Episode #25 of The Writer
TW (aka The Writer) left Christine Baxter’s office late. He looked at his watch. It said 6 p.m. As he got into his car, he realized that he was starving. When had that happened?
The time he had spent in Dr. Baxter’s office had passed way too fast. As they discussed the postcard and what it revealed, the two of them came to the conclusion that they had to get together the next day in the library to continue their research. Where it would lead neither knew. But they knew it would lead somewhere unbelievable. They were on the edge of a major discovery. All because of a postcard.
There was a steak in the freezer. He’d thaw it out and throw it on the grill This was the first time he’d wanted to eat since Cat died. What had she gotten herself into and what had happened to the postcards?
He veered to the right, barely missing a pedestrian. Get your mind on your driving. You can think about Cat and the postcards and Dr. Baxter’s information after you get home, he told himself.
He turned into his street and saw Buddy’s car parked in his driveway. Good. He would have a chance to discuss the recent events with Buddy. He pulled over and parked on the side of the road because there was no room in the driveway behind Buddy’s car.
Then he saw the body. It was Buddy.
He jumped out of his car and ran over to see Buddy lying on the grass. Buddy was shaking his head.
TW kneeled down to see if Buddy was okay.
“Give me a hand,” Buddy said.
As TW lifted Buddy off the grass, he asked, “What happened?”
“Damned if I know.”
TW waited till Buddy cleared his head, then he helped his friend inside. Buddy sat down on one of the dining room chairs. TW went into the kitchen and poured water onto a washcloth and took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
Sitting across from Buddy at the table, he listened as his friend gave him the story. “I had some papers to give you. They’re from Dr. Hollings. As I got out of my car, I saw two men leaving your house. I dialed 9-1-1. When the dispatcher picked up, one of the s.o.b.s slugged me. Where’s my phone anyway?”
“I’ll get it.”
A minute or so later, TW laid the pieces of Buddy’s phone onto the table.
“Shit,” Buddy said. “I just got that phone too.”
“Why don’t I take you to the hospital, then I can call the cops.”
“Guess that’s best. I sure have one hell of a headache.”
A half hour later, TW was talking to the doctor. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I think so. But it’s best he stay overnight and we do some x-rays in the morning.”
“Can I see him?”
TW walked into Buddy’s room. “You’re going to be alright. I just saw the nurse who’ll be taking care of you. Maybe I could get hit over the head and she’d take care of me.”
“You’re not going to steal–Damn this head.”
Buddy’s chin dropped to his chest.
TW rushed out into the hall, yelling, “Nurse, nurse. Someone.”