Nurse Venus

JACKIE JONES had been in Intensive Care her whole time in the hospital. She hadn't been in a coma for all of her stay . . . but she was now. Word could not help leaking out that her deathwatch had begun.

Dardenella Jones was the oldest surviving child of Jackie Jones. Crawford knew that, of course, but he did not recognize her when he first saw her. There wasn't a great resemblance between her and Marvell, though she did look something like the man Kevin had once been. Perhaps he expected her to be in uniform; all of her file photos since high school had been of her as a Marine.

"Ms. Jones?" he asked, before she was far enough past him so he would have to run to catch up.

She stopped. She took time to bring her shoulders back and her head up, and then turned back to face him. "Yes. And you?"

"Jack Crawford." He moved closer, close enough to speak comfortably. Other people in the corridor who had stopped or slowed up went on with whatever business they had. "I didn't know you were here."

"I guess everyone will know now."

He took a card from his shirt pocket, and handed it to her. "Not from me. If you want to tell your story, you can find me."

She took the card, and left.

Crawford meant it . . . but he also calculated his noble gesture would yield a great story later, balanced against a trivial one now. He continued to roam, hoping to run into Dr. Chiba, gleaning background from the staff.

Crawford did not mention her in his column until she was noticed leaving the hospital two days later.

Three days after he first met Marvell Jones' sister, Crawford came across Shaw again--Sergeant Shaw, after so many years. Shaw was catching yet another meal, in the Highland cafeteria. He was in uniform--a new uniform, but looking as if it was already a bit too small.

"Johnny, I think you should leave the pie for me," Crawford said good-naturedly.

"Get your own damn pie, Jack," said Shaw.

"What are you doing in uniform, Sergeant?" asked Crawford.

"Department wants the officers watching Mrs. Jones here all in uniform," explained Shaw, between bites.

"Congratulations on the promotion. I didn't think you'd make it," said Crawford.

"Well, if I'm a good boy, I could retire as a Lieutenant," said Shaw. "And I'm going to go out as a good boy. I'll have my thirty at the end of August."

Crawford said, "How will the OPD get on without you?"

Shaw said, "I could give a rat's patoot . . . I do have something for you, Jack."

"What?"

"Marvell Jones' wife is up in a labor room now. If Marvell ever shows, he should show for this."

Crawford was intending to keep quiet about Marvell Jones' wife, but he found it was pointless within hours. He couldn't help but write a column about Marvell Jones, because he had to write about his mother approaching death, and his wife struggling to bring forth his child, all under the watch of police, and cameras, and gunmen. He didn't say anything more about Dardenella than that she was there.

It was a very long labor. That column was out, and Crawford had sent in the one for the next day, before he met Dardenella Jones again. She was after the same thing he was: a better cup of coffee than could be found in the hospital, and had found one in the same place: a donut shop two blocks away.

"She's still in labor?" asked Crawford.

Dardanella Jones said, "Yes, I guess . . . nothing's been happening for awhile. They were talking about a C-section again, but she doesn't want it."

Crawford waited a bit before asking his next question. "Do you think he'll show up?"

She shook her head. "He gave me power of attorney for mama. I got the papers from his lawyer this morning."

"And his wife?"

Dardanella said, "No. Kevin and his wife have that. That's who's with her now. Kevin's wife. She's a nurse."

"I know, I've met her."

She asked, "From when Kev got shot up? At the lake?"

Crawford said, "I was there . . . but I met her before that. Almost a year before. I saw her in that place in Kensington. Are you staying there?"

"No . . . you were in there? They don't let reporters near that place."

Crawford said, "It's been a few years now. What do you think of your brother's friends?"

Dardanella said, "They aren't Marvell's friends. I don't know what to think."

"Do you feel left out?" Crawford asked.

Dardanella said, "I don't think that's your business, Mr. Crawford. I certainly don't want to read about it in the paper."

"You won't unless you talk to someone else. Want to split a Danish?" asked Crawford.

She agreed, after a moment.

Crawford walked back with Dardenella Jones, learning nothing more important than that she was named after her great grandmother. He honestly wasn't planning on using her to get past the police checking passes, but he did take the opportunity.

Marvell's wife was getting the C-section after all. There was no room for Dardenella, because Marvell had showed up, after all. Shaw was on again, and he wouldn't say how Marvell had gotten in--in fact, he was very short with Crawford, very unlike the man Crawford thought he'd known off and on for so many years. Crawford left, with Dardenella, going to the intensive care ward to wait for Marvell's other errand of the evening. "I told him I want him to see mama once more," said Dardenella. "Before we take her off life support."

