Deception

I excused myself and waited outside the room as Dr. Vidmar conducted her examination. I was leaning against the wall and lost in my thoughts when the door opened and Dr. Vidmar came out.

"Are you Max?" she asked me.

"Yes I am."

"I'm Dr. Vidmar. I'm the family's doctor and in charge of her case. I have a couple matters to discuss with you."

Dr. Vidmar was a woman of few words. It was all business.

"Lesley wants to give you a power of attorney for medical purposes," she began. She paused to let that message sink in. "She wants to do this now because she doesn't know if she'll slip out of consciousness. I don't know either. She wanted me to talk to you about this. Apparently her father's lawyer is going to draw up the document and bring it over later this afternoon. Are you OK with that?"

I didn't know if I was. I had to make the decisions about her health? Why not her mother or her father?

"I . . . I don't know," I stammered, highlighting my indecision.

"You need to go in and talk about it with her but I wanted to tell you she was most insistent."

"OK," I said, because there wasn't anything more to be said between us. I needed to talk to Lesley. "You mentioned two things?"

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you about Lesley's pain management. I'm sure that's what you were waiting here to talk to me about, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was," I admitted.

"It wasn't hard to guess. Lesley was complaining to me too about her pain management. She thinks you'll be a stronger advocate for her. She wants me to increase the dosage or change to a different type of painkiller, or pain blocker to be more exact."

"I'm going to do what Lesley wants. If she wants this as bad as you say, I'll do it. Now it's my turn to say what you're going to say."

"Try me."

"You're going to say that there are increased risks with a change in regimen. You're going to say there is a higher likelihood she'll remain addicted long after the acute pain is gone."

"That's exactly what I was going to say. How did you know?"

"Because I've been through this before with friends, and I'm an alcoholic, so I know addictive behavior."

"So you do know. Maybe Lesley was right in picking you to work with me. I'm not sure her parents would be so dispassionate in their decision making. Dispassionate isn't the right word. Maybe objective. You do want the best outcome for Lesley, and being objective rather than emotional will lead to better results. I think you should do it Max."

"OK. I'll do it if Lesley asks, but I guess what you say makes sense."

"So Max, tell me what you do. It'll help me in working with you."

"I'm sure you know I'm a cop. Lesley's partner. I've been a cop for six years. Lesley and I have been together for a year. I think I know her pretty well."

"Where do you work?"

"Mostly in the West End."

"That's a rough neighborhood. That's were Lesley was shot?"

"Uh huh. We were chasing a cop killer and she got trapped between two buildings with him. She killed him."

Dr. Vidmar wasn't shocked by what I told her. She probably knew already. And being in the police union clinic, she was probably seeing gunshot wounds relatively often. I also liked the idea that she knew exactly how to handle this case.

"So I know you don't have the power yet, but I want you to think about whether you'll authorize increasing the dose of her pain meds or switching to something more powerful. You know you'll have to make that decision pretty soon."

"I know," I acknowledged. I was pretty sure of what I was going to do. I needed to confirm my thoughts with Lesley.

"OK, I've taken up enough of your time. You want to be in there with her. She getting better but you know it's going to be a long and slow recovery, and we're not at a point to assure her she's going to regain full function of her right arm."

"Thanks Dr. Vidmar," I told her. I was impressed with her. Lesley was going to be in good hands and she seemed like someone I could work with.

I pushed into her room and closed the heavy door. The barrage of sound outside her room was muted, and on the inside I could hear the occasional beep of one of the machines. Lesley was still sitting up, but her eyelids were pretty heavy.

"Max?" she slurred. "I'm not sure I'm going to be around for a long time. I can barely keep my eyes open. I want you to agree to the power of attorney I want to give you.

"Why?"

She must have had a good reason. Her parents were probably crushed that if it wasn't them, and I would have to deal with that, in addition to the care of her health.

"Max?"

"Yeah."

"I want to be a cop in the West End."

"But you are," I assured her.

"But you know, with my arm. I might lose it. I can't be a cop in the West End without this arm so you've got to help me keep it and make it better. You know what I need. More than anyone else in the world, including my parents, because you live what I live. You know what I need to do. Help me Max."

"Your parents must be hurt."

