again you have provided sound advice,” Rex replied gratefully.
“Why don’t you and Trissy get the hell out of here?” Hanz suggested, knowing that it was time to buckle down and get to work before the next disaster rolled through the door.
“Sounds good; we have dinner reservations in an hour.”
“To which of the two decent restaurants in the town are you going?” Hanz asked while reviewing one of the many charts piled in front of him.
“Rula’s,” Rex replied.
“I recommend the ‘Chum Jong Il’ Salmon,” Hanz suggested, knowing that the restaurant was owned by an evil North Korean named Chum.
“All I want is a Mai Tai,” Rex added, moments before the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. From out of nowhere Teresa Talon appeared, walking toward the coordinator’s desk. Somehow this sinister ER director of nursing had escaped from the safety of her glass cage. Teresa’s eyes were bloodshot, the veins in her forehead and neck engorged, and her ears were a brilliant crimson. Even her hair looked angry.
“Y’all are not seeing the patients fast enough. They are complaining, and management wants some answers,” Teresa shouted, interrupting all conversations while the shift change was in progress.
“Teresa, it’s been so busy that none of the nurses have even had the chance to take a lunch break. Perhaps you should consider hiring more nurses,” Trissy suggested.
“That’s not my fault,” Teresa shot back curtly. “If you worked more efficiently you would have time for lunch.”
“Teresa, may I recommend you invest in a Viking hat for Sheila and instruct her to beat a drum in a cadence reflecting the speed with which we should be seeing the patients?” Wanda suggested.
“How big do you want the drum to be?” Teresa replied sarcastically, scrutinizing all the dissenters carefully. “There are going to be some big changes around here as a result of your lollygagging. Now get to work!” Teresa shouted before rushing off in a huff.
“Lollygagging! That dingbat works four days a week, and then has the audacity to hang a ‘Gone Sailing’ sign on her door so she can enjoy a three day weekend!” Wanda retorted.
“No worries, Wanda,” replied Trissy. “It’s nice to be appreciated, but I’m lollygagging my way out of here. See ya tomorrow!”
“I’m not sure about the hat or the drum, but the thought of rough leather is rather appealing,” Sheila moaned in ecstasy.
Boom Boom shook his head, then turned toward Fast Freddie to finish giving his report.
“What in tarnation has gotten into Teresa?” Fast Freddie asked.
“Who knows, but for once I can truly say that I’m not to blame,” Rex assured his coworkers, although as usual they remained skeptical any time Rex ushered a defense.
“Yeah, right,” Sheila chuckled.
“Well, Hanz. That’s all she wrote,” Rex said with a smile.
Rex and Trissy slipped out the ambulance door just as a smiling Mean and Evil were slithering back in.
“Those buzzards are looking just a little too happy for my comfort,” Rex confided in Trissy, wondering if the two birds had come from Teresa’s office or from one of their countless cigarette breaks.
Chapter 7
The day’s massive storm front had passed, but in its wake winter’s first cold front descended upon the little town of Carencrow. However, on this frigid, dark night the only vestiges of Old Man Winter’s violence were scores of slush puddles, downed tree limbs, and a dense, wavy patchwork of pine needles.
Rex and Trissy arrived at Rula’s shortly before eight and were greeted by Rogé, a tall, distinguished Frenchman. Rula’s was a quaint restaurant nestled in a dense forest of tall pine trees adjacent to the banks of the mighty Cajun River. The stone fireplace was stoked and the fire was raging. The explosions of light, along with the snapping and crackling of the wood as it burned, added to the ambiance. Old Blue Eyes was singing “I Did It My Way” overhead just loud enough to mask the conversations radiating from each table.
“Halloween night and the place is absolutely packed. Whatever happened to trick-or-treating?” Rex wondered.
“Ah, Dr. and Mrs. Bent, it’s so very good to see you again. Your table will be ready shortly. Would you care to indulge yourselves at the bar?” Rogé asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
“It’s the indulging which gets me into trouble, Rogé, but, as always, I shall follow your expert advice,” Rex replied to the seasoned maître d’. Rogé smiled in appreciation, leading them through the crowd toward the only empty bar stools.
In stark contrast to Rogé’s French accent, the bartender, Bubba, had a thick cajun drawl.
“Ah, nice to see ya again,” Bubba said with genuine fondness as his face lit up, and his eyes began to sparkle. “Have some good drink. What can I get?”
“Let me see. Oh yes, I remember: a Cosmopolitan, please,” Trissy requested with her usual panache.
“Dat’s good, and for you, Dr. Bent—da usual?” Bubba asked respectfully, although he had an uncanny ability to remember faces, names, and the customer’s favorite libation—especially those who tipped handsomely.
“Certainly. Do you remember the recipe?” Rex asked before looking into Trissy’s sparkling brown eyes.
“Of course: three healthy shots of our premium rum, two light and one dark. In fact, I’ll even include da secret ingredient,” Bubba responded without hesitation, adding a little suspense to what was now his signature creation.
“Precisely, but what exactly is da secret ingredient?” Rex inquired with some reservation.
“It’s a secret, but I’m telling you dat it’s da very best—guar-on-teed,” Bubba assured his reluctant customer.
“You’ve sold me Bubba,”
“Excellent, one ‘Stumbling Drunk’ Mai Tai, coming right up,” Bubba replied with a smile, while cleaning off the highly polished but well-worn wooden counter.
“Rex, I think I am going to start calling you Doctor Mai Tai,” Trissy suggested.
“I like it. The moniker has a good ring to….” Rex suddenly paused. His eyes had caught a special news bulletin as it flashed on the TV screen behind the bar. Bubba noticed it as well and immediately turned up the volume.
“FLASH—we apologize for interrupting tonight’s LSU football game. The John C. Stennis Carrier Strike Group was attacked early this morning, shortly after entering the Persian Gulf. Given the tension in the region, the strike group was to reinforce the fifth fleet. Information is sketchy, but our high-ranking sources tell us that several vessels have been severely damaged, and it is estimated that as many as a thousand sailors and marines have been killed. It appears that the ships were ambushed after sailing through the narrow Strait of