They waited about another hour. Then Marvell came down--and Kevin. Dardenella asked, "Where's Minako?"

"I just her on home," answered Kevin. "The kids will be up in a few hours; she needs to get some sleep."

"Oh . . . well, Marvell, what is it?" Dardenella asked.

"A little girl. Jackie Octavia, after Moms and Olivia's moms . . . Who's your new friend?"

"Jack Crawford. I'll leave you now."

They nodded. It was impossible to read Kevin, of course, but Marvell's face was, if anything, a harder mask to penetrate.

On the way out of the ward, he saw Sergeant Shaw again, but they didn't exchange more than nods.

Dardenella lost her patience. "Marvell, I am not doing this for you! Mama's here because of you!"

Marvell started getting that cold look, and Kevin stepped in between them. "You don't mean that."

Dardenella said, "I don't? I don't? It's true. You know it's true."

Kevin said, "You don't mean to say that now."

"Stop it, Kev," said Marvell.

"Or what?" said Dardenella. "Or you'll shoot him? Or have him shot?"

Marvell looked at her with basilisk eyes. But all he said was: "Leave me alone for a few minutes. A few minutes? You too, Kev."

Kevin was relieved that Dardenella said no more, and left the room. He hobbled out on his canes. He'd used his power to make the sudden move to stop the blowup between Dardenella and Marvell, but now he was in a lot of pain. That was always the price. That is also why he did not notice things that might have made a great difference, if he'd noticed a few seconds sooner . . .

Sergeant Shaw glanced at his watch, a useless gesture. It told the same time as the wall clock. When would they pull the lights? It was ten minutes since he had "spotted" the officer on this floor; he would be back any time now. The "janitors" were getting restless; someone at the monitors might pick up on that before the power cut off.

Shaw thought this was probably his last chance. Marvell was winning his war; if the Reds didn't kill him tonight, they would make peace. And that peace would have to include giving up Shaw. And Marvell wouldn't stop with Shaw. He would go after his family, too. Laura, and her kids.

It had started so simply . . . a little extra money, not for himself, but for Laura, and her kids. Then, make sure you don't watch someone. Then a dead partner, and a dead woman, and a dead baby.

The only way out after that was to get Marvell. But B.Q. had tried to hit Kevin instead. Shaw had not only bet on the wrong horse, he'd bet on the worst one.

Eleven minutes . . . Marvell and his sister were arguing.

The worst was the Spotts kid . . . he'd been with B.Q. when they met, so he had to go. Van Huff . . . a pleasure. It was too bad he couldn't do the same for Marvell. But if they would just get the power off in time, he'd see Marvell go.

Twelve minutes . . .

Marvell's sister stalked out of the room. She was followed by Kevin, the cripple, moving fast for a man on two canes, making a lot of noise. He did not stop to close the door.

The lights flickered, then went out. Shaw heard one of the "janitors" pulling back a bolt, just as the emergency lamps lit.

Kevin heard the gunbolt, and he sprang toward the sound, very close. One of the janitors--with an Uzi. He jammed his only whole thumb into the chamber and had it crushed for his troubles. Then he pushed the man back and fell onto him, tearing the gun from his grasp.

He saw the cop drawing his gun. "Watch out, there's another one!" Kevin shouted to the cop.

Then the cop shot him through his head.

Marvell Jones was flying through the door just as Kevin's brains were flying by it. He fired at the gun flashes. He hit his first target--but he missed the second, and caught most of the burst. His last thought was a question: Why was Dardenella covering him with her body?

Crawford was spending so much time at Highland he'd taken a room in a motel rather than make the commute back to San Jose. But it was too far to walk, and he discovered his car wouldn't start--probably due to the missing battery and other assorted parts from under the jimmied hood. That's why he was close enough to notice when the hospital lights went out.

As he ran back to the hospital, he found himself closer to the story than he wanted to be. A young man with a machine gun bolted out the door he was planning to go inside, and cut down a hapless cop. He was turning toward Crawford when a shout came from above, "Drop your gun!" The tommy gunner whirled back and started to bring up his gun--and then he convulsed, and fell only a few yards away.

Looking up, Crawford saw something with wings. It resolved itself into the figure of a woman, who flew down, examined the fallen cop, and then flew away, just when the lights of the hospital all came on again. The cop was far beyond help.