"They are, but they'll get past it. They know Mom's too emotional to handle something like this and my Dad, although he looks good, has had some serious health problems and I don't want to make it worse by saddling him with this responsibility. Besides, you know me better. The real me."

"OK Lesley, you've convinced me."

"The rehab's going to be terrible," she cautioned me. "But first we have to deal with my pain management. I know there's an increased chance of addiction, but you have to help me get this. Max, I can't sleep. It hurts all the time. I want it to stop, even if it's just for a minute."

"I'll see what I can do."

I agreed with her decision. She had to be able to sleep if she was going to get better. I've felt that kind of pain before and it's not pleasant. We had to be vigilant later when she was rehabbing on her own. The lure of these types of narcotics was irresistible.

She winced as a wave of pain went through her.

"Max, I've got to rest. The papers will be here soon. Can you wait until they arrive?"

"Sure Lesley, sure."

* * *

Lesley's parents arrived with the family lawyer, coincidentally a trusts and estates lawyer with Saylor, Browning and Bair. The attorney was holding a briefcase. She put the briefcase on a small table and opened it. She handed me the medical power of attorney.

"I'm Janelle Jenkins of Saylor Browning and Bair. Lesley's directed me to draft this. It gives you full medical authority over Lesley if she's incapacitated."

"There's a lot of words here," I said, flipping through a tightly spaced three page document. I had to initial and sign it in several places.

"It's fairly routine. It's a form generated by the Trust section of the State Bar. I understand it because I helped draft it. It gives you full power over Lesley Groesbeck. Take your time and read it."

I did. I excused myself while Lesley visited with her parents. I went back to the waiting room to get some semblance of quiet while I read the form. It look me about half an hour, and even though I'm not a lawyer, nothing in it sounded objectionable. I signed and initialed it and then went back into the room.

"All signed," I said.

Janelle took the document and then had Lesley sign it as well.

I had a moment outside the room with Lesley's parents.

"I hope you're OK with this," I said, hoping they were.

"I guess we'll have to be," said Marjorie.

"Now, now, Margie, we've been through this. We agreed this is best for Lesley," Saul said, trying to rein her in. Marjorie's mothering instincts were hard to suppress.

"I'll do my best," I assured them.

"We know you will Max," said Saul, hugging his wife as he said it.

* * *

I was stuck with administration duties and confined to the station while Lesley was on medical leave. That meant no patrol and lots of paperwork. I think Lesley and I were both in Hell. It was late afternoon and I just had my fifth cup of coffee.

"Max, Dr. Vidmar."

"Yes Dr. Vidmar." I was dreading what she was going to tell me.

"We're going to have to operate on Lesley to deal with some complications. They're serious, but fixable. Can you be here soon?"

"As soon as I hang up."

"Good, I should see you in what, ten minutes?"

"Nine if I can manage it."

* * *

Dr. Vidmar explained the complications that arose, and though not unexpected, she was going to have to be operated on. I didn't believe we had a choice and neither did Dr. Vidmar. As a courtesy I cleared it with Saul Groesbeck. Lesley was heavily sedated. I authorized the procedure.

"When Lesley is done with surgery, we'll have to put her on a pain management protocol. I presume you've come to a decision?" she asked me.

"I have. I want you to do what you can to manage it. She's aware of the consequences and so am I."

"I can't disagree with you. She does seem to tolerate pain well, but the amount she's feeling is excessive."

That made me feel better about the decision, which I know was her purpose in saying it but I appreciated it nevertheless.

* * *

The station was still abuzz with the news that DaVanna and now Maureen had been arrested. News crews were outside interviewing the Chief. I tried to keep a low profile in my office. No need to attract unnecessary attention while the shitstorm was swirling around me. My phone buzzed. Scott Winship.

"Max."

"Scotty."

"DaVanna knows it was you."

I figured she would.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I called her to verify the story. She wouldn't say shit to me, but she did give me an earful about how you were, in her words, a 'meddling little cunt.'"

"Good to hear that she remembers me."

"Looks to me that you have two pretty formidable enemies, DaVanna and Trong Lai, not to mention Maureen McDowell."

"Not much they can do to me from prison."

He chuckled again. "I guess you're going to find out."

"So, you going to win another Pulitzer for this story?"

"That's the idea."

"Don't forget who gave the story to you."

