Diver Down (Mercy Watts Mysteries) (22 page)

“Mercy! Stop!” yelled Mom.
 

“No.”
 

I’m not stopping until I’ve wrung his lying, trying to kill a Fibonacci, idiot neck.

Mom lunged and grabbed my roach spray arm which gave her grip. She yanked me to halt just as we passed under the restaurant overhang. “Stop now.”
 

“I have to get to Lucia,” I said, panting and slightly light-headed.
 

“Why?” Mom was in my face. She was thinking finally and it wasn’t working in my favor. “The hospital released her. She must be fine. Isn’t that right?”
 

“That’s a serious infection, Mom. She should be in the hospital.”
 

“Then they would’ve kept her.”
 

I clamped my lips together and we glared at each other.
 

“What have you been doing? No excuses. Tell me now,” said Mom in her best I-brought-you-in-this-world-I-can-take-you-out voice. Thanks, Mr. Bill Cosby, for giving her that idea.
 

“Nothing, “I replied through gritted teeth.
 

Mom’s fingers dug into my arm. “Nothing. I don’t think so. You’re soaking wet, covered in roach spray, and have some kind of skin disease. Not to mention the stitches in your face. Your face, Mercy.”
 

“That was the storm. You saw me do it.”
 

“Be quiet. And Lucia Carrow keeps having freak accidents and you’re running around after her, like a maniac.” Mom paused. She sucked in a deep breath and the pink vanished from her perfect cheeks. “They’re not accidents. Nobody has that many accidents. What have you gotten yourself into?”
 

“I haven’t gotten myself into anything.” I forced myself to sound calmer than I felt.
 

“You’re involved.” She had me by both shoulders and lowered her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
 

“We’re on vacation.”
 

She shook me until my chin hit my chest.

“Better?” I asked.
 

“Don’t be obnoxious,” said Mom.
 

“Too late. Can I go now?”
 

“You are going to explain this whole thing to me later and then you’re going to tell your father.”
 

I stepped backwards out of her hands. “I think you should tell him for my safety.”
 

“Why?” Mom went another shade of pale.
 

“Lucia’s a Fibonacci.” I darted away and ran through the restaurant, dodging tables and waiters. I ran down the steps past Colin, who was so drunk he didn’t even try to grope me. My feet sank into the sand and I frantically scanned the beach for Lucia. I didn’t see her and ran down the rows of lounge chairs. At the end of the first row was Tracy with her bratty kids, fighting over a paddle.
 

“It’s mine,” yelled Tara.

“Mine,” said Tyler.
 

I ran to the foot of Tracy’s chair. “Have you seen Lucia?”
 

She lowered her sunglasses. “Lucia Carrow?”
 

I could barely hear over her repulsive offspring. “Yes. Have you seen her?”
 

“I don’t think so.” Tracy yawned. “I thought she went to the hospital for her leg.”
 

“She did.”
 

Tara and Tyler were out of their seats and tussling over the paddle, spraying sand on people and screeching at the top of their lungs. The other guests tried to disguise their irritation and failed. Those kids were enough to make anyone consider sterilization.
 

“Knock it off!” I said to them. “You’re disturbing people.”
 

“Hey,” said Tracy. “Don’t discipline my kids.”
 

“Why not? You’re not doing it.”
 

Tara and Tyler continued yelling.

“You don’t even have a boat!” I spun around and went through to the second row. Tracy may have been yelling something at me, but I couldn’t have cared less. I wasn’t going to take it anymore. Kids screaming for no reason. People trying to kill people right under my nose. Roach spray. Skin disease. Endless supplies of lionfish. I had had it.
 

I stomped down the row, ready to take Graeme by the neck and squeeze. Take your wife out of the hospital, will you? Perhaps you’ll enjoy passing out.

 
“Mercy!” Mom yelled. “They’re over there.”
 

I followed her finger to a secluded spot in front of the resort’s five star restaurant, The Aviary, at the edge of the property. That’s just what Lucia needed. Seclusion. But she was sitting up with her back to me. I recognized the dark brown curls under the wide sunhat. I assessed her posture as I ran across the deep dry sand, my thighs burning with the effort. She was sitting without support. Good. But she was leaning toward the other chair with one arm extended tense. Crap!
 

