Page 70 of Going Home in the Dark

Rebecca, Bobby, and Spencer hurried back to room 315.

39Toe to Toe

When the three amigos bustled into room 315, Butch had not yet touched his pizza and beer. He was scowling into the open get-well card as it made vomiting noises.

As the amigos gathered at his bed railing, Butch said, “What the hell is this?”

Rebecca said, “A talking card.”

“In what language?”

“That one doesn’t say anything.”

“It just makes vomiting noises,” Spencer said.

Bobby said, “It’s the funniest talking card they had.”

“It’s not funny,” Butch disagreed.

“It’s at least amusing.”

“No.” He closed the card. “Did you buy this in the gift shop? Did the clerk have curly white hair, rosy cheeks? Were her glasses hanging around her neck on a beaded chain?”

“That’s her,” said Spencer. “She was very helpful.”

“That’s Miriam. She’s a hustler. Nobody wants to work in a hospital gift shop, always around sick people. They could get her to take the job only by paying a commission. That woman could sell you your own shoes.”

“Now that we’re talking about jobs,” said Bobby, “we never asked where you work.”

Putting the card aside, Butch said, “I’m chief of security at Keppelwhite Institute. Why?”

To avoid answering the question, Rebecca said, “You haven’t touched your pizza. It’ll get cold.”

“I like it cold. You came back just to ask where I work?”

“Your beer is getting warm.”

“I like pizza cold and beer warm. I’m an independent thinker. What’s it matter where I work?”

“It doesn’t,” Bobby said. “It doesn’t matter at all.”

Spencer said, “We had a bet, that’s all.”

“A bet?”

“About what kind of work you do.”

“What is that a thing to bet on?” Butch asked.

Rebecca said, “Your pizza is getting warm.” As Butch frowned in consideration of what she said, Rebecca took hold of her amigos’ hands. “Come on, guys, we gotta scoot. Ernie is waiting.”

She didn’t want to be there when Butch asked more questions that they would not answer, which was sure to make him suspicious. More urgently, she didn’t want to be there when he picked up the joke book.

In room 344, Harry was still dead from Rubik’s Cube, and his bed remained empty, while Jim Jamie James sat in the first bed, gazing dispiritedly at his untouched pudding.

“Hey, Jim,” Spencer said brightly, “I have a couple of friends I want you to meet.”

Jim smiled broadly and sat up straighter as Rebecca reached across the bed railing to shake his hand. “I’m Rebecca.”

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