Worth Dying For_ A Reacher Novel - Lee Child [4]
Then the phone rang.
Actually, two phones rang. One number, two instruments, one over on the reception desk, the other on a shelf behind the bar. Quintuple duty. The guy with the hair couldn’t be everywhere at once. He picked up and said, “This is the Apollo Inn,” just as proudly and brightly and enthusiastically as if it was the establishment’s first-ever call on opening night. Then he listened for a spell and pressed the mouthpiece to his chest and said, “Doctor, it’s for you.”
Automatically Reacher glanced backward, looking for a doctor. No one there. Beside him the drunk guy said, “Who is it?”
The bartender said, “It’s Mrs. Duncan.”
The drunk guy said, “What’s her problem?”
“Her nose is bleeding. Won’t stop.”
The drunk guy said, “Tell her you haven’t seen me.”
The guy with the hair relayed the lie and put the phone down. The drunk guy slumped and his face dropped almost level with the rim of his glass.
“You’re a doctor?” Reacher asked him.
“What do you care?”
“Is Mrs. Duncan your patient?”
“Technically.”
“And you’re blowing her off?”
“What are you, the ethics board? It’s a nosebleed.”
“That won’t stop. Could be serious.”
“She’s thirty-three years old and healthy. No history of hypertension or blood disorders. She’s not a drug user. No reason to get alarmed.” The guy picked up his glass. A gulp, a swallow, a gulp, a swallow.
Reacher asked, “Is she married?”
“What, marriage causes nosebleeds now?”
“Sometimes,” Reacher said. “I was a military cop. Sometimes we would get called off-post, or to the married quarters. Women who get hit a lot take a lot of aspirin, because of the pain. But aspirin thins the blood, so the next time they get hit, they don’t stop bleeding.”
The drunk guy said nothing.
The barman looked away.
Reacher said, “What? This happens a lot?”
The drunk guy said, “It’s a nosebleed.”
Reacher said, “You’re afraid of getting in the middle of a domestic dispute?”
No one spoke.
“There could be other injuries,” Reacher said. “Maybe less visible. She’s your patient.”
No one spoke.
Reacher said, “Bleeding from the nose is the same as bleeding from anyplace else. If it doesn’t stop, she’s going to pass out. Like a knife wound. You wouldn’t leave her sitting there with a knife wound, would you?”
No one spoke.
“Whatever,” Reacher said. “Not my business. And you’d be no good anyway. You’re not even fit to drive out there, wherever she is. But you should call someone.”
The drunk guy said, “There isn’t anyone. There’s an emergency room sixty miles away. But they’re not going to send an ambulance sixty miles for a nosebleed.”
Reacher took another sip of coffee. The drunk guy left his glass alone. He said, “Sure, I would have a problem driving. But I’d be OK when I got there. I’m a good doctor.”
“Then I’d hate to see a bad one,” Reacher said.
“I know what’s wrong with you, for instance. Physically, I mean. Mentally, I can’t comment.”
“Don’t push it, pal.”
“Or what?”
Reacher said nothing.
“It’s a nosebleed,” the doctor said again.
“How would you treat it?” Reacher asked.
“A little local anesthetic. Pack the nasal cavities with gauze. The pressure would stop the bleeding, aspirin or no aspirin.”
Reacher nodded. He’d seen it done that way before, in the army. He said, “So let’s go, doctor. I’ll drive.”
Chapter 3
The doctor was unsteady on his feet.