I put on speed and ran past Joe, Andrew, and Todd hauling BCDs off a
 
dive boat. I tripped and went down on my knees. Sand dug into my scrapes and I winced as I scrambled to my feet. “Lucia!”
 

She didn’t turn and I ran up behind, gasping for breath. “Lucia!”
 

“Mercy!” She lifted the brim of her crazy hat. “What happened to you?”
 

“What happened to you? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”
 

“They needed the bed. Something happened on one of the cruise ships.”
 

“Mercy.” A weak voice came from the other chair. Graeme. He laid back on the lounge chair, limp with red cheeks.
 

I pushed the hair off my forehead. “Graeme?”
 

His head lolled to the side. “Uh huh?”
 

My anger evaporated. “Has he been drinking?” Graeme’s left hand was wrapped around a tall glass on the table between.
 

“No,” said Lucia. “But he just started acting funny.”
 

Mom joined us. “What’s going on?”
 

“I’m not sure yet.” I walked around their chairs, my feet sinking into the sand, cool under the shade of the palm trees. Graeme wasn’t focusing on me or anyone. I sat on the edge of his chair and turned his face toward me. “Graeme, can you see me?”

He said yes in a slurred voice that sounded like he’d been pounding tequila shots. I picked up his trembling wrist and took his pulse. One hundred and forty beats per minute and he was at rest.
 

“Did he take anything, Lucia?” I asked.
 

“Like what?” Her voice went up in pitch.
 

“Like anything. Any medications at all.”
 

“No, nothing. He got the pills you gave me, but he didn’t take any.”
 

“You’re sure?”
 

“Absolutely. He doesn’t like to take medication, if he doesn’t have to.”
 

My eyes fell on the glass, still in Graeme’s hand. I leaned over his body and took it. Smelled like sweet tea. Maybe raspberry. The glass was nearly empty.

“What is this, Graeme?” I asked.

He slurred something incoherent.

“Lucia, what is this?”
 

“I don’t know. I don’t know. The waiter just brought it. What’s wrong with him?”
 

“You didn’t order it?”
 

“No. The guy said it was for me, but I didn’t want it, so Graeme drank it.”
 

I shot to my feet. “Mom, find a car. Any car. We have to get him to the hospital now.”
 

“What is it?” she asked.
 

“Just go. Find Spitball or Mauro. Somebody now.”
 

I took Graeme by the shoulders and tilted his torso over the edge of the chair. He groaned. I pinched his nose shut and pried his mouth open. He fought me, but I got him in a headlock. My fingers got past his teeth and he bit me. Now that’s a special pain.
 

“What are you doing?” screamed Lucia.
 

“He’s been poisoned.” I don’t know how I wasn’t screaming, the pain was that bad.
 

“I’ll help you!”
 

“No! I can do it!” The trouble was I couldn’t. Graeme was totally out of it, but it didn’t stop him from biting the hell out of me and thrashing around like a toddler waiting for a shot.
 

Aaron dropped into view next to me. “Need help?”
 

“Got to make him throw up,” I said through clenched teeth.
 

Aaron grabbed Graeme’s face and muscled his jaws open. Those stumpy little hands were amazingly strong. Years of chopping, I guess. I shoved my fingers deep into Graeme’s gullet. His body convulsed and a stream of brown gushed past my hand.

Chapter 10

LOUISE AKA NURSE Crabby didn’t require a bribe to put Graeme on a gurney. Maybe it was his sweaty, shaking body lying on the floor in front of her desk or Mauro screaming in Spanish or maybe it was me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the ER door. I would’ve been afraid of me. No question. I was halfway to crazy town and I looked it.
 

Louise and I pushed Graeme through the corridors into Room Three where Lucia had been only hours before. Louise took his vitals while I stood at the door, screaming for a doctor. A page went out and it was in English, but so heavily accented that I couldn’t tell what they said. Dr. Navarro ran around the corner with a stack of charts in his arms. My reappearance in his ER startled him and he dropped four of the heavy metal folders with a clatter.
 

