It was in their sector and were told backup would be there for support.

Stepping on the gas, and making a hard right around a corner, Johnathan was almost on top of Johnny P’s before Dianne hung up the microphone to the radio.

“No sirens. If they are still there, it’s our advantage.”

Dianne reached for her sidearm just as Johnathan pulled up to the side of the building.

“Dianne, go around the back, I’ll take the front. They haven’t seen us yet if they are still here. We’ll advance to the center nice and slow.”

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

Dianne ran as fast as she could until she was at the back entrance. She peered inside through a small window and barely saw Johnathan. With a wave from him, that’s when they slowly edged into both doors, with Johnathan’s weapon held shoulder-high, hammer cocked back. Dianne’s gun was held in both hands, slightly downward and away from her right hip, hammer also cocked back.

Just then, three black and whites pulled in, sirens blaring.

Johnathan motioned to Dianne to just rush in as he did. As he did, he saw a lone figure, his back to Johnathan, with a small caliber handgun waving it wildly.

“Drop the weapon and get down on your knees. Now!”

The robber, barely five feet tall, turned out to be about ten years old.

The gun hit the floor, and the boy dropped like a rock to the floor.

Backup units stormed in right behind Johnathan, every man with their guns drawn. One officer quipped, “Well, lookie here, we got us a midget.”

Dianne turned around as Johnathan handcuffed the boy. “We got this, guys. Show’s over.”

As Johnathan started talking to the boy, Dianne started talking to the cashier on the other side of a bulletproof glass. Linda, about twenty-two, slightly chubby, and pretty smile, said she was about to give the boy eighteen hundred dollars. That was all she had in the drawer. She had already given him four-hundred of it, when they showed up.

The boy was searched, and the money was found, but now it was evidence. Linda called her boss, and as Johnathan and Dianne were going to their car with the boy, Linda put a sign on the door that read: TEMPORARILY CLOSED.

With the boy in the back seat, Johnathan started the car and headed for the Twenty-Second. Dianne started talking to the boy.

“You think you might have something you would like to tell me as to why such a little guy like yourself was in there trying to rob that place?”

“I need money really bad.”

“But why?”

The boy, not quite ten, had tears streaming down his face.

“It’s for my mamma. She needs it really bad!”

Dianne looked over at Johnathan with a look of sad story time.

“What about your mother?”

“She has Cancer and needs an operation. I was just trying to help.”

Dianne was right. Sad story time.

West Park Sports & Rehab Clinic

Dr. Lambert’s Office – 1:00 p.m.

“Mr. Manning, obviously you know that a surgery such as this is quite expensive, and honestly, I can’t guarantee that your system won’t reject what you are asking for.

“Just as with Stevie, his bionic leg hasn’t been widely used and the bionics of the arm is in the same percentile. Less than five percent.”

“So, what you’re trying to say is if I opt for the transplant, it’s possible it would fail and that I would be out of one arm for keeps.”

Dr. Lambert nodded.

“Yes. Though your progress is slow-going, you do have partial mobility. If you decide on the transplant, and if your body rejects the bionics involved, your arm will not be able to be reattached again.

“Let me explain further. What we call an osseointergration has to be done. This means it will be connected directly to the bone, replacing your current socket and liner standard. There will be electrical wiring connected to the muscle tissue behind the socket joint, then connected to the bionic placement.

“There will be a forward shaft that will automatically send megabytes of information to other parts of the arm, right down to the fingertips. Thus, you should have, after some therapedic training; stability and for all outward appearance, as well, flexibility.

“Just as with Stevie’s leg, this is made from carbon composites that are lighter than other prosthetics. You should have at least a ninety-nine percent usage without any failure.

“There is a small motor and micro-processor in the shoulder region that will never break down as they are constantly recharged in two ways. Your body heat and activity. This includes sleeping. Both the motor and microprocessor are less than one square inch and will offer no discomfort.

“The surgery takes about three hours. Small holes are bored into the rotator cup. This allows the bone marrow stem cells to seep out and grow into cartilage.

“Sometimes, longer periods of post-operative inactivity; as in no impact activity at least two to three times a month can increase your chances of this being successful. And finally, there will be a latex-perma covering extended from shoulder to fingertips, made to appear as though it is real skin, right down to the appearance of fingernails.”

“How much are we talking about?”

Dr. Lambert picked up her calculator, pressed a few buttons, and then handed the calculator to Ed.

He whistled.

“Expensive, I know. But give some thought to this before you say yes. Keep in mind, your body could reject this altogether, and then you would be without the arm you have now.”

“I got that part, Dr. Lambert. If I say yes, how soon could the surgery be done?”

“Right now, I can’t say, but I would assume, if we pay cash as you and Lieutenant Baker did for Stevie—probably within thirty to sixty days.”

“Good enough for me. Let’s do it. I can have a certified check in your hands by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Dr. Lambert smiled.

“I’ll start the paperwork to set a date for the surgery. The standard five percent off for cash still applies.”

Ed and Dr. Lambert stood, shook hands, and Ed left her office, got in his Volvo, and headed for home. He would have a lot to tell Jen later.

A whole five percent, huh?

