Unsympathetic Magic - Laura Resnick [16]
Lopez escorted me outside the precinct house, where a patrol car waited to drive me home; this was apparently the NYPD’s idea of fair compensation for imprisoning me. A young black cop in uniform was leaning against the driver’s door of the waiting vehicle. He straightened up as I approached, opened the rear door for me, and introduced himself as Officer Thompson.
When I asked to be taken to the place where I’d first begun my long night, though, he shook his head.
“If you’re going to that film set, Miss Diamond, you’re too late,” Officer Thompson said.
“Pardon?”
“Yeah, they shut down and packed up a couple of hours ago.”
“What?” I cried.
Thompson nodded. “They’re gone.”
Because I was missing! Because I’d gone AWOL! Because they couldn’t keep filming without me!
“Oh, noooo!” I leaned against the squad car, wearily rested my face against my forearm in bitter defeat, and drummed my fist on the vehicle’s roof. “I’ll never work again!”
I heard Thompson say doubtfully to Lopez, “Are you sure you want to spring her, detective?”
“Not really,” Lopez replied. “So what happened? Did the film set get rampaged by gargoyles and a guy with a sword?”
“What happened?” I said, my voice muffled by my arm. “They couldn’t find me! That’s what happened!”
Thompson said, “That guy had a heart attack.”
“What guy?” Lopez said.
“That actor.”
“Actor?” I lifted my head. “What actor?”
“Uh . . . Nolan something.”
“Michael Nolan?” I straightened up and looked at Officer Thompson.
“Right! That was the name. Michael Nolan.”
“Nolan had a heart attack?” I said sharply. “That’s why they shut down production?”
“Yes, ma’am. I guess he’s the star or something. So they couldn’t keep filming without him.”
“Oh, my God!” I said. “Nolan had a heart attack?”
The young cop nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“A heart attack!” I punched the air in triumph as I gleefully shouted, “Yes!”
Given the chaos and anxiety that would undoubtedly ensue when the show’s lead actor had a coronary while on location, the director and the production team might not even have realized that I was missing! And, in any case, my prolonged absence tonight had made no difference to the shooting schedule and wouldn’t get me fired!
I am not a religious person, but I threw my arms up and looked skyward. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Then I smiled exultantly at Lopez and Officer Thompson.
They were both looking at me as if I had just urinated on the steps of the precinct house.
“What?” I said to them.
Thompson glanced uncertainly at Lopez, who was still frowning at me. I suddenly realized why.
“Oh! Uh . . . Is Nolan alive?” I asked politely.
“Yes,” said Thompson, still giving me a peculiar look. “I guess they called in a medic right away. And since this happened only a few blocks away from North General, they got him to the ER fast. Even though he kept saying he wanted to go to Mount Sinai, not to—you know—some Harlem hospital.” Thompson smiled and added, “My buddy was at the scene when they were loading Nolan into the ambulance. I hear that actor’s got a mouth on him that would make a gangsta blush.”
“So that must be what was wrong with him,” I said, recalling Nolan’s behavior on the set that night. “He was red as a beet and too hot, then nauseated, then he was dizzy, then white as a sheet, then he threw up . . .” The siren I had heard while seeking help for Darius might even have been the ambulance that was taking Nolan to the nearby hospital.
“Yep, heart attack,” said Thompson. “Happens that way sometimes. But they probably caught it early enough that he’ll be okay.”
“Not that you seem all that worried about him,” Lopez said to me.
“Oh, give me a break,” I said. “I’ve had a rough night. Anyhow, if you knew Nolan, you wouldn’t be all that worried about him, either. Besides, Officer Thompson says he’ll