I ran over. “I’ll get them. He’s in Three. Go.”
 

Dr. Navarro shoved the rest of his charts in my arms. “Lucia?”
 

“Graeme. Poisoning. Antifreeze, I think.”
 

He cursed in Spanish and ran into Graeme’s room. At least I think it was cursing. It had that ring. I gathered up the charts and followed him in, dumping the charts in a chair. Dr. Navarro tested Graeme’s pupil response with his penlight and smelled his breath. Graeme was still out of it, but conscious. He knew his name, but that was about it.
 

“What makes you think it’s ethylene glycol?” Dr. Navarro asked.
 

“He drank a glass of sweet tea and this happened. Antifreeze is easy to conceal and the symptoms are right.”
 

He ordered Louise to draw blood and get a urine sample.
 

“That will take too long. Do you have dialysis?”
 

“There’s a clinic in French Harbor.”
 

“Not here? You’re the hospital.”
 

“No fluid, but we have sodium bicarbonate and ethanol.” He scribbled on Graeme’s chart and told Louise to set up the IV.

I picked up Graeme’s trembling hand and he turned his head towards me, eyelids at half-mast. “He’s not too bad,” I said. “It should work.”
 

“It should. We’ll get him to French Harbor if he goes into renal failure.”
 

Louise ran back in and did the IV. Another nurse hung the bag of sodium bicarbonate and got ready to pour the ethanol down his throat. He wasn’t going to like that, but it was drink or take it through the nose. Not a great choice either way.
 

“Graeme, you have to drink this stuff, okay?” I squeezed his hand.
 

The drip started and I watched as the bicarbonate headed towards Graeme’s vein. The nurse put a cup to his lips and poured some in. He shook his head and the fluid ran out of the side of his mouth.
 

“Graeme! You have to drink it or they’ll shove a tube up your nose,” I said.
 

That got his attention with a quickness and he drank the cupful, coughing and sputtering, but he got it down.

“Now it’s just wait and see,” said Dr. Navarro, watching the heart monitor.
 

Graeme was resting comfortably and his pulse and breathing had slowed. But ethylene glycol poisoning wasn’t an exact science. It affected different people differently. Graeme’s kidneys could still shut down or he could walk away. We just didn’t know.

“Are you going to admit him?” I asked.
 

“I would, but all our beds are full.”
 

“How is that possible?”
 

“We have thirty-three beds and a population of sixty-five thousand,” he said quietly.
 

“Holy crap. I don’t even know what to say.”
 

“It’s a whole different world out here. Have you given any thought to our medication situation?” he asked.
 

“I haven’t. I’m sorry.” I ran my hand through my hair, which was only slightly less tangled than a cat’s hairball.
 

“Mercy, let me see your hand.”
 

“Huh?”
 

Dr. Navarro took my hand out of my snarled hair and flattened it on his palm. Red raised splotches covered my hand and extended up my arm to the elbow. “Looks like contact dermatitis.” Then he saw the roach spray and cocked his head to the side. “What have you been doing?”
 

“You don’t want to know,” I said.
 

He bent over my hand and sniffed. “It smells sweet.”
 

“Yeah. I sort of shoved it down Graeme’s throat.”
 

“And you didn’t wash it?”
 

“There wasn’t time.”
 

“You’re having an allergic reaction in addition to the usual irritation. Louise, can you get a colloidal bath for Mercy?”
 

“Yes, doctor.”
 

The hospital’s intercom crackled to life. “Dr. Navarro to Room Twelve. Dr. Navarro to Room Twelve.”
 

He left and Louise came back with a pink plastic basin with cream-colored bits floating around in the water.
 

“Yum,” I said.
 

Louise frowned. No sense of humor. She set me up next to Graeme’s bed and put the basin on the rickety arm of the chair. I put my arm in. Ahhh. Warm and soothing. Just what the doctor ordered, literally.