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“Was their ambulance there when you got there?” Cronley asked.
“No,” Claudette said. “I remember seeing an empty space beside us when we parked. The lot was just about full.”
“That suggests they followed you there.”
“Could be.”
“Go have your shower, and then go to bed,” Cronley ordered. “Wallace said he’ll take off as soon as he can in the morning, which should get him and the general here about half past nine. Be prepared to be grilled then.”
She smiled and said, “Yes, sir.”
Augie wondered: Who is Wallace? Take off from where he’s been? Where’s that? And what general?
“What about Florence?” Claudette asked.
“My people tell me,” the big man in the uniform with triangles said, “that her sedation will have mostly worn off by morning—”
“Your people are sitting on her?” Claudette interrupted.
Augie thought: Who is this guy? He sounds like he’s an Englishman.
“Eight of them,” the man said. “On her and the chap you popped. At the moment, he’s out of surgery, in stable condition. Would you be distressed to hear that you tore up his shoulder joint to the point where he’s in great pain and can look forward to having a somewhat immobile right arm for the rest of his life?”
“Not at all,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Unfortunately, the palliatives they have given him for his discomfort will keep us from talking to him until sometime this afternoon.”
“I don’t suppose we could talk the hospital into not giving him any more palliatives for his pain?” she asked.
Cronley laughed.
“Go to bed, Dette.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Freddy, when you’re cleaned up, you come back. We’re going to go over what the MPs have turned up before Wallace gets back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Claudette and Hessinger left the office.
“A formidable female, in more ways than one,” Augie said.
“Methinks our Claudette has caught this gentleman’s eye,” the large civilian said.
“Meaning she hasn’t caught yours?” the black captain challenged.
“Meaning I’ve learned the Ice Princess has not yet been taken in by my soulful Polish eyes.”
“She’s probably waiting for Mr. Right to come along, and found us all wanting,” Cronley said.
The black man laughed and put out his hand to Ziegler.
“Since the boss has once again forgotten his manners, I’ll introduce myself. C. L. Dunwiddie. People call me ‘Tiny.’”
Jesus, he’s six-foot-six, or more, and weighs three hundred pounds!
“I can’t imagine why,” Augie replied. “My name is Augie Ziegler.”