"Max, how could I forget such a lovely, wonderful person such as yourself?"

"Fuck you Scotty. Someday you're going to cover my ass. I've got a chit."

"All right Max. You've got a chit. Fair enough."

"Enjoy the accolades."

"Thanks Max. I mean it."

I was glad that Scotty ran the story just as we discussed. And I got a chit.

* * *

Lesley's surgery was successful. She was on a more aggressive pain management regime and she looked much better the next time I saw her.

"You look good," I said to her. The bruises on her face were healing and her expression was much brighter.

"Finally got some decent sleep. I feel so much better. Thank you Max."

Good. This was my old Lesley.

"How's the arm?"

"Hurts less. Doc said the operation increased my chance of a successful outcome. I should be able to start rehab in a month."

"That's great news."

"I'm going to be back in the squad car in a year."

"You will if I have anything to do about it."

"You're my partner," she said.

"Always," I promised.

* * *

When I got back to the station I heard that DaVanna was arraigned and bail was set at $1 million. She was able to raise the money for the bond and was out pending trial. I never expected to see or hear from her again. I'd moved back to the Royal Palms. With Lesley in the hospital, it seemed too awkward for me to be underfoot in Alessandra's house. I was watching Seinfeld reruns, laughing my ass off and drinking club soda, when my phone rang from an unknown number. I ignored it, and after it went to voicemail the same number called me again. This time I answered it.

"Max."

It was unquestionably DaVanna.

"Wait a second," I told her. I grabbed a cigarette and a lighter and went outside my room to the walkway. I lit the cigarette and took a puff and leaned against the railing. It was pitch black outside, but still warm.

"DaVanna, we shouldn't be talking," I told her. I'm sure her lawyers instructed her not to call me.

"I'm calling from a burner."

Good thinking, though they can be traced too. I was willing to take the risk to hear what she had to say.

"OK, what is it?"

"You fucked me over," she said.

That was a waste of breath. We both already knew that.

"I think you fucked yourself over DaVanna." I took and long drag and watched the smoke float over the parking lot.

"I'm going to beat these charges and then I'm coming for you." Her voice was firm and confident, like it always was.

"I wish you luck. And just so you know, I'm not worth the effort. I'm just a lowly detective, but you know that."

"No one fucks with me and gets away with it."

"I do."

I assume it's rare for her to lose her composure, but I have a way of getting under people's skin. I could almost see steam coming out of my phone.

"You sanctimonious bitch. I'm going to shut your smart mouth," she snapped at me. She sounded like she wanted to scratch my eyes out.

"You go ahead and try DaVanna. I think Trong is ahead of you in line."

"Fuck you."

"Good talking to you DaVanna."

"I'll deny we had this conversation."

"I expect that. I really don't give a fuck DaVanna. You were already up shit creek. I just took away your paddle. By the way, I saw you on TV the other day. I'm not sure that jumpsuit orange goes with your hair and complexion."

I hung up the phone before she could say another word. I took another drag and then stubbed out the cigarette on the railing. I figured she'd be slithering back into her hole right about then. I couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Lesley was pretty much out of the woods after a week in the hospital. She transferred to a skilled nursing facility that would manage her rehab for the next three months. She was slowly being weaned from the painkillers and introduced to a team of physical therapists. She was ahead of schedule, and now they were predicting five months of convalescence instead of six.

I spent the next couple weeks in court, testifying in cases where I was the arresting officer. I was happy to clear out the backlog and get back to real police work once Lesley finished rehab. I was just leaving the courthouse, walking down the broad expanse of steps in front. I squinted in the bright sunlight, but caught sight of a statuesque blonde going the other direction. Even at a distance, I recognized her immediately. She going up the steps two at a time, an easy task for someone who had legs that seemed twice as long as mine.

She spotted me.

"Max Pemberton," she called out to me.

I went over to her. She was standing on a landing area, halfway up the stairs.

"Sondra. Fancy meeting you here."

Our first meeting was a crash and burn. She was looking good, in a white linen jacket that only accentuated her height and a knee length matching white skirt. Her power blue blouse complimented her eyes, and two buttons were unbuttoned. She wasn't big breasted, but the blouse showed just enough cleavage to tease. She was a classic Nordic beauty.

She seemed genuinely pleased to see me.

