Free V.I. Warshawski 04 - Bitter Medicine by Sara Paretsky Page B

breathe carefully, deep breath in, hold for five, breathe out. And I forced myself to keep my eyes open, to stare at Sergio.
     
    Through the haze of fear I saw he was looking petulant: I didn’t seem scared enough. The thought cheered me and helped keep my breathing steady. His hand moved away from my eyes, jerked below my line of vision. Then he stood again.
     
    I could feel a stinging on my left jaw and neck, but the pain in my arms, tied underneath me, was such that it overrode any other feeling.
     
    “Now, Warshawski. You stay out of my face.” Sergio was breathing heavily, sweating.
     
    Tattoo jerked me to my feet. We went through the elaborate ritual of getting the inner door unlocked. My hands still tied, I was led through the outer room and out the front door onto Washtenaw.
     

Chapter 7 - Needle Work
    It was well after midnight when I unlocked the lobby door in my building. The blood had clotted on my face and neck, which seemed reassuring. I knew I should get to a doctor, get the wounds treated properly so as not to scar, but a vast lethargy enveloped me. All I wanted to do was go to bed and never get up again. Never try again to-to do anything.
     
    As I headed up the stairs, the ground-floor apartment door opened. Mr. Contreras came out.
     
    “Oh, it’s you, cookie. I been thinking twenty times I should call the cops.”
     
    “Yeah, well, I don’t think they could have done much for me.” I started climbing again.
     
    “You got hurt! I didn’t see at first-what did they do?”
     
    He hurried up the stairs behind me. I stopped and waited for him, my hand reflexively touching the dried blood on my jaw.
     
    “It’s nothing, really. They were pissed. It’s kind of complicated. The guy has been carrying a grudge against me all these years.” I gave a little laugh. “It’s Rashomon. Everyone sees it differently. I saw myself helping this goon get off a heavy sentence he deserved. I saw myself overcoming my hatred of his behavior and his attitude to help him. He saw me being contemptuous and forcing him to do time. That’s all.”
     
    Mr. Contreras ignored me. “We’re getting you to a doctor. You can’t go around looking like this. You come back down here with me. This is no time for you to be going off by yourself. Oh, I should never have waited. I should have called them right away when I got worried.”
     
    His strong, rough fingers pulled importunately on my arm. I followed him back downstairs into his apartment. His living room was crowded with old, sagging furniture. A large chest, draped in a blanket, stood in the middle of the floor. We walked around it to a mustard-colored overstuffed armchair. He sat me down, clucking softly to himself.
     
    “How you even got home like this, doll! Why didn’t you at least call me-I would have come for you.” He bustled away for a few minutes and returned with a blanket and a mug of hot milk. “I used to see a lot of accidents when I was a machinist. You gotta keep warm, and stay off booze——-
     
    Now, we gonna get you to a doctor. You want to go over to the hospital or you got someone to call?“
     
    I felt as though I were far away. I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. Doctor or hospital? No choice. I didn’t want either. I held the mug of milk and sat silent.
     
    “Listen, cookie.” A little desperation in his voice. “I’m not as strong as I used to be. I can’t knock you out and carry you. You gotta help. Come on, talk to me, doll. Or you want me just to call the cops? I should be doing that anyway, why am I asking you? I should just call them.”
     
    That roused me a little. “No, wait. Don’t call. Not yet. I have a doctor. Call her. She’ll come.” I dialed Lotty’s number so often, I knew it better than my own. So why couldn’t I remember it? I frowned in effort, and my jaw twinged.
     
    Finally, helpless, I said, “You’ll have to look it up. She’s in the book. Lotty Herschel. Charlotte Herschel, I