Free The Focaccia Fatality by J. M. Griffin Page B

tried to rob me, imagine that? I wasn’t giving him my purse or anything else. He can get a job like the rest of us, and make do the best he can,” Sean said with a sniff.
    Before I could make a remark, a nurse stepped into the cubicle and asked Sean a slew of questions, scribbled the answers on a sheaf of papers, and then said, “Right. Let’s talk about how your ankle is feeling.”
    Sean tried to move her foot and grimaced with pain. I laid my hand on her arm to soothe her.
    The nurse gave me a glance and said, “Don’t worry, the doctor will take care of this momentarily.”
    No sooner had she said so when the curtain was thrust aside and a man in a white coat, with a stethoscope around his neck, strode to Sean’s bedside. He took the chart the nurse handed him, perused it briefly, and then set it aside in order to check Sean’s ankle. He twisted and turned the foot, pressed the bones and flexed Sean’s toes. Her face grew bright red and then darker red as he continued to cause her excruciating pain.
    “Is that necessary?” I asked.
    The doctor gave me a glance, turned back to Sean, and said, “I’ll order an x-ray and then we’ll determine how to handle this ankle.” He turned and dismissed me with, “You can wait in the waiting room until we’re done with this patient.”
    My mouth fell open and I gaped at him. A colder man, I’d never met. So much for caring about the people he’d taken an oath to help. In a snit, I marched toward the waiting area as Sean was wheeled toward the x-ray department.
    Wandering through the crowds of people who awaited news of their loved ones, I found Aidan in a corner, a magazine in his hand. He glanced up, smiled at me, and asked, “How’s Sean?”
    “She’ll be fine, I’m sure. I think she has a sprain, a bad one. The doctor isn’t saying and acts as if he could care less.”
    “Medical people do become immune to the pain people experience. At least, that’s how I see it, lass. They become less sympathetic sometimes due to the amount of pain and suffering they deal with. Give them some leeway and you’ll find Sean will be treated well,” Aidan offered in a gentle tone. “Did Sean say how she’d found herself in that alley?”
    I leaned in close, whispered her story in his ear, and watched him shake his head.
    He snickered and said, “You and Sean share the same need to be in the mix of things, for sure. I don’t understand it, but find you two are quite adventurous.”
    “She won’t be able to get around very well if her ankle is sprained. If it’s broken, she might be in a worse spot than she realizes. We’ll wait and see what the x-ray results are and then I’ll have to decide how we’ll handle what needs doing.” The door swung open and a tall white-haired man stood gazing around the room. I smiled and motioned Connor forward.
    He’d taken a seat across from us when an attendant approached and asked if I’d join him in Sean’s cubicle. I left the two Scots and hurried to catch up. As we entered the emergency area, I asked, “Is Sean okay?”
    “Sean? Your gran?”
    I nodded.
    “She’ll be right as rain in no time. The doctor has left instructions for her care.”
    The doctor stood at the opening where Sean was being treated. He laughed with her as she made a remark. I wondered if she was telling him an off-color joke and shook my head, dismissing the idea.
    I peered around the curtain and saw her leaning on a pair of crutches. Her ankle had been wrapped and secured. “Are you all set?” I asked and then glanced at the physician.
    “She’ll be fine. It’s a serious sprain, so she’ll need to stay off her foot for some time. I’ll see her in a day or two. Should she have any complications, call my office immediately.” He handed me a card and said goodbye. On his way out, the doctor winked at Sean and gave her a bright smile. “You take care, now, Sean.”
    Her grin brought a smile to my lips.
    “I will, you can bet on it,” she