"Max, I've been meaning to call you."

"You have?" I asked her, truly surprised.

"I have." She put down her briefcase and stood up straight. She towered over me in her designer heels.

"I don't want to keep you," I offered, remembering my manners.

"Oh no," she said. "It's no problem. I don't have to be in court for another hour. I was going to the law library here to camp out. But I'd rather spend it with you."

That was unexpected. I'm not used to beautiful women coming on to me.

"I'm flattered," I said.

She shielded her eyes from the bright sun. "Oh." She laughed. "I mean I have to discuss something that relates to the case you were working on. If you thought I meant something else . . ."

"Of course," I said, because I thought she meant something else, at least for a minute.

"Let's get a cup of coffee. Are you free now?" she asked.

I'd just had two cups already, but when Sondra asked, I felt compelled to say, "Of course. I've been meaning to go to the coffee shop this afternoon. Got to have my caffeine fix."

I sounded like an idiot. She was having that effect on me.

We wandered across the plaza to an old school coffee shop. Big plate glass windows with "Ginny's Coffee Shop" spelled out in old school block letters. Ginny's ex-husband was a cop, and Ginny got the shop in a divorce from her husband Gary. That was twenty years ago. Ginny made it her business to know all the gossip that swirled around the courthouse.

Ginny waved to me when we came in.

"Max!" she cried out. "Get your ass over here."

Ginny thought she was my second mother. I did two rotations as a bailiff and spent many hours swapping stories with Ginny during my downtime.

She came around the counter and hugged me.

I watched her eyes go up and down Sondra.

"So who's your friend here?"

"Sondra. Sondra Karlsson," I told her. Sondra stepped forward to give her a handshake.

"Max is a good one Sondra," Ginny said.

We sat down at the counter, side by side. Sondra crossed her ankles as she sat.

"So Max, I've been meaning to tell you. I really didn't want to be short with you when we last met, but you put me into a terribly difficult situation. You see, Maureen McDowell was my client."

"And DaVanna was blackmailing Maureen."

"Yes. And Maureen told me in confidence. But now that it's all public . . ."

"So I didn't bug the shit out of you?" I asked her.

"No. Not at all. I wanted nothing more than to nail DaVanna to the wall, but I couldn't help you. If I kept letting you ask questions I might have said something I shouldn't have."

"I understand. It makes sense. DaVanna had your card because she was communicating to Maureen through you, so as not to leave any fingerprints."

"Yes."

"If you're apologizing I accept it," I told her.

"I am, Max, and thank you."

"You haven't touched your coffee," I said.

"Truth be told, I just had a cup of coffee before we met. I just needed an excuse to get a few minutes to talk to you."

I laughed. "So did I."

"I like you Max. How about a drink sometime? I heard through the grapevine that you frequent Bailey's."

"Sure," I answered. What harm could come from a drink?

* * *

Lesley's rehab went swimmingly. After two months of physical therapy it appeared clear she would regain full motor function of her arm. In fact, after the rehab, it would be stronger than her left. She was eager to rejoin the force.

I felt happy. Lesley was on the mend. DaVanna was in jail and set for trial. However, there was one gaping hole in my life -- companionship, sex, and maybe even love.

Chapter Fifteen

Courtney Redux

I know you're going to shake your head when you hear it, but I missed Courtney. How could I miss someone who had unceremoniously kicked me to the curb for DaVanna Caruso? If you don't know the answer than you don't really know me.

Who was the best fuck of my life?

Who accepted me for who I was, without trying to change me or "fix" me?

Who told me up front to not have any expectations about a long-term relationship?

If you could answer those questions, then you'd know that I couldn't help but call Courtney in my hour of need.

She answered on the first ring.

"Max!"

She sounded surprised and happy to hear from me.

"So you're not mad at me about DaVanna?" she asked.

"Why should I be?" I answered nonchalantly. It did no good to sound like I was desperate, even though I was.

"That's mighty big of you Max."

"I had a long time to think about it. You did make it clear from the beginning not to have any expectations about a long-term relationship."

She wasn't buying it. I wouldn't have.

"So that lady you were with at Bailey's . . . she dumped you?"

That was pretty much the real reason. Courtney was no dummy. I was playing it cool, but she figured out I was just horny, and willing to swallow a bit of my pride.