As I pulled away from the parking lot, I seriously considered going over to Tampa General. I really wanted to visit Mia even if she was still unconscious. When I looked at my watch, I realized that visiting hours would be over. They would never let me in. I phoned the floor nurse. She was the same nurse I had talked with a few times before. I affected my best upper crust British accent and pretended to be Mia’s cousin, Reginald, visiting from England. I asked for an update on her condition.
The nurse, who during one of my earlier phone calls, had made it quite clear that she had already heard from me more often than she might have wished, barely suppressed a laugh when she reported, “Miss. Doulton’s condition remains unchanged Sir Reginald, or is this Joe Holiday yet again? She’s the same as when we last talked. You were her German cousin, Fritz, on that occasion. Do you recall? I’ll talk with you again later Joe. Of that, I’m almost positive.” She was laughing at me as she hung up the phone.
Note to me—my British and German accents need some work.
I wasn’t certain about returning to Mrs. Reilly’s for the night, but bait doesn’t take time to sack out in a nice hotel. I started to head back to Clearwater Beach. I tried to contact Cooper again—or Kemp, but neither was in to take my call. There was nothing more I could do that night.
Before I entered the house, I locked the Jaguar in the garage and checked the entire area to make certain that no one was there to give me a nasty surprise. Papa was sleeping somewhere else I guess. I then placed the wiped down Sig and silencer inside a zip lock bag and then, that zip lock bag reversed inside another. I guessed that four plies of sealed plastic would protect the weapon for as long as I intended to leave it hidden in the water tank of my toilet. I left my Glock in the locked glove box of the Jag.
When I finally settled in my room at the back of the house, I checked the answering machine for messages. There were two. The first message was from Mrs. Reilly. She was checking on me and on her house. She left a number in Akron where I could reach her during the day. The second call was a little bit more official. It was from Kemp telling me he wanted to see me—no he demanded to see me in his office first thing in the morning. The guy was dedicated and stubborn. The visit might be interesting if I bothered to do it. I guess he still had his shirt in a knot over what was in the parcel Paula Langdon had given me at the restaurant. I went to bed.
Another Day—Another Problem