Twenty-Second Precinct – 2:12 p.m.

Baker just left a small room after talking with Prescott and Andrews, about Leon Hargrove, age nine.

Leon tried to rob Johnny P’s, a check-cashing business.

Baker was on her way to one of the juvenile holding rooms. Not in all the years she has been on the force has there ever been anyone this young arrested.

She opened the door where Leon was found sitting on a chair, fidgeting behind a small table.

“Hello, Leon. I am Lieutenant Janis Baker. How are you doing, son?”

“I ain’t your son. My momma is dying of Cancer.”

“That’s what I have been told. How long has your mother been sick?”

“Long time. Just last week she was put in the hospital. Momma says it’s lung Cancer. But, but ….”

“But what, Leon?”

“We ain’t got the money they want to take the cancer outta her. She don’t have no insurance. It’s just me and her. I was just trying to help her.”

“I see. I tell you what, Leon, you stay right here, and let me make a few phone calls. I think we might be able to help your mother.”

“Hey,” his tears stopping suddenly, and a bit of hope shown in his eyes, “you really think so? Hold up! We don’t want no handouts. Momma always told me we pay our own way. We don’t want no charity!”

“It isn’t charity, Leon. If we can make a miracle happen; would that be all right with you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. Yeah, miracles are good. God makes miracles happen all the time, don’t he?”

“As many as he can, Leon.”

“Then, that be good. Cause I’ve been praying for a miracle.”

Montie High School – 4:30 p.m.

Stevie stood next to third base as the coach. Two players were on base, but it was his job to send both signals to the batter, and both runners. He had certain hand and body signals he was learning for hitting, bunting, walk, or steal a base. The team’s first game was a week from Friday, a home-opener. Stevie wasn’t too worried. He felt confidant with each practice game.

Ellie sat in the stands with a few of her girlfriends, her eyes on Stevie. Practice would be over in another hour and they had planned to go to the Pit-Stop for burgers and steak fries.

Stevie continued going through the motions with hand signals. His hand would play over his ball cap which meant to let the pitch go by. His hand would slide across his shirt, meaning to bunt the ball. Swing, was rubbing his right hand along his hip as long as the pitch looked good.

There were runners at first and second. The next batter swung at the ball, sending it into deep centerfield, but it was caught. Stevie sent a signal to the runner on second, a guy named Terry, to tag and run for third. The first base coach told his runner to stay put.

The ball was thrown hard to third. The third baseman covered the bag as Terry slid into third. As his left foot touched the bag, the ball was in the glove of the third baseman. The umpire, Coach Brian, called Terry, safe.

While the ball was being thrown, the first base coach signaled his player to steal second. It worked. There were two outs and the Red Team was losing 6-3 against the Blue Team, but practice is practice. Both sides learned from their mistakes to make them better players.

Johnson County Memorial Hospital – 4:55 p.m.

Baker walked inside the hospital and went to the information desk and asked where Olivia Henderson’s office was located.

“Fourth floor, first hallway on your left, last door at the end.”

When she stepped off the elevator, she couldn’t help but feel caught up in the emotions of a nine-year old boy.

Reaching Henderson’s door and opened it, it opened to a large, spacious room backdropped by all glass walls that gave a stunning view no matter where you looked; of the county and downtown Montie.

“You must be Lieutenant Baker.”

“Yes, and you are,” noticing the nameplate on the desk, “Olivia Henderson.”

Baker reached inside the flap of her jacket and pulled out an envelope.

Olivia reached across the expanse of her cherry-oak desk, took the envelope from Baker, opened it, and saw a check written to the hospital in the amount of $200,000.

“I threw in a few thousand more in the event something else may be needed.

“Dr. Henderson ….”

“I’m not a doctor, Lieutenant Baker. I am the Assistant Director of this hospital.”

“Very well, but I would like some sort of assurance that Mrs. Hargrove’s surgery goes off without a hitch and that it is scheduled as soon as possible, I have a nine-year old boy looking for a miracle. That check is buying that miracle.”

“I have been in contact with two specialists which will team together on Mrs. Hargrove. But the earliest the surgery can be performed isn’t until Monday morning.”

“What are her chances?”

“I honestly can’t tell, you, Lieutenant. From what I understand, the cancer has taken over one lung completely, and has also attached itself to the other lung. From a lay person’s perspective, about forty-sixty.”

Baker stood away from the desk.

“Not great but better than zero odds. Thank you, Mrs. Henderson, for putting a rush on this. There will be one happy little boy.”

“I’m happy to be of assistance.”

As Baker left and in the elevator to the main floor, she couldn’t help but harbor a resentment for people like her.

Thinking back on her earlier call to Olivia Henderson, and her demeanor over the phone told her she is more interested in patients with money, than with medical problems.

When Baker asked what the surgery cost, Olivia had a smugness in her voice when she told her the price.

No money. So sad, too bad.

When you have money, then it’s can do, will do.

Gravity doesn’t make the world go round. It’s guys like Jackson, Grant, and good old Franklin that keeps the world spinning; as long as you have enough of them. At least she would have good news for Leon.

His miracle was coming.

But would it be enough?