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She nodded and withdrew.
Sangster stepped closer to his friend and neighbor.
“Burke? Hey, Burke. Can you hear me?”
For a moment there was no reaction, but then the old man’s eyes fluttered open.
“Sangster?”
The ex-hitman leaned in closer and said, “Stark.”
“Right, right,” Burke said, his eyes closing again.
“Hey, old man!” Sangster snapped. “Stay with me!”
Burke’s eyes opened, again.
“What happened?”
“M-made a f-fool of myself,” Burke said. “Got c-caught.”
“What are you talking about, Burke?” Sangster asked,
“T-talk to Polly.”
“Polly? Polly who—wait. You mean the woman who cleans your house? That Polly?”
“Talk—talk to P-Polly . . .” Burke said again, and then drifted off.
“What the hell—”
Nurse O’Malley came in, brushed past Sangster, checked Burke’s pulse, then looked at the visitor.
“That’s enough, I’m afraid,” she said, firmly. “We’re going to move him to a room. You’ll have to speak with Billing.”
“Yeah, sure,” Sangster said, “but I think I have to talk to the cops, first.”
“They’re still waiting in the hall for you.”
“Okay.” He cast one last look at Burke.
“We’ll take care of him,” she promised.
“But will you find out what’s wrong with him?”
“I’m sure the doctors will do their best.”
Sangster nodded, then went out to talk to the detectives.
He found Telemaco standing alone.
“Let’s go to the cafeteria and get some coffee,” the detective said.
“Where’s your partner?”
“I sent him to Pirates Alley with some uniforms.”
“Pirates Alley?”
