Chapter 23: My Broken Heart

I KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE. I’d missed my doctor’s appointment last week. In fact, I missed two since yesterday was Monday.

I also knew Doc Roberts was not going to be happy about it, no matter what my excuse. The sniffling cold that I’d acquired after my dowsing in the Chicago River was still hanging on and I had no doubts that it had to do with the immunosuppressant I was taking.

I didn’t count on the vehemence of Doc’s reaction to me, though, or the other news he had.

“I told you to stay within half an hour of the hospital, Dag,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I explained the importance of keeping your scheduled appointments. You have to be serious about this if you want to actually be in line for a heart. I don’t have time or sympathy to waste on people who don’t want to get well.”

He wasn’t exactly yelling at me. I was sure he meant it to be a severe warning. I couldn’t help but feel he was treating me like a disobedient child. Maybe I was, but I still didn’t like being treated that way.

“I’m sorry. It seemed very important. A man’s life was at stake.”

Not that anything I did mattered. What did I really accomplish while I was gone? I moved some money to places where it might do some good. Got it out of the hands of bad guys. Got laid. Almost drowned. Almost died in a hotel room. And lost an old friend in an airplane accident that had “suspicious circumstances” written all over it. I couldn’t even explain why I did it. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

“I’m finished,” I said. “No more running around. I’m on the program a hundred percent.”

“You don’t get it, Dag,” he practically yelled at me. “You missed a donor. After an hour of trying to reach you, we had to ship it to Phoenix where they planted in an eighty-year-old geezer who wants to live to a hundred. The difference between you and him is that he wanted it enough to do what he was told.”

I’d been punched recently—a couple of times. But neither of the thugs had hit me as hard as this news.

“How could that happen?” I asked. “You said it could be weeks before I came to the top of the list and there was a heart available.”

“Could be,” he answered. “It was a fluke. You were third and bottom on the list locally with that blood-type. A thirty-year-old male died in a traffic accident on I-5 late last Monday night. The first guy on the list has pneumonia and I don’t dare cut him. The second passed on the night before. That brought me to you. It was a good match. It hurt to pack it in ice and send it to Arizona.”

“Do I stand a chance of coming to the top of the list again?” I asked.

“I never give up hope for my patients, Dag,” he responded. “Let’s get you healthy again so you can survive a transplant if we get one.” He paused and I had the feeling he wasn’t telling everything. Hell, he’d just given me a sucker-punch to the brain. What could be holding him back now?”

“But... ?” I prompted.

“Dag,” he said quietly, “I don’t know what is keeping your heart beating now. Make sure you use what time you’ve got wisely. Put your house in order.”

I guess he could have been more blunt. I wasn’t sure how.

I walked out of his office under my own power and waved off a nurse’s offer of a wheel chair. As long as I could stand I wasn’t going to be pushed around like an invalid. I felt that if I sat in it I would never get out again. I was at the door when it opened from the other side. There stood Billie the Kid and her mother, Wanda.

“Mr. Hamar!” the child exclaimed. “I was worried about you. Guess what!”

“Hello Billie,” I greeted her. “Hello Ms. Martin.” I nodded to Wanda who seemed to be positively beaming. “What’s up?”

“I’m coming to live at the hospital so I can be ready when my new heart comes,” the pint-sized patient exclaimed.

“That’s good news,” I said raising an eyebrow at her mother.

“It’s a miracle,” Wanda said. “I was meeting with a social worker to sign over custody and make Billie a ward of the State when a lawyer I’d never heard of called and said that an anonymous donor had set up a half-million dollar trust for Billie. He had to talk to the social worker and had her drive us to his office to verify the papers. Suddenly the State has become very helpful. Dr. Roberts said that the approach of the holiday season often results in an increase of donors and we should be here so there is no chance of her missing an opportunity.”

Even though she could not have known about my delinquency, I couldn’t help but hear a rebuke from Dr. Roberts over missing my opportunity.

“That’s truly wonderful news,” I said. I reached into my wallet for a business card and gave it to Wanda. “Please let me know when Billie gets her new heart,” I said. “I’d like to come and visit.”

“Can I have one, too?” Billie asked. I smiled and handed her a card over her mother’s shush. Billie looked at it carefully. “What’s a private investigator?” she asked.

“I solve mysteries,” I answered. “Usually I investigate what is on computer systems. If you ever need anything investigated, you just call on D. H. Investigations. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” We parted, and in spite of the shocking news I’d had this morning, I felt a little better.

Some things, however, I was taking very seriously. I had Riley take me by my attorney’s office and made some changes to my will. I would rest easier once that was signed. I thanked him for taking care of the business with Billie Martin and deflected his questions about where the money had come from.

After a very sensible, heart-healthy lunch, I convinced Riley to take me back to the office instead of straight home. I’d missed the one day during this month of record-breaking rainfall that I might have seen the mountain from my office window, but I once again wanted to stand there looking. There had been occasional sun breaks on this windy day and I didn’t want to miss a chance of seeing it again.

I do want to live. I’m not ready to give up and die. I’m fifty-seven years old, and I want to live forever. Or at least until Christmas. I’d like to live long enough to retire. I’d like to live long enough to see the next version of Windows for my computer. I’d like to see Riley get her degree, and a PhD if she wants one. I want to see Billie get her new heart, and see her go to school like a normal kid. I want to go for hikes in the mountains with Maizie running along by my side. Or at least be able to walk to the office again. I’d like to know if there is such a thing as true love and whether anyone was really right for me.

Damn it! Why me?

I don’t know how long I’d been standing there. It got dark earlier and earlier now. I could see the lights from the ferries crisscrossing the sound. I returned to my desk and opened my computer. I inserted the jump-drive and waited to see what would come up.

The dialog box was not what I expected. It asked for the encryption key. Encryption. The one place that Simon absolutely should not have used encryption. It required a key—an alphanumeric sequence that could be between eight and eighty characters. What was he thinking? Well, there was one chance, and that was that. Perhaps if I inserted it in Simon’s computer it would get the key automatically.

“Riley!” I called. She’d been sitting quietly at her desk fiddling with a stack of CDs the entire time we’d been back at the office. Probably working on her thesis, I assumed. She was in my doorway in a flash.

“What is it Dag?” she asked. “Are you okay.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” I said. “I’d just like you to open the vault for me.” She looked at me a little strangely.

“‘I don’t know how to open the vault, Dag,” she said hesitantly. “You didn’t give me the code.”

“I thought you would have figured it out by now,” I said with a smile. “Well that means I still have something I can teach you.” I handed her the remote control. She took it with the kind of expression that showed she didn’t really want to learn this. She turned that reluctance around on me.