Second Watch: A J. P. Beaumont Novel by J. A. Jance

Author:J. A. Jance
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thrillers, General, Fiction, Suspense, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780062134691
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

I stowed the iPad without responding.

“I think I’m about due for some pain meds,” I said to Marge once she was in the driver’s seat. Naturally, my prescriptions were in the trunk along with the chair.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said. “You’re supposed to take them with food. Do you want to stop along the way, or do you want to wait until I get you home?”

“Home will be fine,” I said.

The truth is, pain meds or not, I was out like a light within a few blocks of leaving the Sammamish City Hall, and I didn’t wake up again until Marge parked in front of the garage gate at Belltown Terrace.

“What am I supposed to do with my car?” she asked. “Parking fees in downtown Seattle are higher than a cat’s back.”

I used the remote on my key ring to let her in. “Parking on the top floor of the garage, P-1, is free on the weekends. During the week use the parking valet. Tell the attendant to give you the daily all-day rate. I’ll pay.”

Once Marge had negotiated the parking issue, she used my building key to access the elevator. “What floor?” she asked, standing by the controls.

“Penthouse,” I said.

“Figures,” she returned.

Once inside the unit, if Marge was impressed by her surroundings, she certainly didn’t let on. “Where do you want to be?” she asked. “In bed?”

“No,” I said. “I’ve spent the last five days in bed. There’s a recliner in the study. That’s where I want to be. It has a better view.”

She helped me out of the wheelchair and got me into the recliner. I could tell I was way beyond ready for my pain meds. “No pain meds without food,” she insisted. “Now what do you want to eat?”

“I’m not sure what we have.”

The answer to that was nothing much. Neither Mel nor I are great when it comes to domesticity. I’m a notoriously bad cook and she’s not much better. As a result, we generally eat out or order in.

Marge left me alone for a few moments. I was trying to mask the pain by concentrating on the blue waters of Puget Sound out to the west when she returned, bringing with her a tray containing my pills, a glass of water, and two string cheeses.

“This is going to have to do for the time being,” she grumbled. “What on earth do you people eat? The only edible things I could find in your kitchen were one moldy English muffin and this.”

I accepted the proffered string cheese.

“We’re not big on cooking,” I said. After eating the cheese, I swallowed the pills, chasing them with water.

“I noticed,” Marge replied. “Now if you expect me to take care of you, I’m going to have to feed you. What do you want for dinner?”

“We could order some mac and cheese from El Gaucho,” I suggested hopefully. One order of that was usually enough for Mel and me to share for a meal.

“That’s what you might do,” Marge said.

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