Now the tommy gunner was brightly lit by the lights of the entrance. Streams of fluid were oozing from his mouth and nostrils--not blood. It was clear, like water. He looked bloated; his eyes protruded.

Crawford left him and ran inside.

Five different "blood relatives" of Marvell Jones and his mother had turned up with lawyers. His body lay in the morgue while suit and counter-suit flew. The same struggle kept his mother's body on life support. It was all about the money, of course.

None of them were interested in Kevin Jones, but the medical examiner didn't want to release the body. The M.E. wanted to keep Dardenella, too, but she was a Marine, and the Marines always bring back their dead.

Nine days after the murders in the hospital, Gunnery Sergeant Dardenella Jones was lowered into her grave while a Navy Chaplain said final words. Besides the chaplain and the Marine honor guard, there was her ex-husband, Octavia Jones, and Minako Jones. And Jack Crawford, with no cameraman, no recorder, not even a notebook in his pocket.

Still, Crawford would have liked to talk with the widows after, but the ex-husband insisted on talking. He had the idea that Crawford was there as more than a reporter. Jack surprised himself by answering, "Yes, I think you're right. She was very special . . . More than a story." Then he asked the ex-husband a courtesy question, and that led into a long conversation. By the time Crawford could withdraw gracefully, he knew that the widows were gone.

Three weeks after the murders, the body of Marvell Jones was released. The funeral came two days after. The Lord of the Blues tied up traffic for over five hours. Crawford wondered why Olivia Jones had allowed it, especially with the accusations that she was not really Jones' widow, and that her child was not his. He did not wonder why her only companion was Minako Jones, who defended her as subtly and as well as she had Lisette Pinatabo. The two women had immense dignity. Crawford was not the only pundit to remark on that.

The truce that had held until the funeral broke down less than a week later, and Highland Hospital was once more receiving victims of the endless war. The press had long decamped. Crawford had gone to Washington for a week. He returned more to visit old Johnny Shaw more than anything else, but he did ask around about the latest doings of Dr. Chiba and Dr. Mizuno. They were busy. With Dr. Gonsoles and Dr. Han, they were the stars of Trauma in the Bay now--and they were in court a lot, testifying about causes of death, or confirming that, yes, it was that bullet that had been extracted.

"I'm glad as hell they got here in time," said Shaw, after Crawford had brought them up.

Crawford said, "Yes, the OPD would be short a Captain."

Shaw said, "That's just a tombstone rank, Jack. I'm out of the force as soon as they let me out of here."

"I'll miss you."

"Yeah, have to do your own damn work."

Crawford said, "Yes. I heard you were going to Florida."

"You heard right. Orlando. I'll stay with Laura until I can find a place of my own. I'll take the grandkids to Disneyland every week. And I'll go to Fort Lauderdale every spring to watch those college girls get drunk and show their tits. Got one eye left!"

After he left Shaw, Crawford went to where Jackie Jones was being kept. There were no police to get by now. The blooded tiles had been replaced; the bullets dug out of the plaster and the holes patched and painted over. Jackie Jones wasn't even on the same floor now. She was in an out-of-the-way room shared with another woman, much older, also on a respirator, also waiting to be allowed to die.

Crawford looked at the mother of the druglord, and the crippled man, and the woman he missed more than he should, for about a minute. No one molested him. He was on his way out of the ward and the hospital when he noticed a group in the corridor he was just about to leave.

It was Chiba, and his wife, in her chair. And both of her children.

Crawford stopped to "retie" his shoes in order to watch them.

Dr. Chiba stopped at the nurses' station. He leaned over the counter to say something to the duty nurse. Then they went off with each other. Mrs. Chiba and her children then started coming down the corridor toward Crawford. He rose, and turned the corner, before they noticed, he hoped. But he came back, and he looked down that corridor at just the right time, just when the older girl was turned the other way. Crawford continued on, out of sight again in another second, but he had seen where the older girl had been waiting: just outside of Mrs. Jones' room.

Crawford came back again in twenty minutes. Mrs. Jones was gone from the room. The hospital didn't make the announcement for two more hours.

The controversy over Jackie Jones death was small. It disappeared completely from the news with her funeral, which coincided with the outbreak of another Middle Eastern war, the largest in more than a decade. Jack Crawford was glad to get away from the devastation Marvell Jones' had left behind him. But he would come back to it . . .